After the Crowds Swarmed
After that, crowds of people flocked over, and I couldn't continue my conversation with the crown prince. The crown prince, who had declared he wouldn't annul our engagement, simply sauntered back to the capital without another word.
If the imperial family refused to acknowledge the annulment, I'd have to petition the noble tribunal for a formal trial. The Carpoem Ducal House was probably the only one bold enough to demand a divorce trial against the imperial family head-on. The trial could drag on for months at the shortest, or even years at the longest.
The northern nobles would all side with the ducal house, but the south held the numerical advantage. If the imperial family applied pressure, the proceedings could stall indefinitely in a deadlock.
This was going to be a hassle from here on out. I let out a sigh.
I couldn't fathom why the crown prince was clinging to me so pathetically. On a personal level, he surely despised me. But materially? That was possible. Of course, he'd want to avoid annulment to get his hands on the north's overflowing wealth. He hadn't met the female protagonist yet, so he wasn't awakened to love either.
If I offered a massive settlement during the trial, would that tip the scales in my favor? I figured I'd need to consult with the duke soon.
"Miss, everything's ready."
"Yeah, got it. Let's go."
At Annie's calm report, I turned on my heel right away. The crown prince's parting attitude nagged at me a bit, but I brushed it off as nothing major. Besides, today marked the end of the Magic Festival, and it was also the day for the meeting with the vassals to discuss the duke's bombshell declaration.
I'd exchanged greetings with them each time they visited the estate, but after that, I'd been too busy to meet properly. Except for Count Marku, whom I'd sparred with. We'd trained together several times and grown quite close. But I still had little connection with the other vassals.
The duke hadn't informed the vassals outside the kin about naming me heir in advance. He'd feared the imperial family would interfere if word got out early. Still, since it was a unilateral decision, I expected strong backlash.
The north was so vast that it hosted a wide array of clans. The ducal house unified them all, but each clan was unique and fiercely proud, making them tricky to handle—or so the duke often grumbled.
I was a little curious what kind of colorful personalities they might have. With confident steps, I headed to the meeting hall.
"You've arrived."
The duke, seated at the head of the table, gave me a pleased smile. Every gaze in the room turned to me—curious ones, friendly ones, hostile glares, appraising stares, and more. A real mix of complex emotions in those eyes.
"We can't allow this, Your Grace."
The moment I took my seat, Count Riksa spoke up, his face twisted in a fierce scowl. He shot me a deliberate glance, picking a fight right away.
"Deciding on a successor without a word to us and then announcing it publicly? Shouldn't you have given us at least some prior notice?"
"The imperial family would have interfered if they'd known. I told you I had no choice."
It seemed they'd already clashed once before I arrived; the duke's voice was thick with fatigue. But Count Riksa pressed on.
This time, he stared straight at me. "From the start, I question Lady Abigail's qualifications as heir."
He was one of the northern nobles who hated me. No, most of them probably did.
"Lady Abigail passed the Tentamen and earned the clan's recognition. Her qualifications are beyond doubt."
Surprisingly, the one defending me was Count Lupus. He met Count Riksa's eyes steadily with a composed gaze. I watched them both with keen interest.
"That's just your clan's opinion! It's an insult to the other clans!"
As expected, Count Riksa, wrapped tight in pride, threw a fit. His family held the rank of count, but their influence rivaled a marquis's. There was good reason he could act so haughty.
Count Riksa was a master of business. Everything he touched turned to profit. They called him Midas's hand, the goose that laid golden eggs—praise for him abounded. And since so many noble houses invested in his ventures, his nose stayed perpetually in the air. That was why the other vassals frowned at his words but held their tongues.
"Insult? Your words go too far, Count Riksa."
The only one who could voice dissatisfaction freely here was the duke. His fist even trembled with anger—I could see it. He looked ready to erupt.
But losing composure in a setting like this would be a disadvantage. I decided to step in here.
"This meeting was called because of me, so may I say a few words?"
I raised my hand cautiously, drawing all the northern nobles' attention. The duke nodded in permission, and I turned to Count Riksa.
"You're right, Count Riksa. No matter the reason, failing to consult with you vassals was a grave discourtesy. On behalf of the Carpoem Ducal House, I sincerely apologize to you all."
A murmur rippled through the room. The haughty, brazen Abigail bowing her head and apologizing to other nobles must have been a novel sight. Even Count Riksa looked somewhat taken aback.
"Heh heh, if the lady apologizes so earnestly, it would be rude not to accept, wouldn't it, Count Riksa?"
Count Marku—the only one here backing me without ulterior motives—chuckled heartily. I gave him a subtle nod of thanks.
"...Hmph, I suppose I got a bit heated myself. I accept Lady Abigail's apology."
"Thank you, Count Riksa."
I flashed a bright smile. But accepting my apology was separate from acknowledging me as heir. Keeping my smile, I continued.
"And you just questioned my qualifications... I've already passed the Tentamen and earned the dire wolf's recognition. I can't agree that I'm lacking."
All the vassals gathered here knew I'd undergone the Tentamen proposed by Count Lupus and contracted with Pel of the dire wolf clan. Even if I proved my strength, if they wouldn't follow, it meant Abigail had rampaged freely even before vassals, and they could never trust the foolish girl she was.
"I know the north reveres martial prowess. But the ducal house rules the north. How could we trust and follow a lord who relies solely on strength?"
As I'd anticipated, Count Riksa pointed out Abigail's shortcomings. I had far too little trust from them. Unlike the duke, who'd steadily built a foundation with overwhelming power and intelligence, my past was a wasteland. It wasn't starting from zero—it was starting from a deep pit.
So I had to prove it here: that I was worthy to become their lord.
"Lady Abigail is still young and learning, Count Riksa. I hope you won't judge hastily."
"Then why announce her as heir at this juncture? I still remember how she whipped a poor maid just for spilling tea on her dress."
...Rampaging even in front of vassals. At Count Riksa's words, a memory suddenly surfaced.
"Thank you for reminding me of my shameful past, Count."
Public opinion began shifting against me again. Those who'd witnessed it whispered and nodded faintly.
"I won't ask you to see me anew right this instant. But as a token of goodwill, may I offer you one piece of advice?"
"...What advice?"
Whining here about how I'd change or begging them to believe me would backfire. Who'd trust empty words? Instead, I opted for something that would undeniably appeal to them: money.
"I've heard your orichalcum business hasn't been going well lately."
"That's...!"
The one sore spot for the Midas-handed count. His sole humiliation: the orichalcum venture.
Riksa territory didn't boast many gem mines. Instead, it was rich in super-metal deposits like orichalcum. In its early days, orichalcum had made the territory prosperous. Back then, with constant battles against magical beasts, demand was sky-high.
But orichalcum had its flaws as a super-metal. It was the heaviest among them. Its strength matched its weight, but it was too heavy. And being a delicate metal, any deformation made it weaker than steel.
That hadn't mattered before. Knights eagerly sought heavy, sturdy orichalcum for swords and shields. But times had changed. Magical beasts only rampaged in cycles now, and aside from the far north, peace had settled in.
Then the south discovered and began smelting mithril, and orichalcum demand plummeted. Mithril was far lighter, perfect for armor. Mithril plate was said to be feather-light, earning it the name "bird's armor."
Swords were trending lighter too, so mithril's popularity swiftly surpassed orichalcum. Even northern knights started buying southern mithril on the sly. It must have galled Count Riksa.
"...What advice can you offer, Lady Abigail?"
True to his business instincts, rather than rage, he suppressed his emotions and asked calmly. I smiled at him like a spider eyeing a moth in its web.
"Nothing major. I mentioned orichalcum to the Magic Tower Master, and he took interest."
"The Magic Tower Master?"
Not just the count—the entire meeting hall buzzed. Even the duke stared at me in surprise. I swept the room with a leisurely gaze.
"Yes. I told him sales had dropped and I was worried, and he said the tower had been researching orichalcum for a long time."
"Wh-what research?"
Count Riksa leaned forward, face alight with excitement.