CHAPTER 02
Ten days earlier.
Yvette Lachaise, the Emperor’s second daughter and a Grand Duke holding the title of Prince-Elector, asked immediately after summoning Lahan Norwich to her private chamber:
“How old are you this year?”
Lahan scoffed, taken aback.
“Take eighteen years off Your Grace’s age, and that’s mine.”
“Twenty-two? Just the right age to get married.”
Lahan stepped back, his face twisted in disbelief.
“So that’s why I was called in this morning? Don’t tell me… You’ve fallen for me?”
“I’d love to tell you to get lost, but unfortunately, I need you. I’m arranging a marriage. Yours.”
A bolt from the blue. Lahan narrowed his eyes.
“Since when is it trendy for commanders to set up arranged marriages for their subordinates? I believe in free love, you know?”
Reclining lazily on her sofa, the Grand Duke didn’t even pretend to listen. She just scoffed.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
She tossed something at him, which he instinctively caught.
It was a sigil, shaped like light—a symbol granted only to high-ranking priests of the Eridrahan Church.
Lahan raised an eyebrow at the Grand Duke. He was clearly asking for an explanation.
She offered one with disinterest.
“You’ve heard of the hidden daughter of the Ahen family being revealed, right?”
“Who hasn’t?”
In the Paldenbach Empire, there are seven Prince-Electors who hold the right to vote for the next Emperor.
Among them, the Ahen family is one of the most powerful. Their lands are fertile, and recently, a major scandal rocked their household.
Twenty years ago, Duke Licht Ahen died. At the time, his wife was pregnant, but she hid the pregnancy in the face of her husband’s death.
That’s because Licht’s younger brother, Herbert, was eyeing the dukedom.
The couple had been childless for a long time, and Herbert had long assumed he would inherit the title. If it became known that Licht had left a child behind, Herbert would surely have killed both the duchess and the child.
So, she feigned grief and returned to her family home. There, she secretly gave birth to a daughter and entrusted the baby to the Windrock Monastery, which had ties to her family.
The abbot, Wilbert, helped hide the girl so well that even the priests believed she was an orphan he’d found on the street. Even the girl herself had no idea.
She had even planned to become a priest when she turned twenty.
Raised her entire life in the monastery among priests, the girl grew up innocent and devout.
But just six months before her twentieth birthday, her true origin was revealed.
“I bore a daughter with the late Duke Licht Ahen. Abbot Wilbert, brother of Archbishop Victor, vouches for her birth. The Ahen dukedom… belongs to her when she turns twenty.”
That was the duchess’s final public statement before her death.
The intention was clear: to restore the title of Prince-Elector and the dukedom to her daughter once she came of age.
That daughter was Erishi Ahen, formerly a novice priest at Windrock Monastery.
Naturally, the Ahen family was thrown into chaos.
Herbert, who had succeeded Licht as duke and held the position for twenty years, was outraged.
Suddenly, a hidden daughter of Licht’s appears?
The title of Prince-Elector follows strict primogeniture—even if the heir is female, the right is hers.
And with the sister of Archbishop Victor verifying her birth, there could be no disputing her legitimacy.
Herbert acted swiftly.
Before the Emperor could say anything, Herbert approached first:
“Erishi Ahen is one of our own. The Ahen family will protect her, and then pass the dukedom on to her.”
Of course, he had no intention of letting go so easily.
Herbert immediately divorced his only son, Philorud, and submitted a marriage proposal to the Emperor—offering Philorud as a husband to Erishi.
By marrying Erishi to his son, the dukedom would remain under his control.
Rumor had it that he was so determined he even secured the signature of the senile former Duke of Ahen, who had long since lost his faculties.
On the surface, this didn’t seem unusual. Cousin marriages to protect titles and inheritance were not uncommon.
“So what’s this got to do with me?” Lahan asked.
“Keep listening. Do you know how old Philorud Ahen is?”
“No idea.”
“Five years older than me. He already has two kids—one’s your age.”
Grand Duke Lachaise was forty.
Lahan’s mouth opened slightly. A marriage between a twenty-year-old girl and a forty-five-year-old man?
It wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t something any parent would welcome.
“Seems the abbot of Windrock Monastery cares deeply for that girl.”
Indeed, Abbot Wilbert cherished Erishi enough to adopt her as his daughter. Of course, he couldn’t allow her to marry into that family.
“Her life would be in danger.”
“Even if not killed, the marriage would be a miserable one. That’s how it is for women.”
The Grand Duke spoke slowly as she popped a grape into her mouth. Lahan gave her a look of disbelief.
“Not really something you should be saying, Your Grace.”
“My father’s the Emperor. I don’t have to live like ordinary women.”
But Erishi Ahen didn’t have a powerful father—just an uncle who sought her life and title.
The situation was pitiful, but the abbot couldn’t stop the marriage.
Now that her heritage was proven, her legal guardian was no longer the monastery, but the Ahen family.
Refusing the marriage would give them enough reason to destroy Windrock Monastery.
So, after much deliberation, Abbot Wilbert turned to Yvette Lachaise for help.
The Grand Duke, a powerful figure backed by two of the seven Prince-Electors—and a distant relative of Erishi’s mother—responded decisively.
The marriage contract was already submitted to the Emperor. There was only one way to undo it:
“Kidnap her and marry her off to someone else.”
Lahan grimaced. The Grand Duke smiled.
“They haven’t consummated the marriage yet. So we kidnap her, have her spend the night with another man, and voila.”
After all, ceremonies and contracts were just formalities. The essence of marriage was the consummation.
If she had spent the night with another man first, what could Herbert do?
Of course, they wouldn’t actually kidnap her.
“We’ll stage a kidnapping and marry her to someone of my choosing,”
the Grand Duke had written in a letter to the monastery.
“But… to whom?”
the abbot had asked.
The person Yvette Lachaise pointed to was her right-hand man:
Lahan Norwich.
The man himself sighed.
“If the abbot were sane, he’d have rejected that outright.”
“Correct.”
She flicked another grape at him. He caught it and ate it, though it tasted oddly bitter in his mouth.
Who was Lahan Norwich?
Second son of the Marquis of Norwich, born with red eyes—so rare they were called demonic. His mother, the Countess of Norwich, abandoned him at birth.
The one who raised him was Yvette Lachaise.
Perhaps it was because he’d been rejected and neglected so early on.
The man was infamous for his twisted temperament—though what truly made him famous were his striking looks and unmatched swordsmanship.
During a six-year campaign on behalf of the Grand Duke, he earned enough fame that even the Emperor’s illegitimate daughter once publicly declared her intent to marry him—only to be humiliated.
Though the war ended two years ago, Lahan’s reputation remained strong.
A rake, a scoundrel, a troublemaker, a playboy…
To marry Erishi Ahen to someone called the “Devil’s child”?
Naturally, Abbot Wilbert resisted. But Grand Duke Lachaise just sneered.
“They’re the ones desperate, but now they want to be picky?”
“I’d like to be picky too, you know.”
“You’re my knight. You do as I say.”
Of course, the Grand Duke hadn’t picked just anyone.
The House of Norwich also held the title of Prince-Elector. Though the family distanced themselves from Lahan, he was still their blood.
“Unless it’s a very strong family, they’ll just snatch Erishi back. We need someone they’ll hesitate to challenge.”
So the abbot chose the lesser evil: a brash young noble over a greedy old one.
Lahan, however, wasn’t thrilled.
“So I’m a kidnapper now?”
“You’re already a thug, a womanizer, and a delinquent. What’s one more label?”
The Grand Duke rose to her feet.
“It’s not like you planned to marry anyway.”
“I didn’t plan on being forced either.”
“But what if I need your marriage to claim the throne?”
Lahan’s eyes sharpened.
The Grand Duke smiled. Most found those red eyes ominous, but she rather liked them—they reminded her of burning flames.
“It won’t be a long marriage. Just for show. Temporary.”
“Understood.”
“Any questions?”
“What about the scandal? People will say you tampered with the Ahen family.”
She brushed her hair back, revealing the eyepatch over one eye—a recent injury, nearly fatal.
Neither of them cared.
“I’ll handle that.”
Lahan thought to himself:
“Nothing she says she’ll handle ever ends well for me.”
But whether it would be a good thing or a disaster… only time would tell.
