Chapter 2
At the Grand Duke’s sudden question, the marquess’s jaw stiffened in shock.
“…I remember.”
After rolling his eyes slowly a few times, the marquess began to speak with a sigh.
“A year ago, when my daughter’s fever was especially high, she said something. She asked why she couldn’t marry like everyone else. She said she wanted to marry someone like the Grand Duke of Lindenberg.”
[Ahhh! Father, why is your memory so sharp at a time like this?!]
Schniela clutched her head and cried out.
It was true that she had once said she wanted to marry the Grand Duke of Lindenberg. But it had only been a kind of childish outburst.
When she was alive, her illness was often accompanied by fever. She had grown used to enduring it. But the fever a year ago had been so severe that it broke even her patience.
She had always harbored longing and inferiority toward healthy people her age.
Still, she knew how desperately her parents cared for her. So she endured and endured, hiding her true feelings.
But no matter how patient someone is, unbearable pain can make anyone irritable.
And just the day before her fever struck, a maid only one year older than her had gotten married.
In the end, her pent-up sorrow exploded. Even while sick, she had cried at the top of her lungs and thrown a tantrum.
“I can’t even get married! This cursed body! Everyone else meets someone they love and lives happily. Why can’t I? Why only me?”
The reason she mentioned the Grand Duke of Lindenberg was simple.
‘Because he was the most impressive person I had met when I was little.’
“This is only my guess, but I believe my daughter must have met Your Grace when she was still healthy. She likely developed a small crush on you back then.”
The Marquess of Livia continued with a bitter smile.
As he said, when she was young, Schniela had once received a small comfort from the Grand Duke and had briefly admired him.
That childhood memory had lingered until last year and unconsciously slipped out as her wish to marry him.
“…As her father, I felt heartbroken. I simply wanted to grant every wish of my sick daughter. So even knowing it would not be accepted, I dared to send a proposal.”
The marquess lowered his head quietly as he confessed.
“If it caused you inconvenience, I apolo—”
“There is no need to apologize.”
The Grand Duke gently shook his head and cut him off.
“I am not here to blame you for that.”
“Then…?”
“I will do it. The marriage.”
“…What?”
The marquess stared in disbelief.
“But as you can see, my daughter…”
He trailed off, lowering his gaze.
It seemed he still could not bring himself to say aloud that his beloved daughter was dead.
“There is such a thing as a spirit wedding. I, Isel Lindenberg, accept the marriage proposal with Schniela Livia.”
“…Are you serious?”
“I am.”
The Grand Duke’s red eyes were steady and resolute. Meeting that gaze, the Marquess of Livia fell into deep thought.
The Grand Duke watched him quietly.
“…And I apologize for making such a sudden proposal at a place like this. For now, mourn as you wish.”
He spoke slowly, as if hesitating.
“I will send a formal proposal in writing later. You may give your answer after you have gathered your strength.”
With a brief, “Then, excuse me,” the Grand Duke bowed and turned to leave the estate.
[Huh?]
Schniela, who had been watching everything unfold, felt nothing but confusion.
[Huuuh?!]
***
On the morning of Schniela’s cremation,
Isel Lindenberg, the Grand Duke who ruled Salamincha in the far north of Herteon, visited the Imperial Palace.
After walking briefly down the central corridor under the guidance of an attendant, he arrived at the Emperor’s office.
The Emperor and the Grand Duke exchanged a few formal greetings. When a maid served cold-brewed tea and a small tea set, the Emperor dismissed the attendants inside the room with a gesture.
“So. I heard you repelled the northeastern barbarians this time. I called you here to commend your service.”
Knowing that the Grand Duke disliked beating around the bush, the Emperor immediately stated the reason for summoning him.
Despite the praise, the Grand Duke merely lowered his head quietly. The Emperor clicked his tongue inwardly, thinking what an unpolished man he was.
“Ahem. Ten billion gold, thirty crates of wheat, and some cloth will be sent to Salamincha Castle.”
It was a generous reward, yet the Grand Duke’s reaction remained indifferent.
“Thank you!”
Instead of his taciturn master, it was the Grand Duke’s aide, Jacksy, who bowed deeply.
“Your Grace, this covers a whole year’s budget! Hurry and thank His Majesty properly!”
Seeing the excited aide, the Emperor suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the Grand Duke.
Ten billion gold was barely enough to cover three months of expenses for a decent noble family in the capital. Yet the great House of Lindenberg would stretch it out for an entire year.
Despite its vast territory, Isel’s domain of Salamincha was poor.
Its cold, dry climate and barren soil made agriculture nearly impossible. Surrounded by harsh mountains, transportation was difficult, so commerce had never flourished either.
Knowing these circumstances well, the Emperor occasionally provided small support under the pretense of commendation.
In truth, he wished he could offer full support. But he had his own constraints.
Twenty-seven years ago, the Emperor’s younger sister had volunteered to help suppress monsters in Salamincha. There, she fell in love with the Duke of Lindenberg and married him.
Through his marriage to a princess, the Duke of Lindenberg had been elevated to Grand Duke.
Of course, the marriage alone was not the only reason for the elevation.
The family had been a founding contributor to the empire, and they had faithfully governed the harsh northern lands, serving as the empire’s shield.
However, after the elevation, the ministers grew wary of the growing power of the House of Lindenberg.
The Emperor had only one son, the Crown Prince. Thus, the Grand Duke naturally became second in line to the throne. Moreover, the Grand Duke commanded the Salamincha Knights, a force rivaling the Imperial Knights.
Because of this, the ministers constantly warned that the House of Lindenberg might one day harbor rebellion.
The Emperor knew his nephew was not that kind of man. Isel had no thirst for power and cared for nothing but the sword.
Still, as ruler, he could not ignore the voices of his ministers entirely.
For that reason, he could not openly provide overwhelming support to his struggling nephew.
Yet as Isel’s uncle, not as Emperor, he did care deeply for him.
At fifteen, Isel had lost both parents and quietly continued to guard the North alone. The Emperor truly wished for his nephew’s happiness.
‘He is responsible, handsome, and though a bit too blunt, not flawed enough to make life difficult.’
As he thought this over, something Isel lacked crossed the Emperor’s mind.
“Come to think of it, Isel, how old are you this year?”
“Twenty-four.”
Isel answered curtly, his tone clearly asking why that mattered.
“That’s the perfect age for marriage. No, considering your status, you’re slightly late.”
Isel’s thick brows furrowed at the Emperor’s nagging, but the Emperor continued.
“Get married within this year.”
“I have no intention to.”
It was the expected answer, yet hearing it directly made the Emperor’s blood pressure rise.
“Ahem! That is an imperial command!”
The Emperor scolded him in a stern voice.
“How can Your Majesty waste an imperial decree on such a trivial matter?”
His nephew never conceded a word. The Emperor pressed his temple, feeling a headache coming on.
“Isel, your marriage is not a trivial matter. You are the Grand Duke of Lindenberg and a member of the Herteon imperial bloodline.”
The implication was clear.
The Herteon imperial family had always had few heirs.
As a descendant of the royal bloodline, he had a duty to marry and produce children.
“Even if I concede a hundred times about children—fine. Only God can grant them.”
This time, the Emperor softened his voice, trying to persuade him.
“But marriage is something you can choose for yourself, is it not?”
