Chapter 12
Of course, compared to Ricardt—where the entire household had been nothing short of a living hell—the Imperial Palace wasn’t somewhere I absolutely couldn’t go, even if I hated Rakiel with a burning passion.
But…
‘If I start being raised in the imperial family while the current emperor, Rakiel, still has no heir, what will people think?’
There was no need to think deeply about it. Everyone would surely see me as the definite heir apparent to the throne.
Of course, unlike humans, dragonkin begin walking just three hours after birth. However, while their early growth is rapid, afterward it slows dramatically. Naturally, that also means they live long lives.
But that doesn’t mean they’re immortal. Even mages—though not to the same extent as dragonkin—live longer than ordinary humans.
So if something unexpected were to happen while he had no heir, it couldn’t be said that there was zero chance I might inherit the throne.
‘…This is a disaster.’
Rakiel Eslarote Sinsir Roengrantz. From the moment he was born, he had held every blessing in his hands. He wore arrogance like a cloak befitting the title of Crown Prince. Would someone like that tolerate an heir appearing this early?
‘Before my mother became Grand Duchess of Khaled, we were raised together in the palace for a while… but the two of them weren’t exactly close.’
I recalled the two of them at the official events I had been forced to attend.
‘A cow and a chicken staring at each other would’ve looked more passionate.’
Their utter lack of interest in each other had been memorable.
Besides, my mother—Princess Rosalind—had openly declared throughout that time, “The capital is far too peaceful and boring. I’d rather return to the North and smash in the heads of demons.”
‘Given the circumstances and their personalities, it’s not like they were ever going to fight over succession or fall out with each other.’
Considering there had never even been anything to “fall out” over, I estimated the probability of Rakiel welcoming me—who was practically unrelated by blood—to be approaching negative infinity.
All living creatures instinctively want to pass what they have on to their own children. Especially men. Even if he didn’t have children yet and had no immediate plans to, Rakiel was still young.
‘It’s been ten years since I died, so he must’ve grown some by now.’
Given the dragonkin’s step-like growth cycle, he was probably in his late teens or early twenties in physical age. A man at that age wouldn’t refuse a woman approaching him. It wasn’t impossible that somewhere, someone might already have borne a child and brought it forward as the emperor’s blood.
Even if I set aside hypothetical children who didn’t yet exist, the problem remained. I might still be a baby, but my bloodline was nobler than any precedent in imperial history.
In this case, being a child could actually be an advantage—easy to manipulate. There was a real chance I could become the rallying point for the noble faction constantly trying to check and restrain the emperor.
‘Mother didn’t want me to get dragged into that filthy power struggle.’
Her voice—one I had heard hundreds, thousands of times—rose vividly in my memory.
“Asha, you are my daughter. To me, you are a jewel more precious than anything in the world. A child beyond compare. But you are not mine alone.”
The balcony overlooking the plaza—filled with countless Northern residents—was cold despite the sunlight. Mother held me tightly, but she did not allow me to shrink my shoulders.
“Waaaaah!!”
The moment she smiled and waved, a roar loud enough to tear the eardrums shook the air. And yet, I could still clearly hear her whisper in my ear.
“My one and only heir must follow me—becoming their lord and the shield standing at the front lines.”
“……”
“Well, Asha? Do you think you can do it?”
I don’t clearly remember what I answered.
‘I definitely said something.’
But fortunately, I could vividly recall her bright, hearty laughter after hearing my reply.
In any case, Mother had never once mentioned in front of me any qualification to inherit the imperial line. No—she lived as if she had no succession rights at all.
And so I had always been nothing more—and nothing less—than the sole bloodline of the Grand Duchess who ruled the North, the future lord destined to guard this frozen land.
A future other than becoming Grand Duchess of the North had never been given to me. Not even vaguely suggested.
…Not once.
In fact, Mother would publicly and repeatedly nail down the fact that I was the future Grand Duchess whenever she had the chance. The Northern people called me “Your Highness the Little Grand Duke” more often than “Princess.”
“……So Mom really thought this through.”
It was clear she had arranged everything so that instead of being dragged into a pointless battle over the imperial succession, I would be raised one step removed from it and safely inherit the Grand Duchy.
“Haah… what am I supposed to do?”
I sighed. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand her reasoning—I understood it too well, and that was the problem.
Even to me, following the path she had prepared seemed like the best option.
Fortunately, though I had imperial succession rights, I wasn’t a direct descendant but from a collateral line. If Duke Ricardt—the only one who held the card of being my “biological father”—stepped forward, there was a chance.
… I know. I know that.
‘But it’s so annoyiiiing.’
Forget going to Ricardt—just seeing the shadow of that castle would make me want to vomit. What exactly was I supposed to do?
I began roughly kneading Moromoro again. The hide of Morocostvalto—a representative demonic beast of the North—was covered in fine, glossy, silky fur that shimmered beautifully. But despite appearances, it was incredibly tough; no matter how roughly I bit or handled it, it never suffered a single scratch.
‘…Calm down. Anyway, in this situation, there’s no way a mere three-year-old like me can request the imperial family to send guards again.’
To do that, I would have to go through Marquis Matilda. And there was no way she—who was upholding Mother’s final will—would listen to me.
No matter how skillfully a three-year-old might twist her short tongue, how could I possibly overturn a dying wish? Especially the final request of a lord she had served loyally her entire life?
And even if the guard unit were dispatched again, that would bring its own problems. A once-disbanded escort would need to be reorganized, and until it arrived in the North, they would have to maintain heightened vigilance against demonic invasions.
‘It looked like no one slept at all yesterday.’
A day or two might be manageable, but this situation couldn’t continue. Dragging things out any longer would be dangerous for everyone.
‘Right. There’s no choice.’
On the journey to the Imperial Palace for the Day of Oath, Ezekiel would accompany me.
There was nothing I could do about that. In the end, I acknowledged the fact. It didn’t mean my dissatisfaction vanished—but what had to be accepted should be accepted quickly.
‘The infamous Exterminator Ezekiel as an escort… It’ll be the safest return trip in the world.’
It would be unpleasant, but if enduring that meant protecting what little remained of Mother… I could bear it.
Of course, after arriving in the capital, I had absolutely no intention of obediently following him to Ricardt. Absolutely none.
‘Not unless I’ve lost my mind.’
Of course, I didn’t have any brilliant plan at the moment.
‘It hasn’t even been a full day since I figured out the situation.’
Think positively. I could start thinking of something from now on.
