CHAPTER 21……..
An Unexpected Rival in Love
“Greetings to Your Majesty, the Queen.”
“Welcome, Duchess Zenon.”
Meeting the Duchess of Zenon in the Queen’s drawing room felt quite different from our usual lessons in the study.
When I met her as a teacher, the Duchess of Zenon was overflowing with charisma—so much so that she could rival her husband, the Duke of Zenon, the Chancellor. The palace servants’ whispers that the Duke was henpecked clearly weren’t baseless.
But here in the cozy drawing room, she seemed to set her charisma aside and wear an air of gentleness instead.
“This child is my niece, Violet. Violet, shouldn’t you greet Her Majesty the Queen?”
“G-good day, Your Majesty the Queen~ I’m Violet Zenon……”
With lilac-colored eyes much like mine, Violet clung shyly to the Duchess’s skirt and peeked up at me.
She had curly golden hair and plump cheeks so irresistibly cute that I had to fight the urge to pat her.
“Remember I once told you I’d introduce you to the Zenon family’s treasure? This is the one.”
“I see why. How old is Lady Violet this year?”
“She turned six just last month.”
“She’s absolutely adorable~”
While we were enjoying tea together, the timid little Violet quickly revealed her true colors—she was actually a mischievous rascal.
She bounced around, tossing a little ball, giggling so sweetly that even we adults couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“You must truly love your niece, Duchess.”
“Embarrassing to admit, but yes. Both in the Zenon family and my own, a girl hasn’t been born in nearly twenty years.”
“I’ve heard daughters are rare in most noble houses of Fritan.”
“Indeed.”
The Duchess sighed as she set down her teacup.
“For some reason, nearly every child born into noble families has been a boy.”
“With so few nobles already, if only boys are born, will the young lords have to seek brides from abroad in the future?”
“Oh, there is a way.”
Other than marrying foreign princesses or noble ladies, what way could there be?
“In Fritan, hereditary nobles are few, but there are many chances to become a first-generation noble. While titles can’t be inherited, anyone who renders great service—regardless of their birth—can be granted a title.”
“Ah…”
Because Fritan’s land was vast yet much of it uninhabitable due to the harsh cold, the number of hereditary nobles was deliberately limited, but first-generation nobles—non-hereditary—were increased.
It seemed like a clever system: providing opportunities for social mobility while securing loyalty to the crown.
And since first-generation nobles were still nobles, it wasn’t problematic for hereditary nobles to marry their daughters into such families.
Compared to the Haren Empire, the Kingdom of Fritan truly had less rigid class distinctions.
“By any chance, has Your Majesty heard the story about Violet?”
“What story?”
The Duchess squinted playfully, clearly savoring the tale.
“Well, had Your Majesty not come to Fritan…”
She paused to sip her tea.
“Our Violet was nearly made Prince Mikloc’s queen. Hohohoho.”
What!!! I whipped my head back to look at mischievous little Violet bouncing her ball.
That tiny child was nearly Mik’s queen?!
“But, didn’t you say Violet is six years old this year?”
“Precisely. Your Majesty saved so many people.”
Good heavens! Even if noble daughters are scarce, a child that young?? She’s practically of daughter age! I was too dumbfounded for words.
“Two years ago, Violet was briefly proposed as a queen candidate in the House of Nobles. It caused utter chaos for my husband.”
“And the Duke did nothing to stop it?”
“What could he do? He’s the head of the House of Nobles.”
Oh my!! Wait—that means he was the one who pushed such a ridiculous idea?!
“Did the Duke actually want his niece to become queen?”
“Of course not!”
The Duchess recoiled, setting her teacup down firmly.
“In fact, the one who adores Violet most in our family is Mark, my husband. Once her name was raised in the House of Nobles, he wept every night.”
“Then why…?”
“There were no noble ladies of proper age in Fritan, and every proposal sent abroad was rejected. So the House of Nobles must have thought Violet was the best option left, however absurd.”
I felt sympathy for the Chancellor—forced to nominate his beloved niece while crying nightly. But curiosity about what happened next quickly overrode my pity.
“So, how was that absurd plan thwarted?”
“Well, after a month of heated debate, the House of Nobles presented the proposal to Prince Mikloc. And then—”
“And then?”
“He shattered their round table into twelve pieces right then and there.”
“Pfft! Hahaha!”
It was so very like him that I forgot my dignity and burst out laughing.
“And that very night, my husband tore up the divorce papers I had given him—into twelve pieces as well. Had His Highness accepted Violet as queen, I was resolved to divorce him.”
“Wow~”
I thought my marriage was dramatic, but clearly, there had been chaos even before it happened! I quickly composed myself.
“When His Highness returns, I’ll seriously consider dissolving the House of Nobles. How could they propose something so idiotic!”
“Such wisdom, Your Majesty.”
And so, until the sun set, the Duchess and I spent hours ridiculing the foolish House of Nobles—never mind that her own husband was its leader.
Meanwhile
“Kh! Kukuku!”
“Your Highness, please stop laughing while drenched in blood. Sometimes even I get chills!”
William shouted irritably as he cut down three monsters charging at Mikloc.
But Mikloc, still laughing like a madman, swung his sword backward, decapitating another beast.
“Ah, I just remembered something funny.”
“Let me guess—the Queen’s letter brought by the messenger hawk yesterday?”
“You know me too well.”
They shot down the monsters lurking in the trees, then turned.
“The east seems mostly cleared now, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. The kidnapped women have all been rescued and sent home as well.”
Mikloc’s expression suddenly grew grim.
“Will, in the past, monsters raided villages for food and wreaked havoc, but they never abducted people…”
“You’re right.”
“Good thing we swept the borderlands before winter. They’re getting more vicious. We’ll scare those who need scaring, placate those who can be placated, and wipe out the rest.”
Though he spoke gravely of protecting border folk, his eyes still glimmered with amusement—irritating William.
“What exactly did Her Majesty write that has you grinning like an idiot for so long?”
“Oh, that?”
Mikloc smirked mischievously.
“You don’t need to know. Hahaha!”
William scowled, but Mikloc was lost in his own world, spurring his horse forward.
“To the next destination! Hyah!”
As they galloped through the wind, Mikloc recalled Lea’s letter and burst into laughter again.
“My beloved Mik, a few days ago I met the young lady who nearly became your queen. The rival I almost had was beautiful and utterly adorable.”
At first, he hadn’t understood what she meant.
“Don’t pretend ignorance. Surely you remember the Zenon family’s precious gem, Lady Violet Zenon?”
Violet Zenon? Thinking back, Mikloc scowled as he remembered the Duke’s little niece.
That four-year-old brat?! The House of Nobles’ nonsense two years ago came rushing back, souring his mood further.
Damn them—those old men get to sleep with their wives every night, while they expected me to wed a four-year-old and live celibate for decades?!
Remembering his passionate first night with Lea, Mikloc seethed at the House’s insolence all over again.
*“Her fluffy golden hair, lilac eyes, and rosy cheeks made me think—perhaps in ten years, you might regret not marrying her. But too late now! And don’t think I’ll just sit idly by. I’ll be hammering in a few nails of my own, so beware. Yours, lawfully and officially, your queen, Lea.
P.S. I like Fritan’s cold no more than I like its House of Nobles.”*
Though she ended with a sly warning about her “rival,” Mikloc only found it adorable.
For all her teasing, it was obvious Lea had fallen for Violet too.
Mikloc longed to rush back immediately to see what “nails” she intended to hammer into place. But work remained.
“Bloodstorm, let’s go faster! Hyah!”
“Neighhh!”
His horse resisted the ridiculous name, but Mikloc only spurred harder. Now even the other knights had begun calling it “Bloodstorm,” much to the horse’s daily misery. Thankfully, at least his friend Bibi understood.
Elsewhere
Marquis Uzcal’s steps were light as he walked in secret to the emperor’s private chamber.
After sending his daughter Hailey as empress, the money he received from the Haren Emperor had bought him some time.
But his plan to start a new business was soon crushed by Hailey’s cold words:
“Never again sell me off to beg from His Majesty. Not a single coin will leave the palace for House Uzcal. Understood?”
Visiting to offer congratulations, the Marquis had instead been humiliated. Though he wanted to teach his insolent daughter a lesson, she was now empress—so for the time being, he had no choice but to humor her.
Then, just in time, the emperor summoned him. Surely His Majesty lacked something and needed him again. This was a chance he could not miss.
“Hail, the Sun of the great Haren Empire, Your Majesty the Emperor.”
The Marquis bowed more deeply than ever.
The emperor dismissed all attendants and fixed him with a cold stare.
“Answer me truthfully. Was there truly no sign of divine power in Yurachel’s daughter?”
“What?”
“Don’t play games—answer at once!!”
The emperor’s furious roar struck his ears. The Marquis fell to his knees in alarm.
“There was none. I swear, not a single sign of divine power.”
The emperor glared.
“And if it manifested only after she reached Fritan?”
“Impossible. I checked every year since she was eight. As the High Priest instructed: did heat rise from her core, did she feel electric tingles in her fingertips. Until her twentieth birthday, nothing at all.”
“And if you lied?”
The Marquis forced a laugh.
“She was a foolish girl who cared only for handsome faces, knowing nothing of the world. How could she lie about such matters? And did the temple not say that after twenty, awakening rarely occurs?”
“Damn that High Priest for changing his words now!”
The emperor slammed the table. If Lea had awakened late, he had sold her to Fritan far too cheaply—a thought that made him restless.
The Marquis, sensing an opening, carefully raised his head with a smile.
“Then, Your Majesty, why not confirm it directly in Fritan?”
“You? Travel to Fritan? And expect the truth?”
“Not I, of course. But I know someone perfect for the task.”
“Who?”
“Robbie Stone, the young viscount—eldest son of the Stone family.”
