Aberdeen had no capacity to concern itself with a distant island nation, too busy deploying its full arsenal of political maneuvering and diplomatic finesse among the continental powers led by Pragonia. 

To reach Fenwick from the duchy required crossing at least two borders. Moreover, what lay between the two nations was Pragonia—a country that could never have good relations with Fenwick.

Between two nations that had never exchanged a single diplomatic letter, Fenwick suddenly extended a helping hand, yet the Crown Prince of Fenwick made no demands whatsoever. 

It was entirely Grand Duke Angelic’s initiative to propose a marriage alliance between the royal family and the grand ducal house. 

The Grand Duke’s two daughters, Lucille and Edith, were twenty-two and twenty-one respectively—past marriageable age.

The Crown Prince of Fenwick was twenty-four years old, and despite effectively leading an entire kingdom, he had yet to take a consort. When you thought about it, it was rather strange. 

His investiture as Crown Prince had already taken place four years ago, and it wasn’t like Fenwick lacked young women.

‘I won’t marry the Crown Prince in Lucille’s place.’

Edith could have said that. No, she should have said that. 

She couldn’t tell the Crown Prince—who would be expecting to receive Lucille, daughter of First Grand Duchess Nadia and Aberdeen’s finest lady, as his bride—that she had come instead through her sister’s scheming. 

If the Crown Prince grew angry over this and decided to stop sending salt to Aberdeen, all the blame would fall on Edith’s shoulders.

But in that moment, Edith saw the Grand Duke’s eyes.

Her father’s eyes. Eyes that glanced sideways at a troublesome, inconvenient presence with reluctant tolerance. 

When her father had yearned for her mother Jeremiah, those eyes had marked her as evidence of adultery, and during those few years when he finally possessed her mother, they had shown endless disappointment that she was a daughter, not a son.

Her mouth opened on its own.

“…I’ll try.”

The Grand Duke’s shoulders sagged. She knew all too well that her father found her unreliable. 

Yet the reason he didn’t oppose this decision with all his might was—she saw right through it—because if things went according to Lucille’s plan, he could send the grand ducal house’s burden far away.

“Oh, Edith.”

Lucille grasped Edith’s hands.

“For my sake, at least look happier. With this, you’ll become a bridge connecting the duchy and Fenwick. Though admittedly not a very useful bridge… Still, they say islanders are less refined than continentals, so won’t you fit right in with them?”

That tone, practically dying of satisfaction at finally removing an eyesore.

Yes, this wasn’t because of the Goddess Frieze’s secret ritual, nor because of the salt the Crown Prince of Fenwick had sent.

This was entirely Lucille’s doing.

Just like all the troubles Edith had faced at Aberdeen Castle until now.

And His Grace the Grand Duke took Lucille’s side. Just like he always had.

* * *

⌜With this, you’ll become a bridge connecting the duchy and Fenwick.⌟

Ten days from Aberdeen Castle to a Pragonian port, then boarding a ship for the first time in her life and crossing a sea she’d never seen before for another two weeks. Throughout the journey of nearly a month, these words from her half-sister circled endlessly in Edith’s mind.

Though she was the Grand Duke’s daughter, she knew only two very general facts about Fenwick.

First, it was an island nation roughly the size of seventeen or eighteen Aberdeens combined.

Second, King Joffrey III of Fenwick was ill, so the kingdom was governed through cooperation between a council of high nobles and the Crown Prince.

‘How could someone like me possibly serve as a bridge…?’

She struggled to suppress her anxiety.

The captain of the knight guard who had accompanied Edith from Aberdeen Castle entered her cabin. Edith could sense that the ship had finally reached land. 

Aberdeen didn’t even possess a single sturdy vessel capable of crossing the open sea—this was a ship Fenwick had sent to receive the new bride.

She felt regret. Aside from it being a one-way trip forever, it had been a rather splendid voyage.

“Your Highness, we’ve arrived in Fenwick.”

The captain was extremely tense. The already stern man’s voice sounded even more rigid. She didn’t need to ask why—it was obvious. 

Poor man. 

Strangely, having someone more nervous than herself in front of her made Edith feel her own tension ease.

She passed the man without a word and went outside.

「Fenwick is too far away, and Pragonia won’t welcome this marriage. It’s a golden opportunity for you, but because of you alone, relations between Aberdeen and Pragonia could deteriorate. Take this chance to think of it as leaving Aberdeen forever.」

Those were Lucille’s words the last time they’d faced each other.

Edith was far from ignorant of what a union between royal houses meant. Even if it looked like she was being sold for salt, this was undeniably a transaction between nations. 

With an Aberdeen princess becoming part of the Fenwick royal family, the two countries would forge a strategic alliance. Aberdeen princesses who had married into other countries this way never set foot on their homeland again. 

There probably hadn’t been a single princess who considered such a thing an ‘opportunity,’ had there?

The foreign air was cool.

Breathing it didn’t make things feel any more real. Edith set foot on Fenwick’s territory in a dreamlike state. Foreign soil didn’t feel much different from her homeland’s earth.

The same went for the appearance of the Fenwick welcoming party that had clearly come to receive her. 

Their clothing and facial features differed slightly, but they looked just as noble and dignified as the people she’d been surrounded by her entire life. 

There appeared to be at least fifty such people. Not counting the armed knights, that number showed proper respect for receiving Her Highness the Princess.

The oldest-looking noble among them stepped forward.

“Your Highness. I am the lord of Wordsworth, Marquis Edward Doville. I trust your long journey was not too arduous?”

‘Thanks to your concern, I arrived safely.’

Edith decided not to say those words she must have practiced thousands of times over the past month. Instead, she decided to say something different.

Words that would inform this pitiable old marquis of the situation.

The fact that had made everyone from Aberdeen who accompanied her—including the captain responsible for her escort—uncomfortable for an entire month.

‘Here, I represent Aberdeen.’

But her mouth wouldn’t easily open.

“…”

‘Silence is silver.’

Separate from upholding the virtue every person from Aberdeen held dear, speaking in front of this many people was no easy task. Especially words that would overturn everyone’s expectations and assumptions.

「Edith, shouldn’t you study Fenwick’s language diligently from now on? You’re not even prettier than me, so if you can’t speak properly, imagine how much they’ll look down on you even after going all that way.」

This too had been Lucille’s advice. Edith suddenly lost confidence.

How should she broach this without giving the marquis a heart attack?

Fortunately, a young man standing beside the old marquis—seemingly the marquis’s son—helped open Edith’s mouth.

“Princess Lucille Nadia von Seymour Aberdeen…?”

She shook her head decisively.

“No.”

The expressions of the marquis and his son changed strangely. Soon confusion slowly spread throughout the entire welcoming party. Edith couldn’t tell whether it was because of the content of her answer or its form.

Still, she stubbornly continued. Gathering up everything within her that could be called defiance, that could be termed pride.

In slow but clear and precise Fenwick.

“I am Edith Jeremiah von Seymour Aberdeen, Lucille’s younger princess.”

* * *

A royal marriage was a massive project that took a year to prepare if lengthy, or at least half a year if brief. 

However, a union between one royal house and another brought not only the costs, time, labor, and public attention that naturally accompanied such massive projects, but also spawned endless speculation and rumors. 

The marriage between the Fenwick royal family and the Aberdeen grand ducal house—which had never had any notable exchanges since the founding of both nations—was no exception. 

For example:

“With the Crown Prince’s temperament, the only way he could marry would be to bring in a foreign bride who knows nothing.”

Or, “Seeing how this happened just four months after marriage talks began, the Grand Duke of Aberdeen must have been quite desperate.”

Or, “I heard Lord Dunsany’s only daughter yearns so deeply for the Crown Prince—why go out of the way to choose a princess from another country…?”

Such words, in various versions, had been on the lips of all sorts of people throughout the kingdom countless times—from when marriage talks between the two nations first emerged until news arrived that the Aberdeen princess had finally set foot on Fenwick soil to become betrothed to the Crown Prince.

Fenwick was an island nation. The Duchy of Aberdeen was a distant country about which little was known except that it sat small among the great powers of the Svelta Continent. 

Anyone capable of satisfying their interest in national affairs would have heard the news from a few months ago about Fenwick’s salt being unexpectedly exported to Aberdeen, but—

“So what, did that princess get sold here for salt?”

“Even for a landlocked country, surely they’re not completely without sources of salt?”

“Or maybe the princess couldn’t find a husband.”

“Even so, of all people, with that Crown Prince…?”

…somehow the conversation inevitably circled back to talk of the Crown Prince’s temperament.

The actual subject of these rumors, the Crown Prince himself, had acted from the moment Aberdeen initiated contact like his own marriage was the furthest thing from his mind. 

Even the urgent report from Wordsworth three days ago showed no sign of changing that attitude. The result was that innocent royal nobles had been shrinking like turtles for days now. 

Especially the great nobles attending the council—seeing the Crown Prince’s countenance daily had become an ordeal.

The reason was obvious, but no one had the courage to openly raise the topic.

‘The Crown Prince’s bride has been switched!’

How could such a thing happen?

Had the Grand Duke of Aberdeen gone mad?

Or had Pragonia kidnapped Princess Lucille to sabotage this marriage?

Either way, Aberdeen seemed to have no way to avoid responsibility. 

Wasn’t it an affront to the Fenwick royal family to promise to send the first princess, then send a different princess entirely? 

Moreover, Fenwick had previously shown goodwill toward Aberdeen. The Crown Prince himself had personally proposed to provide salt to a land that produced not a grain of it.

‘But why salt in the first place?’

In truth, none of the royal nobles knew the exact reason. Originally, one should never try to read the Crown Prince’s intentions too quickly.

“Well, this has become quite a situation. So, will you marry Princess Edith instead of Princess Lucille, Your Highness?”

Of course, there were those who openly asked about those intentions. 

One such person was the one who had just spoken—the Crown Prince’s maternal cousin, Count Peregrine.