"What should we do about this situation?"

  The King clasped his head in his hands.

  The Queen bit her lips, equally flustered.

  'What should we do?'

  The Valther Duchy had proposed a marriage alliance.

  On its own, this was excellent news.

  The Valther Duchy was the largest family in the Kingdom of Arenon, with territories even broader than those of the Duchy of Saramoons, and their wealth and military power were unmatched.

  Additionally, they boasted the top bloodline of magicians, superior even to most royal families.

  In contrast, though reasonably extensive, the Duchy of Saramoon's territories consisted mainly of forests and wastelands.

  Even the arable land was ill-suited for crops.

  The duchy couldn’t produce enough food and relied on other nations.

  That wasn’t the end of its troubles.

  Saramoons was bordered by three different kingdoms, wedged between them like a small bean.

  Whenever international tensions rose or a pretext for conflict appeared, these kingdoms showed signs of aggression.

  Saramoons had been invaded several times.

  The quickest route for any of these kingdoms to attack another passed through the duchy.

  Its continued existence hinged on the fact that if one kingdom invaded, another would intervene to prevent any single kingdom from becoming too powerful.

  If Saramoons were overrun, the other two kingdoms would share a direct border, a situation less desirable than keeping Saramoons in between.

  So, Whenever Saramoons was attacked, it simply called for troops from its neighbors.

  Thus, while Saramoons suffered, the surrounding kingdoms bore no damage.

  Therefore, these three kingdoms supported Saramoons, and thanks to them, Saramunz still existed.

  However, this also meant Saramoons could not stand alone without support from other kingdoms.

  The duchy had little domestic military power due to its poverty and frequent invasions.

  There wasn’t enough wealth to support an army or weaponry; survival was the priority.

  Furthermore, the long stretch of autonomous Enorthos territory extended into part of the kingdom.

  Though this area suffered little from barbarian raids, the residents always lived in anxiety.

  The barbarians had no interest in the kingdom itself, targeting only goods and women, making it difficult to expect support from other nations if they did attack.

  As long as Saramoons remained, other kingdoms cared little whether it was poor or suffering.

  Even if they sent aid, the barbarians would have disappeared by the time it arrived, rendering the help useless.

  In this context, a marriage alliance with the Valther Duchy would provide a strong backing.

  Given Saramoons's circumstances, accepting the marriage proposal seemed a no-brainer.

  However, the problem was that they wanted the youngest princess, Liana—who wasn’t an actual princess.

  She was a fake.

  "..."

  The Queen clenched her fist, her fingernails digging into her palm.

  Both she and the King knew the princess was a fake.

  But only the Queen knew the truth.

  Weighed down by this truth, she took a deep breath.

  How wonderful it would be to confide in someone.

  But she couldn't.

  She had to bear this burden alone.

  The King barely remembered how obsessed he had been with the child or what actions he had taken, only that his dearly loved daughter had been "kidnapped" by a nursemaid.

  So why was there a need for a fake princess?

  It was too strange for him not to notice, yet he didn’t find it odd that a fake princess lived in the summer palace in place of his real daughter.

  Witch Dorothea’s chilling voice echoed in her mind.

  "A nominal princess must reside in the palace for at least five years. If His Majesty begins to wonder why your daughter isn't by your side, the memories I planted might get twisted. You need the reassurance that your daughter is there."

  Witches are terrifying beings.

  It was dreadful enough that her daughter could drive men mad, but Dorothea, who could easily alter memories and cloud judgment, was even more chilling.

  "Why her, of all children?"

  The King muttered suddenly.

  The Queen's heart chilled.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Was he referring merely to the awkwardness of this situation, or was there a lingering memory of the princess in his subconscious?

  She was always left wondering.

  'What if he returns to the version of himself obsessed with the princess...'

  Remembering her husband's obsession, the Queen shivered uncontrollably.

  Scary.

  She steeled herself and raised her head.

  "Perhaps it's for the best."

  Only the King, she, and two maids who cared for and taught the child knew the princess in the summer palace was a fake.

  The nursemaid known to have "kidnapped" the daughter had been paid off and sent away, only to be set upon by bandits soon after, leaving her no longer of this world.

  The fake's parents had been told their daughter was taken to play with the princess, then informed of her "death."

  They might suspect, but having not seen her for so long, they wouldn’t recognize her now.

  People change a lot from childhood to adulthood.

  A few others knew, but they weren't a concern.

  'No one knows.'

  Truly, no one would know the child was a fake.

  Even the Valther Duchy wouldn’t know as long as we keep quiet.

  They wouldn't suspect in the first place, so keeping this secret was easy.

  The fake had been educated in preparation for any contingency.

  She could be deceived.

  '... Let's get rid of that child this time.'

  The presence of the fake in the palace and Dorothea and Liana nearby had always made her uneasy.

  She knew it wasn't true.

  The Queen had brought in the fake princess.

  Dorothea didn’t know.

  There was supposed to be no connection between the witch and the child posing as one.

  Yet, thinking of the summer palace still cast a dark shadow over her heart.

  A sense of doom still lingered in the palace.

  That ominous feeling had slowly grown, now swelling to the point where it was suffocating.

  'I can’t stand it any longer.'

  Since revealing the fake was impossible, rejecting the Valther Duchy’s marriage proposal was out of the question.

  Though subtly expressed, the envoy from the duchy had implied that a refusal would not end well.

  "Your Majesty, accept the marriage proposal. We can't refuse it for the sake of the country."

  Her husband breathed a gloomy sigh.

  "I know. I do know, but... the thought of what might happen if the truth comes out later. Moreover, she's not sufficiently educated or mannered to be sent to a duchy as a princess."

  The Queen overlapped her hand on her husband’s gnarled one.

  "The duchy is likely aware of that. They can easily find out she's been a frail body confined to the summer palace. You said it yourself, the reason this proposal has come."

  The subject of this marriage was the grandson of the Duke.

  He had barbarian blood.

  For our Duchy of Saramoons, he was a decent match.

  Not simply because our duchy was an easy target, but perhaps because of the youngest princess’s particular situation.

  "I heard the Duke’s grandson was raised in the forests. He wasn’t brought up as a noble. He wouldn't suit a typical princess or noble lady. The Duke probably considered that too."

  The King’s brow furrowed.

  "That might be, but if the truth comes out..."

  She gripped the King’s hand, hesitating.

  In his youth, before being ensnared by the witch’s magic, her husband had been a bright and bold man.

  But the witch had changed him.

  It was as if a fog had been cast in his mind, dulling his decisiveness.

  It wasn’t obvious, but to the Queen, who had lived with him for years, it was painfully apparent.

  'Could the witch have done something deliberately?'

  The thought crossed her mind, but it seemed unlikely.

  Although she didn’t know about Witch Dorothea, the Witch of Foresight had long connections with the Queen’s family.

  When contacted about her daughter, she had promptly come to help.

  Dorothea might be unknown, but she trusted the Witch of Foresight.

  The King hesitated a bit more but eventually agreed to accept the marriage proposal.

  There was no other way.

  No matter how much he hesitated or feared the consequences, it was inevitable.

  He had to stand against the blade that was offered.

  ***

  "Ah, there he is."

  As we walked down the street, Tatiana tugged at my clothes.

  In a narrow alley, my uncle was scratching his head, standing before him was his son—my cousin.

  His expression was stern as he looked at my uncle.

  Around them, several sturdy men lay defeated.

  Perhaps they had been drinking and fighting again.

  Lately, our city was very lively.

  Mainly in terms of fights.

  With the appearance of my uncle, brawlers, adventurers, and those who disliked barbarians showed up daily.

  Some clashed over drinks, and some attacked suddenly.

  Of course, my uncle knocked them all down.

  "Father, I've told you many times, please try to talk before hitting people. It's problematic if it's always like this."

  "But those guys attacked me first."

  "Even so, you hit first, didn't you?"

  "Of course."

  "Father, I've told you many times..."

  The same conversation repeated, but suddenly my uncle burst into laughter.

  "You really take after your mother. You talk just like her."

  My cousin’s face turned beet red in an instant.

  It seemed embarrassing, though I couldn't tell what part of that statement was supposed to be embarrassing.

  Perhaps it was just the awkwardness of the father-son relationship making him momentarily cringe.

  Hmm, as my cousin cleared his throat, I quickly made a noise and approached.

  It looked like the lecture was about to start again.

  My uncle seemed eager to escape from his son as he waved at me.

  "Hey, Rafa."

  "Hello, Bonjo."

  Jenny and my cousin knew we were related, but I am Helga's son.

  We thought it best not to reveal our familial relationship in public, so we called each other by name in the presence of others.

  If something happened, I could quickly leave, but Jenny and my cousin, who had roots here, could not.

  It was best no one knew they were connected to my mother.

  "Uncle, I need to consult with you. Could we talk over a drink?"

  At my words, my uncle’s face brightened.

  "Of course. I know a cheap and good bar."

  "Sorry, but could we do it in a room..."

  Before I could finish, my uncle slapped my shoulder.

  "That's fine too. They sell whole kegs there. Tonight, I’ll make a man out of you."

  No, I am already too much of a man, so much that it's problematic, from the top of my head to my toes.

  If I become any more of a man, I'd be a monster, not a human.

  And I don't believe alcohol is a symbol of manhood.

  There are better ways to prove manliness.

  I had much to say, but my uncle was already pulling me along.

  His grip was likely stronger than my mother's.

  It hurt as if a log had grabbed me.

  My cousin sighed deeply and checked on the men lying on the ground.

  He seemed to be checking for broken bones or injuries.

  Lately, he's been checking like this every day; it must be hard for him.

  Tatiana, finding something amusing, followed while clutching her stomach and laughing.

  She has been laughing a lot these days.

  "..."

  Memories of her childhood seemed to resurface, peeling back the cover that had been draped over her.

  Every time she laughed, I felt incredibly happy.

  As I relished this happiness, my uncle dragged me to his favorite bar.

  I must have walked there on my own feet, but I don't remember arriving.

  It was my first visit, but it seemed to be the cheapest and dirtiest bar and inn in the city, even worse than the place recommended by the guild.

  "Bring out a keg! A robust one!"

  As my uncle shouted, a bulky man led us to the back door of the bar.

  "Take this."

  "..."

  Since I wanted to consult, paying a consulting fee was only natural.

  If a keg was the price, I thought it cheap.

  But perhaps not this.

  The keg brought out by the bar looked like something from a pirate movie, a huge wooden barrel.

  It was too much for two people to drink.

  I wondered if we were really going to consume it as I looked at my uncle, who was already smacking his lips in anticipation.

  "..."

  He really intended to drink it.

  But with such a keg, we could drink all night and still not finish.

  At least, I would only drink a few glasses.

  Initially, I planned to have it in our room, but plans changed.

  I went back to the inn and rented another room.

  I carried the keg myself.

  Once alone with my uncle, he took a swig of the drink before asking.

  "So, what's this consultation about?"

  "Do you know of a place called the Duchy of Saramoons?"

  "Hmm, let me think."

  My uncle tilted his head.

  "It's touching the edge of the Enothos Autonomy."

  "Hmm, not our tribal land. Another tribe's territory. So, what about it?"

  "Are you interested in that area?"

  My uncle stared at me quietly.

  "Me? Or the whole tribe?"

  "The whole tribe."

  "Let's hear it then."

  My uncle crossed his arms.