Lizzie of the North (Yrsoreth Chronicles 2)

37 ◦✿◦ The King Abduction

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Although they were all occupied even for the Founding Festival, the family had not so urgent matters later the day. As the palace held only one ball, the Northern nobles who left their territories had taken the opportunity to hold their own balls in their residences.

Like most of the year, no Norvillon accepted the pile of invitations. Instead, they shared a dinner, all four seats occupied.

They exchanged mostly updates of their tasks such as training for new knight recruits, draft for a new treaty with one of the dignitaries and the suspicious inactivity of monsters in the Seventh Frontier and the proposal of the sewage system extension. Lizzie shared her upcoming official visit to the city orphanage on the last day of the festival.

Most of the time, they spent it in silence, and the youngest would slide her pepper to Garth. Although she could have not eaten the green, she believed that food must be consumed, even if it wasn't her to do so. Hewitt caught her many times but always turned a blind eye.

Garth had no complaint whatsoever, while Erdan would sometimes throw her a smirk as if not eating pepper was a shameful weakness. Lizzie would do the same and glance at his carrots abandoned on the side.

It was always the same scene at the dinner. However, for the moment, Lizzie had a lot more in her mind particularly. Her meat was chewy but it wasn't as tasty and her usual vigor did not reflect the few times she kissed the spoon.

And as always, it did not go unnoticed in Devanti's sharp eyes. "Felizzia, are you not hungry?"

She would have said "Yes" just to end the discussion and the needless worry. But her appetite is the least of her problems. "Papa, if I get married—"

She swallowed at the simultaneous clutter of utensils.

"—should it be Levich or Syl Sulivar? Which can give us stability?"

Her question was met with silence. Hewitt and two maids on standby shifted uncomfortably by the sudden drop of temperature.

"—Who—who's the punk you wanted to marry?" Garth asked. "Was it that hooded man who wooed you in the fountain?"

Of course, the reports already reached them, but whether it was fortunate or not that Alec wasn't identified, it was not her problem for now.

"That was a drunk man," she lied. "I'm just asking hypothetically. I'll be legal in a few weeks, but I haven't even got a fiancee."

"You don't need it." Erdan cut her off.

"You and Garth don't even have either," she replied curtly. "At least I want to marry for our benefit. Norvillon is a strong kingdom, but it is small. We need assurance with stronger allies. We don't how long can we thrive like this."

It was a sudden switch for an informal dinner, but ever since she met Alec this afternoon, the impatience was crawling up to Lizzie's neck.

"Feliziia," Devanti broke his silence and looked straight into her eyes. She expected him to be surprised and angry the most, but he was calm, yet there was a chill underlying in his tone. "History will not repeat itself. Do not worry about trivial matters."

War is never trivial!

But she has no retort. History, he said, he was referring to her mother who was used by the late king, and everyone knew how it ended.

She answered an obedient "Yes, Papa.". However, the mood has dampened and the dinner was veiled in pensive silence. Lizzie, who was lost in her worries, had eaten her pepper absentmindedly

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Lizzie rose an hour earlier the next day. She spent the whole night reading records about the current Gran Dacchian demographics. From military power to economic angles, they exceeded Norvillon tenfolds. Of course, territory and population were big factors.

In her analysis, the kingdom can put on a fight, a good one, but it was only that far that they could go unless they seek alliances.

As much as possible, no blood must be shed, or if it could not be avoided, at least only hers.

She did well to reach this point in her life. Lizzie was not yet satisfied, but her sixteen years was somehow extraordinary.

Thus, despite her sleepy state, scratching the side of her neck and a yawn, Lizzie made a decision.

She went straight to her office and requested breakfast to be sent. She burrowed her head in the documents and correspondence to a few letters from the children.

Ever since she involved herself in official duties, a few letters of thanks were sent to her, especially children from the orphanage. She was done with official responses and letters by nine.

Fortunately, there were no art lessons with Madam Vaddenver nor two-hour academic classes in the afternoon in respect for the festival. She couldn't weave a plan to initiate a closer bond between Garth and Luppe. The aide was officially on leave to be with her family who was currently in Nordis and also calms her livid parents on behalf of their 'heartbroken' daughter.

On her next agenda, Lizzie barged into the duke's office in a commoner's clothes. "Papa~!"

Devanti Norvillon looked up from his documents with a knotted forehead. Over the years, he learned to be more expressive and for a moment, she can read, 'What is it this time?' on his face.

She grinned and declared, "I'm kidnapping you!"

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