Duke Calvin unfolded the letter. He had barely skimmed a few lines when his gaze stopped on two words.
"Marriage alliance?!"
"Huh?" He nearly spat out his tea.
"Who? Marrying whom?"
His eyes raced down the page, skimming line after line until they landed on one particular sentence.
"To betroth my third daughter, Emily Edmond, to Louis Calvin."
He went rigid.
He remembered Louis, his eighth son.
His first impression had been of a boy with little talent and little ambition, who neither fought nor competed-a typical noble wastrel content to coast through life.
That was why he had tossed him off to the Northern Frontier, making some use of a worthless son. He had never intended to let him inherit anything anyway.
Later, the old steward Bradley had mentioned Louis several times in his letters, saying that he had brought order to that chaotic scrap of border territory in the Northern Frontier.
He had even found demon marrow ore there and traded with the family every month, securing a substantial, steady income.
Duke Calvin had been pleased enough to approve some resources for him, allowing Louis to establish a firm foothold in the Northern Frontier.
Worth cultivating, he had thought at the time, but that was all.
Afterward, he had been too busy with other affairs to pay further attention.
In his mind, Louis had always been a useful child, but never a central one.
Just a spare piece on the board.
Yet now Duke Edmund had specifically proposed a marriage, wanting to give his cherished daughter to Louis. That was no ordinary gesture.
"There must be something I don't know."
He immediately summoned the steward. "Are there any letters from Louis?"
"Yes, my lord." Unhurriedly, the steward pulled a letter from the thick stack with precision and presented