Prologue
“All hail His Majesty, the Crown Prince!”
“All hail Crown Prince Cermiane!”
“All hail the Empire! Glory to the Empire!”
A countless number of people were cheering below our eyes. Rather than cheering, it was more like roaring. The loud voices overlapped and resonated with one another, to the extent that they were shaking the tower we were standing on. In all seriousness, it was really shaking. No joke.
The swirling mix of heat, joy, and what you could describe as a certain type of madness, was surging toward us like a tornado. Honestly, being exposed to this fervor would make anyone feel light-headed. I just happened to be wearing the most stifling formalwear, so I felt very faint. …Even though it’s currently winter right now.
The new Crown Prince’s ascension ceremony. This is essentially the unveiling of the future Emperor, which is why the citizens are celebrating this joyous occasion. But the reason why Cermiane became the Crown Prince is because the previous Crown Prince passed away. I don’t think that’s very joyous, but okay…
Well, to be fair, the commoners wouldn’t know the circumstances of the imperial family nor the nobility, I guess. They’re happy as long as they’re able to drink wine in the name of any celebration. I know, I know. I, too, was essentially a commoner until recently. I also wanted to join their drinking and celebrating in blissful ignorance. I unconsciously stare off into space…
Cermiane, dressed in the Crown Prince’s ceremonial garments, raised his hand in response to the crowd’s cheering. I must admit, my husband looks good doing that. While I was absentmindedly watching him as if all this had nothing to do with me, another cheer rose up among the crowd.
“All hail Crown Princess Ralphene!”
Who the heck is Ralphene? Oh, they’re referring to me. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten my own name, mind you. It’s just that I’ve been called by my nickname, Ral, for the past few years, so I’m not used to being called by my full name. It makes my back itch.
Wait, Crown Princess?
When I just continue to stand there with a stained look on my face, Cermiane — well, I usually call my husband Mia, but whatever — gently urges me to respond to the crowd while smiling.
“There, there, wave your hand too, my dear.”
I smile awkwardly and wave my hand like a mechanical doll. The cheering grows even more intense, like surging waves. Why did it get louder when I just waved my hand? Is everyone mistaking me for someone else? I sure hope not…
Now, I’m sweating bullets as I continue to get overwhelmed by the giant crowd. I’m pretty sure I married a poor knight? And yet, I’m the Crown Princess? Why? What in the world happened for things to turn out like this?
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