Chapter 1: This Sucks

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The Red Line is the largest kingdom in the world, and has been ruled by the Donquixote Royal Family for as long as anyone can remember. Eight centuries at least. Considered the Holy Land of the world, the Red Line holds the most power and clout among all the known lands. Its military force is unmatched, and the most prominent nobles reside there.

And you hate all of it. You're Sarie (y/n), only child of Baron Sarie Bronte, and your father's nobility is almost at the absolute bottom rung. The only reason you're considered to have any prominence is because your family's lands are within the Red Line, and thus considered holy. Putting you higher on the ladder than nobles from other countries.

Outside of the Red Line you're treated with immense respect and deference, but within the lands of your birth you're only given the barest of respects. Respect enough to avoid marring the Celestial Heritage of all the families in the Red, but not much past that.

You don't like any of it. You don't like dealing with nobles, don't like being worshipped and really don't like being looked down upon by other nobles. The Nobility is, as far as you're concerned, completely and utterly useless. Especially those within the Red Line. You've already made yourself clear with your father that when you come of age, you're going to sell your title and leave. He's agreed, and hasn't even tried to set you up with any perspective marriage partners.

Which makes you a little unusual. Most noble ladies are betrothed by their 19th birthdays, regardless of station, and married by their 22nd at the latest. The only exception is for the Royal Princesses, and Princes – not that there's any Princesses in this generation, but neither of the princes would be betrothed until later in life. The idea being that they have to focus on the extra studies needed for running the country, and as some believe, the very world.

There are partner candidates who undergo additional education in order to be able to assist the Crown Prince when he ascends the throne, but it's become such a fiasco, almost every eligible noble lady takes the classes if she's within 8 years of the Prince's age.

Which is to say, sadly, you've been taking those classes as well, as you're 21 years old to Crown Prince Doflamingo's 28. You can't complain too much though, since the additional knowledge gives you a better idea of the world outside the Red Line, and that's exactly what you want.

You haven't told your father, but the goal isn't just to leave the holy lands and travel as a commoner. Your true goal is to become a pirate and live free on the open seas. It doesn't matter if you're Captain or not, and honestly, you'd make a better navigator than Captain anyway, and thanks to the condition of your family's estate you're a good cook and a half decent botanist.

If you wanted to be responsible for people like a captain, you'd just keep being a noble. You pulled your mind back in from wandering and heard the bell signaling a change in classes. Library time was over, you had one more class for the day before you'd be returning home, and one more semester before you never had to be bothered with being in the Capital ever again.

You should've just skipped the last class of the semester and gone home early.

You came around the library door and came face to face with Crown Prince Doflamingo and his younger brother Prince Rosinante. They didn't seem to be talking about anything of particular importance, but they were talking, so you stepped to the side and let them pass. Curtsied like you were supposed to and bowed your head. Your etiquette was a point of pride for you, so you were sure you weren't doing anything incorrect. Granted, the main reason your etiquette was such a point of pride, was because it was one less thing other nobles could sneer at you over.

Something caused the two of them to stop next to you, and the silence in their conversation prompted you to pay attention. Two pairs of shoes, pointed in your direction, how wonderful. Without looking up you greeted them.

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