Raphael's answer to Ippolito's question of why he was in his house was extremely cold.
“Ippolito de Mare. Have you no idea how your own family operates?”
It was 180 degrees different from the affectionate and gentle appearance he had when he was in Ariadne's drawing room.
He poked Ippolito's sore spot like a needle, grumbling coldly.
“What, this kid?”
Raphael fired at the enraged Ippolito like a machine gun.
“If you are a commoner, you should at least take care of your family.”
“This... This...”
Ippolito was dying to beat up Raphael, but unlike when he had fought his sister, his hands were not raised so easily.
His eyes swept over the sabre hanging from Raphael's waist.
Despite his slender physique, Raphael de Baldessar is a crazy swordsman.
Ippolito had never once defeated Raphael when he was young, in the fencing instructor's classroom and in youth competitions, hanging out with the second son of the Baldessar family.
'Because my father told me not to use my hands...!'
As Ippolito was barely able to control his temper, Raphael de Baldessar stabbed him with another word like a dagger.
“Since commoners don’t have much to do outside anyway, they should at least take care of household management with their own hands.”
“This kid!”
Here, Ippolito's string snapped. He became angry and attacked Raphael.
As Ippolito charged forward with all his might, Raphael simply stepped aside, hugging his sister's shoulder.
But he neatly avoided Ippolito's attack.
Ippolito, who had been running towards the enemy with all his might but was only struggling in the air instead of hitting him, placed his hand on the sword on his waist.
“Why, are you picking it?”
Raphael's eyes drew arcs and smiled. Those were eyes of genuine joy.
Ippolito couldn't bring himself to draw his sword, so he just placed his hand on the hilt and let out a hissing breath.
It was Julia who sorted things out.
“Brother, let’s go now.”
If she wants to break up without seeing blood, it's better to save face for both parties and then part ways.
Julia pulled her brother's arm.
“It would be rude to make a fuss at your friend’s house.”
Hearing those words, Raphael suddenly blinked his red eyes as if he had come to his senses.
As Raphael relaxed his fighting stance and straightened his posture, Ippolito finally had some free time and did not miss the opportunity to make a fuss.
“Bunny-eyed asshole.”
Before her brother's eyes rolled back again, Julia glared at Ippolito and gave him a warning.
“Lord de Mare. I saw you at the ball the other day.”
Ippolito looked at Julia, startled.
“We should meet again with a smile. Let’s go, brother.”
It was a warning not to act rashly here, as it would ruin his reputation if he opened it up any further.
At this, Ippolito also kept his mouth shut, and Raphael followed his sister obediently.
Julia, who had come out into the hallway and boarded the elegant Baldessar carriage, guided by the servant, let out a relieved sigh and scolded her brother.
“I thought you had fixed that bad temper!”
“What am I?”
“That damn noble pride! Oh my! You were doing fine, so why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
Raphael was a famous, if somewhat infamous, aristocrat.
He was the legitimate son of a prominent Marquis in the capital, and now the sole heir, and from an early age he had a terrible aversion to associating with the rising class of intellectuals and merchants, either of common or lower-class nobility.
“Lady Ariadne.”
Raphael said, running his hands through his silver hair.
“I have proven myself.”
The incident at the Basilica of San Ercole, where the apostles of Asereto confronted each other head-on.
Raphael, who heard this in his dormitory room at the Padua Theological Faculty, could not help but be amazed as he read all the doctrines and grounds she had presented at the time.
The literature she had combed through by candlelight on an old oak desk was incredibly sophisticated and high-quality for a girl of her age to have compiled.
At first, it was an admiration for the talents of a young scholar.
“Most people cannot escape the limitations of the soil they were born into...But occasionally, some people are trapped in the wrong class.”
But when Raphael actually met her, she was amazing.
The 'girl who sees through the truth' who appeared before Raphael, who had imagined her to be a bespectacled, desk-bound person with poor social skills, was an extremely lively, vivacious person, and a person who stood with both feet firmly on the ground.
“I think that the person who recognizes that has to move that person to better soil so that she can sprout properly.”
No, the allegory of sprouts and soil does not suit this woman.
In San Carlo, beautiful young girls were often compared to flowers.
But Raphael felt that Ariadne was different from any other flower.
This woman is too energetic to be compared to a plant.
She walked independently, was agile like an animal, and thought like a human.
She is a great woman who will cross over on her own two feet even if she is not transplanted.
But Raphael wanted to be the first discoverer.
How far could a person who can walk alone go if he or she walked with a helping hand?
The only problem was that his close friend, Prince Alfonso, was in love with Ariadne.
'Even if I see her first, what's the use if I don't do anything?'
The Prince who went to the kingdom of Gallico to negotiate marriage would probably not be able to make Ariadne his wife.
In the end, Gallico's dough would take the Queen's place... Ariadne de Mare was too good to live as the King's mistress.
'The Marchioness of Baldessar.'
It's much better than the Cardinal's illegitimate child.
His younger sister kept nagging him, but Raphael de Baldesar couldn't hear a thing.
He was lost in thought, watching the scenery quickly pass by outside the window.
He was going to devote himself to the church.
He wanted to become a servant of the Holy See and live a life of contemplation in a spiritual world that was one level higher than the secular world.
He had no intention of living among ordinary people and had never thought of a future other than as a seeker of the divine and as a priest.
Today, for the first time, another possibility filled his mind.
“Your Majesty, this is a report from the captain of the Montpellier cavalry.”
Philip looked at his subject with cold eyes.
“Tell me.”
“It has been reported that the additional deployment of three infantry regiments and one heavy cavalry regiment to the Gaeta border area has been completed.”
A flush spread across Philip IV's marble-pale cheeks. It was obvious that he was deeply moved.
“Haha, hahahaha!”
He clapped his hands and laughed.
“The time has come! The time has come for revenge!”
Auguste, who was sitting on a luxurious blue velvet stool at the foot of the King's throne, turned to him, delighted at his brother's excitement.
“Her Majesty Queen Marguerite is very helpful in many ways.”
Despite Auguste's rude tone, Philippe took her words without the slightest hint of reproach.
“Hahaha! Oh, my aunt, she is a filial petty! She sold her body to the Etruscan scumbags and laid the groundwork for Gallico's victory over the traitorous cabal, and now she gave her life to feed Etruscans!"
Because they were the same human beings. Philip IV smiled with joy in his eyes like a white snake.
“Well, it wasn’t something she offered willingly, but the result is the same.”
Princess Auguste laughed beside him as if she found it amusing.
“Now, bring Prince Alfonso of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
Philip IV spoke without hiding his sarcastic tone.
“Let’s start ‘negotiations’.”
It was time to take care of the work that had been pending.
Prince Alfonso finally received a call from Philip IV after a long time.
It had been a long time since he had heard from Philip IV, who had always tried to postpone full-scale negotiations, and it was the first time he had been told to bring his staff.
The luxurious prison quarters were so stuffy that bedsores developed.
Although the notice from the Kingdom of Gallico to attend the meeting seemed somewhat urgent, Alfonso decided to comply rather than protest.
She wanted to enter the negotiation room, which was open for a while.
He entered the conference hall of Philip IV accompanied by Count Marquez, who was in charge of the negotiations, and Sir Bernardino, who was in charge of general coordination.
Prince Alfonso, who passed through the entrance of the conference hall, was first surprised by the number of people on the other side.
“Welcome, Prince Alfonso de Carlo.”
While Prince Alfonso appeared with only two people, Princess Auguste was first on the left of Philip IV, who sat in the center with a pale complexion, a smile, and long fingers intertwined.
And in addition to her, who was clinging to him, about 30 courtiers were sitting on either side of him.
Philip IV did not stand up to greet the Etruscan Prince, and Philip's courtiers sat down to greet Prince Alfonso.
Alfonso sat down, gritting his teeth from the very beginning.
“What is it, Your Majesty Philip IV?”
Even though Alfonso tried to suppress it, the rude words came out on their own.
Philippe smiled cutely when he saw Alfonso getting excited.
“Come on, don’t be so upset. There is a time for everything, isn’t there?”
The King received a bundle of parchments from the courtier sitting next to him.
Philip flipped through a page or two, checked them, and then personally handed them to Alfonso.
“We also needed time to discuss internally how to come up with the details of the negotiations. Here are our demands.”
Prince Alfonso turned the parchment over and confirmed the proposals made by the Kingdom of Gallico.
His eyes grew wide, and veins stood out on the still-soft nape of his neck.
Holding back the scream that threatened to burst out at any moment, he pushed the parchment towards Count Marquez, who was sitting next to him.
Count Marquez, who had been fidgeting after observing Alfonso's expression, hurriedly took the parchment and looked over its contents.
“This... What...”
The contents of the parchment made even seasoned diplomats groan...
“We, the Kingdom of Gallico, cannot help but feel resentful at the death of our beloved Princess, Princess Marguerite de Briand, whom we raised with great care.”
Philip IV himself spoke.
“This was a preventable death. A mere mistress of an Etruscan King dared to poison the Queen!”
The mask-like face of the King, who was not at all sad, took on an expression of exaggerated mourning.
It looked like a piangi mask worn by comedians.
“Princess Marguerite de Briand was renowned for her virtue. She was a Princess raised with love and care by the Kingdom of Gallic. Her tragic death... is entirely the fault of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
Philip shamelessly flashed his tongue in front of Queen Marguerite's own son.
“So I demand. The Etruscan Kingdom issues a formal apology to the Gallico Kingdom... and pays an indemnity of 500,000 ducatos.”
500,000 Ducatos!
The bride price that Queen Margaret received from the Etruscan kingdom when she married was 100,000 ducats.
This time, the Prince of Juldenburg raised 50,000 ducats himself to send an army of 35,000 men to the Yesak region for two years, and as if that was not enough, he asked Philip IV of Gallico for an additional 150,000 ducats.
And that's not all.
In 1109, the war indemnity demanded by the Kingdom of Salamanta to the southwest after it had brought the Kingdom of Gredo to the brink of destruction was only 250,000 ducats.
The indemnity that the Gallico kingdom was now demanding from the Etruscan kingdom was more than twice what a victorious nation would demand from a defeated nation in a full-scale war between nations.
Yes.
The sound of Prince Alfonso slamming a bundle of parchments on the marble table was particularly loud.
“This is a proposal that is not worth a penny.”
He stared at Philip IV with his thick lips stubbornly pressed into a straight line.
“Our Queen has passed away, and the Kingdom of Gallico is demanding an amount equivalent to war reparations. I take it you have no intention of negotiating.”
Prince Alfonso rose from his seat. Count Marquez and Sir Bernardino followed their lord's steps.
"For a moment."
Philip's calm, soothing voice called out to them.
“It seems our little cousin doesn’t know anything yet, but there is something he needs to know.”
As Alfonso strode away, the voice of Philip IV rang out behind him.
“At the border of your beloved homeland, there are now 6,000 of our Montpellier heavy cavalry and about 10,000 elite infantrymen crouching.”
Prince Alfonso's steps stopped.
He stood tall, with his back to the center of Philip IV's council chamber.
“With just one bullet from me, my cute elite soldiers will trample over your beautiful land.”
Instead of the voice of Philip IV, who was waiting for Alfonso's answer with his mouth shut, the refreshing voice of Princess Auguste, full of laughter, echoed through the conference room.
“Well, my dear Prince, are you now a little more willing to engage in ‘negotiation’?”
“Ippolito de Mare. Have you no idea how your own family operates?”
It was 180 degrees different from the affectionate and gentle appearance he had when he was in Ariadne's drawing room.
He poked Ippolito's sore spot like a needle, grumbling coldly.
“What, this kid?”
Raphael fired at the enraged Ippolito like a machine gun.
“If you are a commoner, you should at least take care of your family.”
“This... This...”
Ippolito was dying to beat up Raphael, but unlike when he had fought his sister, his hands were not raised so easily.
His eyes swept over the sabre hanging from Raphael's waist.
Despite his slender physique, Raphael de Baldessar is a crazy swordsman.
Ippolito had never once defeated Raphael when he was young, in the fencing instructor's classroom and in youth competitions, hanging out with the second son of the Baldessar family.
'Because my father told me not to use my hands...!'
As Ippolito was barely able to control his temper, Raphael de Baldessar stabbed him with another word like a dagger.
“Since commoners don’t have much to do outside anyway, they should at least take care of household management with their own hands.”
“This kid!”
Here, Ippolito's string snapped. He became angry and attacked Raphael.
As Ippolito charged forward with all his might, Raphael simply stepped aside, hugging his sister's shoulder.
But he neatly avoided Ippolito's attack.
Ippolito, who had been running towards the enemy with all his might but was only struggling in the air instead of hitting him, placed his hand on the sword on his waist.
“Why, are you picking it?”
Raphael's eyes drew arcs and smiled. Those were eyes of genuine joy.
Ippolito couldn't bring himself to draw his sword, so he just placed his hand on the hilt and let out a hissing breath.
It was Julia who sorted things out.
“Brother, let’s go now.”
If she wants to break up without seeing blood, it's better to save face for both parties and then part ways.
Julia pulled her brother's arm.
“It would be rude to make a fuss at your friend’s house.”
Hearing those words, Raphael suddenly blinked his red eyes as if he had come to his senses.
As Raphael relaxed his fighting stance and straightened his posture, Ippolito finally had some free time and did not miss the opportunity to make a fuss.
“Bunny-eyed asshole.”
Before her brother's eyes rolled back again, Julia glared at Ippolito and gave him a warning.
“Lord de Mare. I saw you at the ball the other day.”
Ippolito looked at Julia, startled.
“We should meet again with a smile. Let’s go, brother.”
It was a warning not to act rashly here, as it would ruin his reputation if he opened it up any further.
At this, Ippolito also kept his mouth shut, and Raphael followed his sister obediently.
Julia, who had come out into the hallway and boarded the elegant Baldessar carriage, guided by the servant, let out a relieved sigh and scolded her brother.
“I thought you had fixed that bad temper!”
“What am I?”
“That damn noble pride! Oh my! You were doing fine, so why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
Raphael was a famous, if somewhat infamous, aristocrat.
He was the legitimate son of a prominent Marquis in the capital, and now the sole heir, and from an early age he had a terrible aversion to associating with the rising class of intellectuals and merchants, either of common or lower-class nobility.
“Lady Ariadne.”
Raphael said, running his hands through his silver hair.
“I have proven myself.”
The incident at the Basilica of San Ercole, where the apostles of Asereto confronted each other head-on.
Raphael, who heard this in his dormitory room at the Padua Theological Faculty, could not help but be amazed as he read all the doctrines and grounds she had presented at the time.
The literature she had combed through by candlelight on an old oak desk was incredibly sophisticated and high-quality for a girl of her age to have compiled.
At first, it was an admiration for the talents of a young scholar.
“Most people cannot escape the limitations of the soil they were born into...But occasionally, some people are trapped in the wrong class.”
But when Raphael actually met her, she was amazing.
The 'girl who sees through the truth' who appeared before Raphael, who had imagined her to be a bespectacled, desk-bound person with poor social skills, was an extremely lively, vivacious person, and a person who stood with both feet firmly on the ground.
“I think that the person who recognizes that has to move that person to better soil so that she can sprout properly.”
No, the allegory of sprouts and soil does not suit this woman.
In San Carlo, beautiful young girls were often compared to flowers.
But Raphael felt that Ariadne was different from any other flower.
This woman is too energetic to be compared to a plant.
She walked independently, was agile like an animal, and thought like a human.
She is a great woman who will cross over on her own two feet even if she is not transplanted.
But Raphael wanted to be the first discoverer.
How far could a person who can walk alone go if he or she walked with a helping hand?
The only problem was that his close friend, Prince Alfonso, was in love with Ariadne.
'Even if I see her first, what's the use if I don't do anything?'
The Prince who went to the kingdom of Gallico to negotiate marriage would probably not be able to make Ariadne his wife.
In the end, Gallico's dough would take the Queen's place... Ariadne de Mare was too good to live as the King's mistress.
'The Marchioness of Baldessar.'
It's much better than the Cardinal's illegitimate child.
His younger sister kept nagging him, but Raphael de Baldesar couldn't hear a thing.
He was lost in thought, watching the scenery quickly pass by outside the window.
He was going to devote himself to the church.
He wanted to become a servant of the Holy See and live a life of contemplation in a spiritual world that was one level higher than the secular world.
He had no intention of living among ordinary people and had never thought of a future other than as a seeker of the divine and as a priest.
Today, for the first time, another possibility filled his mind.
***
“Your Majesty, this is a report from the captain of the Montpellier cavalry.”
Philip looked at his subject with cold eyes.
“Tell me.”
“It has been reported that the additional deployment of three infantry regiments and one heavy cavalry regiment to the Gaeta border area has been completed.”
A flush spread across Philip IV's marble-pale cheeks. It was obvious that he was deeply moved.
“Haha, hahahaha!”
He clapped his hands and laughed.
“The time has come! The time has come for revenge!”
Auguste, who was sitting on a luxurious blue velvet stool at the foot of the King's throne, turned to him, delighted at his brother's excitement.
“Her Majesty Queen Marguerite is very helpful in many ways.”
Despite Auguste's rude tone, Philippe took her words without the slightest hint of reproach.
“Hahaha! Oh, my aunt, she is a filial petty! She sold her body to the Etruscan scumbags and laid the groundwork for Gallico's victory over the traitorous cabal, and now she gave her life to feed Etruscans!"
Because they were the same human beings. Philip IV smiled with joy in his eyes like a white snake.
“Well, it wasn’t something she offered willingly, but the result is the same.”
Princess Auguste laughed beside him as if she found it amusing.
“Now, bring Prince Alfonso of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
Philip IV spoke without hiding his sarcastic tone.
“Let’s start ‘negotiations’.”
It was time to take care of the work that had been pending.
***
Prince Alfonso finally received a call from Philip IV after a long time.
It had been a long time since he had heard from Philip IV, who had always tried to postpone full-scale negotiations, and it was the first time he had been told to bring his staff.
The luxurious prison quarters were so stuffy that bedsores developed.
Although the notice from the Kingdom of Gallico to attend the meeting seemed somewhat urgent, Alfonso decided to comply rather than protest.
She wanted to enter the negotiation room, which was open for a while.
He entered the conference hall of Philip IV accompanied by Count Marquez, who was in charge of the negotiations, and Sir Bernardino, who was in charge of general coordination.
Prince Alfonso, who passed through the entrance of the conference hall, was first surprised by the number of people on the other side.
“Welcome, Prince Alfonso de Carlo.”
While Prince Alfonso appeared with only two people, Princess Auguste was first on the left of Philip IV, who sat in the center with a pale complexion, a smile, and long fingers intertwined.
And in addition to her, who was clinging to him, about 30 courtiers were sitting on either side of him.
Philip IV did not stand up to greet the Etruscan Prince, and Philip's courtiers sat down to greet Prince Alfonso.
Alfonso sat down, gritting his teeth from the very beginning.
“What is it, Your Majesty Philip IV?”
Even though Alfonso tried to suppress it, the rude words came out on their own.
Philippe smiled cutely when he saw Alfonso getting excited.
“Come on, don’t be so upset. There is a time for everything, isn’t there?”
The King received a bundle of parchments from the courtier sitting next to him.
Philip flipped through a page or two, checked them, and then personally handed them to Alfonso.
“We also needed time to discuss internally how to come up with the details of the negotiations. Here are our demands.”
Prince Alfonso turned the parchment over and confirmed the proposals made by the Kingdom of Gallico.
His eyes grew wide, and veins stood out on the still-soft nape of his neck.
Holding back the scream that threatened to burst out at any moment, he pushed the parchment towards Count Marquez, who was sitting next to him.
Count Marquez, who had been fidgeting after observing Alfonso's expression, hurriedly took the parchment and looked over its contents.
“This... What...”
The contents of the parchment made even seasoned diplomats groan...
“We, the Kingdom of Gallico, cannot help but feel resentful at the death of our beloved Princess, Princess Marguerite de Briand, whom we raised with great care.”
Philip IV himself spoke.
“This was a preventable death. A mere mistress of an Etruscan King dared to poison the Queen!”
The mask-like face of the King, who was not at all sad, took on an expression of exaggerated mourning.
It looked like a piangi mask worn by comedians.
“Princess Marguerite de Briand was renowned for her virtue. She was a Princess raised with love and care by the Kingdom of Gallic. Her tragic death... is entirely the fault of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
Philip shamelessly flashed his tongue in front of Queen Marguerite's own son.
“So I demand. The Etruscan Kingdom issues a formal apology to the Gallico Kingdom... and pays an indemnity of 500,000 ducatos.”
500,000 Ducatos!
The bride price that Queen Margaret received from the Etruscan kingdom when she married was 100,000 ducats.
This time, the Prince of Juldenburg raised 50,000 ducats himself to send an army of 35,000 men to the Yesak region for two years, and as if that was not enough, he asked Philip IV of Gallico for an additional 150,000 ducats.
And that's not all.
In 1109, the war indemnity demanded by the Kingdom of Salamanta to the southwest after it had brought the Kingdom of Gredo to the brink of destruction was only 250,000 ducats.
The indemnity that the Gallico kingdom was now demanding from the Etruscan kingdom was more than twice what a victorious nation would demand from a defeated nation in a full-scale war between nations.
Yes.
The sound of Prince Alfonso slamming a bundle of parchments on the marble table was particularly loud.
“This is a proposal that is not worth a penny.”
He stared at Philip IV with his thick lips stubbornly pressed into a straight line.
“Our Queen has passed away, and the Kingdom of Gallico is demanding an amount equivalent to war reparations. I take it you have no intention of negotiating.”
Prince Alfonso rose from his seat. Count Marquez and Sir Bernardino followed their lord's steps.
"For a moment."
Philip's calm, soothing voice called out to them.
“It seems our little cousin doesn’t know anything yet, but there is something he needs to know.”
As Alfonso strode away, the voice of Philip IV rang out behind him.
“At the border of your beloved homeland, there are now 6,000 of our Montpellier heavy cavalry and about 10,000 elite infantrymen crouching.”
Prince Alfonso's steps stopped.
He stood tall, with his back to the center of Philip IV's council chamber.
“With just one bullet from me, my cute elite soldiers will trample over your beautiful land.”
Instead of the voice of Philip IV, who was waiting for Alfonso's answer with his mouth shut, the refreshing voice of Princess Auguste, full of laughter, echoed through the conference room.
“Well, my dear Prince, are you now a little more willing to engage in ‘negotiation’?”
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