Raphael de Baldessar was rocking on the back of a camel, wearing a white turban and a long robe that covered his entire body. The desert seemed endless.
It wasn't the vast white sand that comes to mind when you think of 'desert'.
On the dry land, low shrubs that seemed useless were raising their heads here and there, and it was a dead land without even a sense of mystery, with dry air and cracked surfaces that seemed to prohibit human entry.
“Huh...”
However, the knights of the Central Continent and the pagans of the Moorish Empire who participated in the holy war to gain even a little more of this land were shedding blood without sparing any effort on the parched land.
That was the symbolism of the Holy Land, Yesak.
“What on earth is so great about this land..."
The Bocanegro merchant who had boarded the Yesak with Raphael clicked his tongue.
“I guess I’m a merchant, so I just can’t understand.”
He looked around.
“If you go further south in the Moorish Empire, there are things that can be made of money, like spices or ivory. This place is really a wasteland. It’s not even a place where you can farm. What’s so great about this place.”
Raphael smiled and answered the merchant. His tone was affectionate.
“If you only look at the world in fragments, you won’t see it as it is.”
But the content was not affectionate at all.
Raphael looked away from the short-sighted merchant and imagined the ruined walls of Yesak beyond the wasteland.
This is the land where the son of God, Yesak, preached his teachings and compiled them into the first <Meditation Record>.
“The monarch who acquires the Yesak surname becomes the only monarch who can call himself ‘Emperor’ in the Central Continent. The ‘Emperor’ has the authority to appoint Kings. No matter how far away from the Central Continent he may be, or how insignificant his army may be, he becomes an absolute ruler in the world who will not bow down to any King.”
A faint smile appeared on Raphael's face.
“It is not only gold that is earned by carrying royalties. Gold naturally follows power.”
He thought of the old men who were always busy fighting for power in central politics. If mere feudal lords were like this, how much worse would it be for the monarchs who held the power to rule?
“If the first Emperor since the Ratan Empire appears in the Central Continent, do you think the Grand Dukes and Dukes who demand it will remain silent under their King?”
He will sacrifice anything to obtain the title of 'King'.
Whether it be gold, an army, a fief attached to the mainland, or the daughter of a monarch that comes as a set with the fief.
Raphael was sure that there would be a man who would give up his wife if the other person would accept it.
Independence, autonomy, that was so sweet.
“Would you like to exchange titles for gold?”
“The new ‘Emperor’ will shower his men with titles in exchange for their loyalty, and shower those who have contributed nothing in return for titles in exchange for gold. You little shits.”
The 'Temple' is a resurrection of those who were defeated on the mainland, except for a handful of those who are faithful to the bone.
A gathering of rascals who have gathered in hopes of making a fortune and turning their lives around, all while wearing the lofty guise of faith.
Raphael, who loved theology as an academic discipline, did not get along well with those who blindly believed in the Meditations, but he detested losers who gathered together to make a killing in life.
But his friend was in the middle of the mass, and Raphael himself was riding a camel across the desert to get there.
“Ah.”
Raphael's mouth is watering. He wonders how he ended up here.
“Your Excellency, I think we’re almost there!”
The voice of the Bocanegro merchant pulled Raphael back to reality.
“I see a Central Continent-style garrison ahead of me! This must be the Crusaders!”
Raphael's eyes were weak to the sun, so he couldn't see clearly between the sandstorm and the haze.
It was after he was questioned by the Central Continent soldiers that he realized that he had reached the Crusades.
“Hey, who’s that!”
It was a language used in the northern part of the Central Continent. It seemed to be from the Duchy of Sternheim.
Raphael took off his turban and revealed his face. His snow-white skin shone under the warm sunlight.
“I have come to find the Third Crusade. I am Marquis Baldessar of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
The guards couldn't understand Etruscan, but they knew immediately that Raphael was from the Central Continent from his face.
Raphael put his turban back on and spoke again in Old Latin, the lingua franca of the continent.
“I come as a messenger from the Holy See. Please guide me to Prince Alfonso de Carlo.”
Ariadne was right.
It wasn't the vast white sand that comes to mind when you think of 'desert'.
On the dry land, low shrubs that seemed useless were raising their heads here and there, and it was a dead land without even a sense of mystery, with dry air and cracked surfaces that seemed to prohibit human entry.
“Huh...”
However, the knights of the Central Continent and the pagans of the Moorish Empire who participated in the holy war to gain even a little more of this land were shedding blood without sparing any effort on the parched land.
That was the symbolism of the Holy Land, Yesak.
“What on earth is so great about this land..."
The Bocanegro merchant who had boarded the Yesak with Raphael clicked his tongue.
“I guess I’m a merchant, so I just can’t understand.”
He looked around.
“If you go further south in the Moorish Empire, there are things that can be made of money, like spices or ivory. This place is really a wasteland. It’s not even a place where you can farm. What’s so great about this place.”
Raphael smiled and answered the merchant. His tone was affectionate.
“If you only look at the world in fragments, you won’t see it as it is.”
But the content was not affectionate at all.
Raphael looked away from the short-sighted merchant and imagined the ruined walls of Yesak beyond the wasteland.
This is the land where the son of God, Yesak, preached his teachings and compiled them into the first <Meditation Record>.
“The monarch who acquires the Yesak surname becomes the only monarch who can call himself ‘Emperor’ in the Central Continent. The ‘Emperor’ has the authority to appoint Kings. No matter how far away from the Central Continent he may be, or how insignificant his army may be, he becomes an absolute ruler in the world who will not bow down to any King.”
A faint smile appeared on Raphael's face.
“It is not only gold that is earned by carrying royalties. Gold naturally follows power.”
He thought of the old men who were always busy fighting for power in central politics. If mere feudal lords were like this, how much worse would it be for the monarchs who held the power to rule?
“If the first Emperor since the Ratan Empire appears in the Central Continent, do you think the Grand Dukes and Dukes who demand it will remain silent under their King?”
He will sacrifice anything to obtain the title of 'King'.
Whether it be gold, an army, a fief attached to the mainland, or the daughter of a monarch that comes as a set with the fief.
Raphael was sure that there would be a man who would give up his wife if the other person would accept it.
Independence, autonomy, that was so sweet.
“Would you like to exchange titles for gold?”
“The new ‘Emperor’ will shower his men with titles in exchange for their loyalty, and shower those who have contributed nothing in return for titles in exchange for gold. You little shits.”
The 'Temple' is a resurrection of those who were defeated on the mainland, except for a handful of those who are faithful to the bone.
A gathering of rascals who have gathered in hopes of making a fortune and turning their lives around, all while wearing the lofty guise of faith.
Raphael, who loved theology as an academic discipline, did not get along well with those who blindly believed in the Meditations, but he detested losers who gathered together to make a killing in life.
But his friend was in the middle of the mass, and Raphael himself was riding a camel across the desert to get there.
“Ah.”
Raphael's mouth is watering. He wonders how he ended up here.
“Your Excellency, I think we’re almost there!”
The voice of the Bocanegro merchant pulled Raphael back to reality.
“I see a Central Continent-style garrison ahead of me! This must be the Crusaders!”
Raphael's eyes were weak to the sun, so he couldn't see clearly between the sandstorm and the haze.
It was after he was questioned by the Central Continent soldiers that he realized that he had reached the Crusades.
“Hey, who’s that!”
It was a language used in the northern part of the Central Continent. It seemed to be from the Duchy of Sternheim.
Raphael took off his turban and revealed his face. His snow-white skin shone under the warm sunlight.
“I have come to find the Third Crusade. I am Marquis Baldessar of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
The guards couldn't understand Etruscan, but they knew immediately that Raphael was from the Central Continent from his face.
Raphael put his turban back on and spoke again in Old Latin, the lingua franca of the continent.
“I come as a messenger from the Holy See. Please guide me to Prince Alfonso de Carlo.”
Ariadne was right.
The regular soldiers who were the inspectors couldn't speak the official language of Ratan, but they understood the 'Holy See'.
After realizing that the other party was a guest of high status, he guided Raphael and his party inside the garrison.
***
Unfortunately, however, the guards led Raphael and his party not to Alfonso's barracks, but to the barracks of the Archduke of Yuldenburg, the commander-in-chief of the crusaders.
The Archduke of Yuldenburg, who had previously had brown hair with a few grays before the Third Crusade, now had gray hair and greeted Raphael with a tired look.
It was the archaic language of the Latin Empire, a common language among intellectuals.
“I heard that I have a guest from the Central Continent. It is a pleasure to meet you. We welcome any child of the Yesak.”
He added.
“What brings you here?”
“I am pleased to meet the last believer of the Central Continent. My name is Raphael de Baldessar, the eldest son of the Marquis of Baldessar of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
Raphael introduced himself with a smooth smile.
“I have just returned from my studies in theology in Padua and am now running various errands for the Holy See.”
It wasn't a lie.
He also regularly attended the Verum Queritis, a gathering of young theologians organized by the Etruscan diocese.
However, today's errand was not given to a priest, but to a priest's daughter.
At the same time, he took out one of the two letters he was carrying in his bosom and handed it to the Archduke of Yuldenburg.
It was a certificate of funds with the seal of the Holy See, prepared by Ariadne to ensure Raphael's safe delivery.
While the Archduke read this, Raphael explained the purpose of his official visit.
“The Etruscan diocese of the Holy See wishes to present a donation to the heir to our kingdom, Prince Alfonso de Carlo. It is said that the money was raised through a race. I am honored to be their representative in Yesak.”
Raphael came up with a fake alibi naturally and without even licking his lips.
The Grand Duke of Yuldenburg was slightly impressed but said nothing.
A normal commander-in-chief would have made a bold statement, saying, 'All income coming into the temple should be given to the commander-in-chief and then divided later.'
But the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg was a man who lived by fairness and died by fairness.
No matter how tight his finances were, he never touched anything that wasn't his.
"Hmm."
Just as the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg was about to order Prince Alfonso to be brought in, the curtain of the Commander-in-Chief's tent was drawn and a man entered.
“Raphael!”
It was a familiar voice. Raphael turned around quickly.
But the silhouette of the man who entered the room was completely unfamiliar.
Her hair, which had once shone like finely woven gold, had become as bright as straw after being bleached by the sun, and because he hadn't cut it in time, it hung down to his neckline.
Although he was on the large side, his body had boyish lines and anyone who looked at him could tell that he was strong.
The two were originally similar in height, but he had grown a lot over the years and was now more than half a span taller than Raphael.
His shoulders were broad and his chest appeared to be at least twice as large as that of an average adult male.
“Your Highness...”
Prince Alfonso approached Raphael, who was trying to take a greeting, and hugged him without hesitation.
“It’s been such a long journey! You’ve worked hard!”
The Prince smelled faintly of blood and sweat, pus and death, as well as victory and spoils.
***
The person who was most saddened by the fact that Ariadne was made a Count and became the fiancée of the Duke of Pisano was undoubtedly Isabella, except for perhaps Leo III.
Isabella locked herself in her room and cried for three days and nights, blaming her half-sister for taking everything from her and her father for supporting her sister while excluding her.
Even now, she was sitting in the 'Girls' Living Room', chewing her lips with a sad expression.
Meanwhile, there was a commotion in the first-floor lobby.
Isabella left the drawing room and stood on the second-floor railing, looking down.
“Have Duke Pisano arrived?”
The butler Niccolo, without even leaving the matter to the servant, ran out the front door and greeted Duke Cesare himself.
After Duke Cesare became Ariadne's official fiancé, he began to frequent the de Mare mansion as if it were his own home.
“Umm. Is the young lady here?”
“Please wait a moment, I will bring her down right away.”
Cesare, who had made a prior arrangement to go out, waited in the hallway without even entering the drawing room, and Ariadne showed up quickly enough that it would not be rude for a guest to stand in the hallway for too long.
When a tall, black-haired girl appeared, Cesare took a step closer and held out his arm to her, asking to escort her.
“Are you here, Miss?”
As she stood beside him and placed a gloved hand on his arm, Cesare affectionately buried his nose in Ariadne's hair.
Ariadne turned her head and said something, but Isabella couldn't hear her because of the distance.
Ariadne, elegantly adorned in white fur and a pearl headdress, was escorted by Duke Cesare as if it were a given.
There was no sign of shyness or gratitude. Isabella gritted her teeth.
Even Ariadne's upright posture, which was praised as a model of a noble young lady in high society, was annoying.
'You're such an arrogant girl!'
Duke Cesare was the dream of every girl in the capital.
Even though he received the title of Count, he is not someone who should be treated so ill-manneredly by a girl like Ariadne who rose to fame overnight.
But Duke Cesare didn't even show any sign of displeasure as if he had taken some potion.
He laughed heartily no matter what Ariadne said, and at the end of every conversation, he stroked her hair as if he was dying to hear her say it.
Ariadne blatantly rejected half of Cesare's advances, but the Duke accepted them with a smile, without a trace of displeasure.
He left the front door of the de Mare mansion, escorting Ariadne with all his heart.
“...Carriage...!”
Ariadne's voice was heard rising.
She seemed to be complaining about the fact that Duke Cesare had come to fetch her on horseback rather than in a carriage.
'Oh my goodness, Duke Cesare came to pick you up himself and you're asking for a treatment?'
Isabella unconsciously tightened her grip on the second-floor railing.
Unaware of Isabella's speed, Duke Cesare smiled and waved his hand, then looked down at Ariadne with a honey-dripping expression in his eyes.
An angelic smile appeared on his chiseled, handsome face. Isabella read the shape of his lips.
'Are you angry, miss?'
Isabella, who had seen this far, could no longer bear to look at that sight.
She returned to her sitting room, her face rising to the sky, grumbling.
Her half-sister must have been crazy, to the point of being so arrogant.
Even Duke Cesare, who tolerates all this wickedness, is not in his right mind.
'Money is that good?!'
Isabella could find no other reason for Duke Cesare to be so hostile towards her sister than her sister's wealth.
'That's not a normal rattlesnake, that's a rattlesnake!'
It is common sense to belittle what you cannot have.
Isabella was convinced that Cesare was a sour grape, but her interest in him could not be stopped.
'But, is that rattlesnake hiding its true feelings well?'
If it was clear that she was rushing in for money, the Ariadne that Isabella knew probably wouldn't accept Cesare.
'No, and besides, how much money does the Duke of Pisano have to do something like that?'
Rumors circulated in high society that Ariadne was not only the richest unmarried lady in the capital, but perhaps the richest woman in San Carlo, or even in the Etruscan kingdom, but Isabella found it hard to believe.
Because her sister—except that he was busier than before—hadn't changed much in her daily life.
If Isabella had become a wealthy woman, she would have filled her house with furs, jewels, perfumes, and the like, but she never saw any of that.
'Wait a minute, you must be going out right now?'
It wasn't just Ariadne herself.
The red-haired maid, who roamed the house like Ariadne's faithful hound, and the lanky former groom had left early in the morning, saying they had an outside schedule.
He was confident that he could somehow appease the rest of the family.
Isabella rolled her purple eyes as she went out into the second-floor hallway and looked around. Luckily, there was no one there.
She decided to raid Ariadne's study today.
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