Raphael rushed in and picked up Ariadne, who had fallen on the marble floor.
It was a delicate touch, wondering if it would hurt if he touched it if it would sting if he touched it.
“Ari, are you okay?!”
She answered as calmly as possible.
"It's okay."
But as Raphael's expression read, Ariadne's answer was not very convincing. She added.
“Really, it’s nothing.”
But Ariadne didn't look okay at all right now.
Be could also feel it in the murmurs of the onlookers gathered around.
Cesare, who had not yet fully emerged from the room, was half-immersed in the darkness and glared at Raphael, who was supporting Ariadne with his ears wide open.
“Let go of that hand, Baldessar.”
It was a low, sinister voice.
“Just forget about my fiancée and go back to the ball.”
Raphael was furious.
“Duke Pisano! Do you think that this is something that can be passed over with just that kind of talk?”
Ariadne's disfigurement was undoubtedly the work of the Duke of Pisano. He looked straight at Cesare and shouted:
“What have you done to your fiancée just now...!”
Raphael couldn't bring himself to say out loud, 'Isn't this what happened when you tried to forcefully take your fiancée?'
There were too many eyes watching, and even if there had been no eyes watching, Raphael, who had received a long training as a priest, would not have been able to say such a thing openly.
But what he meant was clear. Cesare understood it too.
Cesare glared at Raphael with a fierce expression.
“I don’t know what your disgusting imagination is thinking, but it’s not what you think, so get out of here.”
Ariadne also tried to stop Raphael.
“Raphael, it’s really not like that. I’m really okay.”
For Ariadne, regardless of whether the cause of the situation was Cesare's coercive attitude or a mutual agreement, she simply wanted to prevent things from getting worse.
But her persuasion sounded empty.
Given the circumstances, it was inevitable that this would happen, and people simply thought that the woman was trying to hide the fact that she was being treated like nothing by her fiancé because she was embarrassed.
The same was true of Raphael.
“Ari, you don’t have to protect that guy!”
Raphael exploded with anger.
“There is no need for that. Even if it is an engagement that His Majesty the King himself has ordered...”
As expected, Raphael swallowed his words because there were so many eyes watching him.
But once again, Cesare understood immediately what Raphael was trying to say.
'This was not an engagement that Leo III wanted to get into.'
'He will back down at the slightest excuse,' is what Raphael wanted to say.
This was something that even Cesare himself feared.
“Baldessar!”
Finally, his voice was properly raised.
Cesare took a step forward and grabbed the wrist of Ariadne, who was standing with Raphael's support.
“Let’s go, Miss.”
Cesare had faith that Ariadne would follow him. A little life came into his aquamarine eyes.
But Raphael would not let Cesare take Ariadne away.
Bam!
Something pure white flew through the air, hit Cesare in the face and fell on his chest.
Cesare snatched it up, held it in his hand, and looked at it.
It was Raphael's de Baldessar's glove.
"OMG!"
"Oh my God!"
“Did you just throw the glove?”
The gentry whispered excitedly among themselves. It was quite a spectacle.
The nobles of the Central Continent took off their gloves when requesting a duel.
So, it was Raphael de Baldessar's challenge to a duel with Cesare de Carlo. If it comes to fruition, it will be the biggest event of the first half of the year.
Cesare glared at Raphael with a cold expression. He growled, his voice lowering.
“...What are you trying to do?”
Raphael answered. It seemed as if he had thrown away such things as examples.
“Cesare de Carlo. Come out.”
It was his last act of self-restraint not to call him Cesare de Como.
“It’s a duel.”
Cesare tried to say something to Raphael but was stopped by Ariadne's scream.
“Both of you, stop it!”
Dueling was a tradition that still barely survived among the noble gentlemen of the Central Continent.
When there is a difference of opinion, the winner is decided by a duel, and the loser dies.
The loser and his family cannot dispute the winner's fate or question him about his death.
But that was just a tradition from 100 years ago.
In the Etruscan kingdom of 1123, the customs of the old chivalric era could not have been fully preserved.
If a person of lower status killed a person of higher status in a duel, he had to flee the country, and if he wandered abroad as an exile for at least ten years and then, after observing the situation, was able to return to his home country, he was considered lucky.
Even if Raphael wins the duel against Cesare, he will never look good.
And Raphael, Cesare, and Ariadne all knew this fact.
Cesare opened his narrow eyes and glared at Ariadne.
“Ari. Are you protecting that kid right now?”
Ariadne was angry.
“Why is the story so out of place?”
“Ari, I’m fine.”
Raphael took a step forward.
“Anyone who treats women like this deserves to be beaten with a sword.”
There was anger in his straight eyes.
Cesare was so dumbfounded by Raphael's inability to tell the difference between a place where he could and could not fit in that he just laughed at him.
"Ha!"
However, even the great Cesare could not bring himself to tell his fiancée that her dress had become so free-spirited in public places because he had not forced her to do so, but because they were both in love and were enjoying the atmosphere.
Because he was a bad guy, not an asshole.
It was a delicate touch, wondering if it would hurt if he touched it if it would sting if he touched it.
“Ari, are you okay?!”
She answered as calmly as possible.
"It's okay."
But as Raphael's expression read, Ariadne's answer was not very convincing. She added.
“Really, it’s nothing.”
But Ariadne didn't look okay at all right now.
Be could also feel it in the murmurs of the onlookers gathered around.
Cesare, who had not yet fully emerged from the room, was half-immersed in the darkness and glared at Raphael, who was supporting Ariadne with his ears wide open.
“Let go of that hand, Baldessar.”
It was a low, sinister voice.
“Just forget about my fiancée and go back to the ball.”
Raphael was furious.
“Duke Pisano! Do you think that this is something that can be passed over with just that kind of talk?”
Ariadne's disfigurement was undoubtedly the work of the Duke of Pisano. He looked straight at Cesare and shouted:
“What have you done to your fiancée just now...!”
Raphael couldn't bring himself to say out loud, 'Isn't this what happened when you tried to forcefully take your fiancée?'
There were too many eyes watching, and even if there had been no eyes watching, Raphael, who had received a long training as a priest, would not have been able to say such a thing openly.
But what he meant was clear. Cesare understood it too.
Cesare glared at Raphael with a fierce expression.
“I don’t know what your disgusting imagination is thinking, but it’s not what you think, so get out of here.”
Ariadne also tried to stop Raphael.
“Raphael, it’s really not like that. I’m really okay.”
For Ariadne, regardless of whether the cause of the situation was Cesare's coercive attitude or a mutual agreement, she simply wanted to prevent things from getting worse.
But her persuasion sounded empty.
Given the circumstances, it was inevitable that this would happen, and people simply thought that the woman was trying to hide the fact that she was being treated like nothing by her fiancé because she was embarrassed.
The same was true of Raphael.
“Ari, you don’t have to protect that guy!”
Raphael exploded with anger.
“There is no need for that. Even if it is an engagement that His Majesty the King himself has ordered...”
As expected, Raphael swallowed his words because there were so many eyes watching him.
But once again, Cesare understood immediately what Raphael was trying to say.
'This was not an engagement that Leo III wanted to get into.'
'He will back down at the slightest excuse,' is what Raphael wanted to say.
This was something that even Cesare himself feared.
“Baldessar!”
Finally, his voice was properly raised.
“You're trying to be cute, but you don't know the subject, so get your hands off me and get the hell out of here!”
“Let’s go, Miss.”
Cesare had faith that Ariadne would follow him. A little life came into his aquamarine eyes.
But Raphael would not let Cesare take Ariadne away.
Bam!
Something pure white flew through the air, hit Cesare in the face and fell on his chest.
Cesare snatched it up, held it in his hand, and looked at it.
It was Raphael's de Baldessar's glove.
"OMG!"
"Oh my God!"
“Did you just throw the glove?”
The gentry whispered excitedly among themselves. It was quite a spectacle.
The nobles of the Central Continent took off their gloves when requesting a duel.
So, it was Raphael de Baldessar's challenge to a duel with Cesare de Carlo. If it comes to fruition, it will be the biggest event of the first half of the year.
Cesare glared at Raphael with a cold expression. He growled, his voice lowering.
“...What are you trying to do?”
Raphael answered. It seemed as if he had thrown away such things as examples.
“Cesare de Carlo. Come out.”
It was his last act of self-restraint not to call him Cesare de Como.
“It’s a duel.”
Cesare tried to say something to Raphael but was stopped by Ariadne's scream.
“Both of you, stop it!”
Dueling was a tradition that still barely survived among the noble gentlemen of the Central Continent.
When there is a difference of opinion, the winner is decided by a duel, and the loser dies.
The loser and his family cannot dispute the winner's fate or question him about his death.
But that was just a tradition from 100 years ago.
In the Etruscan kingdom of 1123, the customs of the old chivalric era could not have been fully preserved.
If a person of lower status killed a person of higher status in a duel, he had to flee the country, and if he wandered abroad as an exile for at least ten years and then, after observing the situation, was able to return to his home country, he was considered lucky.
Even if Raphael wins the duel against Cesare, he will never look good.
And Raphael, Cesare, and Ariadne all knew this fact.
Cesare opened his narrow eyes and glared at Ariadne.
“Ari. Are you protecting that kid right now?”
Ariadne was angry.
“Why is the story so out of place?”
“Ari, I’m fine.”
Raphael took a step forward.
“Anyone who treats women like this deserves to be beaten with a sword.”
There was anger in his straight eyes.
Cesare was so dumbfounded by Raphael's inability to tell the difference between a place where he could and could not fit in that he just laughed at him.
"Ha!"
However, even the great Cesare could not bring himself to tell his fiancée that her dress had become so free-spirited in public places because he had not forced her to do so, but because they were both in love and were enjoying the atmosphere.
Because he was a bad guy, not an asshole.
And if the other person acts like this, it is only natural to accept it.
“If you really want to...”
Cesare looked straight at Raphael.
Although Raphael de Baldessar was renowned for his quick swordsmanship, Cesare was not overly concerned.
That shabby parasitic brother can be finished off with just one straight strike of the sword.
“Don’t complain after you die.”
This was a ballroom, so there were no swords.
Leo III's restrictions on weapons were stricter than usual at balls, so no one was seen carrying even an unsharpened sword.
Cesare looked around and shouted roughly.
“Hey, someone go and get two swords!”
The palace servant asked cautiously at Cesare's command.
“You can’t bring it inside...”
“Bring it to the garden!”
People started getting noisy.
“There’s a fight!”
“I guess we’re really going to have a duel!”
“With the Duke of Pisano and the Marquis de Baldessar? And the Countess de Mare?”
“Who will win?”
“I bet on Marquis Baldessar!”
“Me too, to Sir Baldessar.”
“I’ll bet on the Duke of Pisano.”
“What? Wouldn’t it be better to go with Baldessar?”
“You have to try it to know whether it’s long or short.”
The joyful commotion of the revelers was interrupted by a firm woman's voice.
“Cesare, stop it!”
It was Ariadne.
“Please, don’t take this duel!”
She shouted with determination in her green eyes.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll never see you again!”
It was a shocking announcement.
Cesare glared at Ariadne, roughly brushing back his red hair.
“Ariadne de Mare.”
This time, he really looked angry.
“Whose side are you on?”
Raphael had already thrown the glove. He could not withdraw it. Then, the only way left was for Cesare to refuse.
But if Cesare refuses the duel, he will inevitably be branded a coward.
“Is he that precious?”
“I’m afraid you’ll get hurt...!”
It sounded to Cesare's ears like Ariadne was predicting his defeat. Cesare's anger exploded.
“Then you should have stopped that kid!”
Cesare became uncontrollably angry.
“Are you telling me to be a fool who runs away from a duel now?”
Ariadne cried out urgently.
“Don’t do it for me, don’t do it for me!”
Ariadne took Cesare's hand and appealed to him.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me, I don’t want anyone to die, I don’t want anyone to be exiled!”
It would have been better not to add that last word.
Cesare would not be exiled even if he stabbed Raphael in the chest. His eyebrows rose.
But Ariadne continued to half-pleasure, half-threat.
“If you want to keep seeing my face, let’s end it here. Please. Don’t have any more blood on your hands.”
Tears welled up in her green eyes.
Cesare was about to refuse coldly, but then he saw tears welling up in Ariadne's eyes.
“...”
Are those tears because of me, because of Baldessar, or for some other reason I don't know?
But he had no time to waste on such useless things as the cause of his tears.
Ariadne was a woman who rarely cried. She was as hard as a stone and as cold as steel.
But then that woman started to cry right in front of him. And that broke his heart in a way he couldn't explain.
“...Fuck!”
Cesare roughly threw the glove of Raphael de Baldessar that he was holding in his hand onto the marble floor.
I'll give you whatever you wish.
He turned around and strode out of the ballroom. The guests chattered as they watched his back.
“Did he really run away?”
“Didn’t he leave because his fiancée stopped him?”
“Even if he said that it must have been scary!”
“Yes, is Duke Cesare a great man who has ever heard of anyone speaking out against him? If he had not been afraid, he would have taken up a sword and run away!”
“Two men almost fought a duel because of Countess de Mare!”
“But look at the way she's dressed. Was it really Duke Cesare who tried to force her into his presence?”
Raphael glared at the people around him and took off his cloak. He wrapped it around Ariadne and said.
“Ari, let’s go.”
“Raphael, who’s your partner?”
She asked. She felt the malice all around her. She had no desire to bear any more resentment.
If Raphael's partner is left behind and she disappears here with Raphael, there will be another round of bad news.
Raphael felt a strange sense of resentment at Ariadne's question.
He answered calmly, not even understanding why she was upset.
“My partner today is Julia. I’m sure she’ll understand if I say I went first because of you.”
There was no such problem with Julia. Ariadne nodded, no longer having the energy to argue or get angry.
She left the ballroom silently, leaving herself to Raphael's escort.
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