Sir Bernardino, who had been keeping his mouth shut, almost asked his own question.
'What should you say, Your Highness?'
He might have said those words if Sir Manfredi hadn't kicked his heel, feeling him flinch.
Fortunately for Lord Dino, his lord came through this crisis peacefully.
“It has not yet been confirmed who ‘Khaledbukh’ belongs to.”
The Holy Sword Kaledbukh was recovered from the Monastery of Granata. It was clearly Alfonso, who was the vanguard at the time, who personally led the troops down and obtained the sword.
However, the Third Crusade went through a process of handing over all the spoils to the commander-in-chief and then redistributing them.
The Holy Sword Kaledbukh, after being presented to the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg, was to either return to Prince Alfonso, depending on his decision or find another master.
“It was something I should have presented to the Commander-in-Chief, but I never had the chance.”
The Grand Duke of Juldenburg was injured in the Battle of Granata Abbey when he fell from his horse and broke his hip joint.
From then on, Alfonso continued to run around the front lines, being promoted sequentially to the positions of the commander of the vanguard, commander of the center corps, and acting commander-in-chief, while the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg guarded the main camp, but when his condition worsened, he retreated to a rear port city to recuperate there.
And as soon as Yesak's victory was announced, he sighed in relief and boarded the first ship to leave for his homeland.
Prince Alfonso, who had only just finished cleaning up the aftermath of Yesak before boarding the ship bound for the Central Continent, had not been able to meet the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg in person since the Battle of Granata Monastery.
“What? What do you mean, the Commander-in-Chief hasn’t distributed the spoils yet?”
The other spoils were sent to the rear and distributed after the commander-in-chief confirmed them.
The problem is that no one other than Prince Alfonso has ever wielded the Holy Sword Kaledbukh.
Prince Alfonso answered briefly instead of explaining in detail.
“It just so happened.”
If the Grand Duke had seen the Holy Sword Kaledbukh, there is a high probability that he would have handed over ownership to Prince Alfonso.
But the Grand Duke has not yet had the chance to do so.
Prince Alfonso answered Leo III without distorting a muscle in his face.
“I will tell you when I have the power to dispose of it.”
It was neither a display of disappointment in his father nor a display of pleasure in teasing him.
It was just an expression like a flowing river.
Contrary to his son's composure, Leo III openly frowned, unaware that the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg would hand over the title to Prince Alfonso unless there were special circumstances.
He complained for a long time about the commander-in-chief claiming ownership of a relic he did not collect, and then suddenly asked as if a thought had occurred to him.
“That’s right. The Grand Duke of Yuldenburg had a young daughter?”
Sir Bernardino, who was prostrating himself behind Prince Alfonso, immediately realized why the King had been talking about the daughter of the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg.
'How long has it been since I escaped from Gallico with my life at stake and returned!'
Leo III must have been calculating that he would marry the daughter of the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg to Prince Alfonso and receive the Holy Sword Kaledbukh as a wedding gift or dowry for the Grand Duchess.
Sir Bernardino screamed internally.
'That Princess is three years old now!'
It was the Marquis Baldessar who scratched the itch of Sir Bernardino, who could not bear to speak in front of the King without permission.
“Your Majesty, I understand that the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg’s daughter is only three years old this year.”
Politicians do not simply object to marriages with a large age difference because they are viewed as unsightly. The Marquis of Baldessar was one of them.
“If you take in a Princess who is too young, there is a problem that it will take a long time until you have an heir...”
“What’s the problem with that?”
Leo III raised his thick white eyebrows and interrupted the Marquis Baldessar. The Marquis Baldessar immediately shut his mouth.
Count Marquez, who was listening to the King's words, clicked his tongue inwardly.
Prince Alfonso is now the only legitimate Prince of marriageable age and the only direct heir.
In such cases, the succession will be stable only if a Crown Prince is born as quickly as possible.
If the Crown Prince remains the next in line to the throne, there will be no incentive for collateral members, such as uncles or distant relatives, to make unnecessary attempts to shake up the Prince.
'His Majesty the King makes no secret of the fact that he has no intention of giving strength to Prince Alfonso.'
Leo III, not content with having silenced the Marquis Baldessar, continued speaking as if he knew nothing.
“If you have a great lineage, what does age matter? The Grand Duke of Sternheim is a family with deep roots, so he would be a perfect match for Alfonso.”
Count Marquez was able to realize one more thing here.
The Duchy of Sternheim was a relatively weak state compared to the Etruscan kingdom. It was small in size and the remaining lands to the north were also barren.
'...His Majesty is wary of His Highness the Crown Prince having a strong in-law family. No matter how much power there is, there are no parents or children...'
Count Marquez's musings were interrupted when Leo III pointed to him and made him speak.
“Let’s see, Marquez, where should I start looking to propose marriage to the Duchy of Sternheim?”
The King's delightful imagination continued.
“Since you said she’s only three years old, I don’t think we need to look into whether there are any other marriage proposals...”
Count Marquez, who had been ambushed, searched frantically for an answer.
“I would like to begin the review, eh...”
The one who saved the bewildered Count was none other than Prince Alfonso.
“I am sorry to inform you.”
Prince Alfonso decisively cut short Leo III's wishes.
“I think it will be difficult for that marriage to come to fruition.”
"What?"
Leo III's eyebrows shot up again as if they were about to fly to the sky. He was furious that his son had dared to disobey him.
But from the first day they met, he could not raise his voice. Leo III barely suppressed the shout that was about to come out.
“...What is the reason?”
“Because I already have a wife.”
Ariadne, who woke up early in the morning, lay in bed for a long time and barely managed to get up from her heavy buttocks as noon approached.
She didn't feel like working at all, but work is work because she has to do it even when she doesn't feel like it.
Today was the day to go to the slum of Campo de Spezia to recruit students.
“...Should I go see it?”
Ariadne rode in a carriage prepared by Sancha and was escorted by Giuseppe to Campo de' Spezia.
In the central square of Campo de' Spezia, preparations for the Scuola di Greta student recruitment information session were in full swing.
The relief home staff pitched a tent over a long wooden table and prepared a simple meal, while the graduating students of the Scuola di Greta took turns giving presentations and climbed up onto the wooden podium.
“The kids are doing really well.”
The mountain tea whispered.
People gathered smoothly and the response to the presentation was good.
The first class of Scuola di Greta was a gathering place for children from the relief home who had a strong desire to improve themselves.
No matter what they were told to do, they gritted their teeth and did it well.
"Yes?"
“I’m so proud.”
A proud smile hung across Sancha's face. Ariadne smiled slightly as she looked at Sancha's face.
“I’ll just go to the back of the stage for a moment. Next up is Illyana, but she’s really nervous.”
“Come and hold my hand.”
Ariadne, who was now alone after sending Sancha away, finished watching the presentation.
The first-year students who are announcing now knew exactly what they had to say to get poor parents who would want to sell their children's labor to make ends meet to send their children to school.
It was both wonderful and a little sad at the same time.
She hoped that by the time the 10th, 11th, and 12th graders entered school, the kids wouldn't know about that.
She wish those kids had grown up a little longer and more smoothly.
"Hey."
Ariadne, who was thinking of something else, did not hear the voice calling her.
“Hey, you!”
Knock knock!
A long staff tapped her feet. Only then did Ariadne look ahead in surprise.
“There is no answer even when people call!”
“Yes? Me?”
The person who touched her with the cane was an old woman wearing strange clothes.
'Moorish....'
A Moorish who lives far to the east. Her skin is lighter than that of the typical Moor, a light brown, and her clothing is also different.
She was originally a dark-skinned woman, with half of her hair covered in gray, making it difficult to gauge her age, but for some reason, she seemed older than her smooth skin and half-black hair would suggest.
“You may be seeing me for the first time, Miss. But this is not our first meeting.”
Ariadne looked at the Moorish grandmother quietly.
It was too much of a stretch to dismiss her as a crazy person or a con artist trying to tie her down.
Ariadne decided to trust her intuition.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
"Ha!"
The old man laughed loudly.
“Who is helping whom!”
She drew three circles on the dirt in front of Ariadne with her cane.
“After three nights.”
That day is the day the new moon rises.
“Come to Toludo Hill.”
Ariadne asked back.
“Toludo Hill? What time is it...?”
“You have to tell me that too so you can understand...!”
The old lady, who was about to lose her temper, suddenly stopped and said, "Ah," and then muttered to herself in a small voice, "Yeah, maybe this young lady doesn't know."
“After the sun has completely set. That would be around nine o’clock in your time.”
If Sancha or Giuseppe had been there, they would have yelled at her to make sense.
Ariadne could already see Sancha jumping up and down, shouting, 'How dare you call our young lady out at ten at night!'
But the Moorish grandmother went one step further.
“Come alone.”
She added.
“If you don’t want to see people die.”
On the outskirts of San Carlo, a black-painted carriage was speeding along the roughly paved stone road.
Rattle, rattle.
The ride was terrible, but the passengers in the carriage did not complain. The person in the carriage was wearing a black hood worn by nuns.
“Where are we?”
The passenger raised her voice and asked. It was a beautiful, elegant voice. But the coachman pretended not to hear her question and ignored it.
The woman was secretly displeased with the coachman's disobedience, but she didn't show it. Now was not the time to be concerned with such trivial matters.
Anyway, looking at the surrounding scenery, she felt like she knew where she was.
“This is the north gate of San Carlo.”
She muttered with rapture.
The carriage paid a small toll at the North Gate and slowly passed over the drawbridge over the northern moat.
The woman lifted the black curtains that covered the windows of the black carriage and looked outside.
The dazzling spring sunlight streamed through the window, saturating the divine features of a woman in her early to mid-twenties.
She blinked at the sunlight that reflected off her beautiful flaxen hair and jewel-like eyes.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, a familiar street came into view. She sat up straighter to get a better view of the outside.
“Ugh.”
Her body felt heavy. She placed one hand on her pregnant belly and the other on the chair, barely managing to sit as close to the window as she wanted.
The city where she had lived her entire life since she could remember. San Carlo, the flower of the Central Continent, was spread out before her once again.
The woman, Isabella, spoke to herself with a delighted smile on her lips.
“I am back, San Carlo.”
'What should you say, Your Highness?'
He might have said those words if Sir Manfredi hadn't kicked his heel, feeling him flinch.
Fortunately for Lord Dino, his lord came through this crisis peacefully.
“It has not yet been confirmed who ‘Khaledbukh’ belongs to.”
The Holy Sword Kaledbukh was recovered from the Monastery of Granata. It was clearly Alfonso, who was the vanguard at the time, who personally led the troops down and obtained the sword.
However, the Third Crusade went through a process of handing over all the spoils to the commander-in-chief and then redistributing them.
The Holy Sword Kaledbukh, after being presented to the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg, was to either return to Prince Alfonso, depending on his decision or find another master.
“It was something I should have presented to the Commander-in-Chief, but I never had the chance.”
The Grand Duke of Juldenburg was injured in the Battle of Granata Abbey when he fell from his horse and broke his hip joint.
From then on, Alfonso continued to run around the front lines, being promoted sequentially to the positions of the commander of the vanguard, commander of the center corps, and acting commander-in-chief, while the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg guarded the main camp, but when his condition worsened, he retreated to a rear port city to recuperate there.
And as soon as Yesak's victory was announced, he sighed in relief and boarded the first ship to leave for his homeland.
Prince Alfonso, who had only just finished cleaning up the aftermath of Yesak before boarding the ship bound for the Central Continent, had not been able to meet the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg in person since the Battle of Granata Monastery.
“What? What do you mean, the Commander-in-Chief hasn’t distributed the spoils yet?”
The other spoils were sent to the rear and distributed after the commander-in-chief confirmed them.
The problem is that no one other than Prince Alfonso has ever wielded the Holy Sword Kaledbukh.
Prince Alfonso answered briefly instead of explaining in detail.
“It just so happened.”
If the Grand Duke had seen the Holy Sword Kaledbukh, there is a high probability that he would have handed over ownership to Prince Alfonso.
But the Grand Duke has not yet had the chance to do so.
Prince Alfonso answered Leo III without distorting a muscle in his face.
“I will tell you when I have the power to dispose of it.”
It was neither a display of disappointment in his father nor a display of pleasure in teasing him.
It was just an expression like a flowing river.
Contrary to his son's composure, Leo III openly frowned, unaware that the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg would hand over the title to Prince Alfonso unless there were special circumstances.
He complained for a long time about the commander-in-chief claiming ownership of a relic he did not collect, and then suddenly asked as if a thought had occurred to him.
“That’s right. The Grand Duke of Yuldenburg had a young daughter?”
Sir Bernardino, who was prostrating himself behind Prince Alfonso, immediately realized why the King had been talking about the daughter of the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg.
'How long has it been since I escaped from Gallico with my life at stake and returned!'
Leo III must have been calculating that he would marry the daughter of the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg to Prince Alfonso and receive the Holy Sword Kaledbukh as a wedding gift or dowry for the Grand Duchess.
Sir Bernardino screamed internally.
'That Princess is three years old now!'
It was the Marquis Baldessar who scratched the itch of Sir Bernardino, who could not bear to speak in front of the King without permission.
“Your Majesty, I understand that the Grand Duke of Yuldenburg’s daughter is only three years old this year.”
Politicians do not simply object to marriages with a large age difference because they are viewed as unsightly. The Marquis of Baldessar was one of them.
“If you take in a Princess who is too young, there is a problem that it will take a long time until you have an heir...”
“What’s the problem with that?”
Leo III raised his thick white eyebrows and interrupted the Marquis Baldessar. The Marquis Baldessar immediately shut his mouth.
Count Marquez, who was listening to the King's words, clicked his tongue inwardly.
Prince Alfonso is now the only legitimate Prince of marriageable age and the only direct heir.
In such cases, the succession will be stable only if a Crown Prince is born as quickly as possible.
If the Crown Prince remains the next in line to the throne, there will be no incentive for collateral members, such as uncles or distant relatives, to make unnecessary attempts to shake up the Prince.
'His Majesty the King makes no secret of the fact that he has no intention of giving strength to Prince Alfonso.'
Leo III, not content with having silenced the Marquis Baldessar, continued speaking as if he knew nothing.
“If you have a great lineage, what does age matter? The Grand Duke of Sternheim is a family with deep roots, so he would be a perfect match for Alfonso.”
Count Marquez was able to realize one more thing here.
The Duchy of Sternheim was a relatively weak state compared to the Etruscan kingdom. It was small in size and the remaining lands to the north were also barren.
'...His Majesty is wary of His Highness the Crown Prince having a strong in-law family. No matter how much power there is, there are no parents or children...'
Count Marquez's musings were interrupted when Leo III pointed to him and made him speak.
“Let’s see, Marquez, where should I start looking to propose marriage to the Duchy of Sternheim?”
The King's delightful imagination continued.
“Since you said she’s only three years old, I don’t think we need to look into whether there are any other marriage proposals...”
Count Marquez, who had been ambushed, searched frantically for an answer.
“I would like to begin the review, eh...”
The one who saved the bewildered Count was none other than Prince Alfonso.
“I am sorry to inform you.”
Prince Alfonso decisively cut short Leo III's wishes.
“I think it will be difficult for that marriage to come to fruition.”
"What?"
Leo III's eyebrows shot up again as if they were about to fly to the sky. He was furious that his son had dared to disobey him.
But from the first day they met, he could not raise his voice. Leo III barely suppressed the shout that was about to come out.
“...What is the reason?”
“Because I already have a wife.”
***
Ariadne, who woke up early in the morning, lay in bed for a long time and barely managed to get up from her heavy buttocks as noon approached.
She didn't feel like working at all, but work is work because she has to do it even when she doesn't feel like it.
Today was the day to go to the slum of Campo de Spezia to recruit students.
“...Should I go see it?”
Ariadne rode in a carriage prepared by Sancha and was escorted by Giuseppe to Campo de' Spezia.
In the central square of Campo de' Spezia, preparations for the Scuola di Greta student recruitment information session were in full swing.
The relief home staff pitched a tent over a long wooden table and prepared a simple meal, while the graduating students of the Scuola di Greta took turns giving presentations and climbed up onto the wooden podium.
“The kids are doing really well.”
The mountain tea whispered.
People gathered smoothly and the response to the presentation was good.
The first class of Scuola di Greta was a gathering place for children from the relief home who had a strong desire to improve themselves.
No matter what they were told to do, they gritted their teeth and did it well.
"Yes?"
“I’m so proud.”
A proud smile hung across Sancha's face. Ariadne smiled slightly as she looked at Sancha's face.
“I’ll just go to the back of the stage for a moment. Next up is Illyana, but she’s really nervous.”
“Come and hold my hand.”
Ariadne, who was now alone after sending Sancha away, finished watching the presentation.
The first-year students who are announcing now knew exactly what they had to say to get poor parents who would want to sell their children's labor to make ends meet to send their children to school.
It was both wonderful and a little sad at the same time.
She hoped that by the time the 10th, 11th, and 12th graders entered school, the kids wouldn't know about that.
She wish those kids had grown up a little longer and more smoothly.
"Hey."
Ariadne, who was thinking of something else, did not hear the voice calling her.
“Hey, you!”
Knock knock!
A long staff tapped her feet. Only then did Ariadne look ahead in surprise.
“There is no answer even when people call!”
“Yes? Me?”
The person who touched her with the cane was an old woman wearing strange clothes.
'Moorish....'
A Moorish who lives far to the east. Her skin is lighter than that of the typical Moor, a light brown, and her clothing is also different.
She was originally a dark-skinned woman, with half of her hair covered in gray, making it difficult to gauge her age, but for some reason, she seemed older than her smooth skin and half-black hair would suggest.
“You may be seeing me for the first time, Miss. But this is not our first meeting.”
Ariadne looked at the Moorish grandmother quietly.
It was too much of a stretch to dismiss her as a crazy person or a con artist trying to tie her down.
Ariadne decided to trust her intuition.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
"Ha!"
The old man laughed loudly.
“Who is helping whom!”
She drew three circles on the dirt in front of Ariadne with her cane.
“After three nights.”
That day is the day the new moon rises.
“Come to Toludo Hill.”
Ariadne asked back.
“Toludo Hill? What time is it...?”
“You have to tell me that too so you can understand...!”
The old lady, who was about to lose her temper, suddenly stopped and said, "Ah," and then muttered to herself in a small voice, "Yeah, maybe this young lady doesn't know."
“After the sun has completely set. That would be around nine o’clock in your time.”
If Sancha or Giuseppe had been there, they would have yelled at her to make sense.
Ariadne could already see Sancha jumping up and down, shouting, 'How dare you call our young lady out at ten at night!'
But the Moorish grandmother went one step further.
“Come alone.”
She added.
“If you don’t want to see people die.”
***
On the outskirts of San Carlo, a black-painted carriage was speeding along the roughly paved stone road.
Rattle, rattle.
The ride was terrible, but the passengers in the carriage did not complain. The person in the carriage was wearing a black hood worn by nuns.
“Where are we?”
The passenger raised her voice and asked. It was a beautiful, elegant voice. But the coachman pretended not to hear her question and ignored it.
The woman was secretly displeased with the coachman's disobedience, but she didn't show it. Now was not the time to be concerned with such trivial matters.
Anyway, looking at the surrounding scenery, she felt like she knew where she was.
“This is the north gate of San Carlo.”
She muttered with rapture.
The carriage paid a small toll at the North Gate and slowly passed over the drawbridge over the northern moat.
The woman lifted the black curtains that covered the windows of the black carriage and looked outside.
The dazzling spring sunlight streamed through the window, saturating the divine features of a woman in her early to mid-twenties.
She blinked at the sunlight that reflected off her beautiful flaxen hair and jewel-like eyes.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, a familiar street came into view. She sat up straighter to get a better view of the outside.
“Ugh.”
Her body felt heavy. She placed one hand on her pregnant belly and the other on the chair, barely managing to sit as close to the window as she wanted.
The city where she had lived her entire life since she could remember. San Carlo, the flower of the Central Continent, was spread out before her once again.
The woman, Isabella, spoke to herself with a delighted smile on her lips.
“I am back, San Carlo.”
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