“A bill? Why didn’t you tell me that you got one?!”
The polite and charming speech was nowhere to be found.
In the carriage on the way home, Isabella screamed at Ottavio. Ottavio, unable to bear it any longer, also raised his voice.
“How far should I go to accommodate you?”
Isabella was caught by the scruff of the neck during Ottavio's first rebellion.
"What?!"
Ottavio hesitated whether to strike again or not. After all, wasn't that debt all owed to Isabella?
But he, who was not that cruel to a woman carrying his child, eventually toned down his attacks.
“Do I have to report everything that happens in my house to you? I’m the head of the household!”
Ottavio was considerate, but Isabella couldn't stand hearing such words.
“If you’re the head of the household! You should go out and make sure I don’t hear things like this! Are you the head of the household when you can’t even protect one woman?!”
Ottavio exploded again.
“You don’t know where to go and where not to go, so you keep saying you’ll go to places like Camellia Wedding, and that’s why you hear things like that!”
Isabella was furious.
“What! So you’re saying I did something wrong?!”
“Of course! Does that mean you did a good job?”
“How could you say that to me?!”
Isabella finally started sobbing and shouting inside the carriage.
Most of the time, it was about how he could do this to her when she gave up everything and chose Ottavio for love.
“Do you know what the Mother Superior looked at me when I left the convent full?!”
It was a common tactic her mother, Lucrezia, used on the Cardinal.
Ottavio, who had never experienced anything like this before, was hesitant.
Wasn't Isabella sure she didn't like it when she came out of the convent full...?
Since Ottavio didn't see Isabella leave the convent, was she happy to see him and sad to leave?
“Ouch! My stomach hurts!”
Isabella groaned, hugging her belly. It was the pregnant woman's final attack. Ottavio was also surprised by this.
"OMG!"
“Ugh... Ahh...”
“What should I do? What should I do?”
Isabella snapped at the fidgeting Ottavio.
“Go make some money!”
Ottavio, who had been so swindled at home, went to Palazzo Carlo and was caught up in fights between women.
'Just because you're His Majesty the King doesn't mean you're free here...'
Even if he was the highest person in the country, and even if he didn't have a wife, men were creatures who could not escape this trap.
“The Duke of Taranto has set a condition that Princess Bianca’s chaperone cannot be Duchess Rubina...”
Leo III sighed deeply at the report of the Marquis Baldessar.
“Why do you say that there?”
Marquis Baldessar only watched the King's face.
You and I both know the reason—they don't like it because it's the government—but it's not something he can just say out loud.
“...So I tried asking around for a suitable lady among the noblewomen in the capital, but there was no one suitable.”
“Why aren’t there any suitable people?”
Leo III asked incredulously.
“Aren’t there ladies overflowing in the capital? No, you don’t have to go far. The wife of Count Marquez is famous for her manners, and the wife of the Marquis Baldessar is also a virtuous woman who has raised her children well.”
The Marquis Baldessar and the Count Marquez both flinched and trembled at the same time.
It was Count Marquez who quickly seized the opportunity to come up with the best excuse.
“My wife hasn’t been feeling well lately...”
The Marquis Baldessar, deprived of his universal excuse, glanced at Count Marquez without noticing. His tongue grew long as he tried to refuse without any particular reason.
“My wife is a small-minded person, and she cannot dare to take on such an important task. I am afraid that it will bring shame to the name of the Duke of Taranto and the royal family.”
The truth was this: they—except their own wives—had been searching San Carlo for a lady who would act as a chaperone for Princess Bianca.
But the ladies who received the offer all waved their hands after asking one question.
“What about Duchess Rubina? Yes? She wanted to do it, but Taranto declined?”
In fact, there were some people whose faces turned pale.
“Oh no! Who are you trying to catch!”
Rubina was currently the Queen of socialites.
Unmarried ladies who had no reason to encounter her were relatively free from her influence, but married women were influenced by Rubina's every breath or gesture.
There was no social event to attend without Rubina's permission, no dress shop or jeweler to use.
Because no merchant could be disliked in her eyes as the big shot of the capital.
“I can’t do it, find someone else!”
This was the answer the Marquis Baldessar had heard from more than thirty ladies over the past week.
“Is there really no one else?”
Marquis Baldessar said with a look of horror on his face.
“I asked everyone in the capital, even those who are not currently in the capital, in the capital’s social circles, if there was anyone who could introduce Princess Bianca to them. I think I asked every married woman of the rank of Count or higher.”
“Really?”
“The Marchioness Cibo, the Old Marchioness of Montefeltro, the Marchioness Guatieri, the Countess Balzo, the Countess Attendolo...”
The list went on and on. The King asked.
“Why did the Marchioness Cibo refuse?”
“She's planning on leaving the capital in May, so it might be difficult due to her schedule...”
“What about the Marchioness of Montefeltro?”
“I heard that she is old and has difficulty moving around...”
“What about the Marchioness Guatieri?”
“I thought she was going to get sick...”
There were many excuses. Among the list recited by the Marquis Baldessar was even that of Marchioness Salvati, who had suffered measles because of an affair with a palace dwarf.
At this point, Leo III did not ask the reason. The King's office became quiet.
Leo III asked in a weak voice.
“Why can’t I just tell the Duchess of Taranto to go with Rubina?”
Count Marquez answered.
“I’ve already told you about it twice.”
It was accompanied by a deep sigh.
“She would rather have a debutante party in Taranto and drink.”
Leo III's expression turned red and blue. Bianca was the best bride-to-be in the Central Continent.
And Leo III, as Bianca's orphaned uncle and the eldest member of the royal family, had the authority to seal her marriage.
Princess Bianca had to hold her debutante ceremony in San Carlo with as much grandeur as possible so that word would spread and she would once again attract the attention of the Continent.
He intended to sell Bianca for the highest price possible. Leo III lamented.
“Everyone is only interested in satisfying their own greed, and there is not a single person who understands my heart.”
"Your Majesty."
Count Marquez reported.
“I was thinking about it, what if we had a royal family member act as a guardian instead of a chaperone to host Princess Bianca’s debutante party?”
Leo III shouted in annoyance.
“There is no royal family other than Rubina, but don’t Bianca hate her?”
“No, no, I mean the male family, Your Majesty.”
Leo III thought carefully.
“So, are you talking about Alfonso or Cesare?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Sir Delpiano, who had been sitting like a shadow in the back, was the first to speak.
“...Uh. That... That too has its own problems...”
Sir Delpiano has been watching Prince Alfonso since he was a child.
If you were a guardian replacing a chaperone, you would have to prepare Princess Bianca's debutante party yourself.
“If you leave the preparations for Prince Alfonso’s debutante party to him...”
It wasn't difficult for anyone to imagine what happened next.
The menu will feature roasted black pork, and the drink will be dark beer. There will be no decorations to be found, and instead of musicians, there will be tents pitched on the dirt floor, and drunken knights will bang their beer mugs with forks and excitedly talk about the calcio* they played with pagan heads when they went to war. It will be a party, no, a feast.
“...What about Duke Cesare?”
Someone asked. This time it was Ottavio, who had been as silent as a clam all day, who objected. He knew Cesare too well.
“That is... Duke Cesare is skilled in beauty and crafts... But he is a little too skilled...”
In Ottavio's imagination, Cesare's party unfolded in full color.
Blackout curtains were drawn on the clean windows, bright red liquor was being passed around, a game of cherry-passing was being played at each round table, the young Princess Bianca was trembling, and the prettiest girls, or rather women—for Ottavio knew that the Duke Cesare had never particularly declined a drink just because she was married—were seated at the table where the Duke Cesare himself was...
Leo III seemed to have had similar thoughts, as he let out a sigh.
Besides, if Duke Cesare is the guardian, the same problem will arise as if Duchess Rubina were the chaperone.
Leo III opened his mouth.
“Is there anyone else?”
“There isn’t any.”
The Marquis Baldessar's sharp reply followed. Leo III was furious.
“That’s because you didn’t look for it enough!”
The Marquis Baldessar honestly had too much to say.
He appealed that he had visited every noble house above the count's in San Carlo.
“But that doesn’t mean that you can make Her Ladyship’s chaperone the Baroness!”
Leo III sighed deeply. That was true too.
“Then how about this? Let’s do it with a younger woman. I don’t think you’d ask young ladies.”
“That’s true, but...”
If that happens, the pool of candidates will increase significantly.
The new Countess Isabella, as well as Countess Clemente Bartolini, Ottavio's sister, and Gabriele, Ariadne's friend and daughter-in-law of the old Marquis Oddantonio de Montefeltro, whose husband inherited her father's countship, were all potential chaperones for Bianca.
“Don’t just ask the ladies, ask all the women of rank and title, and don’t leave out those people. Ask the people you already asked.”
“...Yes, I understand.”
“Ask anyone who can. It doesn’t matter if they’re a human, a squid, or a foreigner. Got it?”
“I understand.”
Marquis Baldessar sighed deeply.
Ariadne narrowed her eyes at the letter that the Marquis Baldessar had sent before visiting her home.
“This came to me?”
Sancha asked.
“What is that?”
“A letter of intent to become the chaperone of Princess Bianca of Taranto.”
Ariadne briefly explained to Sancha why it was not originally supposed to be her turn.
“...Are you saying that whoever takes on this will be completely under the thumb of Duchess Rubina or something?”
"Yes."
“You’re not going to do it, are you, Miss?”
Sancha felt ominous.
“...Why aren’t you answering, Miss?”
"Sancha.”
"Yes?"
“We were caught anyway.”
Ariadne clenched her fists.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to approach Princess Bianca. I will do it. This.”
*Calcio: A ball game played in Florence in the 14th century. A type of medieval soccer.
The polite and charming speech was nowhere to be found.
In the carriage on the way home, Isabella screamed at Ottavio. Ottavio, unable to bear it any longer, also raised his voice.
“How far should I go to accommodate you?”
Isabella was caught by the scruff of the neck during Ottavio's first rebellion.
"What?!"
Ottavio hesitated whether to strike again or not. After all, wasn't that debt all owed to Isabella?
But he, who was not that cruel to a woman carrying his child, eventually toned down his attacks.
“Do I have to report everything that happens in my house to you? I’m the head of the household!”
Ottavio was considerate, but Isabella couldn't stand hearing such words.
“If you’re the head of the household! You should go out and make sure I don’t hear things like this! Are you the head of the household when you can’t even protect one woman?!”
Ottavio exploded again.
“You don’t know where to go and where not to go, so you keep saying you’ll go to places like Camellia Wedding, and that’s why you hear things like that!”
Isabella was furious.
“What! So you’re saying I did something wrong?!”
“Of course! Does that mean you did a good job?”
“How could you say that to me?!”
Isabella finally started sobbing and shouting inside the carriage.
Most of the time, it was about how he could do this to her when she gave up everything and chose Ottavio for love.
“Do you know what the Mother Superior looked at me when I left the convent full?!”
It was a common tactic her mother, Lucrezia, used on the Cardinal.
Ottavio, who had never experienced anything like this before, was hesitant.
Wasn't Isabella sure she didn't like it when she came out of the convent full...?
Since Ottavio didn't see Isabella leave the convent, was she happy to see him and sad to leave?
“Ouch! My stomach hurts!”
Isabella groaned, hugging her belly. It was the pregnant woman's final attack. Ottavio was also surprised by this.
"OMG!"
“Ugh... Ahh...”
“What should I do? What should I do?”
Isabella snapped at the fidgeting Ottavio.
“Go make some money!”
***
Ottavio, who had been so swindled at home, went to Palazzo Carlo and was caught up in fights between women.
'Just because you're His Majesty the King doesn't mean you're free here...'
Even if he was the highest person in the country, and even if he didn't have a wife, men were creatures who could not escape this trap.
“The Duke of Taranto has set a condition that Princess Bianca’s chaperone cannot be Duchess Rubina...”
Leo III sighed deeply at the report of the Marquis Baldessar.
“Why do you say that there?”
Marquis Baldessar only watched the King's face.
You and I both know the reason—they don't like it because it's the government—but it's not something he can just say out loud.
“...So I tried asking around for a suitable lady among the noblewomen in the capital, but there was no one suitable.”
“Why aren’t there any suitable people?”
Leo III asked incredulously.
“Aren’t there ladies overflowing in the capital? No, you don’t have to go far. The wife of Count Marquez is famous for her manners, and the wife of the Marquis Baldessar is also a virtuous woman who has raised her children well.”
The Marquis Baldessar and the Count Marquez both flinched and trembled at the same time.
It was Count Marquez who quickly seized the opportunity to come up with the best excuse.
“My wife hasn’t been feeling well lately...”
The Marquis Baldessar, deprived of his universal excuse, glanced at Count Marquez without noticing. His tongue grew long as he tried to refuse without any particular reason.
“My wife is a small-minded person, and she cannot dare to take on such an important task. I am afraid that it will bring shame to the name of the Duke of Taranto and the royal family.”
The truth was this: they—except their own wives—had been searching San Carlo for a lady who would act as a chaperone for Princess Bianca.
But the ladies who received the offer all waved their hands after asking one question.
“What about Duchess Rubina? Yes? She wanted to do it, but Taranto declined?”
In fact, there were some people whose faces turned pale.
“Oh no! Who are you trying to catch!”
Rubina was currently the Queen of socialites.
Unmarried ladies who had no reason to encounter her were relatively free from her influence, but married women were influenced by Rubina's every breath or gesture.
There was no social event to attend without Rubina's permission, no dress shop or jeweler to use.
Because no merchant could be disliked in her eyes as the big shot of the capital.
“I can’t do it, find someone else!”
This was the answer the Marquis Baldessar had heard from more than thirty ladies over the past week.
“Is there really no one else?”
Marquis Baldessar said with a look of horror on his face.
“I asked everyone in the capital, even those who are not currently in the capital, in the capital’s social circles, if there was anyone who could introduce Princess Bianca to them. I think I asked every married woman of the rank of Count or higher.”
“Really?”
“The Marchioness Cibo, the Old Marchioness of Montefeltro, the Marchioness Guatieri, the Countess Balzo, the Countess Attendolo...”
The list went on and on. The King asked.
“Why did the Marchioness Cibo refuse?”
“She's planning on leaving the capital in May, so it might be difficult due to her schedule...”
“What about the Marchioness of Montefeltro?”
“I heard that she is old and has difficulty moving around...”
“What about the Marchioness Guatieri?”
“I thought she was going to get sick...”
There were many excuses. Among the list recited by the Marquis Baldessar was even that of Marchioness Salvati, who had suffered measles because of an affair with a palace dwarf.
At this point, Leo III did not ask the reason. The King's office became quiet.
Leo III asked in a weak voice.
“Why can’t I just tell the Duchess of Taranto to go with Rubina?”
Count Marquez answered.
“I’ve already told you about it twice.”
It was accompanied by a deep sigh.
“She would rather have a debutante party in Taranto and drink.”
Leo III's expression turned red and blue. Bianca was the best bride-to-be in the Central Continent.
And Leo III, as Bianca's orphaned uncle and the eldest member of the royal family, had the authority to seal her marriage.
Princess Bianca had to hold her debutante ceremony in San Carlo with as much grandeur as possible so that word would spread and she would once again attract the attention of the Continent.
He intended to sell Bianca for the highest price possible. Leo III lamented.
“Everyone is only interested in satisfying their own greed, and there is not a single person who understands my heart.”
"Your Majesty."
Count Marquez reported.
“I was thinking about it, what if we had a royal family member act as a guardian instead of a chaperone to host Princess Bianca’s debutante party?”
Leo III shouted in annoyance.
“There is no royal family other than Rubina, but don’t Bianca hate her?”
“No, no, I mean the male family, Your Majesty.”
Leo III thought carefully.
“So, are you talking about Alfonso or Cesare?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Sir Delpiano, who had been sitting like a shadow in the back, was the first to speak.
“...Uh. That... That too has its own problems...”
Sir Delpiano has been watching Prince Alfonso since he was a child.
If you were a guardian replacing a chaperone, you would have to prepare Princess Bianca's debutante party yourself.
“If you leave the preparations for Prince Alfonso’s debutante party to him...”
It wasn't difficult for anyone to imagine what happened next.
The menu will feature roasted black pork, and the drink will be dark beer. There will be no decorations to be found, and instead of musicians, there will be tents pitched on the dirt floor, and drunken knights will bang their beer mugs with forks and excitedly talk about the calcio* they played with pagan heads when they went to war. It will be a party, no, a feast.
“...What about Duke Cesare?”
Someone asked. This time it was Ottavio, who had been as silent as a clam all day, who objected. He knew Cesare too well.
“That is... Duke Cesare is skilled in beauty and crafts... But he is a little too skilled...”
In Ottavio's imagination, Cesare's party unfolded in full color.
Blackout curtains were drawn on the clean windows, bright red liquor was being passed around, a game of cherry-passing was being played at each round table, the young Princess Bianca was trembling, and the prettiest girls, or rather women—for Ottavio knew that the Duke Cesare had never particularly declined a drink just because she was married—were seated at the table where the Duke Cesare himself was...
Leo III seemed to have had similar thoughts, as he let out a sigh.
Besides, if Duke Cesare is the guardian, the same problem will arise as if Duchess Rubina were the chaperone.
Leo III opened his mouth.
“Is there anyone else?”
“There isn’t any.”
The Marquis Baldessar's sharp reply followed. Leo III was furious.
“That’s because you didn’t look for it enough!”
The Marquis Baldessar honestly had too much to say.
He appealed that he had visited every noble house above the count's in San Carlo.
“But that doesn’t mean that you can make Her Ladyship’s chaperone the Baroness!”
Leo III sighed deeply. That was true too.
“Then how about this? Let’s do it with a younger woman. I don’t think you’d ask young ladies.”
“That’s true, but...”
If that happens, the pool of candidates will increase significantly.
The new Countess Isabella, as well as Countess Clemente Bartolini, Ottavio's sister, and Gabriele, Ariadne's friend and daughter-in-law of the old Marquis Oddantonio de Montefeltro, whose husband inherited her father's countship, were all potential chaperones for Bianca.
“Don’t just ask the ladies, ask all the women of rank and title, and don’t leave out those people. Ask the people you already asked.”
“...Yes, I understand.”
“Ask anyone who can. It doesn’t matter if they’re a human, a squid, or a foreigner. Got it?”
“I understand.”
Marquis Baldessar sighed deeply.
***
Ariadne narrowed her eyes at the letter that the Marquis Baldessar had sent before visiting her home.
“This came to me?”
Sancha asked.
“What is that?”
“A letter of intent to become the chaperone of Princess Bianca of Taranto.”
Ariadne briefly explained to Sancha why it was not originally supposed to be her turn.
“...Are you saying that whoever takes on this will be completely under the thumb of Duchess Rubina or something?”
"Yes."
“You’re not going to do it, are you, Miss?”
Sancha felt ominous.
“...Why aren’t you answering, Miss?”
"Sancha.”
"Yes?"
“We were caught anyway.”
Ariadne clenched her fists.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to approach Princess Bianca. I will do it. This.”
*Calcio: A ball game played in Florence in the 14th century. A type of medieval soccer.
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