The midwife's urgent instructions from inside the delivery room were heard outside.
“Press the Countess’s chest and stomach! Push hard even if you break her bones!”
“Should I secure her breathing first, or should I take the baby out first?”
“That’s it for now! If the baby doesn’t come out, securing her breathing won’t help! Get the baby out first! If this continues, they’ll both die!”
Countess Clemente Bartolini blinked in bewilderment. Her mood was getting better.
'Is she really... dying?'
When Isabella said she was really going to the other world, her courage started to well up.
A maid's sobbing began to be heard in the delivery room. Clemente's courage soared proportionally.
Even Clemente, who never said anything unpleasant to others, finally said something unpleasant.
“What is the Countess...”
It was the first human voice heard in nearly 24 hours in this room that had been as quiet as a mouse.
It was also the first utterance of one of the siblings. Ottavio raised his head and looked at his older sister.
“...”
Ottavio looked at his sister with a face as pale as a dead man.
“Sister.”
Clemente swallowed a little nervously. Was it too much for my liking? But she was his wife to Ottavio and her sister-in-law, and it was a little too much for her to be acting like this even before she died...
“Ask your brother-in-law to lend me some money. 4000 ducats.”
It was a truly embarrassing request for the first words he spoke after waiting a full day. Clemente stared at his brother.
“...Ottavio.”
Ottavio felt a suffocating pressure as he waited for his sister's answer. Why didn't he know that it was an embarrassing question?
“...Just...”
Clemente is usually slow to speak. He knew that. But on a day like this, he really got into trouble.
But since he was in no position to rush, Ottavio's lifeline was only shortened.
If Clemente were to say something like that, it was almost like she was promising to take responsibility.
Ottavio felt his heart lighten for a moment. Then he was immediately taken aback.
In this desperate situation where his wife and her first baby were dying, he had a moment where he wondered if he was being too much human trash for thinking about money and feeling light-hearted.
At that moment, a scream that sounded like a demon crawling out of hell rang out.
“Eee..."
It was Isabella. And a faint sob burst out along with it.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Then came the joyous shouts and laughter of the midwives and maids. One of the oldest maids ran out of the delivery room and told Ottavio:
“Congratulations, my lord! You have a very beautiful daughter!”
“Huh? Huh?”
Ottavio was momentarily speechless, confused. What is this situation? Isabella seemed to have little chance of survival... Then what about me... I don't have a wife, but I have children?
I'm a widower with a child. How do I raise them? Will I be able to get married?
“And don’t worry! Everyone was worried that Madam was going cyanotic, but she is recovering quickly now!”
"Yes?"
Do I have a wife too?
“In conclusion... Both the baby and the mother are healthy!”
Ottavio no longer had to worry about having a wife, even though he had a baby. He had a wife and children.
“Congratulations! It’s a miracle!”
Still, there was no money. The family was intact. If this was a complete family, then so be it.
He glanced at his sister's complexion. Clemente, too, did not look at all pleased with the news that Isabella had come back to life.
She was trembling, her small fists clenched inside her sleeves so the maids couldn't see.
That means she won't lend him money. Ottavio smiled with a pale face, the corners of his lips lifting.
“I can’t believe you two are stepping up like this...”
The agent of the Duke of Taranto in the capital was in a very difficult situation.
“We, the Dukes of Taranto, are deeply moved.”
The Duke of Taranto breathed a sigh of relief at the same time when he heard that Prince Alfonso had been appointed as Princess Bianca's 'guardian' and Countess de Mare had been appointed as 'Guidatta', a title he had never heard of before.
It was fortunate that he had avoided Duchess Rubina, but the combination of a young Prince who had just returned from the battlefield and an unmarried Countess was not something that would work out well.
“It seems like those two just accepted the honorary position, but the actual work has to be handled by the Duke’s side. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
These were the words spoken by Count Gennarosso, the man of the Taranto fiefdom, as soon as he heard the above announcement.
“I’ll try to figure out something, either by sending a team of people from the south to prepare for the debutante party to the capital next week or by going there myself.”
And actually, that was okay.
When a "chaperone" is present at a debutante party, the role is to help the young lady from a humble family introduce herself to the right people in the capital's society.
In the rare cases where a 'guardian' stands in, the emphasis is slightly removed from the introduction of connections and instead financial support is provided.
But the Duke of Taranto had no need for someone to play that role.
Before the creation of the House of Pisano, it was the only collateral duchy of the Etruscan kingdom.
Who would dare introduce the Duke of Taranto to society and lend him money?
Leo III wanted his chaperone or guardian to throw a grand party for Bianca, but that was just the King's idea.
“We can do it ourselves. Don’t worry too much.”
So the Duke's representative in the capital thought that he could make an advance greeting to Prince Alfonso and Countess de Mare, and then arrange for each side to meet once after Princess Bianca arrived in the capital.
On the day of the debutante party, when the three stand together, the roles of the Prince and the count are over.
However, not only Countess de Mare but also Prince Alfonso had flocked to the empty mansion of the Duke of Taranto.
And he had no intention of leaving, asking about the minutiae of practical matters.
“What about the budget?”
“Do you have a concept in mind?”
“Is there anyone you would most like to meet in the capital or someone you would most like to avoid?”
They heard that Countess de Mare was the illegitimate daughter of a cardinal, became famous for her theological studies, and was given the title of Countess for her contributions to saving the people during the Black Death.
But now, with a pen and paper in his hand, Count Gennarosso... no, he was writing down a checklist with a merchant-like look in his eyes.
The Prince went one step further. This one didn't smell like a businessman. The royal aura never goes away.
But he just sat there with a dignified expression and posture, reacting like a wooden puppet.
“What color is her skin tone, Princess Bianca?”
"Hmm."
“Is there a color that suits her particularly well or a color that she likes to use?”
"Hmm."
“Does she have a preferred mood or musical tone?”
"Hmm."
He did not get up from his seat on a topic that he could not answer with anything of help. The representative of the Duke of Taranto broke out in a cold sweat.
He thought it would be easier to work without the Prince. There would be one less person to watch out for.
“Your Highness. If you are tired, you may go home. I feel heavy-hearted about troubling Your Highness the Crown Prince with such practical matters.”
Every word was sincere, but Prince Alfonso flatly refused.
“It’s okay.”
“I think the meeting will take longer than expected, but my schedule later...”
“None.”
The Duke's agent was really unstable and had a hard time holding on.
He was too self-censoring to sit down with the heir of a busy nation and say things like, "Your Highness's favorite color is yellow and she loves checkered patterns. She gets goosebumps when there are chicks embroidered on the checkered pattern."
He eventually compromised by answering Countess de Mare's questions as vaguely and abstractly as possible, thus saving Prince Alfonso's time.
Fortunately, the Princess of Taranto was not a very picky person to begin with.
The Duke's agent was worried that the Prince might collapse from exhaustion, but in fact, Prince Alfonso was the fittest person in the room.
It was obvious just by looking at it.
The chest that must have been twice as big as Countess de Mare sitting next to him was clearly visible through the thick, silky uniform, showing the muscles that would have been used in actual battles.
With that much muscle, you'll probably get hungry quickly. The Duke's agent sighed.
“...Then shall I prepare something simple to drink? I will bring afternoon tea and snacks.”
“Snack. Good.”
A sparkle appeared in Prince Alfonso's eyes for the first time today.
The Princess of Taranto's favorite fabric and color were blue-gray eyes that looked a bit like dead fish.
The Duke's representative stood up from his seat, thinking that the Prince must have been delighted by the snack story.
“Does Countess de Mare prefer snacks or tea sandwiches?”
She said with an elegant smile.
“I’d like a tea sandwich, please.”
“...Then I’ll go with the tea sandwich.”
The Duke's agent was about to say that it was okay not to unify the menu but decided to proceed anyway for fear of embarrassing the prince.
You can bring all kinds of things. The Duke of Taranto had all kinds of refreshments prepared to entertain his guests.
The Duke's agent has finally left, leaving the two of them alone in the reception room of the Taranto family's capital villa.
Alfonso looked back at Ariadne. His eyes were dark.
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“Press the Countess’s chest and stomach! Push hard even if you break her bones!”
“Should I secure her breathing first, or should I take the baby out first?”
“That’s it for now! If the baby doesn’t come out, securing her breathing won’t help! Get the baby out first! If this continues, they’ll both die!”
Countess Clemente Bartolini blinked in bewilderment. Her mood was getting better.
'Is she really... dying?'
When Isabella said she was really going to the other world, her courage started to well up.
A maid's sobbing began to be heard in the delivery room. Clemente's courage soared proportionally.
Even Clemente, who never said anything unpleasant to others, finally said something unpleasant.
“What is the Countess...”
It was the first human voice heard in nearly 24 hours in this room that had been as quiet as a mouse.
It was also the first utterance of one of the siblings. Ottavio raised his head and looked at his older sister.
“...”
Ottavio looked at his sister with a face as pale as a dead man.
“Sister.”
Clemente swallowed a little nervously. Was it too much for my liking? But she was his wife to Ottavio and her sister-in-law, and it was a little too much for her to be acting like this even before she died...
“Ask your brother-in-law to lend me some money. 4000 ducats.”
It was a truly embarrassing request for the first words he spoke after waiting a full day. Clemente stared at his brother.
“...Ottavio.”
Ottavio felt a suffocating pressure as he waited for his sister's answer. Why didn't he know that it was an embarrassing question?
“...Just...”
Clemente is usually slow to speak. He knew that. But on a day like this, he really got into trouble.
But since he was in no position to rush, Ottavio's lifeline was only shortened.
“When the priest comes home... Go to the Duchess and tell her... Put in another request...”
In short, she was telling Isabella to go and beg Rubina if she died.
“Oh, Sister!”
Clemente answered kindly, in his characteristically slow manner of speech.
The wind that had been blowing most recently seemed to have run out of steam.
Even though her husband was a kind old man who always smiled brightly, the timing wasn't right for him to ask his parents for a large sum of money.
But as time goes by, your husband will soften. He always has.
Now that Isabella is dead, goodbye to the tedious part of being threatened! There is no one to tell her husband except Isabella.
“...Just wait a minute... Wouldn’t it be good for my parents’ family to be in bad shape...”
Clemente sighed. Really, she hadn't wanted it to turn out like this.
That's why she told him to stop, but Ottavio didn't listen.
“...The wrong woman came in... Contarini’s reputation has fallen a lot...”
“...”
Ottavio remained silent. In fact, even if he had ten mouths, he had nothing to say.
When Isabella caused a ruckus at Camellia's wedding last time, he wanted to dig a hole and hide.
“...That’s why... I told you not to bring that... I don’t know about other people, but not that girl.”
Ottavio suddenly lost his temper.
“You should have stopped me more, Sister!”
Clemente looked at Ottavio with a bewildered expression.
“...Did you... Even pretend to hear me?”
“That’s because you didn’t speak well enough! Who would understand if you spoke vaguely like that?”
Ottavio would have been hesitant to listen to someone telling him, “That girl shouldn’t even let dirt get in her eyes,” so there was no way that vague, dim-witted, or alcohol-addicted advice like, “Think about it again; a woman’s character is more important than her looks” would have fallen on deaf ears.
“...It’s all my fault.”
Clemente was also wronged.
If she uses strong words to stop him, and that bastard Ottavio tells Isabella about it, Clemente will be the only one responsible for the consequences. What kind of risk is that?
“...After she dies, my husband will feel better and allow me to lend money to my parents...”
Ottavio asked, his eyes widening.
“Did my brother-in-law hate Isabella?”
No, that's not what happened. Don't ask. Just shut up. Clemente managed a gentle smile.
“...Just wait a little longer.”
She added.
“...You become single, and after some time has passed. Then... Everything will be okay...I will ask Count Bartolini for money... I will ask him...”
“Oh, Sister!”
Clemente answered kindly, in his characteristically slow manner of speech.
“...for your brother-in-law... It's a bit... now...”
Even though her husband was a kind old man who always smiled brightly, the timing wasn't right for him to ask his parents for a large sum of money.
But as time goes by, your husband will soften. He always has.
Now that Isabella is dead, goodbye to the tedious part of being threatened! There is no one to tell her husband except Isabella.
“...Just wait a minute... Wouldn’t it be good for my parents’ family to be in bad shape...”
Clemente sighed. Really, she hadn't wanted it to turn out like this.
That's why she told him to stop, but Ottavio didn't listen.
“...The wrong woman came in... Contarini’s reputation has fallen a lot...”
“...”
Ottavio remained silent. In fact, even if he had ten mouths, he had nothing to say.
When Isabella caused a ruckus at Camellia's wedding last time, he wanted to dig a hole and hide.
“...That’s why... I told you not to bring that... I don’t know about other people, but not that girl.”
Ottavio suddenly lost his temper.
“You should have stopped me more, Sister!”
Clemente looked at Ottavio with a bewildered expression.
“...Did you... Even pretend to hear me?”
“That’s because you didn’t speak well enough! Who would understand if you spoke vaguely like that?”
Ottavio would have been hesitant to listen to someone telling him, “That girl shouldn’t even let dirt get in her eyes,” so there was no way that vague, dim-witted, or alcohol-addicted advice like, “Think about it again; a woman’s character is more important than her looks” would have fallen on deaf ears.
“...It’s all my fault.”
Clemente was also wronged.
If she uses strong words to stop him, and that bastard Ottavio tells Isabella about it, Clemente will be the only one responsible for the consequences. What kind of risk is that?
“...After she dies, my husband will feel better and allow me to lend money to my parents...”
Ottavio asked, his eyes widening.
“Did my brother-in-law hate Isabella?”
No, that's not what happened. Don't ask. Just shut up. Clemente managed a gentle smile.
“...Just wait a little longer.”
She added.
“...You become single, and after some time has passed. Then... Everything will be okay...I will ask Count Bartolini for money... I will ask him...”
If Clemente were to say something like that, it was almost like she was promising to take responsibility.
Ottavio felt his heart lighten for a moment. Then he was immediately taken aback.
In this desperate situation where his wife and her first baby were dying, he had a moment where he wondered if he was being too much human trash for thinking about money and feeling light-hearted.
At that moment, a scream that sounded like a demon crawling out of hell rang out.
“Eee..."
It was Isabella. And a faint sob burst out along with it.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Then came the joyous shouts and laughter of the midwives and maids. One of the oldest maids ran out of the delivery room and told Ottavio:
“Congratulations, my lord! You have a very beautiful daughter!”
“Huh? Huh?”
Ottavio was momentarily speechless, confused. What is this situation? Isabella seemed to have little chance of survival... Then what about me... I don't have a wife, but I have children?
I'm a widower with a child. How do I raise them? Will I be able to get married?
“And don’t worry! Everyone was worried that Madam was going cyanotic, but she is recovering quickly now!”
"Yes?"
Do I have a wife too?
“In conclusion... Both the baby and the mother are healthy!”
Ottavio no longer had to worry about having a wife, even though he had a baby. He had a wife and children.
“Congratulations! It’s a miracle!”
Still, there was no money. The family was intact. If this was a complete family, then so be it.
He glanced at his sister's complexion. Clemente, too, did not look at all pleased with the news that Isabella had come back to life.
She was trembling, her small fists clenched inside her sleeves so the maids couldn't see.
That means she won't lend him money. Ottavio smiled with a pale face, the corners of his lips lifting.
***
“I can’t believe you two are stepping up like this...”
The agent of the Duke of Taranto in the capital was in a very difficult situation.
“We, the Dukes of Taranto, are deeply moved.”
The Duke of Taranto breathed a sigh of relief at the same time when he heard that Prince Alfonso had been appointed as Princess Bianca's 'guardian' and Countess de Mare had been appointed as 'Guidatta', a title he had never heard of before.
It was fortunate that he had avoided Duchess Rubina, but the combination of a young Prince who had just returned from the battlefield and an unmarried Countess was not something that would work out well.
“It seems like those two just accepted the honorary position, but the actual work has to be handled by the Duke’s side. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
These were the words spoken by Count Gennarosso, the man of the Taranto fiefdom, as soon as he heard the above announcement.
“I’ll try to figure out something, either by sending a team of people from the south to prepare for the debutante party to the capital next week or by going there myself.”
And actually, that was okay.
When a "chaperone" is present at a debutante party, the role is to help the young lady from a humble family introduce herself to the right people in the capital's society.
In the rare cases where a 'guardian' stands in, the emphasis is slightly removed from the introduction of connections and instead financial support is provided.
But the Duke of Taranto had no need for someone to play that role.
Before the creation of the House of Pisano, it was the only collateral duchy of the Etruscan kingdom.
Who would dare introduce the Duke of Taranto to society and lend him money?
Leo III wanted his chaperone or guardian to throw a grand party for Bianca, but that was just the King's idea.
“We can do it ourselves. Don’t worry too much.”
So the Duke's representative in the capital thought that he could make an advance greeting to Prince Alfonso and Countess de Mare, and then arrange for each side to meet once after Princess Bianca arrived in the capital.
On the day of the debutante party, when the three stand together, the roles of the Prince and the count are over.
However, not only Countess de Mare but also Prince Alfonso had flocked to the empty mansion of the Duke of Taranto.
And he had no intention of leaving, asking about the minutiae of practical matters.
“What about the budget?”
“Do you have a concept in mind?”
“Is there anyone you would most like to meet in the capital or someone you would most like to avoid?”
They heard that Countess de Mare was the illegitimate daughter of a cardinal, became famous for her theological studies, and was given the title of Countess for her contributions to saving the people during the Black Death.
But now, with a pen and paper in his hand, Count Gennarosso... no, he was writing down a checklist with a merchant-like look in his eyes.
The Prince went one step further. This one didn't smell like a businessman. The royal aura never goes away.
But he just sat there with a dignified expression and posture, reacting like a wooden puppet.
“What color is her skin tone, Princess Bianca?”
"Hmm."
“Is there a color that suits her particularly well or a color that she likes to use?”
"Hmm."
“Does she have a preferred mood or musical tone?”
"Hmm."
He did not get up from his seat on a topic that he could not answer with anything of help. The representative of the Duke of Taranto broke out in a cold sweat.
He thought it would be easier to work without the Prince. There would be one less person to watch out for.
“Your Highness. If you are tired, you may go home. I feel heavy-hearted about troubling Your Highness the Crown Prince with such practical matters.”
Every word was sincere, but Prince Alfonso flatly refused.
“It’s okay.”
“I think the meeting will take longer than expected, but my schedule later...”
“None.”
The Duke's agent was really unstable and had a hard time holding on.
He was too self-censoring to sit down with the heir of a busy nation and say things like, "Your Highness's favorite color is yellow and she loves checkered patterns. She gets goosebumps when there are chicks embroidered on the checkered pattern."
He eventually compromised by answering Countess de Mare's questions as vaguely and abstractly as possible, thus saving Prince Alfonso's time.
Fortunately, the Princess of Taranto was not a very picky person to begin with.
The Duke's agent was worried that the Prince might collapse from exhaustion, but in fact, Prince Alfonso was the fittest person in the room.
It was obvious just by looking at it.
The chest that must have been twice as big as Countess de Mare sitting next to him was clearly visible through the thick, silky uniform, showing the muscles that would have been used in actual battles.
With that much muscle, you'll probably get hungry quickly. The Duke's agent sighed.
“...Then shall I prepare something simple to drink? I will bring afternoon tea and snacks.”
“Snack. Good.”
A sparkle appeared in Prince Alfonso's eyes for the first time today.
The Princess of Taranto's favorite fabric and color were blue-gray eyes that looked a bit like dead fish.
The Duke's representative stood up from his seat, thinking that the Prince must have been delighted by the snack story.
“Does Countess de Mare prefer snacks or tea sandwiches?”
She said with an elegant smile.
“I’d like a tea sandwich, please.”
“...Then I’ll go with the tea sandwich.”
The Duke's agent was about to say that it was okay not to unify the menu but decided to proceed anyway for fear of embarrassing the prince.
You can bring all kinds of things. The Duke of Taranto had all kinds of refreshments prepared to entertain his guests.
The Duke's agent has finally left, leaving the two of them alone in the reception room of the Taranto family's capital villa.
Alfonso looked back at Ariadne. His eyes were dark.
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