The administrative palace of the Katzen Imperial Palace.
In this place, where the courtiers exchanged discourses and schemes, Eratosthene immediately attracted attention.
"Your Excellency the Marquis of Eratosthene."
The centrist, who had bowed before the Marquis de Leniard, sensed that the situation had changed and flocked to Eratosthene.
He tried to please Eratosthene by mentioning the new title bestowed upon him by the Emperor.
"And the gift he sent to reconcile with Valdina this time. What is His Majesty thinking? The Marquis must have guessed his mind."
"How could this old man know that. I can only obey His Majesty's wishes."
Eratosthene slipped through the cobwebs in a dry tone.
His tone was modest but determined.
The courtiers examined each other with subtle expressions, but they couldn't find any more time to inquire.
'Damn, old man. Nothing has changed. Instead of praying in the monastery, you just ate loaches.'
The Count of Montfort, the main pillar of the Third Prince and the father of the Empress, grumbled inwardly, but he did not dare to vent his dissatisfaction.
No wonder, now behind Eratosthene was the Emperor.
Perdiccas II knighted Eratosthene several steps up so that he would be inferior to the Empress or Marquis Reniard, and returned to the castle, making preparations for his return.
He had arranged a truly splendid return, but Eratosthene still refused to take off his monkly garments.
Luckily, it was a high-quality cloth that could not be compared to the old monk's robes of the day.
However, the person wearing it was still like a withered twig, giving the impression of being desolate and transcendental.
In fact, he was still rejecting the mansion and staying in the monastery of the capital.
Leniard snorted inwardly.
Who's to say that old man is worldly?
Eratosthene was no longer the old retired monk of yesteryear.
To the people, he was now an object of mourning for his dead daughter, a mentor to the budding nobility, and a living haven for the Emperor who was sinking into madness.
[Monk.]
The little boy tugged at Eratosthene's side by his sleeve.
The boy was also dressed in the same monk's uniform as Eratosthene, but the badge of an apprentice was adorned on his chest.
"What's that?"
"The Marquis picked it up from the streets, and he's deaf, so you don't have to be careful what you say."
"Well, you brought something like that to the capital..."
The little monk with bright eyes looked clever, but he was born missing one ear.
His other ear was also deaf due to his father's violence.
"Marquis. His Majesty has sent this food. I wonder if you're not taking care of your health."
The imperial acolyte who appeared behind the boy bowed behind him, the stew delivered by Perdiccas II's loyalist was still steaming.
The crowd tried to hide their envious eyes.
Ever since the Marquis had returned, the Emperor had been calling him every day.
Even the Marquis Leniard and the First Prince, one of the few who were allowed to enter the Golden Chamber, could not have had such an unrestrained audience with the Emperor.
Perdiccas II's madness is getting worse and worse, and his temper is uncontrollable, but there is no one of his subjects who refuses to be trusted by the Supreme Being.
It was widely believed that if the Emperor's trust in him, continued like this, Eratosthene's influence would soon surpass that of the Marquis of Leniard.
"Didn't His Majesty even raise his title?"
"The Empress dowager's pranks were all from when she was young. Now that the years have passed, I am reminded of Her Majesty the late Empress."
"You, you. Watch your mouth...!"
"Huh?"
One of the centrists saw the Marquis of Leniard standing behind him, and his flush sank.
"Hoo, Marquis. I, I don't mean that..."
"Well, add to that. How can this be so painful for a father who puts his children first?"
Empress Sun died of puerperal fever shortly after giving birth to Cesare.
It remained deep in the heart of the current Emperor, Perdiccas II, and made Cesare the First Prince after his accession.
But her death was not in Cesare's favor.
She had died early, and there was no way to dispel the suspicions created by the Emperor's madness.
Doubts as to whether his brother-in-law's son is really his bloodline.
What had been blooming like a single ray of light grew into a great tidal wave that would wash over the Emperor from time to time as time went by, the Emperor grew weaker, and Cesare grew older.
The lineage of the First Prince of Conqueror, who led the Continental War to victory, was something that no one dared to question.
But the only one who clung to the doubt, and who could do so, was the Emperor, the father of Cesare and the master of the empire.
"I'm sorry. I have committed a sin that cannot be washed away by the mouth."
The lower nobleman of the centrist fell to his knees.
Leniard is the father of the deceased Empress and the mainstay of the First Prince's faction, which is now the most powerful faction. It would have been a good thing if he had been embarrassed here for insulting him.
But what if, behind the Marquis, the anger of the First Prince directed at him...
"Spare me, Marquis, I'm not going to give a damn again."
He bowed his head and begged humiliatingly.
It was a bit too much for him to make fun of with one wring mouth, but since it was Empress Sun and no one else, everyone understood the horror.
"Don't do that. Your Excellency is not the only father here in front of his daughter, and you don't have the generosity to go beyond that."
Then, Eratosthene's voice echoed through the quiet room.
Leniard turned silently to stare at the old monk, or rather, his own stillness back in the capital.
"No, ? Marquis."
"..."
The room fell dead quiet.
His voice was dry, devoid of any anger or emotion, but Eratosthene was clearly provoking Leniard.
The former Empress died from illness, but the current Empress...
Who doesn't know that the one who took her own life and brought it to that point was the Empress and the Emperor, and their fruit, Cesare?
Their flesh and blood, Leniard, could never stand tall in the presence of Eratosthene.
"...Yes."
The wrinkles on Leniard's painted smile trembled slightly.
The arrogant aristocracy's pride soon disappeared silently and expertly as if it had never been before.
But Eratosthene smiled slightly as Leniard's wrinkled hand brushed against the symbol on the ring.
"At this age, it's hard to stand for a long time. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave."
And he left.
"Let's go."
Eratosthene took the first step, and the boy quickly followed.
***
He wonder if he left the hallway like that.
"...Marquis!"
A heavy voice echoed through the halls. But Eratosthene's walk did not stop.
"...Marquis!"
[He's calling for a monk.]
The little monk stopped and tugged at his slave, and Eratosthene sighed and stopped.
"Lord Eratosthene."
A beautiful young man with chiseled hair stood in front of Eratosthene and the boy.
Glasses hanging from the tip of his straight nose. His slender shoulders were embroidered with a symbol of belongings of the Demon Tower.
Eratosthene suddenly remembered that this young man had grown up with his grandson and had become his most trusted confidant.
"...Terence, it's you."
He nodded briefly. Even after a few years, the greeting seems to be enough.
Terence, too, was not expecting hospitality, so he immediately bowed his head calmly.
Support Novellate!
Comments
Post a Comment