Elko screamed until the veins in his neck burst.
“But I was mistaken, Your Highness!”
He was kneeling on the floor of the Prince's office, his left arm resting on his hand.
“Because of my resentment and hostility towards the Kingdom of Gallico, I thought that Princess Lariesa was the only one who could not be accepted. However, Grand Duke Odes could have used military funds as an excuse to force the marriage between Your Highness and Princess Lariesa, but he acted in a truly gentlemanly manner!”
Elko was so intoxicated with his own lies that he believed his own words.
The reason why Grand Duke Odes did not force marriage in exchange for military funds was simply because he had never provided military funds.
The dog looked like an old guard dog with dementia.
“Galicco’s military organization is advanced, and the rule of the Grand Duke is truly reasonable! If the Prince wishes to become the ruler of the Central Continent, you must solidify your position through a marriage alliance with Gallico!”
But Elko was no better than a watchdog.
Old dogs with dementia can be allowed to retire peacefully, but Elko wanted to hold on to power for a long time.
Such actions are not only useless, but they are harmful.
Slap!
"100 million!"
Elko screamed as he was hit in the face by the papers thrown by Alfonso. But he regretted screaming so loudly.
Alfonso's fist flew straight at him, grabbing him by the collar.
“Ugh!”
Elko flew to a corner of the Prince's office, clutching his face with his one remaining arm and groaning in pain.
The stern voice of Alfonso fell upon it.
“There is only one reason why I do not change your sentence and strike your head off right now.”
The Prince looked down at Elko with cold eyes.
“Because you lost your arm and your eye for me.”
It is a felony to block information from reaching the monarch.
Even hiding diplomatic documents sent from other countries? This could have escalated into a serious diplomatic problem.
“If only it hadn’t been like that.”
Alfonso looked down at Elko, who was lying crumpled on the floor. He was the man who had thrown away his future for his own sake.
He felt it was his natural duty to take responsibility for his life.
But now, looking down at Elko, his heart felt neither pity nor guilt as much as he had thought.
Surprisingly... What filled that space was anger. Alfonso couldn't figure out the cause of this anger.
“I wouldn’t have spared you for failing to keep your place.”
Elko was greatly shocked by Prince Alfonso's words.
He knew very well what a kind, compassionate, and generous man the Prince was.
Cut off the neck.
He thought that even if everything was revealed, including his full-scale collusion with Gallico and his secret dark intentions, the most he could receive would be to be stripped of his title and expelled from the palace, and he trembled with a sense of betrayal.
You're going to cut off my neck just for that woman? Aren't I the Prince's best confidant, the right-hand man of the future monarch of the Central Continent?
“As of today, you are excluded from all work.”
Elko's mind snapped when he heard those words. This meant that Elko would be removed from all power and turned into a living corpse.
Since Elko cannot participate in training like other knights, if he is excluded from administrative duties, his access to the Prince becomes limited.
He approached Alfonso, crawling on his knees.
“Prince, I was wrong. Prince!”
Tears flowed from one of his eyes.
“Please show mercy just this once, Prince! I have no parents, no woman, and no children. How could I do such a thing, hoping to enjoy wealth and honor? It’s all done out of loyalty to you, Prince! You were mistaken, Prince! Prince! Prince!”
But Alfonso left the room without even looking at Elko, who was stuck to the floor of the office like a piece of paper.
The documents Elko handed him were, to his chagrin, perfect, without a single error.
Each number, each date danced unpleasantly before Alfonso's eyes.
Prince Alfonso came out of the room and immediately called another knight.
“Watch Elko’s every move for the time being.”
The knight prostrated himself.
“I will do as you command, Your Highness.”
***
Isabella was sitting in the drawing room of Count Bartolini's house.
It was a room of thickly woven fabric, large bowls full of fresh fruit instead of decoration, and although it was decorated in a pastoral manner, it reeked of money.
Damn it. You're going to eat well and live well while I'm ruined? That can't be happening. There's no such law.
“Sister, I need you to lend me 12,000 ducats.”
Isabella added cheekily.
“What does it mean to have a good family?”
Clemente smiled briefly at those words but soon returned to a blank expression.
“...Twelve thousand ducats...”
Although the Counts Bartolini were a very wealthy family, they could not raise such a large sum of money in cash.
Even without her husband's permission and the amount itself, it was impossible.
No noble would be capable of that.
In the capital, the only people who could do that, aside from the royal family, were Ariadne de Mare, the Boccanegro Company, and the Barons of Castiglione.
“...That’s...”
Even Clemente, who could not refuse even if she died, could not possibly accept the amount.
Even if you are a fool, how can you make a promise like that?
Clemente's lips moved silently. To Isabella, the shape of her mouth looked like, 'That's not the name of a dog.'
It didn't matter. Isabella couldn't see anything right now. She smiled brightly.
“That’s right. 12.000 Ducatos isn’t the name of someone’s dog.”
Clemente stared at Isabella, unable to bear to affirm it. Her face was complex, showing her intimidation but unable to hide her dissatisfaction.
Isabella rose from her feminine sitting position with her hands clasped neatly in her lap.
She strode across the table and came up to Clemente's nose.
“But you know, isn’t that a cheap price to pay for saving your reputation and your marriage?”
Isabella lifted her index finger and pushed Clemente's forehead back.
“You swore at Ottavio? What? Are you so extravagant and vain? Are you sure I’d cheat on him? How did you know that Giovanna was Ottavio’s daughter?”
Clemente was startled by the sudden informal speech, her head pushed back in annoyance, and she flapped her arms.
“Hey, who cheated, and you’re blaming me? You shouldn’t be doing that.”
Clemente, who was completely out of breath, stammered an excuse.
“...No, that’s...That’s not what I really meant to do...”
“Do you think that since you didn’t have children in your marriage, other people won’t either? But you didn’t have children even in your happy extramarital affair, right? At this point, isn’t the problem with you, not your husband?”
“Oh, Isabella, please...”
Clemente held Isabella's hand and begged.
“...Lower your voice... Oh my... That’s not what I meant...”
“Enough with the excuses.”
Isabella laughed bitterly.
“Just take responsibility for your actions.”
She took her finger off Clemente's forehead and wiped it on the sleeve of her dress.
“Prepare 12.000 ducats by tomorrow evening. Otherwise, I will tell your husband who the Marquis of Campa’s real mistress is.”
Clemente's face turned ashen, like a deathly white man. She spoke with a mocking air of composure.
“He, he will never believe you.”
It was a final show of force. But Isabella just shrugged.
“That’s something that the gentleman should take care of.”
A cruel smile appeared on Isabella's face.
“I'm going to reveal everything.”
Clemente's face turned a shade paler. She had recently cheated on him and gotten caught.
If Isabella were to bring up the affairs of the Marquis of Campa, Count Bartolini would seriously investigate the situation. Then there would be only ruin, ruin.
“...Instead.”
Isabella narrowed her eyes at Clemente, her gaze somewhere between glaring and appraising.
“If you really bring me 12,000 ducats, I will completely forget about the Marquis of Campa.”
Isabella made a gesture of clapping her hands.
“That’s it. Nothing more.”
Isabella, having said this, smiled brightly and stood up from her seat refreshed.
In fact, she didn't really have much faith that Clemente would come up with the money. It was a generous deal, so it was half and half. 12.000 ducats was a lot of money.
But Isabella would never die alone.
She smiled brightly again. Her expression and tone were both back to her good-natured mode.
“Sister, so cheer up. You want to be free, right? You have until tomorrow evening.”
If Clemente doesn't bring her the money by tomorrow evening, she'll have to find another way, either by becoming the real concubine of the Marquis of Campa or by running away from home with only her valuables.
***
Clemente, who was in a desperate situation, sat alone in the drawing room where Isabella had left, shivering.
With her small body and thin bones, she looked like a small dog trembling with fear.
But, Clemente was the daughter of a long-established Count, had been the mistress of another Count for the past decade or so—not to say 'greatly', but above all, a serial adulterer who had so far gone undetected, and was a woman of some substance.
So, Clemente de Bartolini was also a woman who hid a sword.
'I can't die like this!'
She mentally ran through the people who could help her.
When her husband's help was impossible for some reason, the first thing that came to mind was her past affair partners. However, they, too, were put on the back burner.
Because no man could afford 12,000 ducats at once.
It might be possible to borrow money in installments, such as 1500 ducats for some and 2000 ducats for others, but this was money that had no guarantee of repayment.
It's nothing more than postponing a bomb that's about to explode.
'I need someone who can take them all out at once.'
And how many people on the floor of San Carlo could do that? Clemente de Bartolini thought deeply and immediately called her servant.
Several servants, following the mistress's orders, hurriedly rode out of the mansion on horseback and then returned.
Having mobilized all her connections to find out 'that person's' schedule, she now sent out a servant to find out if 'that person' would be willing to meet her.
After an hour or two, the servant returned with a positive answer. It was a miracle.
“If her schedule is free now, it might be possible if you arrive within an hour!”
Clemente immediately got up, threw on her street clothes, and rolled down to the first-floor hallway.
“The carriage, the carriage!”
Count Bartolini, who heard the commotion Clemente was causing, appeared on the second floor.
He looked down at his wife from the railing with a friendly smile.
“Clemente, where are you going at this late hour?”
Isabella's visit was supposed to be around lunchtime, but as she looked into 'her' schedule, time passed quickly, and it was now well past dinner time.
Count Bartolini smiled knowingly, but in fact, he was carefully examining his wife to see if she might be spending the night out with a younger man.
Her attire was plain, and her face was bare. But he could not shake off his suspicions.
Bu,t Clemente was innocent, at least for today. She confidently revealed her destination.
“I’m going to go and meet Duchess Rubina!”
“Huh? The Duchess?”
“Yes, there was chaos at my parents’ house.”
“That’s right.”
“I was just wondering if she could help me out in some way. I’ll be right back!”
In fact, Rubina would never have helped Clemente with her bare hands.
But something occurred to Clemente when he heard that Rubina really, really hated Isabella.
It was a story she found out by chance. Maybe Duchess Rubina would help her with this.
Support Novellate!
Comments
Post a Comment