At Leo III's mention, Alfonso's blood ran cold.
It was something he could have laughed off, thinking it was a pun or a bad metaphor. But his intuition warned him to be on his guard.
“What is my father...?”
Alfonso asked cautiously, releasing the hand that had been pinning Ariadne against the wall.
As the strength holding her back disappeared, she collapsed forward into Alfonso's arms.
The sensation of a woman's delicate body rang through the surface of each cell, stimulating the nerves. She seemed to have no bones.
Alfonso sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Now was not the time.
“His Majesty the King.”
The woman was slightly out of breath. Her breathing was ragged and her words were interrupted.
He couldn't tell if it was because he was still excited or because he was nervous about having to talk about something important.
“He tried to take me as your stepmother.”
And then there was a moment of silence.
"What?"
Alfonso grabbed Ariadne's shoulder and straightened her up, looking into her face.
“Say that again.”
Alfonso couldn't believe his ears. There must have been something wrong with the word.
“Stepmother? You mean stepmother?”
Unfortunately, he hadn't misheard. Ariadne's expression fell. It was as if she had been wrong.
Alfonso couldn't understand her guilt.
She nodded, her tiny head bobbing slightly as if it would break on her white nape.
The sight was so pitiful that Alfonso stopped to think that she must have felt bad about separating father and son.
Another line of thought might have led to the question, 'Have you perhaps flirted with His Majesty the King?', but Alfonso was not the type of person to seek out such fantasies.
“How did that happen? When?”
Ariadne opened her mouth. It seemed like a thousand years for her cherry lips to part.
The heated mood had long since disappeared. A cold, chilling anger, like a sharpened blade, permeated the room.
“Early winter, 1123.”
It was more than three years ago, around the time Ariadne became engaged to Cesare, Alfonso asked.
“Why didn’t I know this?”
These days, Alfonso receives all kinds of intelligence to look good to him, mainly from the great nobles.
“...Because His Majesty the King kept it a secret from the beginning. It didn’t even leak out to high society. It was completely shut out within the palace.”
Ariadne briefly explained the situation at the time.
The title of Countess was given to Ariadne instead of Ippolito without consulting Cardinal de Mare, and the decree simply said, "Enter the palace" and had no detailed explanation.
Alfonso frowned in suspicion. This was different from the situation he knew.
He had always known that 'Ariadne de Mare was granted the title of Countess because of her assistance to Cesare de Como, Duke of Pisano,' was Lariesa's commentary.
Ariadne continued her explanation.
“I went there and it was a wedding hall. His Majesty the King was waiting for me, dressed in white.”
Crack!
It was the sound of Alfonso breaking the Prince's chair, unable to bear it. He clenched his fists and broke the handle.
The Crown Prince's chair, made of solid birch wood soaked in oil dozens of times, broke under the force of the blow. This was his current state of mind.
Alfonso asked Ariadne, wanting to break all traditions, responsibilities, and authority.
“So, how did you escape?”
He prepared himself a little mentally.
His first thought was that just as he had to break off his engagement with Lariesa, Ariadne also had a family register that needed to be settled.
It was an expression of an unconscious wish that the thing that he felt most sorry for towards his lover would be fair.
“Cesare...”
It was a somewhat unexpected name. However, he also knew about her engagement to Duke Cesare.
It is quite possible that Leo III registered her as his woman on paper, but outwardly displayed her as Cesare's fiancée.
But his beloved's answer was completely unexpected.
“He brought his men in, threatened His Majesty the King with his sword, and tore up the marriage contract.”
"What?"
“To be exact, he didn’t tear it up, he changed it into a contract to sign his engagement to me... Alfonso?”
Ariadne stopped talking, grabbed Alfonso by the shoulder, and shook him.
“Alfonso? Are you okay?”
Alfonso's expression was like someone had been hit in the back of the head with a hammer.
“...Cesare? That’s what happened?”
“When I entered, there were dead people on the floor, and the wedding hall... that is, the ‘Hall of the Sun’ was a sea of blood.”
Alfonso couldn't believe it. Cesare, that cowardly bastard?
In his opinion, Cesare de Como was a bastard who deserved to have the cold thing between his legs removed.
Rather than being ashamed or repenting of the fact that he was born of an impure union, he waved Leo III's bloodline around like a badge of honor and seduced women.
When it came time for him to take responsibility for his position, he hid behind his illegitimate status. In the eyes of Alfonso, who had grown up with him, he was always like that. He was a subhuman.
“That Cesare... drew his sword on my father?”
Ariadne didn't answer. It seemed to her that Alfonso didn't want confirmation of the facts now.
He ran his hand over his face, muttering meaningless words to himself.
"Oh my God."
Cesare de Como was in a position where he depended on his father for everything.
Alfonso had a claim to the rightful throne, a knightly order that had been through war, and his own power based on both, but Cesare had absolutely nothing.
If Leo III were taken out of his life, all that would remain would be a flashy face and a bit of notoriety in high society.
That guy... rebelled against his father? For Ariadne’s sake?
Alfonso asked.
“His Majesty, His Majesty, have you left Count de Como alone?”
That couldn't be the case. Cesare is now in good standing with the title of Duke of Pisano.
“He was immediately dismissed from his position as Commander-in-Chief of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
“...”
Alfonso looked at Ariadne with eyes demanding an explanation.
The Leo III he knew was not the kind of person who would spare the life of a son who had drawn his sword against him for such a thing.
Ariadne lowered her head, looking at Alfonso, and let out a small sigh.
“...I went and negotiated with His Majesty the King. If he touches Cesare, I will reveal to the world that His Majesty intended to take me as a concubine...”
She threatened to hold her relationship with Alfonso as collateral, but there was no need to be honest about it.
This is not even a good lie. She cleverly changed the direction of the conversation.
“His Majesty didn’t want anyone to know that he had been lusting after me. It seems that even Duchess Rubina only found out at the very last minute. I understand that many of those who had been mobilized to the ‘Hall of the Sun’ that day were forcibly silenced.”
Except for the King's confidants and those who were in line with them, the rest were either sent to the ends of the earth or killed for their faults.
The dead were mostly low-ranking servants. However, there was no great uproar. This was the court of the Central Continent.
And Alfonso, a step too late, realized what the guilt in Ariadne's expression meant.
It was a feeling of guilt about having to explain the circumstances of her engagement to Cesare, that is, having to tell Cesare's story to herself.
Alfonso realized that Duke Cesare might be a more formidable competitor than he thought.
Alfonso, who somehow managed to send Ariadne back without even laying a finger on her, went to the training ground.
He postponed all his schedules except for the dinner party that could not be canceled and locked himself in the training ground.
Wajikkeun!
The wooden beam of the training dummy broke with a loud noise.
Sir Manfredi asked his youngest brother, Sir Desilio, with a slightly tired expression. What the Prince was holding in his hand was not a chopping axe, but a training sword.
“How many of those are there?”
“Fifteen outlines...”
“He just has to beat them with brute force. But fifteen?”
“Yes...”
Since they could usually only hit rags and not break wooden pillars, the training straw dummies were only purchased in dozens per month for the entire knights to train with.
Manfredi, sensing that the Prince's temper was considerably agitated, whispered meaningfully.
“In times like that, it’s best not to go near him. If you hang around and get caught...”
Crunch!
The sixteenth straw doll broke in half and fell to the floor. Now there was not a single straw doll standing in the training ground.
Since the training grounds were managed directly by the Prince's knights, Sir Desilio ran into the training grounds carrying the new straw doll by its wooden pole.
He was already in tears after hearing the story of Sir Manfredi.
'Why did it have to be at a time like this...'
“Hey there!”
At the sound of the Prince's low voice ringing in the smoke, Sir Desilio's neck shrank like a giraffe.
'I caught the Prince's eye, so I have to run 40 laps around the training ground...'
But the Prince's rebuke was directed at someone else.
“Manfredi! Don’t you have hands or feet? You can see it clearly, but you only let the youngest manage the training grounds?”
“Hic!”
“It looks like there’s nothing to do, so let’s do it! 60 laps of the training ground!”
“Eek!”
Manfredi, who was left speechless by the unbelievable fate he knew he could not avoid, began to cry.
Alfonso smiled for the first time that afternoon as he looked at his back, and his stiff muscles and emotions began to relax one by one.
Sixteen dismembered dolls lay strewn at his feet.
What could have driven him to wield his sword so fiercely? An unrequited lust for Ariadne? Anger toward his father? Guilt over his own struggle with his father over a woman?
They all had a stake in it, but it wasn't the main reason.
'Jealousy. Inferiority complex.'
The emotions Alfonso felt today were... jealousy and inferiority complex toward Cesare, and a hint of admiration.
The courage and dedication of a man who went one step further than he could, even though he had everything.
His half-brother, threw everything away when he hid behind his mother's wings.
His heart was pounding and welling up.
“Haaaaaap!”
Alfonso threw himself at the seventeenth straw doll in the boiling heat.
Leo III, who had set the stage for a mess five minutes before by taking a liking to his son's woman, was now setting his eyes on a new woman.
“No, Countess Contarini brought a flower and put it in the dog’s ear!”
Leo III called Ottavio and his wife over and told Duchess Rubina about the tea they had had together some time ago, and they burst into laughter.
“It’s really stylish to put a daisy in a puppy’s ear that’s the size of your palm!”
Leo III let go of Bella Bella, the French bulldog Rubina was holding.
“Why is that ugly thing wearing a pearl necklace that doesn’t suit her?”
It was something he could have laughed off, thinking it was a pun or a bad metaphor. But his intuition warned him to be on his guard.
“What is my father...?”
Alfonso asked cautiously, releasing the hand that had been pinning Ariadne against the wall.
As the strength holding her back disappeared, she collapsed forward into Alfonso's arms.
The sensation of a woman's delicate body rang through the surface of each cell, stimulating the nerves. She seemed to have no bones.
Alfonso sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Now was not the time.
“His Majesty the King.”
The woman was slightly out of breath. Her breathing was ragged and her words were interrupted.
He couldn't tell if it was because he was still excited or because he was nervous about having to talk about something important.
“He tried to take me as your stepmother.”
And then there was a moment of silence.
"What?"
Alfonso grabbed Ariadne's shoulder and straightened her up, looking into her face.
“Say that again.”
Alfonso couldn't believe his ears. There must have been something wrong with the word.
“Stepmother? You mean stepmother?”
Unfortunately, he hadn't misheard. Ariadne's expression fell. It was as if she had been wrong.
Alfonso couldn't understand her guilt.
She nodded, her tiny head bobbing slightly as if it would break on her white nape.
The sight was so pitiful that Alfonso stopped to think that she must have felt bad about separating father and son.
Another line of thought might have led to the question, 'Have you perhaps flirted with His Majesty the King?', but Alfonso was not the type of person to seek out such fantasies.
“How did that happen? When?”
Ariadne opened her mouth. It seemed like a thousand years for her cherry lips to part.
The heated mood had long since disappeared. A cold, chilling anger, like a sharpened blade, permeated the room.
“Early winter, 1123.”
It was more than three years ago, around the time Ariadne became engaged to Cesare, Alfonso asked.
“Why didn’t I know this?”
These days, Alfonso receives all kinds of intelligence to look good to him, mainly from the great nobles.
“...Because His Majesty the King kept it a secret from the beginning. It didn’t even leak out to high society. It was completely shut out within the palace.”
Ariadne briefly explained the situation at the time.
The title of Countess was given to Ariadne instead of Ippolito without consulting Cardinal de Mare, and the decree simply said, "Enter the palace" and had no detailed explanation.
Alfonso frowned in suspicion. This was different from the situation he knew.
He had always known that 'Ariadne de Mare was granted the title of Countess because of her assistance to Cesare de Como, Duke of Pisano,' was Lariesa's commentary.
Ariadne continued her explanation.
“I went there and it was a wedding hall. His Majesty the King was waiting for me, dressed in white.”
Crack!
It was the sound of Alfonso breaking the Prince's chair, unable to bear it. He clenched his fists and broke the handle.
The Crown Prince's chair, made of solid birch wood soaked in oil dozens of times, broke under the force of the blow. This was his current state of mind.
Alfonso asked Ariadne, wanting to break all traditions, responsibilities, and authority.
“So, how did you escape?”
He prepared himself a little mentally.
His first thought was that just as he had to break off his engagement with Lariesa, Ariadne also had a family register that needed to be settled.
It was an expression of an unconscious wish that the thing that he felt most sorry for towards his lover would be fair.
“Cesare...”
It was a somewhat unexpected name. However, he also knew about her engagement to Duke Cesare.
It is quite possible that Leo III registered her as his woman on paper, but outwardly displayed her as Cesare's fiancée.
But his beloved's answer was completely unexpected.
“He brought his men in, threatened His Majesty the King with his sword, and tore up the marriage contract.”
"What?"
“To be exact, he didn’t tear it up, he changed it into a contract to sign his engagement to me... Alfonso?”
Ariadne stopped talking, grabbed Alfonso by the shoulder, and shook him.
“Alfonso? Are you okay?”
Alfonso's expression was like someone had been hit in the back of the head with a hammer.
“...Cesare? That’s what happened?”
“When I entered, there were dead people on the floor, and the wedding hall... that is, the ‘Hall of the Sun’ was a sea of blood.”
Alfonso couldn't believe it. Cesare, that cowardly bastard?
In his opinion, Cesare de Como was a bastard who deserved to have the cold thing between his legs removed.
Rather than being ashamed or repenting of the fact that he was born of an impure union, he waved Leo III's bloodline around like a badge of honor and seduced women.
When it came time for him to take responsibility for his position, he hid behind his illegitimate status. In the eyes of Alfonso, who had grown up with him, he was always like that. He was a subhuman.
“That Cesare... drew his sword on my father?”
Ariadne didn't answer. It seemed to her that Alfonso didn't want confirmation of the facts now.
He ran his hand over his face, muttering meaningless words to himself.
"Oh my God."
Cesare de Como was in a position where he depended on his father for everything.
Alfonso had a claim to the rightful throne, a knightly order that had been through war, and his own power based on both, but Cesare had absolutely nothing.
If Leo III were taken out of his life, all that would remain would be a flashy face and a bit of notoriety in high society.
That guy... rebelled against his father? For Ariadne’s sake?
Alfonso asked.
“His Majesty, His Majesty, have you left Count de Como alone?”
That couldn't be the case. Cesare is now in good standing with the title of Duke of Pisano.
“He was immediately dismissed from his position as Commander-in-Chief of the Etruscan Kingdom.”
“...”
Alfonso looked at Ariadne with eyes demanding an explanation.
The Leo III he knew was not the kind of person who would spare the life of a son who had drawn his sword against him for such a thing.
Ariadne lowered her head, looking at Alfonso, and let out a small sigh.
“...I went and negotiated with His Majesty the King. If he touches Cesare, I will reveal to the world that His Majesty intended to take me as a concubine...”
She threatened to hold her relationship with Alfonso as collateral, but there was no need to be honest about it.
This is not even a good lie. She cleverly changed the direction of the conversation.
“His Majesty didn’t want anyone to know that he had been lusting after me. It seems that even Duchess Rubina only found out at the very last minute. I understand that many of those who had been mobilized to the ‘Hall of the Sun’ that day were forcibly silenced.”
Except for the King's confidants and those who were in line with them, the rest were either sent to the ends of the earth or killed for their faults.
The dead were mostly low-ranking servants. However, there was no great uproar. This was the court of the Central Continent.
And Alfonso, a step too late, realized what the guilt in Ariadne's expression meant.
It was a feeling of guilt about having to explain the circumstances of her engagement to Cesare, that is, having to tell Cesare's story to herself.
Alfonso realized that Duke Cesare might be a more formidable competitor than he thought.
***
Alfonso, who somehow managed to send Ariadne back without even laying a finger on her, went to the training ground.
He postponed all his schedules except for the dinner party that could not be canceled and locked himself in the training ground.
Wajikkeun!
The wooden beam of the training dummy broke with a loud noise.
Sir Manfredi asked his youngest brother, Sir Desilio, with a slightly tired expression. What the Prince was holding in his hand was not a chopping axe, but a training sword.
“How many of those are there?”
“Fifteen outlines...”
“He just has to beat them with brute force. But fifteen?”
“Yes...”
Since they could usually only hit rags and not break wooden pillars, the training straw dummies were only purchased in dozens per month for the entire knights to train with.
Manfredi, sensing that the Prince's temper was considerably agitated, whispered meaningfully.
“In times like that, it’s best not to go near him. If you hang around and get caught...”
Crunch!
The sixteenth straw doll broke in half and fell to the floor. Now there was not a single straw doll standing in the training ground.
Since the training grounds were managed directly by the Prince's knights, Sir Desilio ran into the training grounds carrying the new straw doll by its wooden pole.
He was already in tears after hearing the story of Sir Manfredi.
'Why did it have to be at a time like this...'
“Hey there!”
At the sound of the Prince's low voice ringing in the smoke, Sir Desilio's neck shrank like a giraffe.
'I caught the Prince's eye, so I have to run 40 laps around the training ground...'
But the Prince's rebuke was directed at someone else.
“Manfredi! Don’t you have hands or feet? You can see it clearly, but you only let the youngest manage the training grounds?”
“Hic!”
“It looks like there’s nothing to do, so let’s do it! 60 laps of the training ground!”
“Eek!”
Manfredi, who was left speechless by the unbelievable fate he knew he could not avoid, began to cry.
Alfonso smiled for the first time that afternoon as he looked at his back, and his stiff muscles and emotions began to relax one by one.
Sixteen dismembered dolls lay strewn at his feet.
What could have driven him to wield his sword so fiercely? An unrequited lust for Ariadne? Anger toward his father? Guilt over his own struggle with his father over a woman?
They all had a stake in it, but it wasn't the main reason.
'Jealousy. Inferiority complex.'
The emotions Alfonso felt today were... jealousy and inferiority complex toward Cesare, and a hint of admiration.
The courage and dedication of a man who went one step further than he could, even though he had everything.
His half-brother, threw everything away when he hid behind his mother's wings.
His heart was pounding and welling up.
“Haaaaaap!”
Alfonso threw himself at the seventeenth straw doll in the boiling heat.
***
Leo III, who had set the stage for a mess five minutes before by taking a liking to his son's woman, was now setting his eyes on a new woman.
“No, Countess Contarini brought a flower and put it in the dog’s ear!”
Leo III called Ottavio and his wife over and told Duchess Rubina about the tea they had had together some time ago, and they burst into laughter.
“It’s really stylish to put a daisy in a puppy’s ear that’s the size of your palm!”
Leo III let go of Bella Bella, the French bulldog Rubina was holding.
“Why is that ugly thing wearing a pearl necklace that doesn’t suit her?”
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