Philip was more careful than usual about this matter. He had received a promise from the Holy See, but he could not trust it.
Many things really bothered him, such as the fact that he reduced the military funds that had been promised during the Fourth Crusade, and the fact that the late Grand Duke Odes tampered with the supplies for the Crusaders, which was done at his own discretion.
What worried him most was that Pope Louis had passed the Alemand Laws, which omitted Jean's year of birth.
Pope Louis was a very cunning man.
Even if he had been promised the port of Pisarino, Philip judged—correctly—that he was a man who would do whatever it took to ruin Philip.
However, getting the conclusion right does not necessarily mean getting the entire process right.
Two people came to report today: the Archbishop of Montpellier, who was in charge of the Holy See's affairs, and the Count of Levien, a member of the diplomatic staff.
The Archbishop of Montpellier spoke first, hesitantly.
“The year of Jean’s birth, 1122, must have been included in the period of the great amnesty of the Alemand Law...”
Philipp didn't like something. He asked roughly.
“What? Why is your expression like that?”
The Archbishop of Montpellier wanted to hit his former self with a frying pan for not attending the Council of San Carlo.
He should have gone to the Council of San Carlo to push for the Alemand amnesty, which was Philip IV's agenda, and he was eligible to attend the council, but he did not go.
In the first place, this was a case where Philip IV had bypassed him and stabbed Pope Louis. It was not his business.
He didn't want to go and have the responsibility shifted if it was rejected.
It's not a veto. But it's worse than a veto. He blamed himself for being the messenger of bad news.
“Your Majesty, I think there is something you need to check...”
"What?"
Philipp snorted, and the Archbishop of Montpellier almost sank to his feet.
The Count of Levien began his report with the Archbishop of Montpellier, who was pale, at his side.
He was originally a close associate of the Grand Duke of Valoa, but long before the Grand Duke's downfall, he grew tired of the dirty work and shut himself away to his fiefdom, which is why he survived.
He was a fundamentally capable man, and thanks to those around him who felt it was a shame to waste him, he was later promoted to high office at Philipp's court in Montpellier.
But things were just as dirty there as here.
No, it could be seen as worse since he changed from Lariesa to Philip. It seems like a life without any luck for a superior.
“They say that the document-reinforcement measure was passed together...”
He glanced sideways at the Archbishop of Montpellier.
'Why on earth would I... do that guy's work?'
But this was the innate fate of an ant. If Levien had been a great man who could ignore such things, he would not have come to this report in the first place.
The Archbishop of Montpellier was trembling like a mouse before a cat.
“...The document-retention policy is a measure to recognize the authenticity of only the documents currently stored in the Holy See Document Repository...”
Philip's eyebrows twitched. The existence of the illegitimate son, Jean, was even more hidden than that of a King's illegitimate son.
The illegitimate children of a King usually took the surname of their mother's husband and inherited his title, or a new title was created and bestowed upon them.
However, in Jean's case, there was no mother to be mentioned outside. Naturally, there was no birth registration.
After receiving the Alemand amnesty, Philip planned to register Jean as his son and the legitimate heir to the Briand dynasty, leaving his mother's vacancy empty.
But what on earth is this report?
“The same goes for the Alemand Law... It only applies to documents currently in the Holy See archives...”
Levien, trained by Larissa, recited his report without lifting his head even once. His speech was like that of a merchant selling bad goods.
There was a reason why Levien was like this. He had to report as much as possible quickly before the items flew in so that he wouldn't have to do it twice later.
“As far as I understand... Prince Jean’s birth certificate has not been submitted to the Holy See Office yet...”
At this moment, the Archbishop of Montpellier, next to hi,m collapsed. Levien squeezed his eyes shut.
Oh. His Majesty the King must have had a very different expression. But the report had to be completed.
“...What that means is that, despite his year of birth, Jean cannot be pardoned in this general amnesty...”
Finally, Philip IV interrupted the Count of Levien, crying:
“Ludovico!!!”
It sounded like the ferocious roar of a beast.
“How dare you!! How dare you!!”
What the heck!
The pewter cup in the King's hand flew into the air. Fortunately, it wasn't porcelain.
But the relief was short-lived, as Philip grabbed everything he could get his hands on and threw it away. Ah, Princess Lariesa didn't even have the strength.
“Ludovico! You piece of trash! You filthy Etruscan male! I will tear you limb from limb and kill you!”
Count Levien wondered distantly if the old saying that a curse is a self-introduction was really true. 'Dirty male dog', isn't that a story about oneself?
But thoughts and actions were different. With a nod, Count Levien quickly made the low-ranking servants leave the King's office.
While he was at it, he also took the Archbishop of Montpellier, who had already collapsed.
'Archbishop, you didn't pee there, did you..."
Confirmation will come later. Levien swallowed a sigh.
'Is this Philip's office or mine? Even if the carpet is soaked in urine, it's not my carpet.'
This was the advantage of being a salaried worker. No responsibility!
But he was a poor salaried worker. He could have run away, but he and the King's immediate servants remained in their places.
“Ugh! Ugh! Ugj! Auguste! Auguste!”
The young King, in his late thirties, who had lost his companion, began to roll his eyes and call out his dead sister's name.
If he does this, he will go crazy for several days without eating or drinking.
“Everyone get out, block the area, and clear the people away.”
It was the beginning again. This madness seemed like it would last a while.
It took a long time for the news to reach the palace of Montpellier, but once it was known, everything was fast.
After a very quick assessment of the situation, Philip IV's anger exploded.
But only much later did the Villa Sortone in San Carlo come to appreciate the full impact of what had happened.
Originally, in Duchess Rubina's circle, this kind of work was the responsibility of the late Count Contarini, father of Clemente and Ottavio.
The void left after his death was so huge.
Clemente was good at social gatherings, but he had no training in politics, diplomacy, or administration that went on at court, and Ottavio was simply incapable of filling the void his father left behind, whether through education or by his own efforts.
So Duchess Rubina, the leader of the group, had to do everything herself.
The hat wasn't won by playing poker, but the person who sensed something was wrong the fastest in this clamor was Duchess Rubina.
“Good morning!”
It was breakfast the day after the Alemand law of amnesty and the strengthening of documentary standards had been passed.
Duchess Rubina went down to the family dining room, which was used exclusively by the two of them, and met Leo III.
Duchess Rubina smiled very meaningfully as soon as she saw him.
Because Leo III would have congratulated, praised, or perhaps praised her for now being the mother of the eldest son.
But Leo III just cut the broccoli into three pieces with a glum expression and drizzled it with olive oil.
Duchess Rubina, who could not wait any longer, asked her husband.
“Don’t you have anything to congratulate me on, honey?”
The title was different from usual. She originally called Leo III ‘Your Majesty.'
“Congratulations? What congratulations?”
He answered after a while, picking through the broccoli with a cold expression on his face.
In response to this extremely cold response, Duchess Rubina's title for Leo III returned to its original place. However, that did not mean that Duchess Rubina had given up.
“This is not just a congratulation for me. It is a congratulations for Your Majesty as well.”
Duchess Rubina, a woman of will and an icon of persistence, smiled shyly, holding a napkin to her lips.
“Your Majesty, have you not gained a new son?”
She spoke each word with emphasis, staccato, each word she wanted to say.
“I want the enemy’s firstborn.”
Only then did Leo III look up from Broccoli's corpse.
He had been in a bad mood since the morning.
It was not because of the results of the Council of San Carlo.
Ludovico, this impudent man who used to laugh in front of him and talk about allowing an illegitimate child, completely skipped over Cesare, who was registered as the 'King's nephew', and issued a general pardon under the Alemand Law, which really made him feel bad.
It was not because he cared about Cesare, but because he felt he had been ignored.
But that happened a few days ago. What made Leo III sad this morning was a rat on his leg.
The young men were all dead, going wild about whether or not their pants were pitched in the morning, but to Leo III, who was in his sixties, it was all just talk from a full stomach.
Tents were a luxury. Leo III woke up in the wee hours of the morning with a groaning pain in his calves.
It was really annoying, the tingling and stinging pain that didn't seem to get better.
He rubbed his eyes and asked the attendant what time it was. It was three in the morning. He wanted to go back to sleep, but it didn't work out.
The aged body refused to sleep.
Eventually, he stayed up all night with his eyes wide open until the sun rose, and began his day with his eyes filled with shadows.
The things he was told to do didn't help either.
As soon as the next morning came, he called the court doctor and complained that he had a cramp in his leg. The doctor firmly declared, "It's because you ate red and yellow foods."
Many things really bothered him, such as the fact that he reduced the military funds that had been promised during the Fourth Crusade, and the fact that the late Grand Duke Odes tampered with the supplies for the Crusaders, which was done at his own discretion.
What worried him most was that Pope Louis had passed the Alemand Laws, which omitted Jean's year of birth.
Pope Louis was a very cunning man.
Even if he had been promised the port of Pisarino, Philip judged—correctly—that he was a man who would do whatever it took to ruin Philip.
However, getting the conclusion right does not necessarily mean getting the entire process right.
Two people came to report today: the Archbishop of Montpellier, who was in charge of the Holy See's affairs, and the Count of Levien, a member of the diplomatic staff.
The Archbishop of Montpellier spoke first, hesitantly.
“The year of Jean’s birth, 1122, must have been included in the period of the great amnesty of the Alemand Law...”
Philipp didn't like something. He asked roughly.
“What? Why is your expression like that?”
The Archbishop of Montpellier wanted to hit his former self with a frying pan for not attending the Council of San Carlo.
He should have gone to the Council of San Carlo to push for the Alemand amnesty, which was Philip IV's agenda, and he was eligible to attend the council, but he did not go.
In the first place, this was a case where Philip IV had bypassed him and stabbed Pope Louis. It was not his business.
He didn't want to go and have the responsibility shifted if it was rejected.
It's not a veto. But it's worse than a veto. He blamed himself for being the messenger of bad news.
“Your Majesty, I think there is something you need to check...”
"What?"
Philipp snorted, and the Archbishop of Montpellier almost sank to his feet.
The Count of Levien began his report with the Archbishop of Montpellier, who was pale, at his side.
He was originally a close associate of the Grand Duke of Valoa, but long before the Grand Duke's downfall, he grew tired of the dirty work and shut himself away to his fiefdom, which is why he survived.
He was a fundamentally capable man, and thanks to those around him who felt it was a shame to waste him, he was later promoted to high office at Philipp's court in Montpellier.
But things were just as dirty there as here.
No, it could be seen as worse since he changed from Lariesa to Philip. It seems like a life without any luck for a superior.
“They say that the document-reinforcement measure was passed together...”
He glanced sideways at the Archbishop of Montpellier.
'Why on earth would I... do that guy's work?'
But this was the innate fate of an ant. If Levien had been a great man who could ignore such things, he would not have come to this report in the first place.
The Archbishop of Montpellier was trembling like a mouse before a cat.
“...The document-retention policy is a measure to recognize the authenticity of only the documents currently stored in the Holy See Document Repository...”
Philip's eyebrows twitched. The existence of the illegitimate son, Jean, was even more hidden than that of a King's illegitimate son.
The illegitimate children of a King usually took the surname of their mother's husband and inherited his title, or a new title was created and bestowed upon them.
However, in Jean's case, there was no mother to be mentioned outside. Naturally, there was no birth registration.
After receiving the Alemand amnesty, Philip planned to register Jean as his son and the legitimate heir to the Briand dynasty, leaving his mother's vacancy empty.
But what on earth is this report?
“The same goes for the Alemand Law... It only applies to documents currently in the Holy See archives...”
Levien, trained by Larissa, recited his report without lifting his head even once. His speech was like that of a merchant selling bad goods.
There was a reason why Levien was like this. He had to report as much as possible quickly before the items flew in so that he wouldn't have to do it twice later.
“As far as I understand... Prince Jean’s birth certificate has not been submitted to the Holy See Office yet...”
At this moment, the Archbishop of Montpellier, next to hi,m collapsed. Levien squeezed his eyes shut.
Oh. His Majesty the King must have had a very different expression. But the report had to be completed.
“...What that means is that, despite his year of birth, Jean cannot be pardoned in this general amnesty...”
Finally, Philip IV interrupted the Count of Levien, crying:
“Ludovico!!!”
It sounded like the ferocious roar of a beast.
“How dare you!! How dare you!!”
What the heck!
The pewter cup in the King's hand flew into the air. Fortunately, it wasn't porcelain.
But the relief was short-lived, as Philip grabbed everything he could get his hands on and threw it away. Ah, Princess Lariesa didn't even have the strength.
“Ludovico! You piece of trash! You filthy Etruscan male! I will tear you limb from limb and kill you!”
Count Levien wondered distantly if the old saying that a curse is a self-introduction was really true. 'Dirty male dog', isn't that a story about oneself?
But thoughts and actions were different. With a nod, Count Levien quickly made the low-ranking servants leave the King's office.
While he was at it, he also took the Archbishop of Montpellier, who had already collapsed.
'Archbishop, you didn't pee there, did you..."
Confirmation will come later. Levien swallowed a sigh.
'Is this Philip's office or mine? Even if the carpet is soaked in urine, it's not my carpet.'
This was the advantage of being a salaried worker. No responsibility!
But he was a poor salaried worker. He could have run away, but he and the King's immediate servants remained in their places.
“Ugh! Ugh! Ugj! Auguste! Auguste!”
The young King, in his late thirties, who had lost his companion, began to roll his eyes and call out his dead sister's name.
If he does this, he will go crazy for several days without eating or drinking.
“Everyone get out, block the area, and clear the people away.”
It was the beginning again. This madness seemed like it would last a while.
***
It took a long time for the news to reach the palace of Montpellier, but once it was known, everything was fast.
After a very quick assessment of the situation, Philip IV's anger exploded.
But only much later did the Villa Sortone in San Carlo come to appreciate the full impact of what had happened.
Originally, in Duchess Rubina's circle, this kind of work was the responsibility of the late Count Contarini, father of Clemente and Ottavio.
The void left after his death was so huge.
Clemente was good at social gatherings, but he had no training in politics, diplomacy, or administration that went on at court, and Ottavio was simply incapable of filling the void his father left behind, whether through education or by his own efforts.
So Duchess Rubina, the leader of the group, had to do everything herself.
The hat wasn't won by playing poker, but the person who sensed something was wrong the fastest in this clamor was Duchess Rubina.
“Good morning!”
It was breakfast the day after the Alemand law of amnesty and the strengthening of documentary standards had been passed.
Duchess Rubina went down to the family dining room, which was used exclusively by the two of them, and met Leo III.
Duchess Rubina smiled very meaningfully as soon as she saw him.
Because Leo III would have congratulated, praised, or perhaps praised her for now being the mother of the eldest son.
But Leo III just cut the broccoli into three pieces with a glum expression and drizzled it with olive oil.
Duchess Rubina, who could not wait any longer, asked her husband.
“Don’t you have anything to congratulate me on, honey?”
The title was different from usual. She originally called Leo III ‘Your Majesty.'
However, Leo III showed no emotion at all, even when he was called ‘Honey’.
“Congratulations? What congratulations?”
He answered after a while, picking through the broccoli with a cold expression on his face.
In response to this extremely cold response, Duchess Rubina's title for Leo III returned to its original place. However, that did not mean that Duchess Rubina had given up.
“This is not just a congratulation for me. It is a congratulations for Your Majesty as well.”
Duchess Rubina, a woman of will and an icon of persistence, smiled shyly, holding a napkin to her lips.
“Your Majesty, have you not gained a new son?”
She spoke each word with emphasis, staccato, each word she wanted to say.
“I want the enemy’s firstborn.”
Only then did Leo III look up from Broccoli's corpse.
He had been in a bad mood since the morning.
It was not because of the results of the Council of San Carlo.
Ludovico, this impudent man who used to laugh in front of him and talk about allowing an illegitimate child, completely skipped over Cesare, who was registered as the 'King's nephew', and issued a general pardon under the Alemand Law, which really made him feel bad.
It was not because he cared about Cesare, but because he felt he had been ignored.
But that happened a few days ago. What made Leo III sad this morning was a rat on his leg.
The young men were all dead, going wild about whether or not their pants were pitched in the morning, but to Leo III, who was in his sixties, it was all just talk from a full stomach.
Tents were a luxury. Leo III woke up in the wee hours of the morning with a groaning pain in his calves.
It was really annoying, the tingling and stinging pain that didn't seem to get better.
He rubbed his eyes and asked the attendant what time it was. It was three in the morning. He wanted to go back to sleep, but it didn't work out.
The aged body refused to sleep.
Eventually, he stayed up all night with his eyes wide open until the sun rose, and began his day with his eyes filled with shadows.
The things he was told to do didn't help either.
As soon as the next morning came, he called the court doctor and complained that he had a cramp in his leg. The doctor firmly declared, "It's because you ate red and yellow foods."
“My leg hurts, what does that have to do with food?! You’ve never even had a cramp in your leg!”
“It is the medical truth.”
The doctor removed all meat from his breakfast diet. Not only meat, but tomatoes, cheese, saffron rice, chili powder, sweet potatoes, everything was taken away.
All that was left was this horrible, tree-like mass of grass.
But Rubina showed up and started a fight. Leo III was having a bad day today. Leo III, who was having a bad day, slowly opened his mouth.
“...Look at this, master.”
Leo III was the kind of person who couldn't stand seeing others having a good day when he was having a bad day himself.
“I think the owner is mistaken.”
You're such a useless woman. If you were here at dawn, I would have made you rub my legs.
“I’m still an only child.”
Rubina's expression fell. Right, that's how it should be. Leo III had slept with Rubina for a long time. It must have been after that syphilis incident.
Once he got used to the comfort of sleeping alone, he couldn't sleep next to Rubina anymore.
Although it was he who decided to sleep separately from Rubina, and he had no intention of sleeping together anymore, Rubina had to rub his legs at night.
Leo III, full of contradictions and dissatisfaction, pressed on Rubina, each word full of meaning, to show her the limits of her abilities.
“I know you’re stupid. But you have to keep it to a certain level. If you’re stupid, at least be kind! You’re stupid, but you’re also greedy! What kind of woman is this?”
Leo III's voice rose higher and higher.
“As a result of the Council of San Carlo, it has become clear and evident to the whole world that Cesare is my nephew!”
Rubina had applauded at the time, but now she was bragging that her son should become the King's heir, which was truly an eyesore.
“How many people are there around here? Isn’t there anyone I can explain this to? Me! Of all people, me! Should I explain this to you?”
There is no one as important as me in the kingdom, so why should I waste my precious time enlightening that stupid woman?
“How many years have you been my wife? Marguerite died, and everything is yours. And yet you look like this! What is your use?!”
Duchess Rubina was so pale that she couldn't even make a sound. She bit her handkerchief and held back her tears.
So the tears that should have been captured originally were just hanging there.
If he had seen her when she was young, he would have liked her as a world-class beauty. Rubina was originally the most beautiful woman in San Carlo.
But now that she was old and wrinkled, her tears streaming down her face, she looked pitiful and pathetic.
“Stop talking nonsense and go inside and get some sleep!”
Leo III jumped up from his seat. He hated the sight.
“I’m already feeling irritated!”
He stormed out of the restaurant.
Rather than chasing Rubina away, he left himself out of his last respect for her... Rather, it was his last fear of her.
“It is the medical truth.”
The doctor removed all meat from his breakfast diet. Not only meat, but tomatoes, cheese, saffron rice, chili powder, sweet potatoes, everything was taken away.
All that was left was this horrible, tree-like mass of grass.
But Rubina showed up and started a fight. Leo III was having a bad day today. Leo III, who was having a bad day, slowly opened his mouth.
“...Look at this, master.”
Leo III was the kind of person who couldn't stand seeing others having a good day when he was having a bad day himself.
“I think the owner is mistaken.”
You're such a useless woman. If you were here at dawn, I would have made you rub my legs.
“I’m still an only child.”
Rubina's expression fell. Right, that's how it should be. Leo III had slept with Rubina for a long time. It must have been after that syphilis incident.
Once he got used to the comfort of sleeping alone, he couldn't sleep next to Rubina anymore.
Although it was he who decided to sleep separately from Rubina, and he had no intention of sleeping together anymore, Rubina had to rub his legs at night.
Leo III, full of contradictions and dissatisfaction, pressed on Rubina, each word full of meaning, to show her the limits of her abilities.
“I know you’re stupid. But you have to keep it to a certain level. If you’re stupid, at least be kind! You’re stupid, but you’re also greedy! What kind of woman is this?”
Leo III's voice rose higher and higher.
“As a result of the Council of San Carlo, it has become clear and evident to the whole world that Cesare is my nephew!”
Rubina had applauded at the time, but now she was bragging that her son should become the King's heir, which was truly an eyesore.
“How many people are there around here? Isn’t there anyone I can explain this to? Me! Of all people, me! Should I explain this to you?”
There is no one as important as me in the kingdom, so why should I waste my precious time enlightening that stupid woman?
“How many years have you been my wife? Marguerite died, and everything is yours. And yet you look like this! What is your use?!”
Duchess Rubina was so pale that she couldn't even make a sound. She bit her handkerchief and held back her tears.
So the tears that should have been captured originally were just hanging there.
If he had seen her when she was young, he would have liked her as a world-class beauty. Rubina was originally the most beautiful woman in San Carlo.
But now that she was old and wrinkled, her tears streaming down her face, she looked pitiful and pathetic.
“Stop talking nonsense and go inside and get some sleep!”
Leo III jumped up from his seat. He hated the sight.
“I’m already feeling irritated!”
He stormed out of the restaurant.
Rather than chasing Rubina away, he left himself out of his last respect for her... Rather, it was his last fear of her.
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