“I'm marrying him off, you never know, and if I find a good bride, I'll have him sealed as a Grand Duke.”
Prince Alfonso answered with a smile.
“I thought you got a title for your achievements.”
Although he spoke clearly and with a generous smile, to Ariadne's ears it sounded like a hallucination, like a mocking tirade. Perhaps it was the words of an only son who, despite conquering the Millennium Capital, was not crowned Crown Prince. Perhaps others heard it similarly. Leo III glared at him with disapproval.
“Getting married is itself a merit and an act of filial piety!”
Alfonso smirked. “The bride has already left.” This time, the sincere Bianca asked straightforwardly, as if she hadn't noticed.
“If it is a title bestowed as a dowry, shouldn’t it also be given to the Princess?”
At the word "dowry," Alfonso chuckled. A title given as a dowry was a perfect fit for his slender, handsome older brother.
Leo III successively referred to Alfonso and Bianca. "Princess consort," a truly jarring choice of words.
“You should get that from your father!”
It was a roundabout way of pointing out that Ariadne wasn't the daughter of a ruling family. Ariadne shrugged and responded calmly.
“Your Majesty has already bestowed upon me the title.”
To those who didn't know, it sounded like a sign of submission and gratitude to the King, content with what was available. However, the title of Countess de Mare was actually bestowed by Leo III out of greed for his own concubine.
The black-haired beauty appeared outwardly docile, but her words concealed a stinging rebuke of his own shameful behavior. Leo III's mood was once again soured. He was angry at being criticized, and he was also angry that this cleverness was not his.
He tried to throw a tantrum, but he couldn't. It was a top secret from Isabella, who was present, that he intended to make Ariadne his second wife.
'Ah!'
Leo III was speechless and trembling. Even Kings can't always do what they want. Being a King is truly a difficult position, the old King thought sincerely.
***
- “The Duke of Pisano enters―!”
A handsome man in a crimson robe walked across the red carpet, accompanied by majestic music. The midday sunlight filtered through the stained glass, shattering Cesare's sharp nose. Princess Julia Helena whispered to the Viscountess Panamere, who sat next to her.
“It looks really, really enchanting.”
Viscountess Panamere pondered over how to forcibly isolate Julia Helena from Duke Cesare. The Princess had returned from a banquet hosted by the King with a scratched face and spent a long time fuming. She finally seemed to have regained her senses. But one look at the man's face, and she was back to normal.
“Keep your composure. Look ahead, Your Highness.”
This level of passive restraint was the best Viscountess Panamere could offer. She twisted her body impatiently. It was now time for a reply to the report she had sent to the Marquis of Manchike.
'I wish His Highness would just tell me to come back cleanly.'
Irene, too, wanted to secure a marriage if possible, given her mission of forging a marriage alliance. But as a single woman in her late thirties, her intuition resounded: That pretty-faced brat was a no-no.
It wasn't just because the nobles of San Carlo would run away in thought if they were asked about Duke Cesare's business, or because of the unease that came from his refined behavior itself.
He showed no interest in Princess Julia Helena. Even if he lacked interest in women, he should have shown courtesy and respect for those with whom he shared a common destiny. That's a good way to put it, but it meant he should have at least a modicum of interest.
But Duke Cesare had no interest in the titles, honors, or dowry that Princess Julia Helena would bring. He wouldn't regret it even if Julia Helena vanished from the face of the earth tomorrow. A woman couldn't live with a man like that.
Viscountess Panamere saw it clearly. The robe Cesare wore today was one he had personally chosen. It was a deep, rich, uniform green, like a primeval oak forest. The lapel was adorned with the "Swan of Linville."
Ariadne, who was standing next to Alfonso in the front row of the VIP seats in the 'Hall of the Sun', excluding Leo III, was extremely offended by Cesare's attire.
'You're wearing it like that for me, right?'
If people said she was being too self-conscious, she had nothing to say, but no matter how she looked at it, the color of Cesare's robe was obviously taken from the color of her eyes.
Shd didn't like the fact that he was sporting the Linville Swan, a transparent gem set in platinum that—according to Sancha—didn't match the green color of his usual attire. It was the gem he always mentioned to Ariadne.
'Did you come out here to tell me to feel sorry?'
Ariadne glanced at Alfonso, who stood beside her. He couldn't have been more cheerful today, but he maintained his innate royal dignity. He controlled his expression effortlessly and greeted everyone appropriately.
'Alfonso doesn't seem to mind the clothes.'
Ariadne decided to be content with this. As long as Alfonso was okay, and so long as no one else was upset, she was fine.
Ariadne forced herself to calm her uneasy feelings and looked forward. Taking care of herself was something she should have been concerned about, but she always neglected it. The world was full of other, more important things, other people.
'I... I just need to endure it for a bit.'
Even those with natural patience will eventually burst, but she overestimated herself.
Meanwhile, Leo III, dressed in a dazzling purple robe, began to recite aloud from a scroll he held in both hands.
“I, Leo III, make my faithful subject, Cesare de Carlo, Duke of Pisano, Grand Duke of Pisano, who has brought honor to the nation.”
Aside from the name, not a single word in the entire sentence was true. Even the surname, strictly speaking, was fake. But no one laughed. Ariadne smiled inwardly.
'This is power.'
And even when this situation arises, it's politics and political power that keep everyone silent. But it's not enough to even quell discontent.
Even if Cesare becomes the Grand Duke, or even if he becomes something more lofty than the Grand Duke, she will not let go of the throne in this life.
'Cesare. You will not be the next King.'
It was only a little over a year until Alfonso had collapsed after eating Sanguinaccio Dolce. This time, she wouldn't repeat her sin. She would somehow change the predetermined future and put Alfonso on the throne. Like Bianca, who held Ippolito's head.
“Cesare de Carlo, Grand Duke of Pisano—!”
Ariadne was jolted awake by Leo III's voice. The King was roughly telling Cesare to become a Grand Duke and dedicate himself to his country and people. After the King's congratulatory address, Cesare knelt on one knee, bowed his head, and recited the oath of the Grand Duke.
"I, Cesare de Carlo, Grand Duke of Pisano, offer my loyalty to Your Majesty. As your servant, who has received life from you, I offer you my trust and sincerity. May God protect this path."
The King placed his ceremonial sword on Cesare's shoulder. Thunderous applause filled the Hall of the Sun. Simultaneously, a fanfare celebrating the crowning of the Grand Duke resounded.
Bam! Bampabam Bampaara!
It was a performance following the King's order to adjust the tempo of the Grand Duke, which was originally supposed to be in 5 beats, to 7 beats, just like the Prince.
'Be transparent.'
Instead of Cesare, who was receiving various congratulations from those around him, Ariadne glared at Leo III, who stood beside him in purple. This was undoubtedly a performance the King had deliberately commissioned to erase Alfonso.
'But you can't do it your way.'
The King was completely unaware that he had just ignited the competitive spirit of the most dangerous strategist in the Central Continent.
***
Ariadne also had a room to feed Leo III, and that was the move to the Prince's palace.
The King stubbornly refused to make Ariadne Alfonso's Princess, but he couldn't annul the marriage itself. Given Alfonso's chilling presence, he couldn't even formally object to Ariadne's move to the palace. He feared that doing so would only lead to his son's departure.
Preparations for the move were going smoothly, and Ariadne was scheduled to move in tomorrow with the reluctant consent of Leo III.
“Father is back?”
Cardinal de Mare, who had abandoned everything and left home to go see Isabella, never returned that day. There was no news the next day, or the day after that.
There was no way to know where he had gone, so she desperately searched, but her efforts were limited. All she could confirm was that he had safely emerged from Palazzo Carlo and exited through the San Carlo Gate. After he left the walls, she had no way of knowing where he had gone.
“Yes. I guess he went down to the monastery without telling me.”
Ariadne tried to act tough, but her seething insides only hurt more.
'How could you leave without even telling me where you were going?'
But then, the Cardinal who had left so suddenly returned, his body boiling with fever. With his luggage gone, he was left with little left in the barren mansion of de Mare, his face sallow, lying in bed, sick.
“What’s going on? You’re meeting my sister at the palace, right?”
Ariadne tried to act tough, but her seething insides only hurt more.
'How could you leave without even telling me where you were going?'
But then, the Cardinal who had left so suddenly returned, his body boiling with fever. With his luggage gone, he was left with little left in the barren mansion of de Mare, his face sallow, lying in bed, sick.
“What’s going on? You’re meeting my sister at the palace, right?”
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