Real swords were not permitted within the palace. The sword Alfonso pulled from his belt was a dull one, used for practice.
That was very bad news for Isabella, because it meant she would be beaten to death instead of beheaded.
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty will never tolerate this situation!”
She lashed out. Driven to a dead end, she had no other option. With nothing to gain by bowing to Prince Alfonso, Isabella, using her modest position as the King's mistress as a shield, began to press her claims against the legitimate heir. But this only made matters worse.
Alfonso's eyes gleamed white. This wasn't the expression of a golden Prince. It was the gaze of an undefeated black helmet, a man who never lost a single man on the battlefield. He answered in a clear voice.
“If I cannot take your life as I please, I am not the Prince of this country.”
He took a step towards Isabella, holding his practice sword in his right hand.
“Your Highness! No!”
A terrified scream was heard. Alfonso slowly turned his head. It was the King's secretary, Sir Delpiano. He rushed in, his face pale.
“Countess Contarini indeed made a great mistake, but please forgive her just this once.”
He said, panting.
"No, mercy, not forgiveness. Wait until His Majesty comes. Any criminal must be tried!"
The Etruscan kingdom of 1127 was in the process of implementing a rudimentary system of separation of powers. While the King held absolute power, he formally guaranteed justice and established separate judges.
However, since the Count Contarini, who held the position of permanent judge, was absent, the only one who could exercise judicial power was King Leo III.
“One thing the Countess said was true: His Majesty would not tolerate the Countess being executed without his involvement!”
“Delpiano.”
Prince Alfonso spoke softly, his voice as gentle and affectionate as ever. Only his eyes were turned.
“We will only know once we do it whether His Majesty will tolerate it.”
"Your Highness!"
“If you think too much, you can’t win the battle.”
Alfonso's answer was like a song. Not only did he follow the rhythm, but he also effortlessly recited a set melody.
This was a very bad sign. The fact that the Prince's words sounded like a song meant that he was crouching low, like a feline preparing to pounce, and was measuring his rhythm.
Sir Delpiano realized he could not stop Prince Alfonso, but he clung desperately to him.
“Your Highness, Your Highness. Please be attentive!”
His final dissuasion revealed the King's secretary's hidden intentions.
“Your Highness, the sole heir to the kingdom, must not decisively separate from His Majesty the King just because of a single concubine!”
Prince Alfonso lost considerable favor with the aristocracy by announcing his intention not to marry a foreign guest who was his potential fiancée. Those who viewed Julia Helena as a worthy wife, however, were less pleased with Prince Alfonso's secret marriage and its unilateral announcement.
However, while being an only son was a source of anxiety for the King, it was a pretty good deal for his son. Like Leo III, or rather, less creative than Leo III, the noble families of the Etruscan kingdom had no other choice but Prince Alfonso. Unless something happened to the Prince, the next in line would be Prince Alfonso. This was an immutable truth.
"Your Highness's legitimacy ultimately comes from His Majesty. Since you have taken Countess de Mare as your wife, it is time you yielded at least once."
Sir Delpiano was impressed.
“Your Highness, do not damage your relationship with His Majesty just because of the King’s favorite concubine.”
Isabella trembled. Even Sir Delpiano, whom she had thought was on her side, now saw her as "a mere concubine of the King." It was shameful. Ariadne's words echoed in her mind again.
“The King’s Whore.”
A mere concubine of the King. A woman of no use other than sexually pleasing the King.
Isabella shuddered at the pain of that word. No woman would relish being called that. But she was the one who had willingly rushed to that spot. But Isabella wasn't the only one dissatisfied with the situation.
“Sir Delpiano, it’s not my father’s concubine who’s in trouble now.”
Anger was evident in Alfonso's voice.
“It was my child who died.”
Isabella felt a chill run down her spine. She had been in a similar situation not long ago, when she had touched the most precious possession of a powerful man: Clemente, the son of Count Bartolini.
'Am I never going to be able to reach the highest position?'
Living a life of self-denial and innocence was not an option for Isabella. She wanted to live a life where she could do anything.
He won the favor of the most powerful man, Leo III, and from then on, she thought everything would go her way.
But when she touched the most precious thing of Prince Alfonso, the next King candidate, the one with the power she couldn't defeat, began to pursue her.
'No!'
This couldn't be. She couldn't command the world from the top. She'd climbed this high only to be looked down upon and abused for the rest of her life, forced to live at the mercy of others. There was no meaning in that kind of life.
Tears welled up in Isabella's beautiful eyes as she despaired that the path she had chosen to achieve the one thing she had longed for her entire life might have been completely wrong.
The sight of a beautiful woman with a large, red scar on her cheek, weeping on the brink of death, was both poignant and beautiful. But the plea to save her life came from something other than her beauty.
“Your Highness, please understand.”
Sir Delpiano asked again. It wasn't because he was captivated by Isabella's beauty. He genuinely feared the repercussions of Prince Alfonso beheading the King's Countess Contarini.
Leo III would never forgive his son. But when the old King, in his rage, resolved to seek revenge, Prince Alfonso would never be left helpless. That made matters worse.
“Think of the people, the country, and the teachings of the gods.”
The old King possessed legitimacy, while the young Prince possessed an army. It was a tense situation with no clear answer. Some would stand by the new, young leader, while others would refuse to abandon their old master. Then, a fratricidal tragedy unfolded in the Etruscan kingdom.
It would be better if one side were resolved quickly, but it was the worst direction for the country.
“Remember that Yesak’s Gon sacrificed himself for his people.”
A leader must endure his own desires, long-held desires, and grievances for the sake of his people. Sometimes, even if his wishes are justified, he must endure them. Alfonso glared at Sir Delpiano with a sullen gaze.
“You are asking too much of me.”
“I have nothing to say. Please just look down on the people.”
Prince Alfonso coldly questioned Sir Delpiano, who had lowered his body.
“For the sake of my people, wouldn’t it be better to kill the prostitute who has royal blood on her hands now?”
"Your Highness."
The Prince is so intent on killing Isabella that he even blames the concubine for political mismanagement. Sir Delpiano wanted to point out that the real problem was His Majesty Leo III, not some new concubine. However, that was not something the King's closest confidant could possibly say in a public setting.
Instead, he fired the last bullet he had. Sir Delpiano had known Prince Alfonso since childhood. He believed in his Prince's faithfulness.
“Gon said, ‘Even the most terrible person can repent.’”
The terrible woman, who showed no intention of repentance, merely blinked. But Sir Delpiano passionately persuaded the Prince.
“That is the true God. One who can repent.”
The Prince felt his first stirrings. He slowly looked down at Isabella.
Alfonso wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He had already shed the blood of over a thousand soldiers in the Battle of Yesak. It was an act that a devout follower of a religion that held "Thou shalt not kill" as its commandment.
The one consolation that sustained him was that the war he fought was a holy war to reclaim the holy city, and the blood on his hands was all that of pagans.
“Countess Contarini was also the daughter of a priest and was once a devout Catholic.”
It sounded like he meant not now, so Isabella avoided Sir Delpiano's gaze.
Just then, the door opened with a creaking sound.
“Your Highness! I have brought the sword you mentioned!”
It was Sir Desilio who brought the cart. Since no one but Prince Alfonso could lift Khaledbuch with their bare hands, they had to transport it in its entirety on the cart.
Alfonso threw the practice sword he was holding onto the floor.
Clang!
There was a loud noise as the iron sword struck the glass-like marble floor.
Sir Delpiano, who couldn't tell whether his throwing of the sword meant he had given up on killing Isabella or if he meant to cut off Isabella's head cleanly with a new sword, glared desperately at the Prince.
Please, give up, give up.
But Prince Alfonso walked slowly and opened the lid of the box placed on the cart.
“Dear Sir Delpiano,”
The Prince agreed that Isabella had once been a devout Christian. The crucial part of this sentence was the tense.
“Anyone who decides to have an extramarital affair is no longer a faithful Christian.”
It was disrespectful to the King, but from the moment he uttered the words that he would kill Isabella, it no longer mattered. Prince Alfonso pulled out Khaledbuch.
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