To pressure the King, you had to rally the people together and make your voice heard, and it had to be unified and have a just cause.
"Of all the demands I make of you, the easiest is money. And it's also what you have in abundance."
Public opinion, too, needed money to be created. Openly buying speakers was something only lowlifes would do.
Things worked out when a group was formed, the group's interests fell, and the group became an interest group, with its members naturally coming to protect the group.
And it takes money to drop the rice cake.
"If you don't mind, let's just leave it at that. I can't work with someone who can't even cooperate to this extent."
- Clang!
Of the two messengers, the one with the more stubborn look placed a leather sack on the table that was too big to be called a leather pouch.
“3,000 Ducats.”
“...The amount I asked for would have been more than that.”
“I’ll get the rest little by little. I can’t get it by promissory note, can I?”
When a bill is cashed through a bank, the original owner of the gold becomes known to the outside world.
Banking was a new, emerging means of money movement. It was a business only available to merchants based in multiple countries. Its primary clientele consisted of those who lacked the financial resources to launch their own ships but needed to quickly transport large sums of gold to other countries.
They receive the amount of gold and a commission from the customer, withdraw the money from a branch in another country, and pay it to the person designated by the customer. The mark indicating the person designated by the customer is a promissory note. This was an innovative approach.
However, there were still no proper regulations. It was common for bills to be forged, and even if the bill was genuine, the owner of the money would change his words, saying, "Actually, give it to a different merchant, Federico so-and-so, not the one who holds the bill."
When problems arose, there was no solution. While keeping a tight lip was considered a necessary quality for a banker, it wasn't entirely trustworthy.
“You can’t even trust your own people?”
The Marquis Guatieri sneered. The sharp-tongued man replied sharply.
“If the money comes out of our bank, the King there won’t be very suspicious.”
“As time goes by, the ‘help from this side’ you requested will also be delayed.”
“I will take note.”
"And please think carefully about the title I've requested. If it's not secured, I have absolutely no intention of overdoing it here."
“I will pass it on.”
The person who seemed to like the person continued to talk with a bright smile on his face.
"I'll see you again in the New Year. Until then, I hope we've made some progress."
“It depends on what you guys do.”
The Marquis Guatieri, while speaking with a relaxed air, was secretly anxious. He was the one who wanted this project to succeed the most. If he hadn't been so consumed by such burning desire and burning resentment, someone like the Marquis Guatieri, who prioritized self-preservation above all else, wouldn't have gotten involved in such a thing.
But ultimately, he was a man of great means. He couldn't just throw everything away and rush in, feeling wronged. He only moved when he had a strong backing.
'If I can solve this problem by talking to the King, that would be the best.'
That was the real reason he wanted to befriend the Grand Duchess Rubina.
Ariadne was getting ready to go out when she was caught by Alfonso.
“Where are you going, dressed up so nicely?”
Alfonso's eyebrows rose as he entered his wife's dressing room to find her.
“Is this pretty?”
Ariadne looked at Alfonso with a look of absurdity. Sancha, who was helping Ariadne dress up, also commented.
“Your Highness, this is purely a winter outfit!”
But Alfonso's judgment remained unchanged, no matter what others said. He trusted only his own eyes.
“Yeah. It’s so pretty that I feel bad about throwing it out there for fear of other people staring.”
Alfonso hugged Ariadne, whose only visible skin was her face.
She was bundled up in a tightly lined cloak, long leather gloves, and three or four layers of outerwear to keep out the cold. Ariadne responded, as if incredulous.
“Who would imagine something impure after seeing this?”
Today's outfit was decidedly modest, not only because of the weather but also because of the nature of the destination. The neckline was high up to the neck, making a scarf unnecessary.
As Sancha was about to ignore it, thinking to herself, "Oh, that's not going to work," Felicite, who was helping Ariadne get ready, smiled brightly and said.
“I guess that means he loves you that much. You’re overflowing with affection.”
Sancha struggled to control her expression, which suddenly became distorted.
'No, if the young lady of the Count of Elba says something like that, what will become of me?'
Ariadne wasn't wearing the everyday royal attire Alfonso had expected. It was called everyday attire, but aside from the simple jewelry and hair ornaments, it wasn't much different from ball attire.
The outfit he hoped to see his wife in was a housecoat: a light, silk dobby dress with only underwear.
On a snowy day like today, dressed like that, with a white ermine draped over her shoulders, she could read a book in front of the fireplace, sweeping her flowing hair back, and sit next to him in heaven.
Alfonso wanted Ariadne to rest comfortably under his wing, enjoying each day without any worries.
But his capable and busy wife was getting ready to go out again today. Alfonso felt a slight sense of anxiety. It wasn't an unfounded anxiety.
“It’s dangerous outside.”
The Asereto bandits might have advanced to the vicinity of the capital. While the city walls were well-controlled, nothing is perfect.
He usually didn't interfere with Ariadne's daily life, but today, he didn't like it. In fact, he felt bad about it.
It was snowing so heavily that he had to cancel his knight training. He returned home, excited for a night of snuggling and rolling around, only to find his wife ready to go out. He never imagined Ariadne would be out on such a cold day.
“I have work to do, too.”
“San Carlo is empty?”
“Nobles are not the only people.”
Alfonso frowned, taken aback. He racked his brain for a moment before finally remembering a name.
“Caruso, the representative of Unaisola, is also in the autonomous city right now, isn’t he?”
CEO Caruso and his wife were commoners whose names he interacted with so frequently that he could only remember them. Ariadne said teasingly.
“I am the director of the Rambouillet Relief Hospital and also the Countess de Mare.”
Ah. The Rambouillet Relief Center. He hadn't thought of that. Ariadne smiled and kissed Alfonso, whose face was blank and the words "I've been beaten" written all over it.
“I have to go inspect the relief center today.”
“I don’t like you going out in this weather.”
Alfonso's furrowed brows wouldn't relax. This weather, this situation, this danger. He didn't like it at all.
"It's too late. If we get ready and head out now, it'll be completely dark by the time we get back. It's dangerous outside these days."
“I’m going out today because of something important.”
Ariadne hadn't seen her old priestess for a long time since entering the palace. Today was the waning moon. Now, she absolutely had to receive the spell again.
It was a truly heartbreaking thing to have to keep a secret, one that could never be revealed to even one's other half until death. If only she could tell the whole story.
If Alfonso had known the circumstances, he would have gladly sent her away or accompanied her, but this was something she could not share with anyone.
Instead, she used her aegyo, which has only recently been on the rise, to persuade him.
“Have a nice day, yes?”
If Isabella had seen it, it would have been laughable. The timing of the slur was terrible, and it failed to adhere to the golden rule of half-air, half-nasal.
But this charm resonated perfectly with Alfonso. He couldn't resist those bright, sparkling eyes, filled with the hope that he wouldn't be pushed away. She looked like an animal rescued from the slaughterhouse.
He sighed and said to her.
"Escort."
“Giuseppe has prepared fifteen guards from the de Mare family.”
“That’s not enough.”
Prince Alfonso called out loudly to Sir Manfredi.
“Manfredi...!”
“Yes, Prince!”
Sir Manfredi, who could not bring himself to enter Ariadne's dressing room, answered in a raised voice from a distance.
“You take the knights and escort the Princess!”
Ariadne's eyes widened.
“It’s not like that when you’re moving around inside the castle...”
"Of all the demands I make of you, the easiest is money. And it's also what you have in abundance."
Public opinion, too, needed money to be created. Openly buying speakers was something only lowlifes would do.
Things worked out when a group was formed, the group's interests fell, and the group became an interest group, with its members naturally coming to protect the group.
And it takes money to drop the rice cake.
"If you don't mind, let's just leave it at that. I can't work with someone who can't even cooperate to this extent."
- Clang!
Of the two messengers, the one with the more stubborn look placed a leather sack on the table that was too big to be called a leather pouch.
“3,000 Ducats.”
“...The amount I asked for would have been more than that.”
“I’ll get the rest little by little. I can’t get it by promissory note, can I?”
When a bill is cashed through a bank, the original owner of the gold becomes known to the outside world.
Banking was a new, emerging means of money movement. It was a business only available to merchants based in multiple countries. Its primary clientele consisted of those who lacked the financial resources to launch their own ships but needed to quickly transport large sums of gold to other countries.
They receive the amount of gold and a commission from the customer, withdraw the money from a branch in another country, and pay it to the person designated by the customer. The mark indicating the person designated by the customer is a promissory note. This was an innovative approach.
However, there were still no proper regulations. It was common for bills to be forged, and even if the bill was genuine, the owner of the money would change his words, saying, "Actually, give it to a different merchant, Federico so-and-so, not the one who holds the bill."
When problems arose, there was no solution. While keeping a tight lip was considered a necessary quality for a banker, it wasn't entirely trustworthy.
“You can’t even trust your own people?”
The Marquis Guatieri sneered. The sharp-tongued man replied sharply.
“If the money comes out of our bank, the King there won’t be very suspicious.”
“As time goes by, the ‘help from this side’ you requested will also be delayed.”
“I will take note.”
"And please think carefully about the title I've requested. If it's not secured, I have absolutely no intention of overdoing it here."
“I will pass it on.”
The person who seemed to like the person continued to talk with a bright smile on his face.
"I'll see you again in the New Year. Until then, I hope we've made some progress."
“It depends on what you guys do.”
The Marquis Guatieri, while speaking with a relaxed air, was secretly anxious. He was the one who wanted this project to succeed the most. If he hadn't been so consumed by such burning desire and burning resentment, someone like the Marquis Guatieri, who prioritized self-preservation above all else, wouldn't have gotten involved in such a thing.
But ultimately, he was a man of great means. He couldn't just throw everything away and rush in, feeling wronged. He only moved when he had a strong backing.
'If I can solve this problem by talking to the King, that would be the best.'
That was the real reason he wanted to befriend the Grand Duchess Rubina.
***
Ariadne was getting ready to go out when she was caught by Alfonso.
“Where are you going, dressed up so nicely?”
Alfonso's eyebrows rose as he entered his wife's dressing room to find her.
“Is this pretty?”
Ariadne looked at Alfonso with a look of absurdity. Sancha, who was helping Ariadne dress up, also commented.
“Your Highness, this is purely a winter outfit!”
But Alfonso's judgment remained unchanged, no matter what others said. He trusted only his own eyes.
“Yeah. It’s so pretty that I feel bad about throwing it out there for fear of other people staring.”
Alfonso hugged Ariadne, whose only visible skin was her face.
She was bundled up in a tightly lined cloak, long leather gloves, and three or four layers of outerwear to keep out the cold. Ariadne responded, as if incredulous.
“Who would imagine something impure after seeing this?”
Today's outfit was decidedly modest, not only because of the weather but also because of the nature of the destination. The neckline was high up to the neck, making a scarf unnecessary.
As Sancha was about to ignore it, thinking to herself, "Oh, that's not going to work," Felicite, who was helping Ariadne get ready, smiled brightly and said.
“I guess that means he loves you that much. You’re overflowing with affection.”
Sancha struggled to control her expression, which suddenly became distorted.
'No, if the young lady of the Count of Elba says something like that, what will become of me?'
Ariadne wasn't wearing the everyday royal attire Alfonso had expected. It was called everyday attire, but aside from the simple jewelry and hair ornaments, it wasn't much different from ball attire.
The outfit he hoped to see his wife in was a housecoat: a light, silk dobby dress with only underwear.
On a snowy day like today, dressed like that, with a white ermine draped over her shoulders, she could read a book in front of the fireplace, sweeping her flowing hair back, and sit next to him in heaven.
Alfonso wanted Ariadne to rest comfortably under his wing, enjoying each day without any worries.
But his capable and busy wife was getting ready to go out again today. Alfonso felt a slight sense of anxiety. It wasn't an unfounded anxiety.
“It’s dangerous outside.”
The Asereto bandits might have advanced to the vicinity of the capital. While the city walls were well-controlled, nothing is perfect.
He usually didn't interfere with Ariadne's daily life, but today, he didn't like it. In fact, he felt bad about it.
It was snowing so heavily that he had to cancel his knight training. He returned home, excited for a night of snuggling and rolling around, only to find his wife ready to go out. He never imagined Ariadne would be out on such a cold day.
“I have work to do, too.”
“San Carlo is empty?”
“Nobles are not the only people.”
Alfonso frowned, taken aback. He racked his brain for a moment before finally remembering a name.
“Caruso, the representative of Unaisola, is also in the autonomous city right now, isn’t he?”
CEO Caruso and his wife were commoners whose names he interacted with so frequently that he could only remember them. Ariadne said teasingly.
“I am the director of the Rambouillet Relief Hospital and also the Countess de Mare.”
Ah. The Rambouillet Relief Center. He hadn't thought of that. Ariadne smiled and kissed Alfonso, whose face was blank and the words "I've been beaten" written all over it.
“I have to go inspect the relief center today.”
“I don’t like you going out in this weather.”
Alfonso's furrowed brows wouldn't relax. This weather, this situation, this danger. He didn't like it at all.
"It's too late. If we get ready and head out now, it'll be completely dark by the time we get back. It's dangerous outside these days."
“I’m going out today because of something important.”
Ariadne hadn't seen her old priestess for a long time since entering the palace. Today was the waning moon. Now, she absolutely had to receive the spell again.
It was a truly heartbreaking thing to have to keep a secret, one that could never be revealed to even one's other half until death. If only she could tell the whole story.
If Alfonso had known the circumstances, he would have gladly sent her away or accompanied her, but this was something she could not share with anyone.
Instead, she used her aegyo, which has only recently been on the rise, to persuade him.
“Have a nice day, yes?”
If Isabella had seen it, it would have been laughable. The timing of the slur was terrible, and it failed to adhere to the golden rule of half-air, half-nasal.
But this charm resonated perfectly with Alfonso. He couldn't resist those bright, sparkling eyes, filled with the hope that he wouldn't be pushed away. She looked like an animal rescued from the slaughterhouse.
He sighed and said to her.
"Escort."
“Giuseppe has prepared fifteen guards from the de Mare family.”
“That’s not enough.”
Prince Alfonso called out loudly to Sir Manfredi.
“Manfredi...!”
“Yes, Prince!”
Sir Manfredi, who could not bring himself to enter Ariadne's dressing room, answered in a raised voice from a distance.
“You take the knights and escort the Princess!”
Ariadne's eyes widened.
“It’s not like that when you’re moving around inside the castle...”
“How many should I bring with me?”
“As you see fit!”
“I will prepare everything I can!”
Her husband's "knightly escort" was a bit excessive. He had 50 knights. Furthermore, these "knightly escorts" weren't even members of the Royal Guard, but rather members of the Black Helmet Knights, the elite of the Central Continent.
“Sir Manfredi...”
“Yes, Your Highness, the Princess!”
“Isn’t this a bit too much...?”
If you ask anyone, it seems more like an attack force going to suppress a village where a rebellion has broken out than a guard of honor for a noblewoman on her way to inspect a relief center.
“Please spare my life, Your Highness, the Princess.”
"Yes?"
“If I had brought less than this, the Prince would have slaughtered me.”
“...”
Ariadne was troubled.
'Aren't the Knights quitting because they're angry that Alfonso keeps giving them menial tasks?'
She was now worrying about nothing. Ariadne momentarily forgot that she was the patron of the Black Helmet Knights. For any organization, nothing is more important than the protocol and protection of its sponsor.
Ariadne was completely unaware, but several of the knights currently escorting her were contemplating how to impress their lady with their ability to do their jobs.
It was a short but arduous journey for Sir Manfredi, who was tasked with keeping tabs on such men. Soon, Sir Manfredi shouted.
“We have arrived!”
Ariadne disembarked from the carriage driven by Giuseppe and entered the main building, briefly escorted by Mr. Albani, the office manager. Felicite and Sancha followed.
The Rambouillet Relief Center did not have a separate servant to welcome noble guests, in an attempt to save money and invest more in school education.
So Sancha remained in the coat room next to the entrance and hung up Ariadne and Felicite's cloaks.
Sir Manfredi, who had tidied up the carriage outside and designated those to watch the nets outside and those to warm up inside, sat next to the mountain carriage and waited. He was ready to rush out at any moment in case of an emergency.
Accompanied by Felicite, Ariadne received a brief report from Mr Albany in the Queen's study within the Rambouillet center. However, there was someone else she was truly meeting today.
“Felicite. Stay here for a moment.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Ariadne frowned at the inflation of her title and made a troubled expression. But there was no time to retort. She hurried to find the person waiting for her.
As expected, today's main target was in a bad mood.
"You bastard! What are you so busy with that you've kept this old eoman waiting for so long?"
An old woman in exotic attire entered the Queen's reception room, grumbling. It was the old lady, Salman the Priestess.
“As you see fit!”
“I will prepare everything I can!”
***
Her husband's "knightly escort" was a bit excessive. He had 50 knights. Furthermore, these "knightly escorts" weren't even members of the Royal Guard, but rather members of the Black Helmet Knights, the elite of the Central Continent.
“Sir Manfredi...”
“Yes, Your Highness, the Princess!”
“Isn’t this a bit too much...?”
If you ask anyone, it seems more like an attack force going to suppress a village where a rebellion has broken out than a guard of honor for a noblewoman on her way to inspect a relief center.
“Please spare my life, Your Highness, the Princess.”
"Yes?"
“If I had brought less than this, the Prince would have slaughtered me.”
“...”
Ariadne was troubled.
'Aren't the Knights quitting because they're angry that Alfonso keeps giving them menial tasks?'
She was now worrying about nothing. Ariadne momentarily forgot that she was the patron of the Black Helmet Knights. For any organization, nothing is more important than the protocol and protection of its sponsor.
Ariadne was completely unaware, but several of the knights currently escorting her were contemplating how to impress their lady with their ability to do their jobs.
It was a short but arduous journey for Sir Manfredi, who was tasked with keeping tabs on such men. Soon, Sir Manfredi shouted.
“We have arrived!”
Ariadne disembarked from the carriage driven by Giuseppe and entered the main building, briefly escorted by Mr. Albani, the office manager. Felicite and Sancha followed.
The Rambouillet Relief Center did not have a separate servant to welcome noble guests, in an attempt to save money and invest more in school education.
So Sancha remained in the coat room next to the entrance and hung up Ariadne and Felicite's cloaks.
Sir Manfredi, who had tidied up the carriage outside and designated those to watch the nets outside and those to warm up inside, sat next to the mountain carriage and waited. He was ready to rush out at any moment in case of an emergency.
Accompanied by Felicite, Ariadne received a brief report from Mr Albany in the Queen's study within the Rambouillet center. However, there was someone else she was truly meeting today.
“Felicite. Stay here for a moment.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Ariadne frowned at the inflation of her title and made a troubled expression. But there was no time to retort. She hurried to find the person waiting for her.
As expected, today's main target was in a bad mood.
"You bastard! What are you so busy with that you've kept this old eoman waiting for so long?"
An old woman in exotic attire entered the Queen's reception room, grumbling. It was the old lady, Salman the Priestess.
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