It was a difficult wood to carve, even more so than ebony, renowned for its hardness. All Cesare had left were money and time.
Every day, even if he couldn't cut even half a fingernail, he sat at the same work table and repeated the same actions. He had never done anything with such persistence in his life.
One day, after almost a year, the tree was carved into a shape he was satisfied with.
From then on, he oiled the wooden box every day. He rubbed it with linseed oil soaked in a clean cotton cloth, as if offering a prayer. Today. Tomorrow. And the day after that.
Every detail of the wooden box was imbued with Cesare's hand. The interior was lined with wool, then covered with a thin silk lining. The stitching was done by hand, with clumsy precision.
Even if water were to seep in, he hoped that the wool would absorb it, and that not a single drop of water would touch this jewel, the 'Swan of Linville', which he gave to the woman he loved most.
Since he didn't know how to do metalwork, he had to outsource the locks. However, he did the work himself, hammering the locks he received into the wooden box with thin nails.
The Swan of Linville entered the wooden box.
The last thing Cesare did was to coat the wooden box with beeswax, ensuring not a single drop of water would leak in. So that if something like that happened again that day, he could retrieve the "Swan of Linville" dry.
No, so that he still dares to take out that jewel.
Since that day, the 'Swan of Linville' has never left its wall-mounted box.
"Your Excellency?"
Cesare, lost in thought, came to his senses at the call of his surroundings.
“Ah. This is it.”
He took out the wooden box from his bosom, which he had never taken out before, and placed it on the counter in the workshop.
It was a piece that required a great deal of work. The craftsman, who had been wondering if the wooden box itself was worthy of repair, or if this was a metal workshop, suddenly found himself wide-eyed.
Cesare carefully opened the wooden box, and inside was a brooch set with a diamond and a pearl so large it made his eyes pop out. He finally knew what he was dealing with.
“...It’s a brooch now.”
Since returning to San Carlo, Cesare's eyes have always been drawn to Ariadne. The only place he could see her was the Great Chapel. He could not approach her further, nor did he have the conscience to do so. At least, that's what Cesare himself thought.
He kept her in his sights. And it struck him that Ariadne wasn't wearing a brooch.
These days, the trend for women's brooches is to have a deep, asymmetrical neckline and then hang it in a way that hides the eyes and hides the eyes, almost to the point where the armpits are visible.
The see-through chiffon everyone wore was now outdated. Instead, lace-like details and the gaps between the jewels were used to create a transparent effect.
However, Ariadne's neckline was getting higher by the day, so it was highly unlikely that she would use a brooch.
“Please change it into a necklace.”
Cesare added.
“Long, with a chain attached.”
To Cesare, who was fashion-savvy, it seemed likely that Ariadne would soon stick to dresses that reached all the way to her neck.
It wasn't a wrong prediction. Then, instead of the usual half-piedi necklace string, you'd find something much longer.
“I think it would be better to just do one pidi.”
“It might take some time to repair. Is that okay?”
“...It doesn’t matter.”
The original Cesare would never have entrusted the "Swans of Linville" to a Taranto workshop. He would have sought out the most skilled jeweler in San Carlo, paid him a premium, and even meddlesomely with the angle of the chain.
But now it was urgent to entrust the 'Swan of Linville' to someone other than himself for a valid reason.
'It's the jewels that matter, not the craftsmanship.'
Although he made excuses like that, Cesare actually had to come up with a valid reason why he could not give the 'Swan of Linville' to Princess Julia Helena.
Whether it was Grand Duchess Rubina, Leo III, or Julia Helena herself, whoever was trying to strangle him would have a good excuse: 'The jewel is in the workshop right now for repairs.'
“It doesn't matter how long it takes. Just make it perfect.”
Cesare draped the cloak he had briefly removed over his shoulders. The loud clang of hammering echoed with the friction of thick fabric unfolding magnificently.
He trudged out of the workshop. The craftsman said locks would take three months, so there was no need, but he was fine with jewelry repairs taking as long as possible. He stared blankly at the back of the big man as he left, making an incomprehensible request.
Cesare, who had left the villa given to him by the Marquis Guatieri at dawn, returned to the mansion just as the morning star was rising in the east.
He'd been out for nearly twenty hours. His black horse, Leopoldo, was exhausted, his cloak a mess of dust. He jumped down and shook his shoulder.
In the silence, only Cesare's footsteps rumbled like thunder. Having secured Leopoldo in the stable, Cesare crept stealthily toward the villa building, trying not to be noticed by Rubina's attendants.
“You look like a thief.”
Cesare froze in place at the sound of a gruff, thirty-something woman's voice. The voice belonged to Irene, the Viscountess of Panamere, who had been standing guard outside Princess Julia Helena's chambers all night.
Cesare looked through his clothes. They were tangled enough to warrant a thief's call.
He had no intention of getting angry at the right words. He raised both hands in the air.
“It wasn’t that I wanted to do it, it just happened.”
He left Viscountess Panamere behind and attempted to enter his bedroom in the hallway. Irene's desperate voice rang out from behind.
“If you touch our Princess’s chastity, I will not let you off.”
Cesare turned around and stopped walking, chuckling.
“My virginity is at stake right now.”
He doesn't even remember when it disappeared. Irene pointed that out right away.
“Are there any left?”
Well, it's not like only the pure need protection, right? It's not like it wears out just because you do it.
But Cesare just chuckled, not being so desperate as to engage in dirty talk with a stranger.
Even Viscountess Panamere found this situation funny and burst out laughing.
Cesare said a word to Irene, who was no less picky than he was.
“Hey, don’t waste your time.”
"Yes?"
“Rather than guarding my path, it would be faster to stand guard in front of the Princess’s room and prevent her from attacking me.”
It was a hurtful remark, but it wasn't wrong. Irene sighed without realizing it. It was a deep sigh.
Cesare, who was about to pass her and go into his room, stopped for a moment at the length and intensity of her sigh.
“...My Lady.”
“Your Excellency, the Grand Duke.”
In his eyes, it was clear what Viscountess Panamere was worried about.
“Don’t worry too much.”
Cesare shrugged.
“I’m not that bad of a person.”
Then he passed by Viscountess Panamere and went straight into his room.
Irene stared blankly at Grand Duke Cesare's back at this unexpected remark. She brushed back her hair, which had become a mess from staying up all night, from her temples.
'...When you say things like that, you seem like a pretty decent person.'
Irene stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then shook her head vigorously.
The magic of his handsome features was powerful. His unexpectedly sane remark, coupled with his pleasant voice, instantly won her heart.
But Irene could not admit that she had been shaken by it.
"Wake up, Irene. Lack of sleep has ruined your judgment!"
The Etruscan kingdom could not marry its Princess to a hastily created Grand Duke.
As a foreign envoy from a small country, it was difficult to access high-level information, but judging by the way things were going, the situation was clear.
The Etruscan kingdom was entering a period of transition with the aging of the current King, Leo III. The King's illegitimate son, Cesare de Carlo, was recognized as the King's nephew and quickly rose through the ranks.
'The moment the King dies, it will not be easy for me to recover.'
The glamorous and happy life in the Etruscan kingdom that her Princess, Julia Helena, imagined was impossible.
If the Grand Duke and Princess were to marry and live in peace, they had to return quickly to the Principality of Manchike while Leo III was in power.
"Even if Grand Duke Pisano is a loving and family-oriented man, making him the perfect husband, he brings nothing to the table. I can't force my Princess into this kind of marriage."
While the Viscountess Panamere shuddered at the sudden attraction he felt for the Grand Duke Cesare, Cesare, who had entered the room and closed the door tightly, leaned against the oak door and slid down.
'I'm not that kind of person who would do something so bad.'
The wooden door of the room, which had been empty all night, was cold, but the warmth of the old wood was the warmest feeling Cesare had felt all day.
“Haha, hahaha...”
He let out a suppressed laugh. A tear rolled down his cheek. He couldn't help but laugh—no, cry—at the thought of how he must have seemed normal to the foreign envoy, who didn't know his circumstances.
"I'm a guy who's dumped countless women I've slept with. What kind of person am I, Cesare de Carlo, or rather, Como?"
One thing was certain.
'Something far more poisonous and terrible than the one that was eaten.'
A monster living in the abyss, unsuited to her, but whom only she can save.
It was New Year's Day. With Leo III's court now empty, having descended upon Taranto, the Prince's entourage decided to celebrate the New Year with a simple dinner, rather than throwing a meaningless and unattended ball as usual.
Although the number of attendees was small, the New Year's spirit was palpable. Each person brought a gift and exchanged it with everyone.
It was not a gift that was bought in bulk and distributed mechanically, but a gift full of sincerity, where each person remembered what they needed, bought it, and gave it to them personally.
“No, what is this?”
Sir Manfredi opened the gift Sir Bernardino had given him and asked.
“Isn’t this a horse muzzle?”
Every day, even if he couldn't cut even half a fingernail, he sat at the same work table and repeated the same actions. He had never done anything with such persistence in his life.
One day, after almost a year, the tree was carved into a shape he was satisfied with.
From then on, he oiled the wooden box every day. He rubbed it with linseed oil soaked in a clean cotton cloth, as if offering a prayer. Today. Tomorrow. And the day after that.
Every detail of the wooden box was imbued with Cesare's hand. The interior was lined with wool, then covered with a thin silk lining. The stitching was done by hand, with clumsy precision.
Even if water were to seep in, he hoped that the wool would absorb it, and that not a single drop of water would touch this jewel, the 'Swan of Linville', which he gave to the woman he loved most.
Since he didn't know how to do metalwork, he had to outsource the locks. However, he did the work himself, hammering the locks he received into the wooden box with thin nails.
The Swan of Linville entered the wooden box.
The last thing Cesare did was to coat the wooden box with beeswax, ensuring not a single drop of water would leak in. So that if something like that happened again that day, he could retrieve the "Swan of Linville" dry.
No, so that he still dares to take out that jewel.
Since that day, the 'Swan of Linville' has never left its wall-mounted box.
"Your Excellency?"
Cesare, lost in thought, came to his senses at the call of his surroundings.
“Ah. This is it.”
He took out the wooden box from his bosom, which he had never taken out before, and placed it on the counter in the workshop.
It was a piece that required a great deal of work. The craftsman, who had been wondering if the wooden box itself was worthy of repair, or if this was a metal workshop, suddenly found himself wide-eyed.
Cesare carefully opened the wooden box, and inside was a brooch set with a diamond and a pearl so large it made his eyes pop out. He finally knew what he was dealing with.
“...It’s a brooch now.”
Since returning to San Carlo, Cesare's eyes have always been drawn to Ariadne. The only place he could see her was the Great Chapel. He could not approach her further, nor did he have the conscience to do so. At least, that's what Cesare himself thought.
He kept her in his sights. And it struck him that Ariadne wasn't wearing a brooch.
These days, the trend for women's brooches is to have a deep, asymmetrical neckline and then hang it in a way that hides the eyes and hides the eyes, almost to the point where the armpits are visible.
The see-through chiffon everyone wore was now outdated. Instead, lace-like details and the gaps between the jewels were used to create a transparent effect.
However, Ariadne's neckline was getting higher by the day, so it was highly unlikely that she would use a brooch.
“Please change it into a necklace.”
Cesare added.
“Long, with a chain attached.”
To Cesare, who was fashion-savvy, it seemed likely that Ariadne would soon stick to dresses that reached all the way to her neck.
It wasn't a wrong prediction. Then, instead of the usual half-piedi necklace string, you'd find something much longer.
“I think it would be better to just do one pidi.”
“It might take some time to repair. Is that okay?”
“...It doesn’t matter.”
The original Cesare would never have entrusted the "Swans of Linville" to a Taranto workshop. He would have sought out the most skilled jeweler in San Carlo, paid him a premium, and even meddlesomely with the angle of the chain.
But now it was urgent to entrust the 'Swan of Linville' to someone other than himself for a valid reason.
'It's the jewels that matter, not the craftsmanship.'
Although he made excuses like that, Cesare actually had to come up with a valid reason why he could not give the 'Swan of Linville' to Princess Julia Helena.
Whether it was Grand Duchess Rubina, Leo III, or Julia Helena herself, whoever was trying to strangle him would have a good excuse: 'The jewel is in the workshop right now for repairs.'
“It doesn't matter how long it takes. Just make it perfect.”
Cesare draped the cloak he had briefly removed over his shoulders. The loud clang of hammering echoed with the friction of thick fabric unfolding magnificently.
He trudged out of the workshop. The craftsman said locks would take three months, so there was no need, but he was fine with jewelry repairs taking as long as possible. He stared blankly at the back of the big man as he left, making an incomprehensible request.
***
Cesare, who had left the villa given to him by the Marquis Guatieri at dawn, returned to the mansion just as the morning star was rising in the east.
He'd been out for nearly twenty hours. His black horse, Leopoldo, was exhausted, his cloak a mess of dust. He jumped down and shook his shoulder.
In the silence, only Cesare's footsteps rumbled like thunder. Having secured Leopoldo in the stable, Cesare crept stealthily toward the villa building, trying not to be noticed by Rubina's attendants.
“You look like a thief.”
Cesare froze in place at the sound of a gruff, thirty-something woman's voice. The voice belonged to Irene, the Viscountess of Panamere, who had been standing guard outside Princess Julia Helena's chambers all night.
Cesare looked through his clothes. They were tangled enough to warrant a thief's call.
He had no intention of getting angry at the right words. He raised both hands in the air.
“It wasn’t that I wanted to do it, it just happened.”
He left Viscountess Panamere behind and attempted to enter his bedroom in the hallway. Irene's desperate voice rang out from behind.
“If you touch our Princess’s chastity, I will not let you off.”
Cesare turned around and stopped walking, chuckling.
“My virginity is at stake right now.”
He doesn't even remember when it disappeared. Irene pointed that out right away.
“Are there any left?”
Well, it's not like only the pure need protection, right? It's not like it wears out just because you do it.
But Cesare just chuckled, not being so desperate as to engage in dirty talk with a stranger.
Even Viscountess Panamere found this situation funny and burst out laughing.
Cesare said a word to Irene, who was no less picky than he was.
“Hey, don’t waste your time.”
"Yes?"
“Rather than guarding my path, it would be faster to stand guard in front of the Princess’s room and prevent her from attacking me.”
It was a hurtful remark, but it wasn't wrong. Irene sighed without realizing it. It was a deep sigh.
Cesare, who was about to pass her and go into his room, stopped for a moment at the length and intensity of her sigh.
“...My Lady.”
“Your Excellency, the Grand Duke.”
In his eyes, it was clear what Viscountess Panamere was worried about.
“Don’t worry too much.”
Cesare shrugged.
“I’m not that bad of a person.”
Then he passed by Viscountess Panamere and went straight into his room.
Irene stared blankly at Grand Duke Cesare's back at this unexpected remark. She brushed back her hair, which had become a mess from staying up all night, from her temples.
'...When you say things like that, you seem like a pretty decent person.'
Irene stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then shook her head vigorously.
The magic of his handsome features was powerful. His unexpectedly sane remark, coupled with his pleasant voice, instantly won her heart.
But Irene could not admit that she had been shaken by it.
"Wake up, Irene. Lack of sleep has ruined your judgment!"
The Etruscan kingdom could not marry its Princess to a hastily created Grand Duke.
As a foreign envoy from a small country, it was difficult to access high-level information, but judging by the way things were going, the situation was clear.
The Etruscan kingdom was entering a period of transition with the aging of the current King, Leo III. The King's illegitimate son, Cesare de Carlo, was recognized as the King's nephew and quickly rose through the ranks.
'The moment the King dies, it will not be easy for me to recover.'
The glamorous and happy life in the Etruscan kingdom that her Princess, Julia Helena, imagined was impossible.
If the Grand Duke and Princess were to marry and live in peace, they had to return quickly to the Principality of Manchike while Leo III was in power.
"Even if Grand Duke Pisano is a loving and family-oriented man, making him the perfect husband, he brings nothing to the table. I can't force my Princess into this kind of marriage."
While the Viscountess Panamere shuddered at the sudden attraction he felt for the Grand Duke Cesare, Cesare, who had entered the room and closed the door tightly, leaned against the oak door and slid down.
'I'm not that kind of person who would do something so bad.'
The wooden door of the room, which had been empty all night, was cold, but the warmth of the old wood was the warmest feeling Cesare had felt all day.
“Haha, hahaha...”
He let out a suppressed laugh. A tear rolled down his cheek. He couldn't help but laugh—no, cry—at the thought of how he must have seemed normal to the foreign envoy, who didn't know his circumstances.
"I'm a guy who's dumped countless women I've slept with. What kind of person am I, Cesare de Carlo, or rather, Como?"
One thing was certain.
'Something far more poisonous and terrible than the one that was eaten.'
A monster living in the abyss, unsuited to her, but whom only she can save.
***
It was New Year's Day. With Leo III's court now empty, having descended upon Taranto, the Prince's entourage decided to celebrate the New Year with a simple dinner, rather than throwing a meaningless and unattended ball as usual.
Although the number of attendees was small, the New Year's spirit was palpable. Each person brought a gift and exchanged it with everyone.
It was not a gift that was bought in bulk and distributed mechanically, but a gift full of sincerity, where each person remembered what they needed, bought it, and gave it to them personally.
“No, what is this?”
Sir Manfredi opened the gift Sir Bernardino had given him and asked.
“Isn’t this a horse muzzle?”
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