The opportunity the Marchioness of Montefeltro saw was a chance to straddle the line. A chance to avoid the eyes of Ariadne, the Prince's wife, and establish a relationship with Isabella, the King's mistress.
In San Carlo, where everyone was gathered in one palace, even small things like sending gifts were done with caution.
During the Ariadne's Legacy incident, the old Marchioness of Montefeltro sent gifts to both parties.
'I believed that the two of you weren't the type to show off your gifts while facing each other at a tea party or something, but words tend to get out.'
It was, in fact, a bold move. When confrontation escalates, bats are more likely to be attacked than their opponents.
'But now, Countess de Mare is not here at all.'
What happened in Taranto will undoubtedly reach Countess de Mare's side. But it will be less shocking than seeing it with her own eyes at the palace.
Moreover, if she had only heard bad news about the society ladies in Taranto being friendly with Isabella, and now they were being polite to her in San Carlo? Wouldn't she feel relieved?
The old Marchioness of Montefeltro did her calculations quickly, but there was one thing she had completely overlooked.
Will Isabella ever regain Leo III's favor?
However, the old Marchioness took Isabella's return to favor as a given. This was Isabella's power. Anyone who witnessed her shocking appearance would become like her.
At that moment, a long cry from the palace attendant was heard.
“Bring His Majesty the King!”
There was only one person on the stage who could ask Isabella to explain the new Moor.
Far down the red corridor, the silhouette of the King, draped in purple fur, was visible.
This coincidental encounter between the King and his mistress left the Countess of Gaeta uneasy. Perhaps it was the fact that she was the one who spread the rumors about Agosto's alleged affair with Isabella that made her even more upset.
The more seasoned women of society, like the Marchioness Colonna and the Countess of Attendolo, found this situation fascinating. The Countess of Attendolo whispered to the Baroness of D'Apianni, who stood beside her.
'There's a difference in physique?'
Led by two knights and accompanied by four guardsmen, Leo III walked very slowly down the corridor and stood before Isabella. Isabella bowed politely.
Agosto and all those present also bowed down on one knee to show respect to Leo III.
“I see the sun of the Etruscan kingdom!”
Leo III, enjoying a vantage point above all, looked down at the mass of bowed human beings. He had been acutely aware of Agosto's presence from the moment he appeared. The Moor knelt before him. He was on the ground, so he was shorter than him.
This brought Leo III some relief and joy. But something more urgent was at hand. He blurted it out without realizing it.
“Isabella!”
For the first time in a long while, the woman who had reminded him of his youth had regained her beauty. How delightful it was!
Leo III, with a face almost as stern as a smirk, clung to his young mistress. Even among the socialites, who were adept at controlling their expressions, some found themselves frowning involuntarily.
But the beautiful Isabella was also good-natured.
"Your Majesty."
Isabella held the King's wrinkled hands, her delicate jade reminiscent of exquisite porcelain. Their bodies pressed close together. The woman's breath touched the old King's earlobe.
She welcomed the King with open arms, but there was something uneasy about her demeanor. Isabella acted as if everything Leo III offered her was a given.
For example, she did not smile at Leo III's attention.
“What happened to the scar on your face?”
Only then did a faint smile appear on Isabella's face.
“The new esthetician I hired is really good.”
The old Marchioness of Montefeltro could have been shaken off with these words, but Leo III was not convinced. The King demanded a more detailed explanation.
“Sulfur? Mercury?”
“No.”
Isabella didn't want to reveal any specific details about Agosto's abilities in front of others.
“It was just a regular ointment.”
It's not herbal, it's an animal ointment. Still, it's pretty good. She didn't apply it to her face, though.
Leo III interpreted Isabella's circling behavior as a form of patronizing a Moorish skin care professional. Jealousy was a powerful force. Leo III's sanity finally returned to some degree.
“Why can’t you speak clearly? Did he use some kind of sorcery?”
The King looked Agosto up and down with a fierce expression that clearly showed his displeasure.
"I've never seen or heard of a wound healing so quickly. And besides, that guy doesn't look very good..."
Agosto met the King's gaze without moving an inch.
Certainly, Agosto couldn't be described as a pleasant person, even as a joke. Even without the blindfold removed, it was the same.
However, just because someone's appearance is not good, it doesn't mean that they can immediately become a black magician.
“Your Majesty. Witchcraft?”
Isabella answered calmly and slowly. The late afternoon Taranto sun sparkled on her golden eyelashes.
“I am the daughter of a priest and a close servant to His Majesty the King.”
Her demeanor was relaxed. But in reality, it wasn't. She was scraping through everything she had. Even her father, whom she wanted to erase, was frugally using up.
“My younger sister is well-known in the world for her theology, and I also worked hard to help the poor.”
Her younger sister, who was good at wielding a knife, also brought it with her and used it as a shield at times like this.
“How could I, let alone anyone else, get involved in something so shameful?”
If Leo III had known the truth behind Cardinal de Mare's downfall, that is, what Lucrezia had done, then his remarks, which focused on his own character, would have been self-destructive.
But when shamelessness reached its peak, it took on a life of its own. Witchcraft? Isabella scoffed inwardly.
'If Your Majesty could sacrifice even one citizen to regain his vitality and energy, he would slaughter them one per day, even in whole castles.'
Killing a child to restore beauty wasn't witchcraft. It was a quick-acting medical technique that saved those in despair. He wasn't just any doctor; he was a renowned doctor. He cured both mental and physical illnesses.
“It’s just that his medicine is famous and I’m young, so my wounds heal quickly.”
Isabella stroked Leo III's hand affectionately.
The back of his hand was bulging with blue veins. The thin, dark-skinned skin, creased by her touch, wrinkled like a shell.
Isabella, who naturally reminded Leo III of his greatest weakness, aging, took a moment to offer advice.
“If it doesn’t bother you, Your Majesty, why don’t you have Agosto take a look at Your Majesty’s medical treatment?”
Then one of those gathered in the hallway raised his voice.
“Speak sense, Countess!”
He was the Marquis of Chibo, who had returned to his fiefdom and was returning to the court after a very long time.
"His Majesty the King's health is a matter of national importance, directly linked to the well-being of the nation. How dare you entrust this to a foreigner you don't know! Are you out of your mind?"
Unlike the Marquis de Chibo, who was considered one of Queen Marguerite's closest confidants during her lifetime, the Marquis de Chibo himself was not a person with much political leanings.
If he was even capable of raising his voice, Isabella's proposal was certainly absurd. Here and there, murmurs of agreement erupted intermittently.
Isabella slowly turned her head and stared intently at the Marquis de Chibo.
The Marquis took a deep breath. He hadn't said anything he couldn't have said, but the King's mistress's gaze was unusual. His heart pounded, in a way he couldn't tell if it was fear or fascination.
But if he was going to back down now, he wouldn't have even brought it up in the first place. He took a deep breath and raised his voice again.
“No one other than the appointed royal doctor should be able to examine His Majesty’s health!”
This was a reasonable proposition, but one that Leo III himself had not adhered to. The King should have been left speechless, and Isabella knew it.
Isabella didn't bother to bring up the story of the alchemists of the Orte Forest, but simply stared at Leo III.
“Everyone is making noise, be quiet.”
Leo III shook his hand and silenced both Isabella and the Marquis de Chibo.
“Let’s talk later.”
At first glance, it seemed like he had rejected Isabella's offer. But saying they'd talk 'later' was no different than saying they'd discuss it when no one else was around.
Blink. Isabella closed her eyes and opened them again.
“I just wanted to help Your Majesty.”
The light reflected off her dazzling eyelashes, and her transparent purple irises stared directly at the King. These were the only eyes that truly belonged to her.
“If men who have learned a lot think it is not suitable, then they are right.”
Even though he told her to stop, she kept dragging her feet. Even though he had practically given her another chance to speak. Instead of scolding her, Leo III turned to the Moorish apothecary after Isabella finished speaking.
Agosto, expressionless, placed his hand on his chest and bowed his upper body. The crescent sword hanging from his waistband seemed completely invisible to the King.
“Is that man really that clever?”
"Your Majesty!"
Amidst the shouts of the Marquis of Chibo and three or four other noblemen, Isabella answered in Agosto's stead. Her voice was sweet.
“That’s right. You still don’t believe me after seeing my face?”
The old King blinked. He melted under his concubine's charm, and the scent of iris and musk tickled his nose. The crowd that had gathered here was making him even more tired. He wanted to lie down anywhere.
But Leo III didn't actually have much time to waste. He fell ill on New Year's Day and retired early, after which he rested for two full days.
In addition to not being able to meet anyone on the Taranto tour, several audiences had to be attended to.
“Isabella.”
As if responding to what his beautiful mistress had whispered in his ear earlier, Leo III whispered to his favorite.
“I will come to see you soon.”
In San Carlo, where everyone was gathered in one palace, even small things like sending gifts were done with caution.
During the Ariadne's Legacy incident, the old Marchioness of Montefeltro sent gifts to both parties.
'I believed that the two of you weren't the type to show off your gifts while facing each other at a tea party or something, but words tend to get out.'
It was, in fact, a bold move. When confrontation escalates, bats are more likely to be attacked than their opponents.
'But now, Countess de Mare is not here at all.'
What happened in Taranto will undoubtedly reach Countess de Mare's side. But it will be less shocking than seeing it with her own eyes at the palace.
Moreover, if she had only heard bad news about the society ladies in Taranto being friendly with Isabella, and now they were being polite to her in San Carlo? Wouldn't she feel relieved?
The old Marchioness of Montefeltro did her calculations quickly, but there was one thing she had completely overlooked.
Will Isabella ever regain Leo III's favor?
However, the old Marchioness took Isabella's return to favor as a given. This was Isabella's power. Anyone who witnessed her shocking appearance would become like her.
At that moment, a long cry from the palace attendant was heard.
“Bring His Majesty the King!”
There was only one person on the stage who could ask Isabella to explain the new Moor.
Far down the red corridor, the silhouette of the King, draped in purple fur, was visible.
This coincidental encounter between the King and his mistress left the Countess of Gaeta uneasy. Perhaps it was the fact that she was the one who spread the rumors about Agosto's alleged affair with Isabella that made her even more upset.
The more seasoned women of society, like the Marchioness Colonna and the Countess of Attendolo, found this situation fascinating. The Countess of Attendolo whispered to the Baroness of D'Apianni, who stood beside her.
'There's a difference in physique?'
Led by two knights and accompanied by four guardsmen, Leo III walked very slowly down the corridor and stood before Isabella. Isabella bowed politely.
Agosto and all those present also bowed down on one knee to show respect to Leo III.
“I see the sun of the Etruscan kingdom!”
Leo III, enjoying a vantage point above all, looked down at the mass of bowed human beings. He had been acutely aware of Agosto's presence from the moment he appeared. The Moor knelt before him. He was on the ground, so he was shorter than him.
This brought Leo III some relief and joy. But something more urgent was at hand. He blurted it out without realizing it.
“Isabella!”
For the first time in a long while, the woman who had reminded him of his youth had regained her beauty. How delightful it was!
Leo III, with a face almost as stern as a smirk, clung to his young mistress. Even among the socialites, who were adept at controlling their expressions, some found themselves frowning involuntarily.
But the beautiful Isabella was also good-natured.
"Your Majesty."
Isabella held the King's wrinkled hands, her delicate jade reminiscent of exquisite porcelain. Their bodies pressed close together. The woman's breath touched the old King's earlobe.
She welcomed the King with open arms, but there was something uneasy about her demeanor. Isabella acted as if everything Leo III offered her was a given.
For example, she did not smile at Leo III's attention.
“What happened to the scar on your face?”
Only then did a faint smile appear on Isabella's face.
“The new esthetician I hired is really good.”
The old Marchioness of Montefeltro could have been shaken off with these words, but Leo III was not convinced. The King demanded a more detailed explanation.
“Sulfur? Mercury?”
“No.”
Isabella didn't want to reveal any specific details about Agosto's abilities in front of others.
“It was just a regular ointment.”
It's not herbal, it's an animal ointment. Still, it's pretty good. She didn't apply it to her face, though.
Leo III interpreted Isabella's circling behavior as a form of patronizing a Moorish skin care professional. Jealousy was a powerful force. Leo III's sanity finally returned to some degree.
“Why can’t you speak clearly? Did he use some kind of sorcery?”
The King looked Agosto up and down with a fierce expression that clearly showed his displeasure.
"I've never seen or heard of a wound healing so quickly. And besides, that guy doesn't look very good..."
Agosto met the King's gaze without moving an inch.
Certainly, Agosto couldn't be described as a pleasant person, even as a joke. Even without the blindfold removed, it was the same.
However, just because someone's appearance is not good, it doesn't mean that they can immediately become a black magician.
“Your Majesty. Witchcraft?”
Isabella answered calmly and slowly. The late afternoon Taranto sun sparkled on her golden eyelashes.
“I am the daughter of a priest and a close servant to His Majesty the King.”
Her demeanor was relaxed. But in reality, it wasn't. She was scraping through everything she had. Even her father, whom she wanted to erase, was frugally using up.
“My younger sister is well-known in the world for her theology, and I also worked hard to help the poor.”
Her younger sister, who was good at wielding a knife, also brought it with her and used it as a shield at times like this.
“How could I, let alone anyone else, get involved in something so shameful?”
If Leo III had known the truth behind Cardinal de Mare's downfall, that is, what Lucrezia had done, then his remarks, which focused on his own character, would have been self-destructive.
But when shamelessness reached its peak, it took on a life of its own. Witchcraft? Isabella scoffed inwardly.
'If Your Majesty could sacrifice even one citizen to regain his vitality and energy, he would slaughter them one per day, even in whole castles.'
Killing a child to restore beauty wasn't witchcraft. It was a quick-acting medical technique that saved those in despair. He wasn't just any doctor; he was a renowned doctor. He cured both mental and physical illnesses.
“It’s just that his medicine is famous and I’m young, so my wounds heal quickly.”
Isabella stroked Leo III's hand affectionately.
The back of his hand was bulging with blue veins. The thin, dark-skinned skin, creased by her touch, wrinkled like a shell.
Isabella, who naturally reminded Leo III of his greatest weakness, aging, took a moment to offer advice.
“If it doesn’t bother you, Your Majesty, why don’t you have Agosto take a look at Your Majesty’s medical treatment?”
Then one of those gathered in the hallway raised his voice.
“Speak sense, Countess!”
He was the Marquis of Chibo, who had returned to his fiefdom and was returning to the court after a very long time.
"His Majesty the King's health is a matter of national importance, directly linked to the well-being of the nation. How dare you entrust this to a foreigner you don't know! Are you out of your mind?"
Unlike the Marquis de Chibo, who was considered one of Queen Marguerite's closest confidants during her lifetime, the Marquis de Chibo himself was not a person with much political leanings.
If he was even capable of raising his voice, Isabella's proposal was certainly absurd. Here and there, murmurs of agreement erupted intermittently.
Isabella slowly turned her head and stared intently at the Marquis de Chibo.
The Marquis took a deep breath. He hadn't said anything he couldn't have said, but the King's mistress's gaze was unusual. His heart pounded, in a way he couldn't tell if it was fear or fascination.
But if he was going to back down now, he wouldn't have even brought it up in the first place. He took a deep breath and raised his voice again.
“No one other than the appointed royal doctor should be able to examine His Majesty’s health!”
This was a reasonable proposition, but one that Leo III himself had not adhered to. The King should have been left speechless, and Isabella knew it.
Isabella didn't bother to bring up the story of the alchemists of the Orte Forest, but simply stared at Leo III.
“Everyone is making noise, be quiet.”
Leo III shook his hand and silenced both Isabella and the Marquis de Chibo.
“Let’s talk later.”
At first glance, it seemed like he had rejected Isabella's offer. But saying they'd talk 'later' was no different than saying they'd discuss it when no one else was around.
Blink. Isabella closed her eyes and opened them again.
“I just wanted to help Your Majesty.”
The light reflected off her dazzling eyelashes, and her transparent purple irises stared directly at the King. These were the only eyes that truly belonged to her.
“If men who have learned a lot think it is not suitable, then they are right.”
Even though he told her to stop, she kept dragging her feet. Even though he had practically given her another chance to speak. Instead of scolding her, Leo III turned to the Moorish apothecary after Isabella finished speaking.
Agosto, expressionless, placed his hand on his chest and bowed his upper body. The crescent sword hanging from his waistband seemed completely invisible to the King.
“Is that man really that clever?”
"Your Majesty!"
Amidst the shouts of the Marquis of Chibo and three or four other noblemen, Isabella answered in Agosto's stead. Her voice was sweet.
“That’s right. You still don’t believe me after seeing my face?”
The old King blinked. He melted under his concubine's charm, and the scent of iris and musk tickled his nose. The crowd that had gathered here was making him even more tired. He wanted to lie down anywhere.
But Leo III didn't actually have much time to waste. He fell ill on New Year's Day and retired early, after which he rested for two full days.
In addition to not being able to meet anyone on the Taranto tour, several audiences had to be attended to.
“Isabella.”
As if responding to what his beautiful mistress had whispered in his ear earlier, Leo III whispered to his favorite.
“I will come to see you soon.”
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