DTLD 7

Chapter 7

The Young Lord of Guienne

Robert Leblanc de Guienne du Brabant was usually called Robert de Guienne, or the young lord of Guienne. In his mother’s family, where he spent his childhood, he was called Leblanc; at the boarding school he entered at seven, he was called the young lord of Guienne. It was only after he came to the military academy at fifteen that people began calling him Robert.

“So you’re the young lord of Guienne? I’m Christopher Lafayette, and I enrolled the same year as you. Let’s get along, Robert.”

“I never gave you permission to call me by my name.”

“Whoa. You really are just like the rumors say. Fine. My apologies for calling your name without permission. There—are we good? Can I call you that now?”

“Suit yourself.”

From the next day on, Robert spent his time with Christopher. Christopher was a decent enough fellow. He was the second son of the Lafayette family, and he was cheerful and easygoing. His only flaw was that he doted unusually on his little sister, who was much younger than him.

“If you’re not going to Lortèze this vacation, want to come meet my family with me? I wrote about you in my letters, and they’re curious about who you are.”

Before their final summer vacation ahead of graduation, Christopher suggested that Robert come with him to his hometown. Robert accepted without much deliberation. He wasn’t particularly inclined toward Lortèze. He had never lived there. He had an awareness that it was land he would someday be responsible for, but that was all. He felt no particular sense of belonging.

In that respect, Christopher had something peculiar about him. And his family was similar. After meeting the excessively family-oriented Lafayettes, he somewhat regretted having agreed to come here. Christopher, giggling as if he’d expected this, recommended a quiet village in the outskirts.

“It’s called Manoli—it’s a country village, so it’s peaceful. Probably no one will recognize you there.”

Manoli was a typical seaside country village. In an age when railways were being laid everywhere, it didn’t have a single direct line to Laurant. The only good thing was the forest surrounding the village. Robert went straight into the forest, plopped down wherever, and passed the time. The first few days were satisfying. No one disturbed him. That was, until an intruder named Sacha Vinoc’h came along.

The girl who smiled foolishly like a fairy living in the forest always smelled of peaches or oranges. And every single day she came to him, not doing her homework, her mind entirely on him. One day she stared unusually intently at the buckle ornament on his shoe. Even an entomologist discovering an ant not yet announced to the academic world probably couldn’t have observed with such passion.

“Want it?”

Robert offered, saying she could take it off if she liked it that much. Then Sacha flashed a dazzlingly white-toothed grin. It was a fresh, bright smile. Of course, the child before him was genuinely young. But even taking that into account, it was a truly perfectly childlike smile.

That day, Sacha didn’t take the buckle.

A few days later, Robert returned to school with Christopher. The train sped past endlessly stretching wheat fields. Christopher, who had been giving his unusually quiet friend a meaningful look, nudged him in the side.

“That leg injury—it’s because of that girl who was with you, isn’t it?”

Christopher asked mischievously, looking at his friend’s thigh, which had been treated at Lafayette Castle.

“If it had been me, would you have blocked it too?”

“You’d get out of the way yourself.”

Robert grimaced as if he’d heard the most disgusting sound in the world. Christopher, who’d hit his growth spurt early, was bigger than him. Why on earth would he save that bulk? It was a waste of a perfectly good uniform, worn crooked.

“I knew you’d say that. So heartless.”

Christopher let it slide and rattled on about episodes with his family during vacation. Robert listened half-heartedly, then closed his ears midway when the story showed no sign of ending.

“Hey, are you listening to me? What are you thinking so hard about? Sounds like something interesting happened in Manoli?”

Robert turned to him expressionlessly. Christopher’s eyes held a playful anticipation. But all Robert had seen in Manoli was a shaded forest and one little kid.

“Nothing happened.”

Robert stared for a moment at the golden horizon sliding past the first-class window, then quickly turned his head away. Christopher was whistling as if bored by the dull answer. He straightened his crooked peaked cap squarely to the front again. The shoe buckle caught the light and gleamed.

Not long after, Robert graduated from the military academy and departed for Borona as planned. But he didn’t complete his full term of service. Not long after becoming an officer, an order came from the queen to return to Lortèze. His father had died far sooner than expected.

Robert, who had taken off his uniform and returned to Lortèze, became the new Duke of Guienne. After inheriting the title, he took over the hotel business and naturally began moving in Laurant’s social circles—since a hotel’s prestige was proportional to the prestige of the luminaries who stayed there.

It was a day like any other. So too was the day he attended the exhibition hosted by the Royal Academy of Art. Robert’s shoes came to a stop before a wall where the light fell poorly.

He was not a born artist but a trained businessman. His standard for viewing paintings was closer to discernment than aesthetic sense. The painting before him wasn’t in the style currently in fashion. It wasn’t skillful—rather, there was something clumsy about its technique. That was probably why it was stuck in an inconspicuous spot.

Nevertheless, an inexplicable, powerful force caught his feet. Christopher, who had come up behind him at some point, marveled.

“The scenery in that painting looks like the pond in the garden of Lortèze Castle. How peculiar. I’d believe it if you told me the artist went there in person to paint it.”

Did it? Robert narrowed his eyes, examining the painting closely. He had never properly seen the pond Christopher mentioned. He thought he might have glimpsed it in passing while riding into the estate by car. He checked his wristwatch once, then turned without hesitation.

“I’m leaving now. I’ve been here long enough.”

Robert quickly exited the exhibition hall. Christopher, looking flustered, widened his stride to follow.

“If it’s not urgent, why not look around a bit more? Have some consideration for the royal family’s dignity. Aren’t you two likely to be tied by marriage soon? You’re the most likely candidate for Princess Deborah’s husband.”

“If you’re interested, why don’t you do it yourself.”

He was so heartless that he didn’t even look back as he spoke. Christopher knew Robert wasn’t very interested in such things, but he felt irked for no reason and raised his voice.

“It’d be an honor to win Bricenne’s greatest beauty of the future. But I suppose I just don’t measure up in your eyes?”

Robert didn’t answer and only smirked coldly. His attitude suggested it was absurd to discuss a future beauty over a girl who was barely fourteen.

The car door shut right in front of him by a hair’s breadth. Robert, rolling down the window, offered Christopher a farewell, telling him to look around as much as he liked. Christopher, left forlorn, gaped. A commotion was rising on the opposite side. Going out toward the entrance, he found Princess Deborah, who had just arrived at the exhibition hall.

“Where is the Duke of Guienne?”

“He had urgent business and left first.”

Christopher smiled awkwardly. He resented the friend who had just left the exhibition hall. If you’re going to leave, take me with you. What does it mean to leave me here alone? It only made things awkward for him, who now had to explain why Robert had left.

“It wasn’t urgent business—he just didn’t want to run into me, I suppose.”

Princess Deborah shot back coldly. When Christopher held out his arm, she ignored it as if she hadn’t seen it and walked in alone—a rather cold attitude. But her ears were red with the embarrassment of having been stood up by the Duke of Guienne.

She might be the queen’s only granddaughter, but she was still just a fourteen-year-old girl. Christopher was at a loss. It was because he’d thought of his little sister at home for no reason. After deliberating, Christopher eventually went back into the exhibition hall to escort the platinum-blonde girl.

Robert leaned back in the car seat and tilted his head back. He was tired. It had been over a year since he’d taken off the uniform, but his changed life was still unfamiliar. Lortèze too. The station of being the Duke of Guienne too.

Returning to his apartment in downtown Laurant, he changed clothes and went out again. A dinner gathering was scheduled at a restaurant on Rue Sainte-Mare.

When he returned fully come nightfall, a paper-wrapped framed painting sat before his front door. It was the painting he’d ordered after leaving the exhibition.

He’d paid a considerable sum for a work by an unknown artist. In exchange, he’d asked that the buyer’s identity not be revealed. He didn’t want the artist coming to find him separately. He’d been disappointed more than once or twice by meeting so-called artists of renown in person. There was no special reason. That was simply all it was. He didn’t know whether the work had been worth paying that much for.

Robert agonized over where to hang the painting, then simply left it on the floor. Only after several days had passed in that state did a suitable place occur to him. The painting was hung in a guest room of the hotel that would newly open on Rue Sainte-Mare next spring, after half a year of renovations.

Hôtel d’Écran was the most expensive, most splendid, and most elegant place in Laurant. It had a total of 125 guest rooms, and one of them was a space reserved for the hotel’s owner, the Duke of Guienne. According to rumors, the duke frequently stopped by to look at the painting hung there.

But unlike the rumors circulating in social circles, Robert didn’t particularly like the unknown artist’s painting. He owned hundreds of finer and more famous paintings. He had merely looked at it a little longer whenever it caught his eye, and when he’d happened to need a name for the guest room, that title had come to mind.

When he said as much, Christopher burst out laughing.

“Come on, Your Grace the Duke. Don’t let your pride get in the way—just admit it already. The way I see it, you like that painting.”