TLSD 26

Chapter 26

“Did you finish your talk with your father?”

“The Marquess of Hoffmann seems to take Aquitaine quite seriously.”

“…My father dropped by today on his own accord, entirely unrelated to my intentions. You must have been exhausted right after returning from your journey, so please allow me to apologize on his behalf. I tried repeatedly to stop him, but it was beyond my control. I am truly sorry.”

Carlos waved a dismissive hand, as if it were of no consequence, and rubbed his heavy eyelids.

He had been utterly exhausted dealing with the Marquess of Hoffmann, who had shown up in person carrying the marriage contract from late last night straight through dawn.

“Just in case you’re wondering, the conditions in that marriage contract are not my doing.”

“I know. You’ve always said you loathe the very idea of marriage.”

Gritta kept pace with Carlos’s long strides, halting for a fraction of a second to grip her cravat. Her fist tightened.

“……Frankly speaking, Senior, you were the one who despised the thought of marriage the most. You couldn’t stand women throwing themselves at you just for a title. And all of them were drop-dead gorgeous, too. If I were a man, I would’ve swept one right off her feet. Such a waste.”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

“I’ve never had any interest in playing at romance.”

Molten iron hissed and spat from dozens of blazing furnaces. Carlos and Gritta skillfully picked their way across the scorching pathways between the heat.

The sharp, rhythmic clanging of hammers striking horseshoes pierced the air. The elderly blacksmith laughed aloud as he stretched out a molten strip of metal like a roll of dough.

Amidst the deafening roar of the workshop, conversation between the two quickly faded into silence.

Maintaining a half-step interval, Gritta gave his back a light, casual pat.

“Senior. How about a round of beer today? My treat.”

“You don’t even drink.”

“It’s just too hot out. I figured I’d live a little.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow and let out a dry chuckle.

“I don’t have the time to join you. I’ll cover the expenses, so go blow off some steam. I hear plenty of your academy peers are currently staying in Schweitz.”

Gritta stared at him intently for a moment before giving a slow nod.

She looked down at the dainty, toy-like daggers Carlos was sorting through.

Carefully stroking her own thick wrists and glancing down at her heavily muscled chest, her expression hardened. The exact moment Carlos picked up a turquoise-tinted dagger, she quickly curved her lips back into a smile.

“How about introducing my peers or juniors to the young lady of Aquitaine?”

“…What?”

“Since she’s still technically engaged to you, we could start by casually breaking the ice. The young lady of Aquitaine loves her drinks and adores male attention, so I’m sure she’d jump at the chance.”

Gritta spoke as casually as discussing the weather, handing the blacksmith a sword that needed repairs.

“Come to think of it, she chats effortlessly with the squire knights and flashes smiles at everyone. She’s a remarkably friendly lady.”

Holding the dagger inlaid with a turquoise stone, Carlos gazed at Gritta with an unreadable expression.

“I’m cut from the same cloth as you, Senior, so honestly, I don’t understand ladies who obsess over love and marriage.”

Gritta chuckled, her brows twitching slightly.

“Yet seeing her constantly batting her eyelashes and trying so hard to win everyone’s affection tugs at my heartstrings. It almost looks like a desperate cry for validation. That’s why I want to introduce a decent man to her as soon as possible.”

While fire leaped high from the wood logs tossed by the blacksmith—performing tricks with the blazing metal—Carlos said nothing, casting only a massive, dark shadow against the wall.

Gritta inspected the jewels on the dagger, shook her head with a wry smile as if there was no helping it, and continued.

“Still, it’s a relief that the young lady of Aquitaine is easily satisfied as long as someone shows her a bit of affection. She’s far more willing to lean on just about any man than you’d expect, and she isn’t picky at all. She’s truly bright and naive.”

Gritta picked up an identical dagger to the one Carlos was holding, a warm smile gracing her features.

“This would suit the young lady of Aquitaine quite well. Would it be alright if I gifted it to her?”

❖ ❖ ❖

“…Son of a—you absolute bastard.”

The bicycle, laden with book bundles and bags of fruit, flipped over directly onto a bed of blooming white lilacs.

Beneath a weeping willow whose long branches trailed down to touch the muddy earth, Elio curled into a tight ball, as if trying to hide her entire body among the dense foliage.

“Hiccup. You complete, utter… bastard… You son of a bitch. Hiccup. You said you’d… you’d set things straight.”

The moment her eyes landed once more on the newspaper someone had discarded on a bench, muffled sobs broke through her tightly clamped lips.

Lübeck Grace Gospel

The Price of the Trashy Fallen Lady: What is Aquitaine’s Penalty for Violating Schweitz?

42 Pro-Emperor Lawmakers Issue Joint Statement Opposing the Marriage.

“A marriage with an unprecedented commoner criminal who has degraded a noble man directly violates holy scripture… Words cannot express our dismay at seeing moral standards degenerate to the level of the Kingdom of Cyprus…”

— Marquis Durrant, Minister of Justice

Elio muttered in absolute disbelief, her face contorting wildly.

“M… Molested… Molested…”

How on earth could she possibly have molested a man whose entire body felt like a walking weapon?

She couldn’t fathom that such an absurd fabrication had prompted the Pro-Emperor faction to issue an official statement of opposition.

Rubbing her hot, swollen eyes, Elio forced herself to look at the newspaper lying to her right.

Cyprus Starlight Companion

The Woman of Schweitz’s Young Duke: Aquitaine’s Shocking Plot Twist—She Is Innocent!

Bashing the Holy Union is the Ultimate Arrogance Against the Divine Will.

“A sacred union forged through pure, dazzling allure must not be smeared by branding a helpless lamb a criminal without a scrap of evidence… The Lübeck nobility, who continuously trash a woman’s active sexual self-determination, deserve to rot in their archaic parochialism for the rest of their lives…”

— High Priest Foucault of Cyprus

Beneath a series of sensational headlines, church interviews and an engraving of her own portrait were splashed across the page.

With an expression of pure absurdity, Elio swiped the newspaper aside in disgust.

Even the cool breeze blowing in from the stream failed to soothe the burning heat in her cheeks. Her eyes, rubbed raw, stung painfully, and her head spun with a dizzying ache.

Biting back her tears with shallow, ragged breaths, Elio gazed up past the stream at the steep, imposing silhouette of the ducal castle.

…How on earth am I supposed to dispute this…?

Quietly subduing her sobs, she stared at the castle for a long time before letting her head drop.

What if he demands his money back? What if he decides to find a different young lady instead? What about the house? Do I have to return the money I spent on the bicycle, too? Is a refund even possible?

Elio’s swollen eyes blinked rapidly.

I mean, I don’t strictly need to ride a bicycle anyway. The Papal State is close enough, so I could just leave on foot…

Staring blankly at the dirt-caked tires of her bicycle, she wiped away a falling tear with a frayed sleeve and crawled over to the fallen bike.

She pulled out a scrap of tissue jammed between the spokes, rolled up her soaked sleeve, and tried scrubbing away the black grime clinging to the wheel.

Grrr…

Her stomach let out a most inopportune, rumbling growl. The tears she had managed to hold back welled up all over again.

“A loaf of bread costs a whole nine thousand shillings? It’s—hiccup—it’s a complete rip-off.”

Was keeping her alive really this astronomically expensive? It was so wildly expensive that it made her want to cry.

❖ ❖ ❖

“My Lord. I have confirmed that the Marquess of Hoffmann has completely departed Schweitz. You may finally rest in peace—!”

The butler entered the study with a bright, beaming smile, looking like a man who had finally relieved a deep-seated indigestion, before abruptly freezing in his tracks.

At the sight of the master illuminated by the afternoon sun, the old man’s white eyebrows trembled.

On Carlos’s sturdy neck, there was a vivid scratch mark that looked suspiciously like it had been carved by a woman’s fingernails. The collar of his tunic was smudged with strawberry juice and smeared lipstick.

“…I thought you said you were just going to the blacksmith’s.”

“I did.”

“…Did you stop by Madame’s villa as well?”

“Yeah.”

Carlos shoved a stack of books on dragon lore to the side and indifferently flipped through a report.

Rubbing his drooping eyelids, the butler set down a green envelope and a small box. A low, suppressed voice escaped his lips.

“…I’m begging you to rest. Take a nap, at least. Leave Madame’s affairs to the maids, please—”

“What’s that?”

Carlos cut him off mid-sentence.

“…It is an urgent dispatch sent by Her Imperial Highness. A parcel arrived alongside it as well.”

At the butler’s gloomy tone, Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose.

Just looking at the obnoxious, pig-pink ribbon tied to the green envelope made the Princess’s shrill, screeching voice echo inside his head, causing a throbbing headache.

“And Aquitaine?”

“…She is currently riding her bicycle and amusing herself.”

Carlos let out a dry huff of laughter, unclasped the golden bracelet stamped with the ducal family’s winged emblem, and turned his gaze to the edge of the desk.

The white lilacs he had brought into the study still stood fresh and moist. As if they had just bloomed.

Fearing that they might wither the moment he touched them, he hadn’t even dared to lay a finger on them, simply watching over them from afar.

The budding flower heads were so impossibly tiny and clustered together that he half-wondered if they were even fully grown flowers at all; they looked as though they might crumble at the slightest poke.

Did she actually manage to perform real purification? Well, you couldn’t possibly judge someone’s true skill over a few days, but still…

Following Carlos’s gaze, the butler stared at the white lilacs with dark, troubled eyes.

“…My Lord. Do you intend to continue your relationship with the young lady of Aquitaine?”

“Why?”

“Isn’t she Valentine’s daughter?”

“Did Valentine give birth to Elio all by herself? Her face is the spitting image of Yunus. She takes entirely after her father.”

Carlos curved the corner of his lips into a cynical smirk as he stared at the white lilacs.

How on earth did she manage to inherit none of her mother’s stubborn tenacity while taking entirely after her father’s pretty face…? Though her father might have been dainty, he was at least built like a brick wall.

Since she inherited those looks, I suppose Elio owes a debt of gratitude to Valentine, who always had a soft spot for pretty men.

“…She is the daughter of a treacherous woman whom even the gods cannot forgive—the daughter of a spy who deceived us for over a decade, no less. You must keep your distance from her. It is a fateful ill-wind that you can never truly approach.”

“I hear the gods forgave her quite graciously. They’ve abolished generational guilt, apparently.”

At Carlos’s nonchalant retort, the butler’s pale face hardened further.

“My Lord. A mistress is entirely out of the question as well. Do you wish to see tears of blood flowing from these old eyes?”

His fingertips trembling, the butler began to shed fat, miserable tears.

Faced with the old butler’s suddenly erupting, melodramatic despair, Carlos let out a disbelieving laugh.

“A mistress? For a kid?”

“My Lord! Then why on earth did you prepare a master bedroom suite?!”

The butler widened his wrinkled eyes, as if warning Carlos not to try and fool him.

“Tch. Anyone listening would think you were my actual father. I seem to have three fathers now: two crazy ones and one excessively fretful father.”

“My Lord!”

“Relax. I don’t even see her as a woman.”

Glancing at the old butler, who looked ready to break down wailing right then and there, Carlos clicked his tongue.

“Once we call off the engagement, I plan on finding her a decent young noble to marry. I’ll even provide her dowry.”

“……”

“That much is worth the trouble fee.”

Gazing at the white lilac petals, Carlos pulled out a cigar between his lips and took a deep, slow drag.

“Since she’s still technically engaged to you, we could start by casually breaking the ice… The young lady of Aquitaine loves her drinks and adores male attention…”

“…seeing her constantly batting her eyelashes and trying so hard to win everyone’s affection…”