Chapter 108

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: The Line You Shouldn't Cross
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“Lariesa de Valois.”

Alfonso's voice was low and subdued, but a raw fury simmered within it.

“Do not cross the line.”

Startled by Prince Alfonso's unfamiliar demeanor, Lariesa halted the tantrum she was about to throw. But his words stung deeply! How dare he tell her not to cross the line!

“To me, of all people! Are you drawing a line and telling me not to cross it? I am the woman who will be your queen! Our two kingdoms are in the midst of negotiations!”

“And the signature line on that contract is still blank.”

Alfonso clenched his jaw, swallowing the harsher words he wanted to say to Lariesa, and conveyed his meaning in more refined language.

“Stop acting as if you’re somebody.”

Shocked, Lariesa stumbled, losing her balance. This was a stone building made of sandstone; a fall could have seriously injured her. But Alfonso simply stood with his arms crossed, watching her coldly.

*Good heavens, I nearly fell, and he didn't even try to catch me…!*

Her heart sank. Lariesa had crossed the towering Prynoac Mountains to reach the Kingdom of Etruscan, all to meet Prince Alfonso, despite her delicate female constitution. She was of noble birth. Though not a direct descendant of the royal family, this negotiation would likely grant her the right of succession. As a rule, those with a claim to the throne did not cross national borders. As this thought struck her, Lariesa's anger erupted.

“We are destined to be together! My father, Grand Duke Eudes, a loyal guardian of the royal family, and His Majesty King Philippe IV of Gallico both wish it!”

She had also heard of the terms the Kingdom of Etruscan had proposed in the marriage negotiations.

“Do you truly believe Etruscan can establish itself on the central continent without Gallico's cannons?”

*CRACK!* The sandstone corridor of the Taranto Winter Palace shook with a deafening roar. Unable to bring himself to strike a woman, the enraged Alfonso had stomped his foot.

“Lariesa de Valois.”

He glared fiercely at the Grand Duchess Lariesa and said.

“You are not a sovereign's daughter, but merely a card on the negotiating table.”

Lariesa had expected some trivial retort like, 'Don't meddle in my affairs until we are married.' She had been about to reply, 'You will be mine eventually, so don't resist so pointlessly.' But she was taken aback by the fury erupting from a completely unexpected direction, and she stared blankly at Alfonso, her eyes wide.

“No one speaks to the Etruscan royal family that way. Not your high-and-mighty father, and certainly not your precious eighth cousin, Philippe IV, whom you hold in such high regard. He wouldn't dare.”

He was saying that not even the Grand Duke of Valois or the King of Gallico could command—no, threaten—an heir to the Etruscan throne.

“A sovereign nation is not subservient to another. The sovereignty of a nation can only be represented by its monarch. You, who are neither my sovereign nor even one of my people, cannot command me on what Etruscan should or should not do, no matter what paltry authority you hide behind.”

Alfonso glared at Lariesa, his eyes blazing blue with fury.

“The only reasons I do not have you flogged and thrown out of the country this instant are, first, because you are a guest of Etruscan, and second, because I pity you.”

Ever since deciding to reject Lariesa, Alfonso had felt a sense of guilt toward her. After all, she had traveled to this distant land, believing in their proposed marriage. If the engagement fell through and she returned home, her honor would be tarnished.

“I suggest you disappear from my sight before this paltry pity of mine fades. And the next time we meet, I expect you to have a proper understanding of where the 'line' is.”

Alfonso stared directly at Lariesa and enunciated each word clearly.

“Grand Duchess Lariesa de Valois, who is not yet my fiancée.”

Then, he turned and strode down the corridor. In the red sandstone hall of the Taranto Winter Palace, a single, dumbfounded maiden was left standing alone.

***

The "surprising secret" Maletta had promised was taking a while to be revealed. Not because Maletta was trying to be coy, but because she lacked any sense of pacing and was blurting everything out at once.

“Lady Isabella doesn't have a regular dressmaker these days. Well, she has one, but she buys her hair ornaments somewhere else... She used to frequent the Collezione dress shop, but she was so angry when they turned her away! Just before she was confined, I think she switched to Alfetto, but she got mad because they wouldn't give her an appointment if it conflicted with the Young Lady Valdesar's, since she's a regular there! Ah, since she's been confined, they say she's been throwing fits in her room, but I've been intentionally avoiding that area...”

Her rambling was difficult to follow, and even when one tried to listen, there was little of substance.

“Lady Isabella has a small chest. It's all padding in those bust pockets!”

There were occasional interesting tidbits, but that was all.

“Young Master Ippolito likes bottoms. If I get on all fours and crawl like this...”

There was also completely unnecessary information. Her brother's bedroom preferences were something Ariadne could have gone her entire life without knowing. Sancha grimaced behind her.

“Maybe it's because he has a different father, but Young Master Ippolito's thing is small. It's only this big—and when he brandishes it so triumphantly, it just makes you want to smack him!”

Ariadne, who had been listening idly, suddenly cut Maletta off.

“Wait, say that again.”

“That Young Master Ippolito's thing is small...?”

Maletta, thinking Ariadne wanted specific measurements, raised her hand to demonstrate. Ariadne stopped her again as she was spreading her thumb and middle finger about half a span apart.

“No! Not that, the part before.”

“What was it...? Ah, that Young Master Ippolito has a different father?”

“Yes! That. Tell me more.”

Maletta frowned. Strictly speaking, no one had ever explicitly told her, 'Ippolito's father is not Cardinal de Mare.' It was a conclusion she had pieced together from various bits of gossip, but now she couldn't recall exactly who had said what to lead her to it. She glanced furtively at Ariadne. The young lady was intensely focused—the first sign of interest she had shown since entering the room today. Maletta knew she had to seize this opportunity.

“Well... I overheard Young Master Ippolito talking with Lady Lucrezia, and the young master asked, 'So who is my father?'”

The question Ippolito had actually asked was who Arabella's father was, but in Maletta's mind, it had gotten muddled with Lucrezia's reply.

“Lady Lucrezia slapped the young master repeatedly and yelled something like, 'Who do you think I'm suffering all this for?! Just shut up and live!'”

The details were wrong, but considering the overall context, her answer wasn't entirely inaccurate.

“You didn't hear who it was?!”

“No, that's all I heard...”

Fearing Ariadne would cast her aside after hearing just this, Maletta's dark eyes darted about.

“My lady. If you take me back to the mansion, I'll stick right by the young master's side and dig up the truth.”

Ariadne gazed out the window for a moment. Maletta still failed to grasp her situation objectively. Ippolito would likely never want to see Maletta's face again, and considering Lucrezia's temperament, it was a miracle she had been let out of the house alive. When Ariadne heard that Maletta had been dragged away by Lucrezia's new maid and the household's strongmen, she had sent Sancha out, thinking there was a fifty-fifty chance Maletta had been killed inside the mansion.

“You're incredibly lucky you made it out of that house with your life.”

Ariadne reminded her. But Maletta, once again, saw the glass as half empty. Realizing that the young lady had no intention of taking her back to the mansion, Maletta began to beg desperately.

“You may not trust me, my lady, and I understand. But I'm the maid who helped you adjust when you first came to the de Mare mansion, aren't I? This time, I'll take good care of you! I'll pledge my loyalty! I can do a good job!”

There was, of course, the issue of loyalty. But the biggest flaw in Maletta's plan was that no matter what she did, Ippolito would never keep her by his side. Still, there was no need to correct Maletta's delusion.

“I have a condition.”

At Ariadne's words, Maletta looked up and exclaimed passionately.

“Yes, yes! Anything!”

“You remember the incident at the débutante ball, when the hook on my dress broke.”

Maletta's face went pale. Ariadne continued, putting on the kindest expression she could muster.

“I'm not trying to punish you now. That was Isabella's doing, wasn't it?”

This much, she could affirm. Maletta nodded eagerly.

“It was! It was! Lady Isabella tampered with the 'hook' you were using, my lady! She had Maria plant it!”

Ariadne's smile deepened slightly.

“Was Maria in on it too?”

Maletta realized she had misspoken.

“No, not at all. Maria just brought the item she was told to. She took it without even knowing what it was.”

She had to be the only one who could testify. If there were two of them, her value would drop. Irreplaceability was the only trait that guaranteed high wages, was it not? In some ways, Maletta's mind worked very quickly. And besides, it was true that Maria didn't know the full story.

“I'm the only one who knows that Lady Isabella ordered someone to 'make a hook from silver mixed with lead'!”

Maletta added, "Maria never even saw the hem of Lady Isabella's dress."

“I'll testify for you. I will testify before His Eminence, Cardinal de Mare, without leaving out a single detail!”

Ariadne smiled. *This Maletta, she gets it.*

“In return, please make me Young Master Ippolito's wife!”

*…I take back my assessment that she gets it.*

Ariadne nearly slapped her forehead. Maletta was far too greedy. That was impossible, no matter what she did. It was obvious that Ippolito would throw a fit and refuse, even on his deathbed. But there was a more important fact. The long-held dream of Cardinal de Mare and Lucrezia was to marry Ippolito to an heiress with a title. Only then would the de Mare name gain a perpetual domain and title. The Cardinal and his wife would never accept Maletta as Ippolito's legitimate wife. But then again, there was no need to tell Maletta the whole truth.

“That will depend on your performance.”

Ariadne beamed.

“If I get the results I want, I will tell Father that you should marry my brother Ippolito. I hold all the authority over the household ledgers now, so I am as good as the lady of the house.”

Ideally, a transaction should result in a satisfactory outcome for both parties. That is how business relationships continue. However, such effort was only worth expending on a valuable business partner. Ariadne had no intention of dealing with Maletta for long.

“Just focus on how you're going to testify to persuade His Eminence.”

Ariadne said to Maletta.

“I'll make a place for you in the household. I promise.”