Chapter 111

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: How Much Is a Life Worth in Gold Coins?
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The commoners gathered at the fish market harshly questioned Loretta.

“Are you really a maid from Cardinal de Mare's residence?”

Terrified, Loretta could only shake her head. Unable to get a satisfactory answer from the maid, the people decided to take a more direct approach.

“We'll find out for ourselves!”

“Let's go, to Cardinal de Mare's residence!”

Mr. Scampa, along with vigilantes from Castel Rabico and Comune Nuova, dragged Loretta along as they swarmed toward the de Mare estate. Loretta, unable to even resist, could only shut her eyes tightly as she was dragged away.

* * *

- *Thump, thump, thump!*

“Open the gate!”

The guards at the entrance of the de Mare estate were flustered.

“What is all this? No one without a prior appointment is allowed into the cardinal's residence!”

“Someone is dead, and you're talking about appointments?!”

Amid the chaos, one of the guards recognized Loretta.

“Mrs. Loretta? Why are you being held like that? Did you steal something? Someone's dead!”

“It's true, she's a maid from this house!”

Mr. Scampa, growing even more emboldened, shouted. The vigilantes from the two districts behind him joined in.

“Open the gate!! I must see Cardinal de Mare!!!”

The voices of the enraged men grew louder and louder.

* * *

The guards at the cardinal's residence were well-trained veterans. They resolutely blocked the furious vigilantes. However, they had no choice but to promise they would inform the cardinal.

“We will report today's events to His Eminence the Cardinal.”

“How can we trust you!”

“What will you do if you don't? He is out right now anyway, so you cannot see him. Leave your contact information.”

Mr. Scampa and the vigilantes threatened the guards, demanding they inform Cardinal de Mare without fail. After wrangling with the guards for about three hours, they finally left, vowing to return early the next morning.

The household was in an uproar. The cardinal was at the Basilica of San Ercole and not at home. The first person to hear of this was Ariadne.

“What? People stormed the cardinal's residence, claiming someone was murdered?”

She asked Sancha in surprise.

“Who exactly are these people who stormed in?”

Sancha cautiously informed Ariadne.

“Well, you might know him, my lady...”

“Could it be...?”

Ariadne had a sudden premonition. Waiting for Sancha's next words, she unconsciously glanced down at the tip of her left finger.

“The man who came to protest was Mr. Scampa, the operations manager of the Rambouillet Almshouse. His only daughter is said to have died.”

“Just as I thought...”

There was no connection between Cardinal de Mare's residence and Mr. Scampa's only daughter. This must have happened because Ariadne had left Maletta at the Rambouillet Almshouse.

“Did you check if Maletta is all right?”

“As a matter of fact, as soon as I heard about the commotion with Mr. Scampa, I sent Giuseppe to check.”

Sancha reported what she had learned, her brow furrowed.

“Maletta is nowhere to be found at the Rambouillet Almshouse. And...”

Sancha sighed.

“They say two women died. One is Mr. Scampa's daughter, Paola Scampa, and the other is an unidentified red-haired woman...”

Ariadne took a deep breath. It was just as she thought. This had happened because she pushed Maletta into the Rambouillet Almshouse.

However, the tip of her left ring finger seemed to ache slightly more than usual, but it was minor. It was hard to believe the price of a human life would be so small.

This meant the 'Golden Rule' was not holding Ariadne greatly at fault for these two deaths. In that case, the sin of their deaths must have been caused by someone else's direct actions.

“...Lucrezia has caused trouble.”

“It seems so, doesn't it?”

She quickly weighed the pros and cons.

“I’ve cut off all of Lucrezia’s support, so how on earth did she manage to cause such an incident?”

“The ones who killed Paola Scampa were street vagrants. The kind who roam in gangs, sleep on the streets, and drink...”

“...So she had no one proper to command and hired just anyone, leading to this mess.”

Ariadne, grasping the situation immediately, clicked her tongue.

“Let's see how this plays out. This has gotten bigger than I thought. But crisis is opportunity. I started this to tarnish Ippolito's name, but...”

She looked straight ahead.

“I might just catch a bigger target.”

* * *

Having returned home, Cardinal de Mare let out a deep sigh and stared at the ceiling.

“I’ll never die peacefully.”

Someone in the household had provoked a commoner. Seeing that the maid captured by the commoners was Loretta, that someone was almost certainly Lucrezia. And that commoner happened to be the daughter of a well-respected family. Thanks to that, the local community had gathered en masse to protest in front of the Cardinal de Mare's residence.

“The best way to handle this is to bury it quickly.”

Cardinal de Mare asked his butler, Niccolo, who had just finished his report.

“You said the deceased was the daughter of the almshouse manager, right? A household with an elderly mother and one daughter.”

“Yes, that is correct, Your Eminence.”

“Issue a public apology in my name immediately. The other girl who died was one of our maids, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“In an attempt to discipline a maid who stole and ran away, there was a case of mistaken identity... Ah, damn it. She ordered them to bring back her head, didn't she?”

“...Yes, Your Eminence.”

Without a word, Cardinal de Mare threw the quill pen he was holding. Ink splattered everywhere, staining the pure white cardinal's vestments with black spots.

Cardinal de Mare was a superior who never threw things or resorted to violence, no matter how angry he was. At this rare display of his rage, the butler Niccolo sank his head between his shoulders like a turtle.

“How in the world does that woman keep causing such outlandish trouble? You couldn't do this even if someone paid you to!”

Unable to contain his anger, Cardinal de Mare banged the back of his head against the chair.

“What kind of mind does she have to not only kill a maid but also order her head to be brought back?!”

Niccolo could only bow his head.

“I mean, does she have no idea how that looks to others? Doesn't it seem like something a crazed serial killer would do! Does she not think?”

He shook his fist in anger.

“Who asked her to live a virtuous life? To set an example of piety and benevolence in San Carlo? Is it so difficult to just stay quiet, stay out of sight, and not cause trouble?!”

As the cardinal raged as if he were about to storm over to Lucrezia's, the butler Niccolo calmed him down.

“Your Eminence. I understand your feelings completely, but we must handle the situation first.”

“Agh!”

He slammed his fist on the desk. The slender bones of his fingers struck the mahogany desk, causing a sharp pain. He winced and clutched the back of his hand. Cardinal de Mare took a deep breath and then gave Niccolo a fluid stream of instructions.

“Here's the story. A maid stole something and fled, so we sent people to bring her back. We instructed them not to bring back the wrong person and to confirm the face to ensure they had our maid. However, a miscommunication led to the tragic disaster of her being killed and her head brought back.”

He tapped his fingers on the mahogany desk and continued.

“However, this is, by any measure, entirely the fault of the Cardinal de Mare's residence. The residence offers its most sincere apologies for its failure in managing its people and consoles the aggrieved family in their sorrow.”

He mentally calculated a sum and then asked Niccolo.

“Niccolo. What do you think about paying 200 ducats.”

The butler tilted his head.

“I think that will work. It's a large sum, so won't they accept it?”

“No, no. You said the local cooperative is involved, right?”

“Yes. Castel Rabico and Comune Nuova are backing the bereaved family.”

“Those vultures won't back down for nothing. The family will probably have to show some 'sincerity' to the cooperative. Let's raise the compensation to 300 ducats. When you show generosity, you have to go big so there's no trouble later.”

“Then I will relay your message as you've said, Your Eminence.”

“Good. ‘We express our deepest condolences to the bereaved. We will offer 100 ducats to the family, and 100 to each of the local cooperatives, for a total of 300 ducats.’ You handle it all yourself. I can't trust anyone else.”

Cardinal de Mare leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Punishing Lucrezia, getting angry... now, even these things felt exhausting. He wanted to forget it all and just sleep.

* * *

“Three hundred ducats?!”

The head of the Comune Nuova local cooperative brightened.

“We must accept this. I've never heard of a noble offering such generous compensation. As expected of a clergyman, of His Eminence the Cardinal!”

Comune Nuova was an underdeveloped, low-income area. Naturally, while the district needed a lot of money, the amount its residents could contribute to the cooperative was minimal. The Comune Nuova cooperative was sometimes even late on paying the salaries of its own staff. When salaries weren't paid, the head took the blame. Always suffering from financial difficulties, the head of the Comune Nuova cooperative seized the opportunity and insisted they accept the compensation. Besides, the deceased wasn't even from their district.

The head of the Castel Rabico cooperative just watched the two sides, gauging their reactions. He was neutral, but if Comune Nuova backed out, Castel Rabico would be left to pressure the cardinal's residence alone. That was a burdensome position to be in.

“But my daughter is dead! Are you buying a life with money?”

Mr. Scampa shouted at the head of the Comune Nuova cooperative, his indignation bursting forth.

“No one has come to offer condolences, and there's been no mention of funeral arrangements. This is nothing more than trying to shut us up with money!”

But the head of the Comune Nuova cooperative calmly retorted.

“Sincerity is shown with gold. I've never heard of a noble showing this much sincerity.”

He asked.

“Remember the compensation Marquis Campa gave to that courtesan from Carampane two years ago?”

Fifty ducats. It was said to be an overly generous sum for a young courtesan. The pimp from Carampane had gladly accepted it. But Scampa was furious.

“My daughter was not a girl who sold her body!”

“She was a girl of similar age. No, Paola was older, so isn't her market value actually lower?”

The head of the Comune Nuova cooperative was cold.

“This is an unprecedentedly generous offer. If you don't take it, Scampa, you're a complete fool.”

The head of Castel Rabico also cautiously advised him.

“Mr. Scampa, no one can deny that this is indeed a very generous offer. I understand how the bereaved family feels. You wouldn't want to settle even for a king's ransom. But life doesn't always go as we wish. I just want you to know that this is a very advantageous proposal.”

Mr. Scampa was extremely agitated. The head of Castel Rabico persuaded the head of Comune Nuova to end the meeting for the day.

“Mr. Scampa, think it over carefully tonight. Let's talk again tomorrow.”

The two district heads stood up and left Mr. Scampa's clean but modest living room. After his guests left, Mr. Scampa slumped onto the sofa, completely dazed.

“Paola...”

He wanted nothing. He just wished for his dead daughter to return. His elderly mother came and poked him in the side.

“Snap out of it.”

“Mother?”

“The gentlemen said it’s a good offer, didn’t they? How long are you going to pine over one girl?”

Mr. Scampa's mother was a woman whose greatest achievement in life was giving birth to her youngest son after having seven daughters in a row. She had disapproved of her daughter-in-law, who died after giving birth to only one granddaughter, and she disapproved even more of her son, who raised the granddaughter without remarrying after his wife's death.

“Take it while they're offering.”

“Mother!”

“She was a girl with no particular talents. Her daily wage was two florins! How could you even dream of getting more than 300 ducats?”

A presence was felt at the front door.

“Pardon me for a moment.”

Mr. Scampa and his elderly mother both looked toward the entrance. The voice of a young—no, a girl—rang out from the doorway.

“Of course, a sum higher than 300 ducats is possible.”

A black-haired girl wearing a thick robe stepped into the living room.

She approached the sofa where Mr. Scampa was slumped and bowed her head.

“But a life should be paid for with a life, not with money.”

It was Ariadne, her green eyes sparkling.