Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 154

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 154
Chapter Title: Quarrel
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Count Cesare interrogated the palace attendant.

“What on earth could my mother have done to end up in the dungeon!”

For nearly thirty years, Countess Rubina had been, in name and in fact, Leo III's most favored woman. Such a long reign was rare even in history. This meant their relationship was remarkably stable and strong, and that Countess Rubina would not be imprisoned over some trivial matter.

“Well...”

The Countess's attendant stammered, barely managing to deliver the news.

“She was dragged to the dungeon for investigation on suspicion of attempting to poison Her Majesty, Queen Marguerite...”

“Poisoning the queen?!”

Cesare was incredulous, yet he inwardly conceded the point. Poisoning the queen was something he had never imagined, but it seemed exactly the kind of thing his mother was more than capable of doing.

- “You must become king!”

If Countess Rubina's absurd obsession were put into action, such an outcome seemed entirely possible.

‘Honestly, she should have at least asked me before doing something like this!’

If she had, Cesare would have clung to his mother's skirt and begged her not to.

‘We're well-fed and comfortable, why would she pull a stunt like that!’

He wouldn't refuse the throne if it were offered, but it was certainly not something to attempt by taking such a reckless risk. The timing was wrong, and the method was wrong. If she wanted to make him king, she should have poisoned Alfonso. Why go after Queen Marguerite?

His doubts lay elsewhere.

“But the dungeon? Not the West Tower?”

“Yes...”

This meant that Leo III was truly, utterly, furiously angry. But every cloud has a silver lining, and the dungeon was not entirely a bad thing.

“Let's go. This is actually perfect.”

“What? The countess's imprisonment?”

“Of course not!”

The West Tower was part of the palace and under Queen Marguerite's direct jurisdiction, but the head of the Kingdom of Etruscan's judicial system, including the dungeon, happened to be Count Contarini, Ottavio's father. The dungeon was within Cesare's reach.

“Send someone to fetch Ottavio right now.”

“Do you mean the young Lord Ottavio de Contarini?”

“Yes! Tell him to run here so fast his feet catch fire!”

Cesare carelessly set down the glass of sparkling wine he was about to drink anywhere on the terrace, summoned an attendant, and donned his cloak. He acted with the certainty that Ottavio de Contarini would arrive at the speed of light.

“I'm going to see my mother.”

***

After using Ottavio like a human key to bypass three dungeon guards who insisted he couldn't, Cesare entered the prison and grimaced at the musty smell that assaulted his nose.

- Clang!

The iron door slammed shut behind Count Cesare. Inside was a cell separated from the corridor by iron bars. It was a solitary cell, separated from the other prisoners by stone walls rather than just bars. It seemed they had at least considered Countess Rubina's status by giving her a private cell.

“Who is it?”

Countess Rubina, who had her eyes closed, asked. Cesare replied.

“It's me, Mother.”

At the sound of his voice, the countess's face lit up. She shot up, her eyes wide, and clung to the iron bars.

“Cesare!”

Count Cesare stared blankly at his mother. Having just been imprisoned, Countess Rubina was still relatively neat compared to the other inmates.

Cesare clicked his tongue and said.

“Mother, why on earth did you do it?”

Countess Rubina cried out in a shrill voice.

“You too? You don't believe me either? I didn't do it!”

Cesare replied with irritation.

“Are you going to lie to me, too? I need to know the situation if I'm going to help you!”

“I'm telling you, it wasn't me!”

Countess Rubina retorted angrily. Cesare asked his mother.

“Mother, what about the vial of arsenic? They said they found it in your room.”

“...”

“Don't try to hide it from me. I know that fortune-teller was putting ideas in your head.”

He was referring to the gypsy fortune-teller Ariadne had chased away to the Moorish Empire. Hearing that her son knew that much, Countess Rubina gasped.

“...Yes, it's true I had real arsenic, not just Salvarsan.”

Countess Rubina answered, her voice somewhat deflated. It was unlike her.

“It's also true the gypsy fortune-teller kept telling me to watch for the right time and act. I won't deny what happened.”

But she couldn't hide her sense of injustice and burst out in frustration.

“But I lost contact with the gypsy during the winter! When I returned to San Carlo from Taranto, she was nowhere to be found! The ungrateful wretch!”

“So you trusted the words of a runaway fortune-teller and poisoned the queen?”

“I told you no! Do you think your mother is some kind of idiot!”

Countess Rubina continued, seething.

“It's true I acquired the arsenic a long time ago. I had it. But I swear to God, I was not the one who used the poison this time!”

Cesare looked down at his mother with an indifferent expression.

“Fine. Let's say you didn't do it.”

His tone suggested he didn't believe in his mother's innocence in the slightest.

“So, do you think His Majesty, the esteemed Leo III, will be persuaded by your story?”

“...!”

At the luncheon, Countess Rubina had clung to Leo III in front of everyone, only to be miserably cast aside.

“Mother, I heard you brought up the Salvarsan in front of everyone.”

“That was...!”

Countess Rubina's face turned beet red. She had blurted it out in a panic. Now, rumors would be all over San Carlo that the King had the Montpellier disease.

“Since you were the one to bring it up, His Majesty the King is undoubtedly furious. That's probably why you're sitting here instead of in the West Tower. How is bringing up Salvarsan any different from announcing to the whole world that 'His Majesty the King has the Montpellier disease'?”

A promiscuous degenerate receiving divine punishment.

An imperfect leper with a short lifespan.

This was how the people of San Carlo viewed those with syphilis. It was a disease that could never be admitted for a monarch, who was meant to be both moral and robust. Furthermore, as the ruler of the Kingdom of Etruscan, long the heartland of the Yesaptic faith, Leo III had a duty to be a devout Yesaptic monarch.

“It might be better to just confess you did it in a fit of jealousy and beg for forgiveness.”

“Cesare, you little bastard...!”

Countess Rubina flared up, but Cesare remained indifferent.

“I'm just stating the reality of the situation.”

“You ungrateful, thankless brat!”

Cesare grew annoyed.

“Let's just say everything you're saying is true, Mother.”

His tone didn't hold an ounce of belief.

“But if you insist you've done nothing wrong now, do you really think Father will even register it?”

Cesare had an uncanny ability to read Leo III's moods. This was partly because he greatly resembled his father, and partly because growing up as an illegitimate son had made reading people his only survival strategy. And as Cesare saw it now, there was no way to appease the pride-wounded Leo III.

‘Even I wouldn't be able to calm down.’

“Anyway, stop talking nonsense and just stay put.”

“What did you say?”

Countess Rubina, who had expected her son to at least offer a useful plan or some comfort, if not get her out immediately, trembled with a sense of betrayal. But Cesare was not a completely ungrateful child like the de Mare siblings under Lucrezia.

“I'll figure something out. Don't say anything unnecessary to provoke His Majesty, and don't give them a reason to start any strange investigations. You just keep your mouth shut and stay quiet, Mother.”

Count Cesare immediately turned to leave the cell.

“Cesare!”

“If you need anything, tell the guard. They'll relay the message to me. Count Contarini is in charge, so they won't harass you too much. If they do, just endure it for a while.”

“You damn brat!”

“I'll be back, so just be quiet.”

Her son walked out of the prison without a backward glance.

- Thud!

The heavy iron door closed.

***

After the attempt on the queen's life, the Queen's Palace was under lockdown. Only members of the Queen's household could enter, and no one from the main palace was allowed near. This was out of fear that they might be one of Countess Rubina's minions.

In addition to the knights in blue surcoats who normally guarded the queen, knights of the Royal Guard in red surcoats had been brought in, patrolling on a strict schedule. The atmosphere was tense, on the verge of exploding.

In the head lady-in-waiting's lounge, which was connected to the queen's chambers, Lady Carla was reading *Meditations* with a grim expression. Queen Marguerite was taking an afternoon nap in her chambers, so Carla needed something to pass the time while she waited to be summoned.

She seemed unable to concentrate, as it took her over ten minutes to turn a single page.

- Knock, knock.

“Lady Carla, there is someone requesting to see you.”

An attendant's voice called from outside. Lady Carla closed *Meditations* and asked.

“A visitor? In a situation like this?”

“It is a Mr. Strozzi, the spice merchant.”

Lady Carla's eyebrows shot up.

“What is that man doing in the palace!”

“It's the regular payment day, and he requested a meeting, saying there seems to be an error in the payment from the palace. He seemed to be in a hurry... and it is the usual time for his visit...”

He was the last person who should be showing up here right now. But he was also someone she needed to talk to.

‘The nerve of him, showing his face here!’

She was about to harshly scold the attendant and have Mr. Strozzi thrown out, but she changed her mind and spoke in a low voice, clenching her teeth.

“Show him into the reception room.”

Lady Carla moved from the head lady-in-waiting's lounge to a business office just across the hall. It was a practical room with a desk and stacks of ledgers, a place that normally wouldn't be allowed near the queen's chambers, but it had been converted from a small storage room with Queen Marguerite's permission.

As soon as Lady Carla sat down, a middle-aged man of medium height entered the office. The moment she confirmed he had closed the door, Lady Carla raised her voice.

“This isn't what we agreed upon!”

She snapped in the Gallican tongue, but "Mr. Strozzi," despite his Etruscan surname, replied in equally fluent Gallican.

“Whoa, whoa. Lady Dieudonné. It seems losing your surname has cost you your noble blood as well. Mind your dignity.”

"Dieudonné" was the surname Lady Carla's original family had used before they were stripped of their noble status for treason. Lady Carla, unable to hide her anger, shot back.

“How on earth did you get in here!”

“Isn't this the position you arranged for me? A trustworthy spice merchant with a long history of dealing with the royal family. The more chaotic the times, the more you need to source your pepper from a reliable supplier who's never caused a single incident.”

He replied with a chuckle, and Lady Carla felt the urge to kill "Mr. Strozzi."

“Trustworthy, my foot! You utter fraud! Is this how you repay my favor?!”

Her face pale with rage, she condemned the man sitting before her.

“What did you tell me? You clearly said it was just like vinegar, that it wouldn't harm Her Majesty. You said if I wanted to get rid of Countess Rubina, I should put it in the food at a meal where the queen and the countess were together!”

The man, not at all flustered, picked his ear and replied.

“Didn't you get what you wanted? Poor Countess Rubina is rotting in the dungeon right now. What's the complaint?”

He didn't bother telling Lady Carla, but Mr. Strozzi and his cronies had even provided thorough after-sales service. They had planted one of Countess Rubina's maids to seal her fate with a decisive testimony. But Lady Carla was livid.

“Rubina's dog licked it and died on the spot, spewing blood from all seven orifices! I almost killed Her Majesty with my own hands!”

“...Is there anything in this world that goes exactly as planned? There's no such thing as perfectly warm soup—it's either too hot or too cold.”

“W-what did you say?”

Lady Carla, who had expected to hear at least an explanation like 'there was a misunderstanding' or 'that wasn't our intention,' was so taken aback by his unabashed confidence that she stammered.

"Mr. Strozzi" leaned forward with a cynical smile.

“Look.”