Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 156

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 156
Chapter Title: Hidden Truths
-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Me, kill Queen Marguerite? What on earth are you talking about!”

Countess Rubina exclaimed, startled.

“Fine, I was a suspect before because I looked suspicious, but if the queen died yesterday… how could I have possibly killed Queen Marguerite while I'm stuck in here!”

“Do you know someone named Strozzi?”

A look of alarm flashed across Countess Rubina's face.

“S-Strozzi? Why?”

Cesare sighed. *So she really does know him. This woman... what in the world has she gotten herself into?*

“Mother. You must tell me everything, without hiding a single thing.”

Tense, Countess Rubina nodded.

“Strozzi was a merchant who supplied spices to the queen's palace. They say he was a long-term supplier, having done business with them for over fifteen years. Never caused any trouble, and was trustworthy.”

Countess Rubina was also well aware that Strozzi, unlike most merchants, was tight-lipped and always kept his promises.

“Y-yes, that's right. So?”

“Yesterday, Strozzi entered the queen's palace under the pretext of delivering goods, and absurdly, it seems he was allowed through. It's presumed that once inside, he killed the queen's confidante, Lady Carla, then poisoned the queen and fled.”

“What!”

Countess Rubina was aghast. She, too, had a guilty conscience when it came to Strozzi.

“He was bold enough to sign the visitor’s log before committing the act. As soon as the queen was found dead, the Royal Guard sealed the city gates and conducted a thorough search for Strozzi.”

But Strozzi, a merchant who had been based in San Carlo trading spices for over a decade, had already sold off all his assets for a pittance weeks ago. As if mocking the guard for closing the gates too late, he calmly left San Carlo immediately after leaving the palace, and his whereabouts became unknown.

“That man, he definitely has someone backing him. Not only would he be unable to commit such a brazen crime alone, but disappearing so completely is impossible.”

The entire country began searching for him, but the chances of catching a criminal who couldn't be found in the capital, where security was relatively tight, were low outside the city.

“There are more problems. The queen wasn't stabbed; she was poisoned. And that poison…”

“…was the same as the arsenic I had.”

With a gesture of resignation, Countess Rubina leaned her forehead against the iron bars.

“Of course it was. I bought that arsenic from Strozzi.”

Ugh. Cesare let out a groan of anguish. He continued.

“To make it easy to detect, the leftover portion was conveniently left in a cup next to the body. And that’s not all. There’s more infuriating news.”

Count Cesare’s voice was filled with irritation.

“You remember your maid? The one who accused you.”

“Yes, that insolent wench.”

“That maid testified that you and the merchant Strozzi had a long-standing business relationship, and that you cherished him as if he were your own right hand.”

Rubina couldn't contain her anger and shook the iron bars.

“That's not true!”

“I'm well aware it's not true.”

Cesare sneered, even in this situation.

“I know better than anyone about your brilliant judge of character and your palm-sized circle of friends. Strozzi wasn't your confidant. I've never even heard his name.”

Countess Rubina’s hobby was to torture her son with trivial stories about everyone around her.

If Cesare didn't listen for hours to her tales about her acquaintances or her curses and laments about Leo III, she would fly into a rage.

Whether he wanted to or not, Count Cesare was intimately familiar with the people in Countess Rubina’s life.

“Demand a confrontation! Strozzi is not my confidant!”

“Unfortunately, that’s impossible. After giving her testimony, the maid bit her own tongue and killed herself in her cell.”

Cesare added.

“I immediately sent people to track down her family. Turns out they all moved away last month without a word.”

“This… What is all this…”

Facing his trembling mother, Count Cesare stated the dry conclusion.

“We’ve been trapped.”

“I told you from the beginning I didn't kill her! You finally believe me.”

“It's not as if you're a particularly trustworthy character, Mother.”

“You damned brat! Shut your mouth!”

Cesare ignored the frantic Countess Rubina and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Someone planned this from the very beginning with the intention of framing you.”

“…But who!”

“How should I know? If anyone should know, it’s you. Haven’t you made any enemies?”

Countess Rubina’s expression darkened at his words. She had made countless minor enemies, but she prided herself on one thing: she always knew who she could and couldn't cross.

The only superior with whom Countess Rubina had maintained an openly hostile relationship was Queen Marguerite.

“I… I don’t know.”

“And after all that boasting.”

“You ungrateful wretch! This is what I get for raising a son!”

Cesare felt as if his head were about to split open.

“Mother, what will screaming at me now change?”

“You… you! The least you could do is be good to your own mother!”

“Right now, the only person who can get you out of here is this ‘ungrateful wretch,’ so you’d better keep quiet.”

He left his mother behind the iron bars and spun around. His cape billowed, stirring up dust in the cell.

It was a disheveled appearance, uncharacteristic of Count Cesare, who was always dressed in luxurious clothes, sipping wine in opulent salons during the day. Countess Rubina coughed.

After finally stopping her coughs, Countess Rubina called out to her son in a pitiful voice.

“Cesare.”

“…What is it.”

“You’ll be back soon, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

His voice was heavy with the fatigue and irritation of someone who desperately wanted to abandon it all and run but couldn't. The iron door slammed shut behind his retreating, shadowed back.

*Clang!*

***

Alfonso de Carlo, Queen Marguerite’s only blood relative, stood like a statue, keeping vigil in the Hall of Glass at Palazzo Carlo where his mother lay in state.

Queen Marguerite, having drawn her last breath, looked as peaceful as if she were asleep, save for her pale complexion and unnaturally stiff skin. She was laid in a beautiful marble casket, surrounded by white lilies, the symbol of her homeland.

All the riches and glory of the world enveloped Queen Marguerite. But her son, Prince Alfonso, knew better than anyone. His mother’s life had not been a happy one. Queen Marguerite's entire existence had been the pitiful struggle of a princess crushed by duty.

“My deepest condolences.”

“Marquis Chigi. Thank you for coming. My mother would have been pleased.”

Exchanging hollow greetings, he had already met nearly a hundred nobles. Today was reserved for the royal family’s relatives, the dukes, marquises, counts, and other high-ranking nobility.

Prince Alfonso was to remain here until the end of the day to receive the mourners, and then, according to protocol, he would be absent tomorrow and the day after.

Those who arrived late and the lower nobility would pay their respects tomorrow and the next day, when the casket would be watched over by palace officials rather than immediate family.

Afterward, the queen’s casket would be moved to the San Ercole Basilica, where it would lie for eighteen days for the public to mourn and pay their respects. On the twenty-first day after her passing, a memorial mass would be held, and she would be interred in the royal cemetery, the Santuario dei Reale Morti.

Prince Alfonso was tasked with overseeing the entire funeral process. It was the first official duty he had ever managed on his own. His own mother's funeral.

“Your Highness, the seating chart for the funeral is complete. If you could please review it…”

“I will look at it after the flow of mourners thins out a bit.”

“It needs to be approved by the end of the day so the related materials can be ordered. I will return shortly.”

There was no time to grieve; he was swamped with duties. Prince Alfonso took a deep breath and received the next mourner. The line was exceedingly long. Prince Alfonso felt firsthand just how many high nobles there were in San Carlo. It was a very long day.

***

“So that’s what happened…”

Ariadne was able to grasp the gist of the situation from the information she had gathered through Cardinal de Mare and the Valdesal siblings. Giulia and Raphael de Valdesal were now sitting in Ariadne's drawing room, discussing the events.

“They say the queen’s assassin has vanished without a trace.”

“It will be difficult to catch him now, won’t it, brother?”

“If he’s left the city of San Carlo, we’d have to assume it’s impossible unless he’s extremely unlucky.”

Giulia couldn't understand why her brother insisted on tagging along to see her friend, but their mother, delighted that the homebody was finally going out, had insisted, so she had no choice but to bring him.

Now that he was here, she was both proud and annoyed to find that the brother she thought was useless was actually quite insightful and could hold a proper conversation, which made his usual idle behavior all the more infuriating.

“And…”

Raphael began to speak.

“I came here in person to tell you this, Ariadne.”

It was too sensitive a matter to commit to paper.

“What is it?”

Giulia furrowed her brow and glared at her brother. *Seriously, if he’d just told me to pass on the message, I would have done it discreetly. Does he not trust me that much?*

Unaware of his sister's thoughts, or perhaps simply not caring, Raphael lowered his voice and spoke.

“The man identified as the assassin, ‘Strozzi,’ is not his real name. He was an outsider who came and settled in San Carlo more than fifteen years ago.”

Ariadne’s eyes gleamed.

“Did they say where he was from?”

“It has not yet been confirmed. The latest report suggests he’s from the north. It could be the Kingdom of Gallico, the Grand Duchy of Sternheim, or one of the smaller surrounding states. They say he actively concealed his origins.”

The number of foreigners living in Etruscan was roughly split between people from Gallico and Acereto; there were not many from the Grand Duchy of Sternheim or the Northern Ducal Federation.

*Statistically… it’s highly likely he’s from Gallico.*

“If you find out, could you let me know as well?”

“Of course, Ariadne.”

It would be an excellent reason to visit the de Mare Grand Duchy, so there was no reason for Raphael to refuse.

“What is the situation at the royal palace?”

As the House of Valdesal was part of the high nobility, they were able to pay their respects on the first day Queen Marguerite lay in state in the hall.

Marquis Valdesal himself was originally in charge of administration and domestic affairs, holding some duties at the palace, but with the queen's sudden death, his workload had exploded.

Thus, it was Raphael, the young marquis, who had officially attended the mourning as the family's representative.

“Given the suddenness of the event, things seem to be in chaos. His Majesty the King and the Royal Guard seem preoccupied with grasping the situation, while all funeral procedures are being overseen by Prince Alfonso. Countess Rubina remains imprisoned…”

"Preoccupied with grasping the situation" was a polite way of saying the King was not paying much attention to his wife’s funeral. He had not even kept vigil as her husband on the first day of mourning.

Ariadne’s expression grew complicated.

“I hope the culprit is caught.”

“I agree.”

“I truly do.”

After a brief silence, she looked up at Raphael as if she had something to say. Raphael tensed, feeling the blood rush to his face. He hadn't known her for long, but Ariadne never hesitated when she spoke; she was always direct. *What important thing is she about to say?*

“Is there something you wish to say?”

Raphael asked, desperately hoping he wasn't blushing. Damn his albinism. His fair skin revealed his emotions all too clearly.

Ariadne opened her mouth with difficulty.

“…How was Prince Alfonso, by any chance?”

“Ah.”

Raphael felt the blood drain from his face.