Chapter 16

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Awakening
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Lucrezia’s shrill voice drifted through the crack in the door, slowing Ariadne’s steps.

“I can’t do it. It’s too much.”

She was undoubtedly talking about Ariadne. She stopped walking completely. To the anxious maid beside her, Ariadne spoke calmly.

“My stomach suddenly hurts terribly. I think I need to stop by the privy, so go tell the governess that the second young lady will be a little late.”

“But, my lady…!”

“You won’t get into any trouble. Just go and tell her what I said.”

Ariadne unfastened one of her unbecoming pearl earrings and slipped it into the maid’s apron pocket. It was the only pair she owned, but she knew when to be generous.

“And keep your mouth shut about what you saw and heard, even to your mistress. Now, hurry along.”

The bewildered maid, tempted by the pearl earring, soon agreed and left to do as Ariadne had bid. Ariadne pressed herself against a pillar in the hallway and listened intently to the conversation leaking from the Cardinal’s drawing room.

“Goodness, what’s gotten into you now? It was your idea to bring Ariadne here in the first place.”

“That was then, and this is now! The girl is so brazen and stubborn, you have no idea how difficult it is to look after her!”

The Cardinal de Mare’s voice, though exasperated, was trying to soothe Lucrezia.

“Then what will we tell Count Cesare? He subtly brings it up every time we meet at High Mass.”

“He was the one who asked for Isabella in the first place. Do you really think he’ll back down if we offer him someone like Ariadne? You need to think of a better way! You’re good at that sort of thing! I can’t live with that girl.”

“If you can’t live with her, we could just marry her off to Count Cesare quickly.”

- ‘…!’

Just as she heard this, a presence stirred at the far end of the corridor. Startled, Ariadne quickly moved away from the drawing-room door, feigning a casual stroll. The newcomers were maids on their way to clean. Seemingly not noticing anything amiss, they curtsied to Ariadne and passed by, chattering amongst themselves.

‘Phew.’

That took ten years off my life. Marrying her off to Cesare so soon—a shiver ran down her spine. Ariadne realized that simply lying low and hiding was not a solution. If she let herself be carried by the current, the outcome would be the same as in her past life. She would be handed over as a substitute to a man who loved her sister more than life itself, occupying the space beside him like a piece of old furniture, serving his needs until the time came to be miserably discarded.

That could not be allowed to happen. It was time to act. * * * Ariadne instinctively understood that the interests of Cardinal de Mare and Lady Lucrezia were not perfectly aligned. To Lucrezia, Isabella was an extension of herself, a more perfect version, her precious princess who absolutely had to succeed. But to Cardinal de Mare, Isabella was the finest ‘possession’ among all that he owned. The Cardinal certainly loved Isabella, up to a point. He wished for her happiness and would be willing to make small sacrifices for her smile and peaceful life.

‘But that’s as far as it goes.’

Ariadne knew all too well how cold Cardinal de Mare could be. Recalling his actions from her past life, she shivered as a chill crept over her. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. Just as a thoroughbred horse is raised to win races and a hunting dog might be injured to catch prey, to him, the essence of a daughter was to be a commodity sold off to serve the eternal ‘de Mare family.’ After being taught, groomed, and doted upon to be sold at a high price, the exchange for a beautiful and renowned daughter would bring the family a title, land, gold, and glory. Whom the daughter liked or disliked was a secondary matter. The only reason Cardinal de Mare was reluctant to marry Isabella to Cesare de Como was that Isabella’s value was far too high to be wasted on the likes of him.

- “Oh, my beautiful daughter! Truly the blood of our family. Superior because you are of our lineage, and my daughter because you are exceptional.”

Cardinal de Mare always praised Isabella’s beautiful appearance, her sharp mind, and her popularity in society. Racking her memories, even from her past life, she couldn't recall a single instance where he had praised Isabella’s efforts to achieve those results or her character. Cardinal de Mare cherished Isabella because she was exceptional. His first daughter, Isabella, was number one on his list of assets. To be precise, his position as Cardinal was undoubtedly more important, so she was number two. After Isabella would come his prize-winning racehorse and the quail-egg-sized emerald on his pectoral cross, and somewhere much further down that list would be Ariadne. He wanted to receive a fitting price for his finest possession through a marriage to Prince Alfonso, the sole heir to the throne. That was all.

‘If Father cherishes Isabella and wants to make her a princess because her value is higher than mine… then all I have to do is make my value greater than hers.’

If she could build a reputation, enhance her appearance, and become the most outstanding lady in San Carlo, the de Mare maiden presented to Prince Alfonso would be Ariadne, not Isabella.

‘I don’t even have to be the best in San Carlo. I just have to be better than Isabella. And if I can’t rise, it’s enough to tarnish Isabella’s value.’

- “He said he hates big women. He said he always imagined holding me while holding you. He said your breasts sag like a cow’s. I am the queen.”

Isabella’s songbird-like voice echoed in her ears like a phantom. Ariadne unconsciously touched her still-flat chest. She felt no guilt at the thought of harming Isabella. The first-place daughter would go to Prince Alfonso, the second-place to Cesare de Como. There was no third path. She couldn’t suddenly become a trading genius, sail a galley of the Porto Republic to import eastern spices, or usurp the title from Ippolito, the eldest son and Lucrezia’s child. Even if she were to generously concede that Lucrezia was, in the end, just a mistress and disregard the distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children, and even if she were to poison Ippolito and Isabella, who would still be ahead of her in line, this family had no title to inherit. They had no hereditary noble title; they were merely the family of a high-ranking clergyman. In the end, her only option was to ride the coattails of her father’s temporary power and become someone’s wife, sharing in his wealth and status. If her only choices were Alfonso and Cesare, and if victory meant a chance to escape Cesare, then this was a race she absolutely had to win. Ariadne strode purposefully down the second-floor corridor and threw open the doors to the young ladies’ drawing room. Her late entrance made the governess, Madam Romani, and her sisters, Isabella and Arabella, who were in the middle of a Gallico lesson, all turn to look at the doorway. Ariadne curtsied with perfect courtly grace. “Good afternoon, Madam Romani.”

Her Gallico accent was so smooth it was hard to believe she was an Etruscan speaker. “Sorry to interrupt, shall we continue?”

Arabella’s jaw dropped as she stared at Ariadne.

“How are you so good at Gallico?”

Ariadne answered with a small smile.

“It’s nothing. I just picked it up here and there.”

The ever-gentle Madam Romani, surprised, spoke to Ariadne.

“Your accent is perfect. Where did you learn?”

“Someone I grew up with knew how to speak Gallico. I only knew how to speak it, not the grammar or proper expressions, but studying with you seems to have helped me grasp it quickly. It’s all thanks to you, Madam.”

Ariadne, while considering an alibi in case she was pressed further, didn’t forget to give a little credit to Madam Romani. Madam Romani was impressed by her student’s rapid progress and her own teaching skills, and Arabella, adding this to the time Ariadne had protected her from Lucrezia’s outburst, seemed to see Ariadne in a new light. But Isabella glared at Ariadne with blazing eyes.

‘I’m the main character, so what is she doing, trying to show off? I won’t tolerate her stealing my spotlight!’

* * * Isabella threw herself into her studies, determined to once again become Madam Romani’s favorite student, but her weak foundation meant she couldn’t beat Ariadne in any academic subject, be it Gallico, Latin, history, theology, or court etiquette.

“Perfect!”

Lady Deluca, the court etiquette instructor, was speechless. The rules of court etiquette filled over three hundred pages of parchment, and even after memorizing everything, there were many things the body had to learn—the proper depth of a curtsy, the right speed for shifting one’s gaze, a relaxed and beautiful posture—things that one could only rapidly improve upon by actually attending social events. No matter how much one practiced at home, one was bound to stumble the following week.

“You haven’t even had your débutante, have you?”

“I have never been out in society, except for being invited once to Her Majesty the Queen’s mass.”

Lady Deluca was once again astonished by her brilliant student’s ability to learn.

“This is… a gift!”

‘I’m sorry. It’s experience.’

* * * It wasn't as if Isabella excelled in the arts, either. Ariadne had little talent in that area herself, so the two were neck and neck, but it was young Arabella who showed outstanding ability in this field.

“Your lute playing is fantastic! You have a great sense of dynamics and perfect rhythm!”

The music teacher, Miss Mancini, showered Arabella with praise. As Isabella glared at a triumphant Arabella, the kind Miss Mancini wrung out a compliment she had painstakingly found for her.

“Isabella, you seem to handle your mandola so preciously.”

‘Aaaargh!’

Unable to suppress her inner scream, Isabella threw down her ‘precious’ mandola, stomped out, and slammed the door behind her. Still, Isabella had her own opportunities to display her talents: various social events and the High Mass she attended once a month. The High Mass, held at the Grand Cathedral of San Ercole, the largest in the capital of San Carlo, was traditionally officiated by Cardinal de Mare. Barring special circumstances, everyone living in the capital gathered at the Grand Cathedral of San Ercole to hear the sermon. Only the nobility could enter the cathedral itself; commoners would gather in the square outside and wait. After the sermon for the nobility was over, Cardinal de Mare would offer them a few brief words before they dispersed. The interior of the Grand Cathedral of San Ercole was a showroom of splendor, luxury, and beauty. And there, Isabella was by far the most eye-catching jewel.

“Girls! Get ready! We must be in the carriage and leave the house by seven! We absolutely cannot be late!”

The incident Ariadne knew was about to happen would occur today. The week of the Council of Trevero was last week. A decision on that matter must have already been reached, and today’s High Mass would be the day the results were unveiled in San Carlo. It was time to steal the attention and her father’s favor that Isabella monopolized at High Mass.