Chapter 224

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: A Meeting of Three (1)
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Cardinal de Mare stared at his second daughter in disbelief.

“I had no idea you were harboring such ridiculous thoughts.”

He shook his head. Perhaps it was her youth, but her thinking was far too shallow.

“Your role ends once you are married. In the end, it is the son who carries on the family name. My son's son, and his son after him.”

Cardinal de Mare gazed out the window. The lush leaves of a large holly tree adorned the garden.

A family, he thought, was much like that tree.

“Only when the roots holding the house firm are strong can the branches and leaves extending from them flourish!”

Ariadne gave a crooked smile. So Ippolito was the root, and she the branch. Or was she just a leaf?

She countered.

“What happens if the root is not a proper one?”

“What did you say?”

“You wish to grow the tree large, do you not, Father? What if the root is rotten?”

Cardinal de Mare frowned. He assumed Ariadne was questioning Ippolito's capabilities.

“You're saying Ippolito seems unreliable? I can see why you might think that. I admit it.”

It was a clean admission.

“Ippolito has yet to prove himself. He has only just returned from his studies, with no position or betrothal secured. Objectively, he is less accomplished than you, who are showing such promise.”

He continued, his green eyes cold.

“It's not a matter of proof. In my view, Ippolito's judgment and comprehension are indeed lacking. Strictly speaking, even Isabella is better than him.”

It was a cold assessment from the father he believed favored him.

Had Ippolito himself heard this, he would have retreated to his room, wounded.

“But even if it's a little rotten, a root is a root. There are roles only a root can play! You cannot make a tree live by sticking a leaf in the soil.”

Ariadne scoffed.

“It's more rotten than you think, Father.”

This wasn't about Ippolito being merely incompetent.

It was about him being a man with no conscience, one who would stop at nothing—the kind of person who should never be given power.

“Our dear brother Ippolito is said to have a bachelor's degree in military science from the University of Padua, correct?”

Cardinal de Mare raised an eyebrow.

“And?”

“And he was scheduled to give the valedictory address.”

“That is correct.”

“So, did brother Ippolito ever return to Padua?”

*Is she trying to find fault in him not delivering the address?* Cardinal de Mare thought, shaking his head.

“Ariadne, I know you have many complaints about your brother, but this is a trivial matter...”

“Father, have you ever seen my brother's diploma?”

He had not.

“...Ippolito said there was a student protest at Padua, and the issuance of diplomas was delayed.”

“Do you believe him?”

Cardinal de Mare cut his daughter off coldly.

“Ariadne.”

He saw no value in hearing another word from his daughter.

“I am greatly disappointed in you. It is rash to slander someone without proof.”

He detested baseless accusations, especially when they were meant to tear others down.

“I thought you were more rational than this.”

One must not lose one's dignity, even when faced with a life-altering opportunity. That is what defines the true upper class. So Cardinal de Mare believed.

“Let us end this discussion here.”

The Cardinal was about to dismiss his daughter.

“Now, leave—”

Just as he spoke, Ariadne took a second item from her box and placed it on his desk. It was a sheet of parchment.

He adjusted his monocle and peered at the paper.

「Diploma.

Raphael de Valdesal has successfully completed the 21st Military Science program at the Padua Academy with excellent grades and has passed all other required qualifying examinations. Therefore, he is hereby awarded the degree of Bachelor of Military Science.

Dean of Military Science, Padua Academy,
Geronimo de Coraggio.」

Below the text was a date from early this year, along with the dean's seal and an elegant signature.

“This is...”

The 21st class was the same as Ippolito's. Ariadne replied stiffly.

“The military academy at Padua awarded diplomas to all its graduates at the end of last year. The graduation ceremony proceeded as scheduled. Brother Ippolito did not attend.”

Ariadne asked again.

“You haven't seen my brother's diploma either, have you, Father?”

“...”

Cardinal de Mare could not answer.

“Let's ask my brother directly.”

Without giving the Cardinal a chance to object, Ariadne called out firmly.

“Is anyone there!”

Niccolo, the butler, appeared at the study door.

“Yes, Lady Ariadne.”

“Bring my brother Ippolito. Right now.”

Sensing the unusual atmosphere, Niccolo nodded.

“I will bring him at once.”

Silence filled the room. Emotionally, the Cardinal wanted to rebuke his daughter for taking things this far, but reason stopped him.

The fact that Ippolito might not have graduated didn't mean he would immediately change which child would receive the title. But the facts needed to be confirmed.

He refrained from telling his daughter that her efforts were in vain, staring ahead in silence.

Ariadne, in contrast, glared at her father, her expression as sharp as a blade.

After a tense silence that felt like an eternity, a knock sounded at the study door.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

“Coming in, Father.”

It was a smug voice. Ippolito, blissfully unaware of what awaited him, greeted them cheerfully.

Entering without waiting for permission, Ippolito was quite surprised to see Ariadne sitting in the study.

“Aria, you're here too.”

Ariadne merely nodded, her face cold.

“Ippolito.”

Cardinal de Mare waited for his son to sit before speaking.

“You said before that your diploma hadn't arrived yet.”

Ippolito started at the mention of the diploma. *Why is that coming up now?!*

“Ah, yes, yes. That's right.”

“Has it arrived now?”

His eyes darted around.

“No, not yet...”

Cardinal de Mare's expression was unmoving.

Ariadne and Ippolito, each anxious, tried to calculate their father's intentions.

The Cardinal, his lips pressed into a firm line, slid the parchment forward. It was Raphael de Valdesal's diploma.

“It seems your classmates have already received their diplomas.”

Ippolito picked up the parchment and read it. Seeing the name on the first line, he gritted his teeth.

*'Raphael de Valdesal...!'*

*That damned pretty boy...!*

Figuring out how it had ended up in his father's hands, Ippolito whipped his head around to glare at Ariadne.

Ariadne stared straight ahead, unmoving.

Ippolito wasn't particularly bright, but like the late Lucrezia, he had sharp instincts.

That perfumed bastard had been circling his half-sister, and he must have handed this over to impress the girl.

But first, he had to get out of this mess. Ippolito forced a loud laugh and answered amiably.

“Raphael returned to the capital later than I did! He probably received his in person, which is why he got it early. The mail between Padua and San Carlo takes some time, you know!”

Ariadne's calm voice shattered the tense facade Ippolito had painstakingly constructed.

“No matter how far Padua is, does it really take over ten months for a single letter to arrive?”

The date on Raphael's diploma was from January of this year.

It was now early November, the seasons having turned, on the cusp of winter once more.

Ippolito could no longer hold back and roared.

“You, watch your mouth...!”

He'd been itching to throw a punch for a while now. The threat came naturally. But Ariadne was not the least bit intimidated and replied at once.

“Did I say something I shouldn't have?”

Ippolito clenched his fists. Conscious of his father's gaze, he barely managed to keep them from slamming onto the desk.

“How dare you be so insolent to your elder brother!”

If you can't attack the message, attack the messenger. Ippolito faithfully followed that adage, taking issue with Ariadne's attitude.

“How dare you look me straight in the eye like that?!”

“Ippolito!”

Ippolito's outburst earned a stern warning from Cardinal de Mare. But he was undeterred and persisted with his protest.

“Father! She's being obnoxious!”

But the Cardinal did not stray from the point.

“So, the diploma was a delivery accident?”

Since things had come to this, Ippolito decided to brazen it out.

“It must be! Common sense dictates they wouldn't have given one to Raphael and not to me, right?”

Ariadne snorted. The word 'common sense' was certainly suffering in this room.

“Ippolito. Send a courier to Padua at once, find out what happened to your diploma, and report back to me.”

At Cardinal de Mare's words, the expressions of both Ippolito and Ariadne fell.

“What?”

“For a diploma to be delayed by ten months suggests a problem, and I am disappointed that you have yet to look into it.”

Ippolito lowered his head under the Cardinal's sharp, green gaze.

“Ah...”

“How can you become a good head of the family with such negligence?”

*Head of the family.* Ariadne bit her lip.

Cardinal de Mare had casually entrusted the task of verifying the diploma to Ippolito himself.

*'At my age, do I really have to clean up after a diploma delivery error?'* was his honest sentiment.

But from Ariadne's perspective, this was an unacceptable proposal.

On the surface, he seemed to be reprimanding Ippolito, but in reality, the plan was full of loopholes.

The Ippolito she knew would immediately forge a diploma.

Moreover, this was an era when the Black Death was rampant.

Even if Ippolito decided not to break the law and handle matters through proper channels, the time it would take to send a messenger to Padua, find the dean, and inquire about the diploma would be at least two or three months, and possibly as long as half a year.

Meanwhile, the fate of the title to be granted by the King would be decided within two months at the latest.

This was a game Ippolito could win simply by stalling for time. She could not lose.

“Father.”

At Ariadne's word, both Cardinal de Mare and Ippolito turned to look at her.

“There is something you need to hear.”

“What is it?”

“You should hear it directly from someone who was there.”

Ariadne smiled.

“I don't think you'll believe it coming from me.”

She clapped her hands. Responding to the signal, the study door opened again.

It was Niccolo, the butler. He looked at Ariadne and asked.

“Lady Ariadne. You called?”

“Please bring the guest from the drawing room.”

“Which guest...”

Her smile widened.

“Please tell the young Marquis de Valdesal that I have summoned him upstairs.”

“Understood. I will bring him immediately.”

The butler closed the door and left. The color drained from Ippolito's face.

“That... Why is *that bastard* here?”

“Brother.”

Ariadne called to Ippolito in a calm voice.

“You didn't graduate, did you, brother?”

Cardinal de Mare's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“I heard you didn't have final exam scores, so you couldn't complete the major, and since you didn't pass the tests, you naturally weren't eligible for a diploma.”

Ippolito gasped as if he were about to stop breathing. He finally managed to catch his breath and then screamed.

“Did that pale-faced swindler tell you that?!”

He yelled like a madman.

“Where did you hear such slander to dare insult your own brother! Whose side are you on? Do you even think of me as your brother? You've gotten completely arrogant just because you're doing well lately, I ought to—!”

*Knock, knock.*

Just then, a knock sounded.

The study door opened, and Niccolo entered with an incredibly awkward expression, followed by Raphael de Valdesal.

“Hello.”

Raphael smiled, revealing his white teeth.

“Thank you for the invitation. The pale-faced swindler sends his regards.”