Chapter 229

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 229
Chapter Title: The Tail of the Cunning Rabbit
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“Pardon?”

Sir Delpianoza stared at his lord, his face filled with doubt.

“What sort of idea are you referring to? We cannot send soldiers to forcibly seize it…”

What he really wanted to say was, ‘What on earth are you planning to do this time?’ but Sir Delpianoza couldn’t bring himself to say it, instead picking at a peripheral detail.

But the nuance got across.

Leo III, perhaps bothered by his aide’s gaze—a look that screamed ‘how pathetic’—waved his hands dismissively.

“No, no. It’s not like that. This is truly brilliant! You, lend me your ear.”

Sir Delpianoza thought, ‘Whose ears in the King’s office do we need to avoid? Aren’t they all royal servants?’ but he played along and leaned in.

At first, his only thought was how uncomfortable it was to have the breath of a king past sixty so close.

“…so, if we do it like this…!”

But as Leo III continued, he unconsciously covered his mouth with both hands.

“…and that’s it! What do you think of my idea?”

“Well… this is…! It’s certainly something worth whispering about.”

“How about it? Surprising, isn’t it? Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“It is certainly… surprising, but…”

“This will solve all our problems in one go!”

“That may be so, but…”

It was outlandish. Something a man of common sense like Sir Delpianoza could never have imagined.

There were so many things to object to that he felt lost, not knowing where to begin.

‘Common sense… morality… will the parties involved even agree…?’

But Leo III raised his voice at the hesitating Sir Delpianoza.

“Look here, Delpianoza. This is an emergency! Shouldn’t we use every resource available to us?”

“W-Well, that is true, but…”

“Think about it. Those provincial lords are withholding their taxes! Once we’ve used up everything in the national coffers, it’s all over! With this one move, I’m telling you, we won’t have to worry about tax revenue for at least a year!”

“…Will the amount truly be that large?”

“How else could they be spending so lavishly if it weren’t?”

Leo III’s eyes gleamed.

“Besides, if those nobles won’t listen to us, who must we ultimately rely on?”

“…Foreign monarchs?”

“You fool! The people!”

Leo III launched into a speech, spittle flying.

“What is it we need from the local magnates? In the end, it’s taxes and soldiers! This solves the money problem, and what’s more, choosing this path will surely win us the people’s favor!”

Leo III was more than a little concerned about the increasing number of songs mocking the king in the city squares.

He was a king whose legitimacy was unimpeachable, but he had far too little support from the nobility.

It was the result of having squeezed the provincial lords throughout his reign.

For that reason, he needed the solid support of the grassroots commoners.

“With money and popularity, we can build up the central army. Why would we need to rely on those provincial lords anymore? We can encourage the ignorant commoners to enlist directly in the central army and create a standing force!”

He gazed into the air, dreaming of a beautiful, rosy future.

“We can move beyond the scale of the Royal Guard and establish a standing army that can be stationed throughout the entire kingdom! We don’t even have to pay the commoners a proper salary, just create an institution they can aspire to and instill a sense of belonging, right?”

Delpianoza wanted to reply that that was absolutely not right, but he felt he would be in deep trouble if he interrupted the king’s monologue now.

Deeply engrossed in his own vision, Leo III proclaimed the future he dreamed of.

“Then it’s the end for those provincial foxes! A reign by the capital, of the capital, will begin!”

Just then, a rustling sound cut through Leo III’s excited shouting from behind.

It was the sound of a woman’s dress.

“Oh my, what fascinating conversation are you two having without me?”

It was Duchess Rubina, who had entered carrying a silver tray laden with oranges.

“Some fruit has arrived from the south. With trade all but cut off these days, these fresh oranges were quite difficult to obtain.”

She offered them with a gentle smile.

“Please, have a taste, Your Majesty.”

Then she added, as if bestowing a great favor.

“You there, Sir Delpianoza, have some as well.”

But when Duchess Rubina spoke to him, Sir Delpianoza looked at her like a child caught doing something wrong and promptly started to hiccup.

“Hic!”

“My, why are you so startled?”

“Hic!”

Sir Delpianoza covered his nose with both hands and tried desperately to stop hiccupping, but his diaphragm was beyond his control.

“Hic!”

As Sir Delpianoza’s hiccups spiraled out of control, Leo III snapped at Duchess Rubina.

“Why do you always come in so silently?!”

Duchess Rubina gave the king a soft glare.

“Did I enter somewhere I’m not allowed?”

Her graceful demeanor belied her age as a woman with a grown son.

Any young man would have blushed at her beauty. But Leo III snapped at the lovely lady in exasperation.

“You are not allowed! You are officially my sister-in-law. Does it make any sense for you to be flitting about your husband’s brother’s office!”

Duchess Rubina stared at Leo III as if he had eaten something foul.

“My, since when did you care about such things?”

Ever since Cesare had been proclaimed Duke of Pisano, Rubina had been the queen of San Carlo’s high society.

Though the great plague had shortened her period of enjoyment, she had savored her position to the fullest.

At every party, at every social gathering, Rubina sat in the seat of highest honor. She was, in name and in reality, the most noble lady in the entire country.

Duchess Rubina also took charge of the royal household, which Queen Marguerite had left behind.

The king’s sister-in-law was a convenient excuse. The stipend that had been paid to the Queen’s Palace went straight to her.

Marguerite, despite her reputation for frugality, had not been a meager spender.

The amount of money that went to the Rambouillet Almshouse, in particular, was enormous. Rubina cut it all and poured it into the royal household itself.

The candles they used, the fabric for the servants’ clothes—everything was upgraded a level. The servants’ praise soared to the heavens. These were good times.

“Your Majesty, don’t be like that. Have a slice of orange. Ahhh.”

Duchess Rubina picked up a peeled orange slice and brought it near Leo III’s mouth.

Normally, he would have gladly accepted it. But this time, he snapped irritably and slapped her hand away.

“I told you to stop! There are eyes watching!”

At this point, Duchess Rubina’s anger began to flare.

“Your Majesty, what on earth is wrong with you today?”

He had her perform all the practical duties of a queen, and now he was lecturing her on propriety for simply entering his office. It was utterly absurd.

She glared fiercely at Leo III.

Rubina, who showed her fearsome temper to her son Cesare and the servants beneath her, had never once raised a claw to Leo III in her forty-three years of life.

Such was her position as his mistress.

But now? She was the de facto acting queen, and her son was a duke of the realm with a claim to the throne.

Only Alfonso stood before her son, and that boy was wandering somewhere in a faraway foreign land. With any luck, he would die on a battlefield.

This bolstered Rubina’s confidence.

“What eyes are watching? Who is watching, who? This Delpianoza here? That palace servant over there? If they don’t see it today, does what they saw yesterday get erased from their brains?”

“What, what?”

“I have tolerated Your Majesty’s whims for well over twenty-five years, but I can’t take it anymore! Make some sense, for heaven’s sake!”

“Hah!”

Leo III clutched the back of his head, gasping for breath.

“I’m right, aren’t I, Delpianoza!”

Sir Delpianoza, still battling his hiccups, glanced around nervously before answering.

“Ah, yes, yes… hic!”

Leo III furrowed his brow at the unseemly sound and shouted.

“Prepare what I told you to! Understand?”

“Hic! I-I shall do so, Your Majesty!”

Rubina scowled and asked Leo III.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“It’s none of your business! Get out! Get out now!”

As she was thrown out of the king’s office by Leo III, Duchess Rubina frowned. She had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Ariadne herself was quite disappointed to have received the position of Director of the Rambouillet Almshouse instead of a title—Cardinal de Mare had not tipped his daughter off about the follow-up move to come—but to those who had nothing, even that was an object of envy.

“This is all Dad’s fault!”

Isabella violently threw her shawl onto the floor of the ‘girls’ drawing room’.

“I used to volunteer at the Rambouillet Almshouse too!”

In truth, Isabella knew in her head.

The position of director wasn’t something one could get through simple volunteer work; it was earned through a reputation that echoed beyond the capital to the entire nation and a donation of grain.

But facing that truth was too painful.

“If only that wench Ariadne hadn’t stopped me from volunteering back then! If only Dad hadn’t taken her side! The title ‘Saint of the Almshouse’ would have been mine!”

“You’re right.”

Ippolito, who had been forced to use the ‘girls’ drawing room’ for his desk after Ariadne took his room, chimed in with feigned gravity.

The sight of him sitting among the white furniture in the pretty drawing room decorated with pink lace and ribbons was ridiculous, but his expression was solemn.

“She had it all planned. She orchestrated the whole thing!”

The easiest fuel for a furious heart was a conspiracy theory.

“Could she have known in advance that the plague would spread in the capital? What if she spread it herself?”

“She’s capable of it, that devious, scheming wench!”

After conspiracy theories came attacks on her character.

“How can she be so shameless, so self-absorbed, not thinking a single bit about her family?”

“It’s because she has a rotten personality. She’s always been like that, hasn’t she? You didn’t see it, big brother, but she was so unpleasant when she first came up from the estate! I tried so hard to be nice to her!”

“What did she do?”

“She swore at me and stole all my friends! I introduced them all to her with the best of intentions!”

With a common enemy, the bond between the full siblings paradoxically grew stronger.

“You must have been so upset.”

“Right? You see it too, don’t you, brother?”

“I’ll get that wench!”

It was their father who put a stop to the siblings’ blustering.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Cardinal de Mare, leaning against the door of the girls’ drawing room, clicked his tongue openly.

“…Dad!”

Isabella turned with startled eyes.

“I came to check on you, thinking you two would be disappointed.”

Cardinal de Mare did not bother to hide his disappointed expression.

“And all you’re doing is bad-mouthing your younger sister?”

“But Dad!”

Isabella protested with a look of utter injustice.

“How could you proceed with this, leaving us out completely?”

Isabella shot up to her feet and stood before her father.

“Setting me aside, Ippolito is the eldest son! If something good happens in the family, shouldn’t you discuss it with him and, for the most part, give him the advantage?”

Her words didn’t apply to the unique position of Director of the Rambouillet Almshouse, but if it were a noble title, she wouldn’t have been wrong.

But Cardinal de Mare sighed.

“I’d be inclined to do so if you two behaved well. But you’re always scheming to backstab your sister. How can I trust you enough to consult you, let alone give you a position?”

Ippolito looked shocked.

He had always believed that parents should naturally give all the good things to their child—more precisely, to him, the eldest and only son.

But now he was being told he had to compete for it?

“Just focus on being good to your sister,” Cardinal de Mare said coldly.

It was too late to ask the king to change the recipient of the title to Ippolito, and frankly, seeing this, he had no desire to.

“The family must stand united. That applies even when you are in a supportive role and your sister is at the forefront. Did you think you could just feast on the good things forever?”

At the cardinal’s cold words, tears welled up in Isabella’s violet eyes. But this father was merciless.

“You might get some scraps if you stay on her good side.”

He couldn’t resist adding one more thing.

“They say having no children is a blessing.”

“Dad!”

The cardinal turned his back on his insufferable children and strode out of the drawing room.

The white hem of his clerical robes fluttered behind him.

White robes that would protect them only as long as the cardinal held his office. Isabella felt a sense of crisis.

While their father held that position, she had to find a way to support herself.

Her violet eyes darted about restlessly.

And though she did not know it, her pupils were destined to tremble in earnest three weeks later, on the day her younger sister would receive a second royal decree.