Chapter 237

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 237
Chapter Title: A Chance to Change
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Cesare had quite liked the last escort, the one without a carriage.

So today, he had come with just a single horse again. Ariadne could see right through his dark intentions.

“It’s not as if you don’t own a carriage. Why on earth would you come on horseback in this weather?”

“That’s why I only brought one. If you get cold, I can just hold you.”

Cesare lifted the cloak he was wearing. She could see it was thickly lined with fox fur.

“I even wore warm clothes in case you got cold.”

Ariadne shook her head and raised a hand to call for a servant. Since Giuseppe was out, another coachman arrived.

“Please prepare a carriage.”

His grand plan ruined, Cesare protested.

“A carriage? Then what am I supposed to do with my Leopoldo? If I get in the carriage, is he supposed to follow along by himself?”

It seemed the name of Cesare’s prized black stallion was Leopoldo. It was a different horse from her past life.

Ariadne answered calmly. But Cesare thought he saw a faint smile playing on her lips.

“The carriage is for me alone.”

“What?”

“You, Your Grace, must come with Leopoldo. As you said, Leopoldo can’t follow the carriage by himself.”

“Ha!”

Cesare simply couldn’t win a battle of wits against Ariadne. But he didn’t feel like arguing.

Her triumphant face, slightly thrilled from her victory, looked so adorable.

Finding her adorable even when he was losing so soundly… this had to be a sickness.

In the end, Ariadne rode alone in the warm carriage while Cesare set off shivering on his horse.

Fortunately, the journey wasn’t long. Before long, they arrived at Cesare’s grand mansion, the Villa Sorotone.

The moment they arrived, they went not to the drawing room, the bedroom, or the conservatory, but straight to Cesare’s study.

Unlike with Isabella’s dowry, they were meeting for work, not a date.

In the study, which had been warmed in advance for his guest, a fire crackled in the hearth, and the subtle scent of perfume mingled with the smell of wood.

“A glass of wine?”

“No, thank you.”

Cesare, who had wanted to steer the mood toward a date rather than work, clicked his tongue and sat down.

*Nothing to be done about it.* He obediently began his report.

“My mother has returned to the palace safely. It seems she wasn’t thrown out.”

“Has there been any word since?”

“She hasn’t had a chance to hear anything. She hasn’t even seen his face. Apparently, my father was so shocked at having his bride stolen by his son that he’s locked himself in his room and refuses to come out.”

It wasn’t a laughing matter, but Cesare couldn’t help the scornful laugh that escaped him at the thought of his father.

“My mother is diligently carrying out your orders.”

The plague in the capital had begun to subside with the colder weather.

Thanks to Leo III’s frantic quarantine measures, coupled with the efforts of Ariadne and the Rambouillet nurses, the plague had never spread as widely in San Carlo as it had in the southern cities to begin with.

Now that even that momentum had broken, not a single new case had appeared within the city walls for the past two weeks.

The people of the capital were cautiously emerging from their homes to visit shops and markets, and the city’s high society was also beginning to stir.

Small gatherings and little tea parties were slowly starting to pop up.

“She’s making the rounds, spreading the word that His Majesty the King and Duchess Rubina had a fight, and that Duke Cesare rushed in to take his mother’s side.”

It was exactly the kind of activity Rubina would love.

Propagandizing about how much she was adored by her son. Being the object of everyone’s envy, admiration, and attention.

After the stage lights dimmed, it would be the actress’s lot to tremble alone with loneliness in her dressing room.

“She isn’t forgetting to praise His Majesty the King, I hope?”

“Isn’t that my mother’s specialty? Singing my father’s praises. She’s also telling everyone that even though his son defied him, my father was so impressed by his filial piety that he ordered him to be engaged to the finest bride in San Carlo.”

Cesare didn’t bother telling Ariadne that Rubina had initially thrown a fit, complaining, ‘Do I really have to praise that girl so much?!’ before reluctantly complying.

Instead, he gazed at her deeply.

It seemed to have no effect. Ariadne let out a soft laugh.

“Please stop trying to set a mood every chance you get.”

“It didn’t work?”

“It’s not working.”

Cesare was about to say, ‘Young ladies usually fall for this every single time,’ but he held his tongue.

Her defenses were like those of a seasoned veteran who had seen it all.

But a spear that could pierce an impenetrable shield was a true divine weapon. He was confident.

The heartless Ariadne went straight back to business.

“Make sure the story Duchess Rubina is spreading reaches His Majesty’s ears.”

“I will.”

“It must be emphasized that high society is praising the King for ordering his son’s engagement. That will keep His Majesty from doing anything foolish.”

Cesare smiled faintly.

“So you don’t want our engagement to be canceled either?”

Ariadne asked, dumbfounded.

“How did you jump to that conclusion?”

“Well, you said we had to stop His Majesty from doing anything foolish. Wouldn’t the foolish thing he’s most likely to do be to break off our engagement?”

“Hmm, what makes you so sure that I dislike the idea of being queen but would welcome an engagement to you?”

“The groom is different!”

A sixty-something old king and a vibrant, handsome duke of her own age were in completely different leagues.

“You’re not the groom, you’re the fiancé.”

Ariadne corrected Cesare’s delusion.

“One is the same as the other to me. I’d actually be pleased if it were all canceled.”

Ariadne answered nonchalantly. She tossed it out as if it were a joke, but she meant it.

“The foolish act from His Majesty that I’m worried about is your imprisonment or confinement, Your Grace. Since one of his sons is already out of the country, I suppose he won’t banish you.”

Ariadne thought that would be enough to stop Cesare.

But the man, who was said to possess two heads, seemed to have decided not to use the one on his shoulders today.

“Imprisonment is a bit much, but if I were confined, I’d want you to join me. Confinement could just mean being stuck in my own house, which doesn’t sound so bad…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

***

“Raphael! Sit there. It was a long journey.”

Raphael entered Alfonso’s tent and sat on a wooden chair covered with sheepskin.

It was less a chair and more a log, roughly cut to leave a backrest.

Yet it was the finest piece of furniture in the room. He looked around.

On his way from the commander-in-chief’s tent to Alfonso’s, Raphael had received respectful greetings from far more people than he’d expected.

They were greetings of genuine respect and affection.

Alfonso’s tent was also much larger than he had anticipated.

The interior furnishings were simple to the point of being shabby, but the spirit and excitement of the men were real.

“Alfonso. Didn’t you only bring the prince’s personal knights when you fled the Kingdom of Gallico? Surely you didn’t bring the entire royal guard?”

Raphael gestured toward the outside of the tent.

“There must be at least two hundred men out there. Who are they all?”

Having given his guest the sheepskin chair, Alfonso threw himself onto a bench covered with a simple rug woven by the locals and stretched.

“The numbers just grew somehow. Knights who lost their commanders, men from units that were defeated and decimated.”

He didn’t mention it to Raphael, but there were deserters among them too. They were mostly men who would have been in deep trouble if he hadn’t taken them in.

Over time, Alfonso had gathered the lost members of the crusade, like picking up baby birds that had fallen from their nests.

It was something Sir Elko, who managed the unit’s finances, shuddered to think about, but it couldn’t be helped.

A soldier without a unit was a nuisance. Alfonso knew that better than anyone.

“Are you feeding and housing all of them?”

“It’s tight.”

Alfonso grinned, showing his teeth. The sun had tanned his skin dark, making his white, even teeth stand out all the more.

“We’re managing somehow. These days, I can’t tell if I’m a unit commander or a bounty hunter!”

When they acquired spoils of war or captured a valuable prisoner, the unit that performed the deed could receive a share.

After having some success with the prisoner ransom business, Alfonso had started strategically targeting enemy commanders.

It suited his character better than plundering cities for loot.

Raphael said with a smile.

“My friend, your hardships are over. Happiness begins now. Support has arrived from home.”

Alfonso’s face lit up.

“Ah, yes! I heard about that. Money from the Etruscan diocese, right? How much is it?”

“Ten thousand ducats.”

“Ten thousand ducats?”

Alfonso, stunned by the much larger than expected sum, repeated the question.

“Really, ten thousand ducats?”

“Yes. I thought I was going to die carrying all that heavy gold!”

Raphael joked with a laugh.

“Take it now. I barely slept on the way here, worried someone would steal it.”

“Did the Etruscan diocese have that kind of spare money?”

At Alfonso’s question, Raphael was about to explain that the money wasn’t from the Etruscan diocese but was sent personally by Ariadne.

It would be a long explanation, since when Alfonso had left the Kingdom of Etruscan, Ariadne wasn’t a wealthy tycoon who held the kingdom in her palm, but merely the Cardinal’s illegitimate daughter who was just starting to make a name for herself in society.

“Well…”

“Battalion Commander!”

One of Alfonso’s men threw back the tent flap from outside and rushed in. It was a face Raphael didn’t recognize.

“Hm? What is it?”

“A summons has been issued from the commander-in-chief’s tent! All units are to be on standby for deployment.”

A deep line creased Alfonso’s forehead.

“The enemy?”

“We don’t know yet, sir. There are reports of suspicious movement nearby.”

The subordinate added.

“I will return immediately with further orders.”

Alfonso nodded, dismissing the man from the tent.

“Looks like the situation isn’t good.”

Raphael could only nod.

Alfonso shot up from his seat and began to don his armor.

It had been carefully maintained and shone with polish, but it was a well-worn, old suit of armor.

“You’ll be able to get a new set now.”

Alfonso laughed.

“Old armor is trusty armor. I’ll wear it a while longer.”

He expertly fitted the pieces of armor onto his body one by one.

Seeing the prince armoring himself, Raphael clicked his tongue and helped his friend, figuring that even Alfonso’s squires must be busy preparing for battle.

“To think I’d live to see the day I’m doing this.”

“Haha.”

Alfonso didn’t feel the need to confess to the grumbling Raphael all the things he had to do just to survive.

Before putting on his helmet, Alfonso asked Raphael.

“Say…”

“Hm?”

“…Is Ari… doing well?”

Raphael froze for a moment.

He should have told him that she was well, that she longed for him and only him, that he carried in his pocket a heartfelt love letter from her, and that these ten thousand ducats were all her doing. But the words wouldn’t come out.

It felt as if someone—the devil of jealousy—had seized his tongue and wouldn’t let go.

While Raphael stood there, unable to answer, the same subordinate pushed back the tent flap and re-entered.

“Battalion Commander! It’s time to move out!”

Alfonso nodded. He put on his helmet and said to Raphael.

“We’ll continue this conversation when I get back. While I’m gone, if you need anything or have something to pass on to me, don’t hesitate to speak with Sir Elko.”

He should have said, ‘She’s doing well,’ but the moment had passed.

Raphael forced a nod.

“I’ll be back soon. See you in a bit.”

“…Right.”

He could tell him when he returned. The day was long.