Chapter 240

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 240
Chapter Title: Irreparable
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Bedridden with rage, Leo III had tossed aside all matters of state. It was a week later that he finally came to his senses.

“Your Majesty, the tax reports have come in...”

Sir Delpianos cautiously observed Leo III’s demeanor.

“...Shall I report on this later?”

“No. Let me see it now.”

Leo III sat up in bed. The king wore only a light gown.

He was a sorry sight.

His frame, once as robust as a young Alfonso’s, was now frail and shrunken, his back and shoulders stooped. The fat had melted away from his once-vibrant face and hands, revealing the stark outlines of bone, vein, and muscle. He looked like a living corpse.

Only the fury and obstinacy in his eyes proved that he was still very much alive.

The king appeared to be in a foul mood.

Unfortunately, the report in Sir Delpianos’s hand was not good news either.

Feeling like an ox being led to the slaughter, Sir Delpianos presented the report to the king.

As expected, Leo III unleashed a raw torrent of fury as he scanned the report’s contents.

“These bastards... Tearing them to pieces wouldn’t satisfy me...!”

It was the record of tax payments from the various provincial lords. The report in the king’s hand was an endless list of ‘unpaid’ dues.

“Salvatio and Dellatore haven’t paid? Not even Montefeltro has sent this year’s poll tax!”

Montefeltro was the domain of the old Marquis Oddantonio de Montefeltro, whom the king had sent to take charge of the Gaeta territory.

It was also the family of the man betrothed to Ariadne’s friend, Gabriele.

“Isn’t the plague all but over in the central regions! So why in the world!”

Sir Delpianos looked down at the floor and spoke cautiously.

Agreeing with the king—‘Indeed, that insolent Marquis Montefeltro’—would have been the wisest course for him, but Sir Delpianos still had a final shred of conscience that compelled him to do his duty properly.

“Well... Since the poll tax requires a head count... They say that so many people have fled the domain since early autumn that it’s impossible to get an accurate tally. They will do their best, but they also mentioned that next year will be difficult as well.”

“The nerve of them! So ungrateful! After I went so far as to send him to the Gaeta territory, this is how he repays my favor!”

Leo III’s rage continued unabated.

“That’s no excuse! Didn’t even the Taranto domain, at the southern tip of the kingdom, pay its poll tax properly!”

Among the great lords rooted entirely in the provinces, with no base in the capital, Taranto was the only one to have paid its taxes.

However, to call it ‘properly’ was a stretch.

The Taranto domain had sent an attached population estimate, which showed their numbers had been cut in half.

Naturally, the poll tax, levied according to the number of people, was also half of what it usually was.

“It seems the southern regions are in a poor state overall, Your Majesty. The south, aside from Taranto... Yes. It is not in good condition.”

Montefeltro, who at least sent an excuse, was actually one of the better ones.

Most of the southern domains—no, nearly all of them except Taranto—had failed to pay the poll tax without so much as a word.

Leo III slammed his fist on the mattress in fury.

“What do they take the king for! What do they take the central government for!”

Finally, Leo III’s veined fist began to tremble. A dark blue vein bulged on his forehead.

“What do they take me for!!”

Recently, the king’s temper had escalated beyond mere irritability; he was now completely unable to control his anger, as if afflicted with some neurosis.

He bellowed in a slurred speech, as if speaking in tongues.

“They’re doing this because they think I’m a joke, aren’t they! A pathetic old fool who loses a woman to his own son at knifepoint!!! They all see me as a washed-up old man!!!”

It had only been a few days since Leo III had his prospective queen snatched from under his nose by his son.

The provincial lords’ mass delinquency on the poll tax was something that must have been planned for months, so there was no logical connection between the two events.

In Leo III’s mind, however, the two were vividly linked as cause and effect.

It fell to the poor Sir Delpianos to try and reason with the delusional king.

“Oh, no, Your Majesty!”

He waved his hands enthusiastically.

“That matter was resolved quite well. Not writing ‘appointment of the Queen’ in the edict was a stroke of genius. No related rumors have spread in high society at all.”

This was the result of Cesare and Ariadne keeping their mouths shut, while Countess Rubina had enthusiastically gone about misrepresenting the facts to everyone.

“In fact, high society is abuzz with praise for Your Majesty’s benevolence!”

Sir Delpianos continued his rapid praise of the king, spittle flying, not giving Leo III a chance to object.

“They’re all saying that Your Majesty holds Commander-in-Chief Cesare in high esteem for his great contribution in defeating the Kingdom of Gallico, and so you have graciously bestowed a fine match upon him. They say you have set an example with your favor, so you have absolutely, absolutely no need to worry on that front!”

Sir Delpianos did his utmost to find and convey stories that would placate the king.

But Leo III’s volatile mood soured at an unexpected point.

“Commander-in-Chief Ces—are?”

A watery glint flashed in his eyes.

“I hold that bastard in high esteem?”

The king roared. His voice was so loud it echoed off the stone walls of his bedchamber.

“Yes, he’s the Commander-in-Chief! I *did* favor him! A Commander-in-Chief who held a sword to his own king’s, his own father’s throat! A Commander-in-Chief who lucked into victory not through military strategy, but through a plague in some wench’s skirts!”

But the words that truly enraged Leo III were not ‘esteemed Commander-in-Chief’.

What truly infuriated him was Sir Delpianos’s mention of a ‘fine match’.

Yes, a fine match. A fine match snatched from right under his nose. A fine match that should have been his, along with a fine dowry! Grain and gold! A young woman!

“I will not let that bastard be—!!!”

*Gods...*

Sir Delpianos bit his lip, struggling to control his crumbling expression. A bloodbath might be coming.

“Bring me Marquez, Valdesal, and Contarini, right now!”

“Yes, yes, at once, Your Majesty.”

“No, wait. That Contarini is Rubina’s spy.”

Sir Delpianos started to say, ‘It’s not quite like that...’, but stopped himself.

He had his own neck to worry about. Trying to save someone else could get him killed.

“Just bring those two, now!!!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

* * *

Winter in San Carlo was the rainy season.

Except for a few brief cold snaps, it always rained instead of snowing.

Today, too, was a day of drizzling rain. A figure emerged through the downpour.

The gatekeeper of the de Mare estate, recognizing the man who had been visiting so frequently of late, let him pass without question.

He had ridden through the rain on a single horse without a coat, and now he dismounted with a thud.

The person he was looking for happened to be standing before the entrance under an umbrella, inspecting the crocuses planted in the front garden.

Ariadne, holding a red umbrella, was surprised to see the man who had appeared so suddenly on horseback. She asked,

“What’s with that look on your face?”

The man, Cesare, gave a sad smile that filled his face.

A wide grin stretched across his chiseled features, but his eyes did not smile. His tone, however, was cheerful.

“My lady, I’ve been fired.”

Ariadne’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

“My position as Commander-in-Chief. I was just dismissed.”

He swept back his damp hair. Raindrops trickled down his cheeks and the nape of his neck.

He took a step closer to her, pressing himself on her.

“Hold me.”

Ariadne was about to scold him for getting close while soaking wet, but she stopped when she saw his expression.

He was not in a state to be chided. He looked utterly precarious.

Ariadne said,

“Come inside first. You need to dry off with a towel.”

But Cesare came to Ariadne and pulled her into an embrace first.

*Thud.* Ariadne’s red umbrella fell to the ground.

He pleaded with her as she tried to pull away.

“Just a moment, just stay like this for a moment.”

*Swoosh.*

The rain continued to fall. The sound of it drowned out everything, paradoxically making the world feel intensely quiet.

The raindrops falling on Ariadne’s exposed cheeks and neck were cold, but Cesare’s body was hot.

Ariadne felt something hot touch her cheek. Was it Cesare’s breath, his tears, or just her imagination?

“The Commander-in-Chief position is nothing. It’s not a big deal. But I guess I’d attached more meaning to it than I realized.”

Cesare’s position as Commander-in-Chief was less a result of his military competence and more a symbol of the king’s favor.

Cesare knew this well.

He had thought he understood his place.

It wasn’t a position he’d earned through his own abilities, so there was no reason to rejoice when it was given, nor was its removal a condemnation of his incompetence.

And the king’s favor had been like a lifelong shackle for him.

Something like a fragile snail’s shell—heavy and something he wanted to cast off, but without which he would die. He thought he had shed that shell when he chose Ariadne.

But the slug that had lost its protective barrier was not strong enough to stand on its own.

“...It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

At a loss, Ariadne ended up comforting Cesare with abstract words.

She was not accustomed to comforting people.

The moment Cesare said he’d been dismissed as Commander-in-Chief, her mind had begun to calculate.

Leo III dismissing Cesare meant the king had begun his revenge, and that the groundwork they’d laid in high society through Countess Rubina had failed.

Objectively speaking, things were not fine at all.

But she couldn’t thrust the cold truth upon the crumbling Cesare. Helplessly, she repeated the empty words.

“It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

Cesare, who had been holding her tightly, placed his hands on her shoulders and created a little distance between them.

“My lady. Do I seem pathetic to you?”

What had fallen on Ariadne’s cheek had indeed been Cesare’s tears.

His watery eyes were bloodshot. He muttered,

“I should have just run in there that day and taken my father’s head.”

Ariadne replied,

“That would have been the most foolish thing to do.”

It was true that the Cesare of her past life had successfully carried out a coup, but that was only after Leo III’s death.

Leo III, despite his misrule, was a king with perfect legitimacy.

There was no way his bastard son could have survived after taking the king’s head.

Especially not while the legitimate prince was leading an army abroad.

She spoke with conviction. This time, unlike before, her words held sincerity.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Because she would make it so.

“You saved me. Aside from my dislike for you, I always repay my debts. This time, I’ll save you.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. It was the best comfort the awkward Ariadne could offer.

“So, don’t worry.”

Hearing the resolve in her voice, Cesare gazed at her intently with his teary eyes.

Those watery eyes resembled those of the boy who had once looked at Queen Marguerite in the queen’s garden.

He spoke softly, in a low voice.

“...My lady, do you really hate me?”

“Yes. I do.”

Ariadne retorted without a moment’s hesitation. She looked Cesare straight in the eye.

“I hate that you’re weak, and I hate that you’re prideful despite it. I hate that you don’t know how to admit when you’re wrong, and I hate that you’re a womanizer.”

Ariadne’s attacks came in a rapid-fire succession.

“I hate that you have no clear priorities. I hate your extravagance, and I hate how much you drink. You have no backbone and only care about having fun. All your friends are strange characters, and you live without a single thought in your head.”

...And what I hated most was that a man like you didn’t love me.

Ariadne looked at Cesare and spat out her final words.

“I hate you.”

Cesare gazed at her intently. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.