Chapter 33

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: A Man Who's Never Helpful
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Ariadne knew that expression on Cesare’s face all too well. It was the look he got when he took a slight interest in someone insignificant. An indescribable shame and anger surged from the pit of her stomach. These feelings manifested as a resolve that she absolutely had to have the *Madonna of the Daffodils*.

“Ten ducats! Any other bids?”

Perhaps it was the effect of Ariadne’s murderous glare, but he didn’t raise the bid again. Instead, he simply shrugged and backed down.

“Five, four, three, two, one…!”

The merchant pointed to the *Madonna of the Daffodils*, which sat neatly on the table, and dramatically stamped a large brown seal onto a sheet of parchment.

“Sold—to Lady de Mare!!”

Ariadne finally let out a deep breath and covered her face with her hands. The next piece was also by Bernardino of Urbino. When Ariadne bid on the starting price of five ducats, Cesare immediately followed. He called out the price in his pleasant, gentle tenor voice.

“Ten ducats!”

This time, Ariadne shot a cold glare at Cesare beside her and didn't raise her hand again.

“Ten ducats! Sold to Count de Como!”

With a cheerful stamp, the second piece went to Cesare. The third and final piece was something Ariadne could not afford to yield. There were a total of three paintings by Bernardino of Urbino at today’s auction. While the first two were for investment purposes, this last one held value as a gift, or even a bribe, for a specific person. To forge a connection with this person, Ariadne absolutely needed this final painting.

“The works of this new artist are quite popular! Excellent, excellent! Next up is the final piece from this artist today. The *Madonna of the Urbino Citadel*!”

This painting was modeled after Bianca of Taranto’s mother, the late Duchess Catarina of Taranto. Up to this point, Bernardino of Urbino had supposedly never left Urbino in his life. However, the previous Duchess, Catarina, had once stayed in Urbino for several months to visit her cousin, the Marchioness of Urbino. It was during that time that the young Bernardino, seeing the noble young duchess from afar, was inspired to create the *Madonna of the Urbino Citadel*. But as he was not an official court painter, Bernardino had no way of dedicating the painting to the lady by name, nor could he publicly declare her his model. If asked where and how he had seen her, he would have no answer, and it could tarnish the lady’s honor. So, he named it after the place where he had seen her and presented it as a religious painting of the Madonna. The true identity of the model would only become known through word of mouth several years later. Ariadne had no connection with Bianca of Taranto in either her past or present life, but she hoped to become acquainted with her someday. A portrait of Bianca’s late mother, painted by a young Bernardino of Urbino who would one day become a world-renowned artist, out of admiration for a noble lady he once glimpsed from afar, would be the perfect gift.

“Are there any gentlemen or ladies who wish to bid? We’ll start at five ducats!”

“Fifteen ducats!”

Ariadne’s husky, low voice filled the hall of the Marquis Cibo’s estate.

“Is he really worth that much of an investment for a complete newcomer?”

“Don’t you think she lost her composure because of Count Cesare?”

“How brave of her…”

The crowd seemed taken aback by Ariadne’s bold move. Cesare also seemed to ponder for a moment. Indeed, fifteen ducats was an excessive amount for a young artist in his twenties, barely out of his student years. Cesare shrugged and did not bid. After all, he already owned one of the artist’s works.

“Five, four, three, two, one…! Sold to Lady de Mare!”

*Thump!* The sound of the stamp was cheerful.

*‘There was a nuisance, but with this, I’ve achieved my goal for today.’*

Ariadne sighed and slumped back in her chair. Now she could relax and simply watch. What was meant to be a light outing had already turned into a more exhausting day than expected. Besides Bernardino of Urbino, works by several other artists were put up for auction. One or two failed to sell due to a lack of bidders, while a couple sparked fierce competition among the nobles, selling for prices far exceeding their initial estimates. Some sold for a low price, and others for an absurdly high one. And then, finally, the highlight of the day, the *Vittoria Nike*, was brought onto the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen—!! The *Vittoria Nike*!!!”

The nobles held their breath, their eyes fixed on the statue on the stage. The marble sculpture, painstakingly moved by eight workers on a wheeled pedestal, had an overall pinkish hue. It was the color of warm human skin. The statue depicted a young woman with her hair tied up, wearing a crown woven from olive branches, her arms outstretched as she took a dynamic step forward.

“Oh, it’s magnificent…!”

“I’ve never seen a recently excavated piece of ancient art in such pristine condition!”

“Marble sculptures from the Hellenia period are usually a dull gray, but this one is a truly lovely pink.”

The merchant from Porto looked confident.

“There’s nothing more to be said about the *Vittoria Nike*! A masterpiece of the Hellenia period, recently excavated from the ruins of the northern city of Lastera! The very statue mentioned in the historian Halicarnassus’s *Travels in Hellenia*! Let’s begin at once!”

The Porto merchant triumphantly announced the start of the auction.

“The starting price is 1,200 ducats—!”

The crowd murmured. Both potential buyers and mere spectators seemed intrigued.

“Wait, the starting price is lower than I expected.”

“I know, right? Why would a piece in such good condition start so low?”

“Doesn’t that mean whoever wins it will be getting a real bargain? I wonder who will get it.”

Ariadne planned to just sit back and enjoy the show. Her memory was hazy, but she seemed to recall that the House of Marquis Valdesal had won the bid for this piece.

“No, was it the House of Count Marquez?”

Ariadne tilted her head and picked up another pastry. She hadn't seen anyone from the House of Marquis Valdesal in the crowd today. The scandal had been so amusing that she remembered it well, but with the passage of time, the details had become a bit fuzzy.

“Is there no one!”

At the merchant’s cry, a person seated in the very front, right at the center of the hall, raised his hand.

“I will bid.”

It was Prince Alfonso, with his golden hair and a purple cape, the symbol of the royal family. Ariadne nearly spat out the pastry she was eating.

*‘What are you doing here?!’*

Unaware of Ariadne’s turmoil, the prince calmly held up his hand, and the auctioneer happily began the countdown.

“We have an opening bid! But wouldn’t it be a shame to let such a precious item sell at its starting price? Are there any other gentlemen or ladies?”

The crowd murmured, but no one else bid.

“The countdown begins!”

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“Thirteen hundred ducats!”

A hand went up from a corner of the hall, and a middle-aged man’s voice called out the bid.

“Who is our bidder! …Oh, it’s Count Marcello! We have thirteen hundred ducats!”

*‘What a relief.’*

Ariadne let out the breath she had been holding. It was a huge relief that someone else had bid. But she was utterly confused. The House of Count Marcello was an old, distinguished family in the capital, but in her memory, they were definitely not the ones who had won the *Vittoria Nike*.

*‘Was it Valdesal? Or Marquez? It doesn’t matter who, just where are you!’*

Ariadne scanned the hall, but there was no sign of anyone from the House of Marquis Valdesal or Count Marquez. She had been prepared for her actions to change the course of events. For instance, she understood that thwarting the Apostle of Acereto could shift the power dynamics within the Holy See. A bishop slated for promotion to cardinal might be disgraced, weakening his family and strengthening a rival, leading to a butterfly effect that caused changes in completely unrelated areas—all of this was within her calculations and expectations. However, she hadn’t expected something to change this early, before the Holy See had even made official appointments, and over such a trivial, unrelated matter. Ariadne never dreamed that her brief morning stroll in the garden with Prince Alfonso had stirred his heart so much that he would make an impulsive bid. Unaware of her inner turmoil, Prince Alfonso countered Count Marcello’s bid.

“Fifteen hundred ducats!”

“Fifteen hundred ducats—!!! Are there any other bidders—!!”

The Porto merchant’s shrill cry filled the hall. The spectators, uninvolved in the bidding war, watched with bated breath, their palms sweating.

“Sixteen hundred!”

“Seventeen hundred!”

The race for the *Vittoria Nike* between Prince Alfonso and Count Marcello was tight. Neither seemed willing to give it up. Alfonso boldly shouted.

“Two thousand ducats!”

Just then, as the bidding war raged on, Ariadne, who had been anxiously scanning the hall, finally spotted Count and Countess Marquez. The Countess was beside her husband, restraining him as he clearly wanted to bid.

*‘Right, Countess Marquez is one of Queen Marguerite’s closest confidantes…!’*

Suddenly, a missing puzzle piece fell into place, and her memories clicked together. It was indeed the House of Count Marquez that had won the statue in her past life. She even remembered the absurdly grand pedestal they had built for it after tearing down the fountain in front of their main gate. The blunder in this life was Prince Alfonso’s sudden bid for the *Vittoria Nike*. Being close to the queen, Countess Marquez was likely persuading her husband not to bid against Alfonso, the son Queen Marguerite had borne, to allow him to win. It was a delicate display of loyalty, but Ariadne couldn't let it happen.

“No, the House of Count Marquez has to buy that.”

As Ariadne muttered to herself and was about to slip away to stop the countess, a voice spoke.

“Why shouldn’t Prince Alfonso buy that statue, little miss?”

Count Cesare, who had been watching the auction with his hat pulled down low, spoke from the seat next to her. Ariadne’s eyes widened as she turned to him. Before she could utter a word of reprimand, Count Cesare raised his voice, his words booming throughout the hall.

“This little miss here says that statue is not one to be bought. What do you think of that, Vincenzio del Gatto from the Republic of Porto?”