Chapter 64

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: The Masquerade Ball and the Grand Duchess of Valois
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The kindness of the golden-haired prince from the neighboring kingdom was so overwhelming that Grand Duchess Lariesa of Valois nearly forgot the sorrow of losing her sister. She quickly shook her head, collecting herself. *No, I am the kind and gentle Lariesa. I must maintain that image and smoothly continue the conversation on whatever topic Alfonso has raised.* But in truth, she had never spoken about herself before.

“I suppose I paint still lifes? I enjoy painting flowers and vases.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lariesa added boldly.

“One of my pieces even won an honorable mention at the Prix de Montpellier a few years ago.”

The Prix de Montpellier was a famous gateway to success for emerging artists in the Kingdom of Gallico. Artists submitted their work anonymously, and for a month, critics and audiences would score the pieces displayed in the gallery before the winners were revealed. Besides first, second, and third place, even receiving an honorable mention was enough to be officially registered with the Gallico Kingdom’s artists’ association. It was a highly competitive and prestigious contest.

“The Prix de Montpellier? Weren’t the eligibility requirements for that competition restricted to married men under the age of thirty?”

Winning at the Prix de Montpellier brought both wealth and fame, so it was rife with conflict and contention. Over the years, after much slander and struggle, a series of strange restrictions—the product of compromises made by those seeking to favor themselves—were gradually put in place. To prevent established artists from submitting anonymously, an ‘under thirty’ age limit was imposed. To stop a sudden, exceptionally talented young artist from disrupting the scene, a ‘married men only’ rule was added. More recently, to safely divide the limited pie, a ban on female artists had been added as well. Behind her mask, Lariesa’s face flushed crimson. These were recent restrictions, and as she had little interest in painting, she was unaware of them. Painting had been her late sister Suzanne’s passion, and it was the late Grand Duchess Suzanne who had won the prize at the Prix de Montpellier. The ban on female artists was a direct result of Suzanne’s win. An initial push to ban nobles from submitting their work had met with fierce resistance at the last minute, so the direction had shifted to banning female artists instead. It was a historically significant development, but Lariesa, who cared little for either society or painting, knew none of the details. All she knew and longed for was her dead sister’s great fame and the praise she received. God as her witness, she had meant no harm. It was a lie that had simply slipped from her tongue in her desire to impress Prince Alfonso, but she never imagined she would be caught so immediately by the very person she wanted to impress. The shame made her breath catch in her throat. Prince Alfonso, sensing something was amiss, leaned down to her eye level and asked.

“Grand Duchess of Valois…?”

Had she simply said, ‘I was just trying to show off, I apologize,’ the kind-hearted Alfonso would have laughed it off. But to cover the surging shame, she opted for a psychosomatic response. The thought, *I’m angry,* made her breathing grow even more ragged. She gasped for air as she shrieked at Alfonso.

“Are you suggesting that I’m lying?!”

Startled, Alfonso let go of the hand with which he was escorting her.

“Are you alright, Grand Duchess Lariesa?”

When Alfonso released her hand, Lariesa misinterpreted it as rejection and writhed in humiliation. *No, this can’t be happening.* This was the ‘Golden Prince’ she had finally met. She had prayed every day to have Suzanne’s luck. *Give me everything my sister had.* She hadn't received Suzanne’s beauty or fame, but Suzanne had died instead. Everything her sister possessed had been passed down to Lariesa. The dresses, the jewels, the prettiest bedroom, and even the marriage proposal from a perfect prince. Lariesa had secretly thought Suzanne’s death was a gift from God. But now, to think that she might lose this heaven-sent opportunity because of her own clumsiness, her own mistake—it was unacceptable. Lariesa had done nothing wrong. It had to be that way.

“It is a fact that an unmarried woman passed the Prix de Montpellier! How could you be so rude to me?”

If Lariesa was not at fault, then the fault must lie with Alfonso. Since it was true that the unmarried Suzanne had won at the Prix de Montpellier, Lariesa simply omitted the subject of the sentence and accused Prince Alfonso of being rude and ignorant. The angrier she became, the more convinced she was that the clueless Alfonso had undoubtedly slandered her out of sheer carelessness. Alfonso was stunned to see the perfectly fine Lariesa trembling with rage and didn't know what to do.

“Is anyone there? Fetch a doctor!”

Lariesa’s Etruscan was limited, so while she understood Alfonso was calling for someone, she didn't realize it was for a doctor. The thought of others seeing her in this state was horrifying. Overwhelmed by hyperventilation, she clutched her mask and briefly curled her body like a shrimp. Alfonso stepped forward to support her, but Lariesa mistook his movement as an attempt to restrain her.

“Let go of me!”

Greatly agitated, she shoved Alfonso away. Unwilling to touch a lady who was struggling so violently, Alfonso took a step back. Lariesa gasped for breath for another moment, then suddenly darted into the dark garden.

“Grand Duchess Lariesa! Grand Duchess Lariesa!”

Prince Alfonso called out loudly, but her figure vanished into the darkness. He was left alone and bewildered in the corridor of San Carlo Palace. A slight temptation crept over him. He was in no way to blame for the premature end of this escort. The Grand Duchess had flown into a rage for no reason and run off into the garden. *Shouldn't I just have the servants find her and go spend my time with someone else…?* But Prince Alfonso quickly shook his head. He was far too honest and knew nothing of such schemes. Escorting the Grand Duchess was a duty entrusted to him, and if she had run into the garden, it was his duty to find her to the very end. A servant, hearing Alfonso’s call, belatedly rushed over. He told the servant that the Grand Duchess had entered the garden and might be lost, instructing him to quietly dispatch people to find her so as not to start a rumor, and to have a doctor on standby in the powder room prepared exclusively for her. After giving a detailed description of the Grand Duchess’s appearance, her dress, and her mask, and confirming how many people would be mobilized for the search, he let out a great sigh and entered the garden in the direction she had disappeared.

***

Not wanting the Grand Duchess’s disappearance to escalate into a diplomatic issue, Alfonso asked those he encountered, “Have you seen a woman of medium height in a golden dress?” instead of “Have you seen the Grand Duchess of Valois?” This was also more efficient, as the nobility of San Carlo were unfamiliar with her face, and she was wearing a mask that covered her entire face. Alfonso himself wore a Bauta mask, common among men. It emphasized the bridge of the nose, covering the eyes and nose, while tassels hung below to vaguely conceal the mouth, allowing the wearer to eat and drink. As such, people recognized him as the prince at once.

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone go into the garden just now.”

Though they didn't address him by his title, respecting the anonymity of the mask, they treated him with the deference due to a prince.

“Not just now, but I did see a woman of medium height in a golden dress go deeper inside a while ago.”

“Oh, that’s right, I saw her too. She was a very graceful lady.”

If she had entered the garden a long time ago, it likely wasn’t the Grand Duchess of Valois.

“Is that so? Thank you.”

But as he continued to inquire, no one reported seeing a woman in a golden dress in the direction the Grand Duchess had run. In the end, Prince Alfonso set off in the direction the other woman in gold had supposedly gone. Wandering through a geometric maze of symmetrically placed shrubs, sculpted by the hands of gardeners, he soon found himself not in the main garden adjoining the grand ballroom where most guests gathered, but in a garden on the path to the Queen’s palace. He stopped before a small fountain overgrown with ivy. Untouched by the gardener’s hand, the ivy indiscriminately blanketed the shrubs of the maze and the old fountain alike. He knew this place. It was the abandoned fountain behind the Queen’s palace, where he and Ariadne used to escape to play.

And someone he knew was there as well. A graceful woman of medium height, dressed in gold. Though her face was hidden by a Volto mask, the moment Alfonso saw her, he knew exactly who she was.

“Ariadne?”

“Alfonso?”