Chapter: 15
Sweat soaked Pascal from the back of his neck to his palms. Even though he kept his mouth tightly shut, a storm was raging in his mind.
“Could it be that he knows everything? No, that’s impossible. I got rid of all the evidence and witnesses. The deaths of the Duke and Duchess were ruled an accident!”
Pascal’s expression changed instantly.
“Stop listening, stop listening! I only helped because you urgently requested it! What’s wrong with asking for a proper fee? And! Isn’t it already confirmed that your brother’s death was an accident?”
“Why are you angry when I was only asking?”
“You led it in a strange way first, Your Highness!”
Pascal’s shout echoed through the room. Claude showed no sign of surprise, so the count exhaled deeply to calm himself.
“My only brother has passed, and now there are only the two of us left as blood relatives—yourself and me.”
“That’s true.”
“I came to help young Your Highness, despite my grief, but you treat me like a criminal. This uncle is heartbroken.”
“Still, we need to settle this, right?”
Claude cut him off.
“My father was very meticulous. Do you remember?”
Claude handed the count a document from the desk with a dry, deliberate gesture.
“Sometimes it was frustrating, but now I’m grateful for his thoroughness. Thanks to him, even things like this were left behind.”
“…?”
Pascal picked up the trembling paper before him with a bewildered expression. As his eyes moved down the page, they widened, and his hands shook violently.
[Reasons for Title Revocation]
Reason for revocation:
(1) Fraudulently mixing cheap corn flour into wheat flour and distributing it in Brien and parts of Lorren as 100% wheat flour, embezzling the profit from the process.
(2) Collecting unofficial taxes from the subjects of Hube.
Accordingly, all titles, administrative rights over Hube, and properties of Count Pascal de Condé are hereby revoked.
Richard de Lorren →
“Th-this… this is absurd!”
Unable to control his emotions, Pascal shredded the paper in his hands. The fragments fell like snowflakes.
Claude, however, looked at the falling papers without any emotion.
“It doesn’t matter if you tear it. I can rewrite a reason for revocation under my authority.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Do you think anyone would accept just a single document? Bring me the evidence!”
“Here.”
As if he had been waiting, Claude placed a stack of documents from under the desk onto the surface.
“Merchants who were extorted for tolls entering Hube, subjects fined for trespassing on carriage roads, farmers in Arlong who delivered three times the corn feed compared to last year…”
Claude read each document carefully to Pascal.
“You don’t mean…”
“These are the materials collected over the past week in Hube and Arlong. I also recorded testimonies on video.”
“….”
“Even if the latest footage is different, it doesn’t matter. It’s so clear you can see every wrinkle on their faces.”
Pascal could only gape like a fish, unable to offer any excuses. Claude smiled faintly.
“How about that? Isn’t the evidence overwhelming? I was busy dealing with this as soon as I arrived.”
“And leaving Jeanne behind,” Claude added, scolding Pascal.
Seeing irrefutable evidence piled in front of him, Pascal’s legs shook like a leaf in the wind, and he finally knelt before Claude, begging.
“I-I was wrong. Your Highness! Please, just this once, forgive me! I won’t let this happen again!”
Claude looked down at the count with cold eyes, then spoke softly.
“I can’t ignore my father’s wishes just because I’m filial, but I think one should still show mercy to the only remaining blood relative. I taught Jeanne at a cheap price because she is my little uncle’s daughter.”
“Th-then…!”
“So I’ll be lenient, just that much.”
“What?”
“Resign voluntarily. Your title, your property, your administrative rights over Hube.”
Pascal’s face turned pale.
“Then at least I’ll give you enough money to live quietly in some rural village.”
“Your Highness!”
“Choose. Will you keep your honor, or lose everything?”
Cornered at the edge of a cliff, Pascal couldn’t bear to look Claude in the eye.
Lowering his head, he noticed the pieces of the reason-for-revocation document he had shredded, bearing the signature of the late duke.
He was unlucky.
He had been covering up the mixing of cheap corn flour with wheat by sending pure wheat to Lorren Castle.
If Claude hadn’t attended the Royal Military Academy, if the academy hadn’t urgently requested wheat, if Claude hadn’t eaten that bread—he would never have been caught.
“Yes, I’ve always been unlucky.”
The thought branched out like tree limbs.
It was because of that cursed luck that he was born second.
Lorren had strictly observed primogeniture for generations, so Pascal could never have the same opportunities as his elder brother. It was never fair, so it was natural he fell behind.
His brother was granted the title of Count de Condé along with the Hube administration. But Pascal was never satisfied. No domain or title could match Lorren.
His brother gave the stolen name of Lorren to a lowly commoner woman. He could not accept a commoner as the Duchess.
If only that vile commoner hadn’t said such ridiculous things…
“Do you think the Duke placed you there to trample and harass the subjects?!”
If his brother had just pretended not to notice…
“Expect no mercy from me anymore.”
The Duke and Duchess would not have died. Claude would have been the same. Pascal should have chosen one of the portraits he brought and remained a naïve, pampered boy.
If only.
“…I understand. I will relinquish the title of Count.”
He never intended to kill Claude.
“Return to your domain and wait. Take all of that with you on the way.”
Claude gestured toward the portraits in the corner of his office with disdain.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Pascal obeyed outwardly but ground his teeth inside.
“Sending me quietly back to my domain… he’s still a rookie.”
He closed his eyes in despair while secretly smirking, thinking this place would soon be his.
The carriage carrying the count left Lorren Castle. Behind it, the carriage with the ladies’ portraits followed like a tail. No one saw him off.
Claude remained in his office, watching quietly. When the count obediently said, “Yes, Your Highness,” right before leaving, Claude almost laughed out loud.
“Shall I introduce him to a theater troupe? He seems perfect at begging with his whole body and soul.”
Now that the count was gone, Claude could mock freely. But Gaston could not join in the laughter.
He was the man who secretly insulted his lord, saying things like the Duchess was born a lowly commoner, and her presence made him nauseous.
He would never willingly relinquish the title and domain.
“Is it really okay to let him go like that? What if he runs away…”
“Do you think he’ll quietly fall off a cliff when cornered?”
“You’re letting him go on purpose?”
“Yes.”
Gaston frowned, unable to comprehend his lord’s decision.
“Wouldn’t it have been enough to strip him of his domain and title and drive him out? Why give him a choice?”
Claude looked out the window calmly.
“There has to be at least an accusation of the Duke’s assassination to execute him.”
“…What?”
Gaston felt his mind go blank, his fingers growing cold.
“What did you just say…?”
“This is how it will play out.”
Claude circled his finger in the air as if directing a scene.
“Bandits targeting the Duke’s treasure broke into the room. The deeply sleeping Duke could not escape and passed away.”
Claude spoke the horrifying scenario as if it were a play.
“Oh, such a tragic event! The young, handsome, and inexperienced Duke has no wife or children—so who should become the next Duke? Ah! The perfect candidate! The late Duke’s brother, Count Pascal de Condé!”
“….”
“How was that? Don’t you think my acting was convincing?”
