Chapter: 22
“Count Condé was executed by the Grand Duke, wasn’t he?”
It was one afternoon at the tail end of May.
Inside the greenhouse of the Brienne Royal Palace, a small tea gathering was underway for just four people: Queen Marie de Brienne, Alexis, the Duchess of Forte, and her daughter, Céline de Forte.
It was hardly unusual for a prince soon to be engaged, his future bride, and their mothers to gather and discuss matters related to upcoming banquets.
Usually, they would exchange pleasantries, share news of recent events, and watch the prospective couple stroll together, hoping to grow closer through such moments.
However, for several years now, one thing had never been missing from noblewomen’s conversations—the news delivered by Le Chaque Journal.
What the aristocracy once sneered at as a vulgar daily read by commoners had, before they knew it, become something even nobles checked religiously. The stories were simply too sensational to ignore.
The royal family and the great noble houses were no exception.
“I read that the Count even hired assassins,” the Duchess of Forte said, discreetly pulling out the newspaper and placing it on the table. “How could anyone scheme something so outrageous…?”
The queen’s gaze lingered briefly on the paper before she silently set down her teacup.
“This time, the Grand Duke played his hand perfectly. He didn’t just avenge his parents—he made an example of him for his retainers as well. His position must be rock-solid now. I always thought he was sharp and intelligent from a young age, and it seems I was right.”
The corners of the queen’s lips curved gently, and her eyes—deep as the sea—grew distant, as though recalling a memory from long ago.
“He’s the only one left in the direct line now, isn’t he? Then just as the paper says, marriage proposals will be pouring into Castle Loren.”
With no one to replace Claude in the Grand Ducal House, families with daughters were eagerly watching for an opportunity.
If their daughter became the Grand Duchess, any child born between them would unquestionably inherit the next Grand Duke’s title—an assured future with not a single rival in sight.
“Indeed,” the duchess replied.
Though her voice agreed, it trembled faintly. Céline lowered her gaze slightly. Just as she expected—beneath the table, her mother’s hand was clenched tightly into a fist.
Then the queen asked calmly,
“Do you regret it?”
“…Pardon?”
“You once proposed a match to the former Grand Duchess and were refused. It’s quite a well-known story. I was wondering if, even now, you might be thinking of breaking off this engagement and sending a portrait instead.”
As the queen narrowed her eyes, the duchess hurriedly waved her hands.
“Oh, not at all! At the time, we had no idea Céline would be chosen as the prince’s bride. How could I dare compare the royal family to the Grand Ducal House?”
“One must admit what deserves recognition. Loren is an autonomous territory, and its history is longer than ours. There are no in-laws to appease, as there were for me. Becoming a Grand Duchess straightaway—surely that’s a fine match.”
“Your Majesty, you’re being mischievous. Everyone on the continent agrees that His Highness is the finest groom imaginable. Isn’t that right, Céline?”
The duchess laughed awkwardly and passed the turn to her daughter. Sitting beside her mother, Céline curved her lips into a gentle smile.
“My mother is correct. To me, Loren is merely a place I would like to maintain friendly relations with once I become Queen of Brienne—nothing more, nothing less.”
She spoke softly, neatly smoothing over the situation. Beneath the table, however, she firmly pressed her foot down on her mother’s—an unspoken warning to stop talking nonsense.
Ever since Céline was young, her mother had had a habit of ruining things with unnecessary remarks. Even the rejected engagement proposal could be traced back to her mother’s careless words.
—
“I hear there are still retainers in Loren who oppose the Duchess because of her background. For the sake of the young Duke, wouldn’t it be wise to form ties with a respectable family in advance?”
“The children are still young. I won’t force them. I want my son to freely associate with those who share his values, and someday meet someone he truly loves.”
“If they were engaged early and saw each other often, that in itself would foster exchange. And wouldn’t love naturally follow once they grow familiar?”
“Choosing a child’s future partner simply to silence slander about my origins is not a parent’s duty.”
—
If only that conversation had never happened, Céline would now be sitting beside Claude de Loren, not Alexis.
If she were made to choose between Claude and Alexis, the answer was obvious—Claude, without question.
His maternal lineage might be a flaw, but he was still a Grand Duke. His looks captivated everyone from young ladies to seasoned noblewomen, and above all, he was the child of a one-and-only goddess.
Compared to that, Alexis had little to boast of beyond being the eldest prince of Brienne. His garish orange hair and eyes, and the way he couldn’t utter a word in front of the queen, all grated on her nerves.
That was how she truly felt—but for now, she had to act as though Alexis were her destined partner.
As though she had no ambition to become the most exalted woman on the continent.
As though she were a hopeless romantic.
“When I first met His Highness Alexis, I felt strongly that I would spend my entire life with him,” Céline said sweetly, deliberately steering the conversation away from Loren. “Did Your Highness feel the same?”
“….”
“Your Highness?”
No matter how many times she called him, there was no response. His unfocused gaze made it seem as though his soul were elsewhere.
Unable to bear it any longer, the queen snapped,
“Prince!”
“…Yes?”
“Where exactly is your mind right now?”
“Ah—yes. I’m sorry.”
Faced with the queen’s incredulous expression, the duchess’s strained smile, and Céline’s suddenly icy gaze, Alexis scratched the back of his head, glancing around nervously.
“I was lost in thought for a moment… What were we discussing?”
As he searched desperately for a way to recover, the newspaper lying at the center of the table caught his eye.
“Oh—was it this?”
He grabbed it, unfolded it, and muttered as he read aloud.
“‘…Is the young Grand Duke a righteous judge, or a cold-hearted ruler…’ What nonsense. That bastard Claude is just a narcissist. He’s always showing off in front of me. Do you know how unpleasant that is? Even at the last banquet, he was flaunting his knowledge about monsters—so pathetic.”
Watching her fiancé, Céline let out a deep, silent sigh. She had known this for a long time—whenever Claude came up, Alexis became especially irritable, instantly turning into a petty man who could only belittle others.
“Watch your language, Prince. You have guests,” the queen reprimanded.
Alexis hurriedly offered excuses and folded the paper in half.
“Ahem! My apologies. I only meant that the two of you don’t seem to know Claude—no, the Grand Duke’s true nature…”
Then, as his eyes landed on something on the back page, his hand froze. With sudden urgency, he unfolded the paper again.
“What is it?” Céline asked.
There was no answer. His eyes darted rapidly from side to side, growing wider by the second.
“What the hell is this bullshit?!”
He suddenly shouted and slammed the newspaper onto the table. Teacups and dessert trays rattled violently from the force.
“What’s wrong, Your Highness?” Céline asked, startled by his abrupt change.
Without a word, Alexis bolted out of the greenhouse.
In a low voice, the queen excused herself and followed after him. The duchess could only stare at their retreating backs, bewildered.
What on earth had he seen?
Céline scanned the article Alexis had been reading.
—
…A total of thirty-six knights have joined the Loren Order of Knights. Among them, the one most talked about by spectators was Jeanne Leclerc, winner of the Third Division, who is known to have been a classmate of Grand Duke Loren at the Royal Military Academy…
