39.
That afternoon, Countess Milena paid a visit.
“The time has finally come, Duchess. Rumor has it that you’ll be dancing the fourth dance? I, for one, am highly anticipating your dancing skills.”
The peacock feathers adorning her hat rose so high they seemed to pierce the ceiling; I nearly snapped my neck trying to determine where the tips ended.
“But why are you cooped up in your room? Everyone is curious about the new Duchess Edenbahir. There are more than a few noblewomen whose backsides are itching to receive an invitation from you….”
I scanned the notebook Lancelot had prepared for me—the Great Dictionary of Nobles (the author, surprisingly, was Lancelot’s aide, Jill)—and replied.
“My father once said… that in business, the most important thing is the first impression. I’m simply delaying things while waiting for the perfect opportunity to make that impression.”
“The longer you hide, the more disadvantageous the gossip becomes. People are already whispering that you’re sequestered in your bedroom because you’re afraid to face the noblewomen.”
I had anticipated at least that much.
The Grand Duchess, who would take this opportunity to badmouth me, was not even a cause for concern.
At present, the curiosity and interest the noblewomen felt toward me were at their peak.
Having spent ten years receiving the disdainful gazes of nobles, I knew better than anyone that their interest was a cruel, double-edged sword.
And I also knew exactly how to wield it.
“It’s alright. I don’t see a need to pay mind to stories that will soon be dismissed as empty rumors.”
“My, you say that, and I become even more curious. Just what are you preparing? Won’t you give me a little hint?”
“The banquet is tomorrow, after all. Please, just wait a little longer. Oh, now that I think of it, what happened regarding the matter I asked you about before?”
Vlad Mccoy, my father’s old business partner.
[I need to find out if the Boellony family’s wealth has ended up in that man’s possession. I have a hunch that there is a high probability of that being the case.]
Countess Milena’s lips curled into a pleased, arched line.
“I actually came to see you precisely because of that matter… That fellow, he’s connected to an unexpected place, you know?”
Following that, as Countess Milena had suggested, the information came pouring out.
***
The sun bloomed red like a midsummer rose.
The endlessly blue sky of Hixen caged that sun, overseeing the five-colored gardens that boasted the majesty of the royal family.
The master of it all, the monarch of Montebio, Schubehlik Iii, held the golden dragon scepter—the symbol of the kingdom’s long history.
It signified that the Montebio royal family held the legitimate bloodline of Nuaza.
‘How much must the Grand Duchess’s stomach ache for not being able to possess that object?’
I was certain she must be glaring at the scepter right now, her eyes burning like fire.
“Lift your head, Lancelot Edenbahir.”
At the royal command, Lancelot slowly raised his head.
The succession ceremony for the Edenbahir title was a rare spectacle, even for the nobility. In a remote corner of the royal castle sat an exhibition space where the golden swords of Edenbahir were kept. Since only royalty could enter this vault, the succession ceremony was the only opportunity to view those legendary blades.
The King, Schubehlik Iii, handed Lancelot a goblet crafted of silver.
“This wine is to exalt your valor.”
He then dropped a laurel leaf into the goblet.
“This leaf is to exalt your loyalty.”
Next, he dropped a small gold bead.
“This gold is to exalt your wealth and honor.”
Lancelot swallowed the wine of loyalty in a single gulp.
The Chief Chamberlain retrieved the empty cup and handed a maple wood box containing the golden sword to Lancelot. The steel glinted gold under the sunlight pouring through the window—a real sword, not a replica.
As everyone’s gaze fixed on the legendary treasure, I turned to observe the Grand Duchess.
She wore an expression of such venomous intensity that it wouldn’t have been surprising if her glare alone could strike someone dead.
“This sword is my loyalty offered to Your Majesty.”
Lancelot presented the blade to Schubehlik Iii. The King nodded with the utmost satisfaction. Few kings in history had received two golden swords; these would remain a minor triumph for his legacy.
In addition….
“Here and now, I, Lancelot Edenbahir, renounce my right to the throne of the Montebio royal family.”
He would be remembered as the King who peacefully neutralized the strongest political rival of the lame prince.
“What?”
The gasp did not come from the King.
It was uttered in unison by the nobles gathered to watch the ceremony.
“Oh, my god. I never imagined the new Duke Edenbahir would drop such a bombshell. If this happens, then the Grand Duchess of Edenbahir is….”
“Shh. Your voice is too loud.”
It was only natural; Lancelot’s right of succession was not only a gift from the Grand Duchess but one of the most potent weapons she possessed.
The heads in the room turned toward the Grand Duchess as if rehearsed.
However, she had already turned her back to them. Her retreating footsteps were steady, as if she had seen nothing at all, yet her fists were clenched so tightly it wouldn’t have been strange if her fingernails had pierced her flesh.
“I respect your decision. Duke Lancelot Edenbahir, I hope you become the heart of Edenbahir and continue to uphold its traditions and honor.”
I looked at Lancelot, who stood indifferent, and thought.
‘Does he truly have no greed for the throne? Or did he give it up, however reluctantly, for my sake?’
Both were entirely possible. But considering the opponent was Lancelot….
‘…I don’t know.’
Perhaps because it was a claim to the throne, unlike anything else, the reason he dared to renounce it could not be easily guessed.
“I shall keep that in mind.”
Lancelot’s succession ceremony concluded.
The Queen, who had risen from her chair with a satisfied smile, raised her wine glass.
“Everyone, thank you for being here to celebrate my birthday. Today feels like it will be one of the happiest days of my life. Now, let the banquet begin!”
***
The highlight of the Queen’s birthday banquet was undoubtedly the gift-giving.
From the nobles based in Hixen to the delegations from all over the continent, they stood before the Queen to reveal their tributes.
The most anticipated order of business was always saved for the end.
“Now that the sun has set, it is time to enjoy the dance. Chamberlain, bring out the new wine and food.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The gifts from Prince Maxim—the only direct bloodline of the royal family and the protagonist of the commemorative dance—along with those of the Grand Duchess and myself, were to be unveiled at the ball.
The King and Queen, the sovereigns of the Kingdom of Montebio, stepped down from the throne.
After they performed an elegant dance, Prince Maxim stood before the Queen with a joyful face.
“Your Majesty.”
His limping gait was by far the most noticeable feature in the ballroom, but no one let their eyes linger on the prince’s legs. His crippled left leg was the Queen’s long-standing sore spot; those who did not wish to incur her disfavor kept their gazes fixed upward.
“This is the item I have prepared. I hope you will accept it with joy.”
“Oh, Maxim….”
Soon, two attendants appeared carrying a large painting covered by a cloth. As they drew the fabric back, a landscape painting was revealed that captured the summer garden in perfect detail.
Even to my untrained eyes, it was a work of immense skill.
“I have captured the royal garden, which you cherish so much, in a painting. I hope you like it. I sincerely wish you a happy birthday, Your Majesty.”
The Queen, standing before the canvas, said with an emotional expression.
“To receive such a magnificent painting as a gift… I guarantee that there is no gift better than this received today. Thank you, Maxim. My beloved son.”
“You are too kind.”
Prince Maxim withdrew without dancing a second time. Since it was almost unheard of for him to dance at a ball, it was the natural procedure.
As he retreated, an unprecedented tension began to circulate in the ballroom.
The source was certain.
“Lady Veronica.”
The protagonist of the third dance was Veronica Edenbahir, the Grand Duchess and the Queen’s political rival.