Chapter 28: Your Name
Dott hurriedly went to find the Duchess.
“What brings you here, Dorothea?”
“Madam, I remembered something urgently and came to discuss it with you. Ever since the incident at the Harvest Festival last autumn, both the House of Orleans and the House of Hyante have suffered. Both Duchesses, in particular, were so shocked that they’ve withdrawn from society.”
“And so?”
The corners of Duchess Klein’s lips curled into a smile. Now that her dear Kassel had fully settled into the capital, she was even more receptive to Dorothea’s suggestion, though it involved a bit of speculation.
Dorothea’s words were true. Both noble families had persistently blamed each other for the events of that day, narrowly avoiding a duel, which Kassel had a small hand in defusing. Still, the animosity between the two houses lingered, and both Duchesses had scarcely shown their faces in society since.
Instead, they hosted small gatherings and soirees in their respective estates, selectively inviting guests—a not-so-subtle attempt to draw lines of allegiance.
Dorothea launched into her argument with fervor.
“If you, Madam, were to offer care to one or even both houses during such a time, wouldn’t it strengthen your bonds with them?”
“Offer care, you say?”
“Yes, Madam. You wouldn’t need to take sides. Merely the gesture of calming their troubled hearts would suffice. Perhaps even the imperial court would appreciate it, as it may ease the ongoing discord between the two families.”
“And this idea came to you? It had been quite some time since Scholar Pochette had visited the duchy.”
The Duchess looked at her with approval.
Emboldened by the Duchess’s praise, Dorothea replied respectfully, “I merely thought that, with these two formerly proud and poised ladies suddenly retreating from public view, society feels uneasy.”
“Yes, you’re right. Despite their proximity, the Emperor and the Crown Prince were both present that day. Nobles should not be stoking discord without evidence. As you say, I’ll make arrangements to visit them soon.”
“…Yes, Madam.”
Dorothea was overjoyed to have her suggestion accepted but hid her emotions carefully, knowing that impatience could ruin everything.
“Using the pretext of checking in will work to our advantage. You should also prepare yourself with a new dress and make visits to both houses in turn. But do not provoke them.”
This was exactly what Dorothea had hoped for!
“Understood, Madam. I’ll handle it.”
Inside, Dorothea celebrated.
Both noblewomen had, at one time, scorned Morgana, but she’d maintained a decent relationship with Dorothea, who had always carried herself with grace. Now that they were openly hostile to each other, soothing their wounded pride would be a relatively easy task.
‘Of course, the Duchy is preferable to a Marquessate, isn’t it? There are only two Dukes in the Empire.’
As Dorothea anticipated, Duchess Klein’s first destination was the House of Orleans.
True to its storied history, the estate exuded an old-world charm from the entrance. Even the restored, once-popular architectural details carried a sense of legacy.
The only descendant and heir, Lord Raphael, was also reputedly very handsome, though Dorothea, with her sights set on becoming Crown Princess, took little interest. Still, it would be wise to cultivate ties with him for the future.
“Welcome, Duchess Klein.”
“It’s good to see you. Is the Lady of the house in?”
“Ugh…”
A soft groan escaped from behind the ornate door just as the Duchess began to speak, but the butler answered politely without a hint of concern.
“Yes, I will announce your arrival immediately.”
Inside, the scene was even more absurd. While all others had kept a safe distance from the explosive event between the families’ knights, Duchess Orleans lay in bed, wearing a silk nightgown and nightcap, groaning in exaggerated discomfort.
Surely, this was a hastily staged act after hearing of Duchess Klein’s visit. Duchess Orleans had persistently invited her to various gatherings held at her estate, all of which Klein had declined. To open her estate for lavish gatherings, then suddenly feign illness—it was ridiculous.
“Oh… Duchess Klein, is it really you? I am moved to tears that you would come to see me….”
“My apologies for the delay. The Duke insisted we remain neutral while investigations were ongoing.”
The Duchess responded coolly.
“Oh! But that’s no issue. I’m simply overjoyed to know our friendship remains, to the point that I can’t stop crying….”
“Madam.”
“Sophia, in my most dire hour, I thought of your youthful face. We were the closest of friends, weren’t we?”
Duchess Orleans seemed keen to remind Duchess Klein of their shared past, addressing her by name.
‘Her theatrics are worse than I expected. Could she be the culprit?’
Instead of appearing flustered, the Duchess of Klein calmly took out a prepared handkerchief and offered it.
“Here, go ahead and dry your tears.”
Duchess Orleans, feigning tears, looked anything but distressed. Her complexion was bright and fresh, and far from any hint of redness around her eyes, she seemed radiant, as if she’d been well-rested and well-fed.
Both women knew perfectly well what the other was up to, yet they displayed their best performance, water welling in their eyes.
“Oh, th-thank you… so much.”
However, the white handkerchief extended by Duchess Klein bore a faint lemon-yellow embroidery at the edge. Embellished with an elegant letter “W,” it was unmistakably a gift from Marquis Hyante.
Duchess Klein was not the type to knowingly indulge others’ whims. Had she been, she might have found it hard to show her face in society as a Duchess.
With no choice but to accept the handkerchief, Duchess Orleans awkwardly dabbed at her cheeks before handing it back.
“This… should be enough.”
“Are you feeling a bit more composed now?”
“Yes, yes.”
It felt as though she’d suddenly been doused with a bucket of cold water, snapping her back to her senses.
Was the Duchess of Klein on her way back from visiting the Marquisate of Hyante? Or was she planning to go there again after leaving here?
Just as Duchess Orleans suspected, Duchess Klein maintained her impeccable poise and continued speaking.
“The Winter Ball at the Imperial Palace will be held soon, and I hope you recover well enough to attend.”
“Thank you, Madam.”
“After the unrest following the Harvest Festival, there’s no one but you, the Empire’s right heart, who can restore order. I shall look forward to it. Now, take good care of yourself. I’ll be off, lest I add to your troubles.”
“I wish Duchess Orleans peace and a speedy recovery.”
Dott quickly added her farewell.
As Duchess Klein left after pretending to sip her tea, Duchess Orleans grew anxious.
She had been willing to cut herself off from the palace just to win the power struggle with the Marquisate of Hyante, but if the Empire’s left heart was so willing to get involved…
No.
“Butler! Or anyone out there? Have everyone come in at once!”
“Yes, Madam.”
Calling upon her most trusted maid, she hurried to the High Temple.
Nearly thirty years ago, a distant relative from the House of Orleans had ascended to sainthood. Back then, to honor the saint, she’d been granted the Orleans family name and was well cared for.
Yet the saint, Kaphia, frequently issued vague prophecies or proclamations that utterly missed the mark.
Though not solely because of her, over time, fewer believers sought the temple, and the worth of wizards steadily outpaced that of priests.
Thus, the connection between the duchy and the saint had naturally faded. It was the current Duchess Orleans who had decided to restore this bond and provide steady support.
After all this goodwill, surely the saint should offer something in return.
Duchess Orleans was now on her way to reap the harvest of the seeds she had sown. With so much at stake, she had to yield something—anything.
Even if it was the fruit of deceit, it didn’t matter. If someone had to eat a red fruit to cure their illness, what did it matter if it was a tomato, a cherry, or even an unlikely red grape?
All she had to do was show the patient the ‘red’ and coax them to swallow it. This was the desperate yet graceful way to survive in the noble society.
— — —
After visiting both the House of Orleans and the Marquisate of Hyante in succession, Dott had been having restless dreams.
“Ugh…”
Duchess Klein.
The person she’d thought the most unassuming was surprisingly adept at society’s intricacies. Despite encountering the matriarchs of two rival houses back-to-back, she had shown no sign of backing down.
Because of this, Dott found herself questioning her choices more than before. Was she navigating things correctly? Could she be on the right path?
A world without the cushion of Morgana… was
maddening.
“My eyes are all sunken.”
Looking gaunt in this way would be troublesome. Her greatest asset was her refined, calming smile and her noble elegance. These, at least, she must maintain.
Dott was about to wash her face again when she was summoned to the private quarters of Duchess Klein.
“What’s this about?”
“By order of the Duchess. Quickly, now.”
Though they urged her, they didn’t pull her arm or speak informally. Their attitude seemed subtly different, as if setting a boundary.
There hadn’t been any recent signs of foreboding…
What was this? Had some message arrived from the two houses?
Nervous from her dreams, Dott put on her best poker face and headed to the room.
“Sit down.”
“Yes, Duchess.”
Though indoors, Duchess Klein wore a hat with a dark veil. The windows were curtained, allowing no light to enter.
Dott’s head tilted slightly forward, feeling an ominous tension.
That hat… wasn’t it something one wore for mourning? And her voice, too, had sounded unusually heavy, as though she’d been crying.
Dott spoke cautiously, trying to ease the tension.
“Is there a funeral?”
“…”
There was no swift reply.
The silence weighed between them, thick and suffocating, making Dott feel as if she might choke. She called out to the duchess again, nearly desperate.
What was this silence? Couldn’t someone say something?
“Duchess?”
“Dorothea.”
“Yes.”
“Since when were you Dorothea?”
Thud.
Her pupils flickered violently, recalling the memory of Grace Monastery.
The one she had so forcefully tried to push over the edge of the cliff, Lumint—because of you! Yes, it was all your fault.
If only you hadn’t been born, and it had been just me and Brother Dopell, our family wouldn’t have fallen into such hardship.
Because of the cost of your medicine, I couldn’t even dream of leaving that wretched countryside! A being as noble as I am was left in that miserable place!
Had you never been born, I wouldn’t have had to suffer at all from the very beginning.
……
(T/N: What do you mean ‘a being as noble as I am’? You making me want to curse someone 🙄)
