Chapter 106

Of course, such grand displays were reserved for only the most extreme cases. It was an open secret that the vast majority of forbidden books were quietly appropriated and locked away in restricted archives. The public liked to speculate that this vault was hidden in the basement of the High Court of Michelè.

But based on what Eugène had come to know, albeit unintentionally, through his role as an occasional advisor to political meetings, the empire’s largest repository of forbidden books was in fact located at La Royale University.

Looking back now, his previous report felt reckless. Only now, faced with this very real wall, did he come to regret his haste. Given the gravity of the matter, he ought to have built a firmer foundation before attempting to persuade the Emperor. He had acted far too impulsively.

In order to access the repository of forbidden books, the Emperor’s permission was required above all else. But the Emperor, who had gone so far as to bar Eugène from leaving the palace grounds, would hardly grant him access to the repository.

There will be no further progress here.

After a moment of hesitation, Eugène made up his mind. There was no point in lingering when no new gains were to be made. He began methodically tidying up the books scattered around him and rose from his seat. Truthfully, it had grown tiresome lately, what with the number of eyes that now followed him even into the library. After borrowing a few books for appearance’s sake, he stepped out of the library building.

The early afternoon sun blazed down with an oppressive heat. Eugène raised one hand to shade his eyes as he briefly glanced up at the sky, then turned to make his way back toward his quarters. Though it was already the final week of August, the late-summer sunlight had not lost its fierce intensity. He veered toward the perimeter path that skirted the garden, seeking respite from the harsh sun beneath the shaded walk.

Though famed as a spring garden, the summer landscape of Saint Tefylae was no less splendid. The path Eugène chose was abosquet, a formal grove with trees grown overhead to create a shaded passage. On one side, thickly grown trees and plants had been trimmed into high walls that cast cool shadows, while on the other, an expansiveparterrestretched out across an open plaza, carefully designed so one could enjoy the view while strolling along.

Garden trees trimmed in geometric shapes boasted a lush vibrancy, and the white pebbles underfoot gave off a soft, crisp crunch with each step. The arabesque parterre flowerbeds edged with boxwood shrubs up to the knee had taken on yet another pattern since his last visit. Even in this stifling season, it seemed the palace gardeners had not neglected their duties in the slightest.

Although the Saint Tefylae Garden was a celebrated attraction of the Imbert Palace, it was not the sort of place one would expect to be popular even in summer. As such, there was scarcely a trace of human presence nearby. Time passed slowly in the hush, serene to the point of stillness.

Eugène had not set out intending to take a stroll, but the quiet, secluded atmosphere proved perfect for organizing his thoughts. The tranquility gradually eased the tension in his shoulders, and as the minutes passed, his steps grew slower. He walked leisurely, sorting through the thoughts rising within him.

Hm?

How long had he been walking like that? Nearing the end of the garden path, Eugène suddenly halted, having caught a strange sight out of the corner of his eye. Across the parterre garden, expansive enough to fit several manor houses, a curious pair was passing beneath the shadows of the trees.

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Approaching from the opposite direction was a noblewoman out for a stroll, who now greeted him warmly upon recognizing him. Behind her trailed a cluster of ladies-in-waiting and attendants, companions befitting a concubine of the Emperor.

Though caught off guard, Eugène quickly regained his composure and exchanged greetings with her.

“I am honored to see you, Marquise Lamott.”

As Eugène bowed his head, a pale hand was offered to him with natural grace. Even beneath the harsh summer sun, it bore no trace of sunburn, an elegant and delicate hand. He took it, placed a light kiss on the back, and straightened his back.

She had fiery red hair and silver-green eyes, yet despite such vivid coloring, she possessed the gentlest impression among all the Emperor’s concubines. Though already a mother of two, her figure remained as slender as a girl’s, and she was accordingly petite in stature.

Therefore, to meet the tall Eugène’s gaze, she had to lift her chin quite high. Adjusting the dainty parasol veiled with white lace, Marquise Lamott looked up at him.

“I hope I have not interrupted your walk, Baron.”

At the innocent question from a noble lady of her rank, Eugène suppressed a wry smile. Even if she had, answering honestly would hardly be considered courteous.

“Not at all, Marquise. I was merely passing through, and was returning to my quarters after a visit to the library.”

“Is that so? I am glad to hear it.”

Relieved by his polite reply, the Marquise smiled softly. Then, still in her gentle manner, she made an unexpected request.

“I have missed seeing you of late. It is a happy coincidence that we meet today. I have an appointment to keep, might I trouble you to escort me there? There is so much I have been wanting to talk to you about.”

Eugène quickly discerned that, contrary to her outward appearance, she was a woman of considerable resolve. Once, she had even hosted a banquet to welcome him, but that had been under different circumstances. Now, the situation had changed. However open the secret might be, he was the Emperor’s lover, and she was one of the Emperor’s concubines. A more conventional noblewoman would have considered even speaking to him a disgrace.

Whatever her true intent, now that she had made such a direct request for conversation, it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to refuse. Eugène gave no outward sign of discomposure and accepted her offer with poise.

“It would be my honor, Marquise.”

He extended an arm to her. A hand, light as a feather and so faint in presence it was scarcely perceptible, just as was typical of courtly ladies, came to rest gently on his arm. Whatever signal she had given, as soon as Eugène began to escort her, the attendants and the ladies-in-waiting trailing behind her fell back a few paces, keeping a respectful distance.

Eugène felt a faint sense of unease at the sight, but even so, it was hardly a situation in which he could now refuse a lady’s request. He simply asked where she intended to go and turned to head in that direction.

“This place is always so beautiful, is it not?”

At the three-pronged fork in the path, Marquise Lamott chose the third, a route quite different from the one Eugène had been following. Where his path had led down the vertical edge of the square-shaped garden, this one traced the horizontal side, and on the opposite end stood theorangerie, said to have been dearly beloved by the late Emperor himself.

“I am fond of it as well.”

“My companions often lament that this garden lacks a fountain. In this season especially, it is hard to endure the heat without the cool sound of water, they say.”

She had mastered the soft inflections characteristic of court language to an astonishing degree. She was a lady with an elegant and slender frame and a lovely voice, just like a small bird.

“But I would not belittle the charm of this garden. Even if it cannot remain beautiful year-round, so long as it possesses a charm that is truly unique, one found nowhere else, earning affection should not be so difficult, do you not agree? Think of the reputation this garden enjoys for its incomparable spring days. And what of Saint Tefylae himself, who was granted honors not even bestowed upon the mothers of Saint Eustace’s children?”

However, this bird was no dainty canary kept for comfort, but rather a bird of prey. Marquise Lamott leaned in with a boldness that went beyond the bounds of polite decorum, meeting his eyes as though seeking his agreement. Eugène maintained his upright bearing, holding an appropriate distance rather than being drawn in by her veiled phrasing.

“Forgive me for not being a suitable conversation partner. Regrettably, I do not possess the artistic sensibilities to discuss the aesthetics of this garden. In my eyes, it is merely a beautiful and pleasing place.”

He maintained his impeccably courteous demeanor. Marquise Lamott smiled lightly and shook her head. Her apricot-tinted lips curved gently, and the delicate almond shape of her eyes narrowed with an entrancing allure. For all her gentleness, she had once held the Emperor’s exclusive favor. A rebuff of this degree was hardly enough to deter her.

“I am not seeking artistic opinions, nor do I intend to debate history or theology. What I wish to share with you, Baron, are my sincere thoughts. Surely we are close enough for that much, are we not?”

“Am I truly on such intimate terms with you, Marquise?”

“They say that in the distant Shaak, all wives who serve the same husband are equal sisters to one another. By that logic, would we not make a fine pair of siblings?”

Eugène, taken aback, was speechless. It was common sense to refrain from talking about the Lady of Balustre – that is, the unofficial concubine, in a formal setting, and especially in front of someone else, but Marquise Lamott seemed to have no intention of observing such courtesy.

She held his arm and smiled gracefully. As usual, her affectionate and gentle demeanor remained unchanged, as Eugène looked down at her face, he felt a chill run down his spine.

“… Marquise Lamott.”

“Do not now blame my impertinence when you are the one whose romance has stirred the entire court into uproar. There is a limit to how long one can pretend ignorance.”

She lightly tapped his arm as if chiding him, but there was steel beneath the jest in her words. While she resumed her leisurely pace forward, Eugène struggled to conceal his unease as he matched her steps.

“I heard you were recently placed under confinement by the command of His Majesty?”

He truly wondered what her intent was in bringing up such matters. Marquise Lamott did not seem foolish enough to casually touch such a sensitive topic simply for the sake of mockery or ridicule. If that had been the case, she would not have been able to maintain such perfect composure and steer the conversation on her own terms.

“I heard from my companions you are forbidden from leaving the palace grounds. At first, I could scarcely believe such a rumor, but in time, it proved true. I still find it astonishing. That His Majesty would issue such a command…”

Since the nature of his relationship with the Emperor had become known, the curious courtiers had quietly speculated over when the Emperor’s favor might turn away from him. After all, Eugène was a fallen noble with no territory, a mere country bumpkin who came from the West. He was a rough-edged man who could not even pronounce the courtly accent smoothly.

They did not believe such a rustic man could maintain the Emperor’s favor in a place as splendid and ruthless as court. Some malicious souls privately mocked his position and openly wagered on when he would be cast aside.

But a greater number of shrewder, more seasoned figures were watching the situation with caution. Baron Amieux. This man’s very existence was the first crack revealed by the terrifyingly consistent Emperor. A man who loathed revealing even the smallest vulnerability had, for the first time, exposed a weakness. And ever since then, he had often shown emotional reactions when it came to this man.

For someone as thorough by nature as Ebroin V, to dance in public with a paramour, an unofficial one at that, and a man no less, was no small matter. But that was hardly the end of his unusual behavior.

He handed out a prestigious honorary post like Custodian of the Imperial Scepter without a trace of political calculation, and now, as with this latest instance, he issued a vague and emotionally charged command that baffled those around him.

Exception after exception after exception. The situations surrounding Baron Amieux were always a series of exceptions, and the shrewd among the courtiers did not fail to take notice.