Chapter 113

“Did His Lordship the Marquis have a sister?”

The one to speak in that silence was a young gentleman, son of the Chief Judge of the High Court of Michèle. Viscount Du Prè nodded without hesitation.

“Yes, indeed. Though poor health prevents her from participating actively in high society, she is a most dignified and proper lady.”

“Forgive me if this is an impertinent question… but does she have any children?”

“I am not quite sure why you ask, but… yes, I believe she does. Lady Vallienne has a grown son. You may have met him before. Young Lord Vallienne, nephew to Count Bosquieux.”

“Then he would be the presumed heir of His Lordship, Marquis Baille. Under the protection of the Lex Ardica, he would be considered the legal successor.”

Viscount Du Prè looked at Sir Chufor in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected remark. The others seated nearby were just as astonished, casting skeptical glances in Sir Chufor’s direction.

“Is that truly the case? While it is true that Young Lord Vallienne is not entirely unrelated to the La Baille line, is he not descended through the maternal branch?”

Viscount Du Prè, having almost retorted reflexively to such an unconventional claim, suddenly realized that Sir Chufor was in fact of the robe nobility and immediately withdrew his question. In truth, Sir Chuphor had studied law at La Royale University and was slated to inherit his father’s seat on the High Court within a few years.

“Have you forgotten the Langues Decree, proclaimed thirty years ago? His late Majesty Armand IV, in consideration of a potential rupture in the imperial bloodline, issued a supplementary clause giving precedence to matrilineal succession over collateral lines in unavoidable cases.”

“Was that not an exceptional law, drafted in light of the imperial family’s unique circumstances? I was under the impression that the laws governing noble houses and the imperial line differ in application.”

“That is a common belief, but in truth, it is not so. The primary point of contention over the years has been the system of concubinage and the fluid nature of succession it entails. But as that is not simply a matter of legal interpretation but also a politically charged subject, few dare to touch it. Setting that aside, however, the finer rules of imperial succession are fundamentally based on the Lex Ardica. And according to the original text, not merely a supplement, it clearly states,‘The laws governing the inheritance of noble titles shall, in principle, be modeled after those of imperial succession.’”

Sir Chufor enjoyed poetry and literature, but he loved beautiful women even more, and among them, none so much as the golden-haired Young Miss Lanson. It was purely to grow closer to her that he had begun frequenting the salon of the Countess Bonatienne. And now, before the maiden he so admired, he would not miss the opportunity to show off his professional knowledge.

“It was by the Langues Decree that His Highness Prince Merrick was recognized as a legitimate heir to the throne. That is the most well-known case, which is why some assume the decree applies solely to members of the imperial house. But in truth, there are other instances of succession rights being granted under its authority. Take, for example, the hostess of this very vibrant ‘House of Talent’ we find ourselves in, and our dear friend, Countess Bonatienne. Her biological brother, Viscount Dèriche, is one such case.”

Only then did Viscount Du Prè come to his senses. Viscount Dèriche, nephew to Sir Gromanic, had inherited all of Sir Gromanic’s rights and estate, despite the latter having no collateral heirs. While it was said the succession had been confirmed by decree of the former Empress Mother, such an exception could never have been permitted without a solid legal foundation. Moreover, seated here at this very table was none other than Duke Fernand himself.

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“Your insight is truly impressive.”

“Then Viscount Dèriche is also, in effect, Sir Gromanic?”

“Strictly speaking, he is Count Gromanic. He possesses legitimate rights of succession, and given the considerable merits he earned during the Third Landrienne Campaign, it should not prove too difficult for him to reclaim the eastern territories, unlike other nobles in that region.”

At this, Young Miss Lanson’s eyes sparkled with unmistakable delight. Young and capable, Viscount Dèriche was already unusually popular in society despite his taciturn nature. Not only was he a promising figure in the Emperor’s inner circle and blessed with striking looks, but he also held a title and, even more remarkably, remained unmarried. How could such a man not draw attention?

Now, to his already enviable qualities were added a countship and the fertile eastern lands known for their wealth. Young Miss Lanson, proud of her own beauty, found her heart fluttering with newfound hope.

The hint to be favorable toward himself only served to raise the stature of an unwarranted rival, and a shadow of disappointment briefly crossed Sir Chufor’s face. Countess Bonatienne, who had endured much in life, exchanged wry smiles with Viscountess Farel, both seeing clearly through the naive ambition of the young girl.

The strange atmosphere was broken by Young Lady Freyr, who had been quietly listening until then. Her wide, puppy-like eyes blinked in surprise as she suddenly spoke words completely unrelated to the prior topic.

“Then the rightful heir to the Margraviate of Renault is His Majesty himself!”

“What do you mean by that all of a sudden?”

Sir Chufor answered curtly, already in a foul mood and irritated by the Young Lady’s needless remark. Yet, Young Lady Freyr answered without a hint of tact.

“His Majesty is the only direct descendant of the late Empress Mother Héloïse, the sole blood relative of the late Margrave of Renault, with no collateral relatives remaining. Naturally, His Majesty should inherit the Margraviate of Renault.”

“His Majesty restored the Eastern territories by right of birth. The entirety of the Eastern territories is effectively his property. Why claim inheritance anew? Moreover, that matter has nothing to do with the current issue.”

“Is that so? It seems rather irrelevant to me.”

“Indeed.”

Young Lady Freyr, the honored daughter of the great landowner in the South, Count Freyr, was notably innocent but overly sheltered, and her naivety was a flaw. She had little sense of reading others’ feelings or the mood of the room, and often made careless remarks that left those around her awkward.

However, Duke Fernand instinctively realized her words were not mere nonsense. Whether or not she was aware of it, upon hearing her statement, something struck him like a thunderclap.

Indeed, it was so. According to the Langues Decree, the presumptive heir to the Margraviate of Renault was Ebroin V himself. His inheritance rights to those lands were guaranteed by law, just like the innate rights of other nobles.

Though Ebroin V played the largest role in recovering the Eastern territories, he could not simply claim the entire vast region as an imperial domain. To do so would first provoke the military and then unite the nobles, all scheming how to divide the new lands, in revolt.

No matter how much of an Emperor he was, he could not fight against the entire nobility of the empire. Cold reason dictated that his involvement at most concerned the division of the lands.

Though considerably advantaged over other nobles, Ebroin V still had to contend with them to secure his share. No issue stirred noble ire more than the expansion of imperial domains.

From this perspective, acquiring territories in the East without unnecessary conflict was a remarkable political gain. Separate lands, secured without infringing on existing shares, would provide a base for further influence. Naturally, as the size of his holdings increased, so too would the Emperor’s influence in the Eastern territories.

Fortune smiles upon you once more, Your Majesty. Whether this luck that so often finds its way to you is mere chance or something greater, I cannot say.

Realizing that it was the Emperor who ultimately stood to gain from this needless death, Duke Fernand ground his teeth once more. He could not understand why, without exception, every event that transpired always seemed to unfold in the Emperor’s favor.

Could it truly be nothing more than a coincidence? No matter how much Saint Régire was hailed as the ‘Goddess of Favor,’ the notion that she would devote such absolute affection to a single scion of her blood was absurd. Fate was not so convenient a thing.

The same held true for luck. If someone always won at the gambling table, then he was cheating. In Duke Fernand’s eyes, Ebroin V was precisely such a man.

He had no concrete evidence, and yet he suspected the Emperor. Evidence no longer mattered to him. Ebroin V was a man like a serpent. The Emperor, sly and cold-hearted, spared no means or method to obtain what he desired. He was the sort who could turn away from the deaths of innocent women and children, and even, in the body of the Emperor, shield a murderer.

In his more innocent days, Duke Fernand had simply resented the Emperor’s callousness. He had blamed the ruler’s unfair conduct for siding with another over his own kin, and mourned the estrangement between blood relatives who should have stood united.

But as the fury, like having one’s heart torn out alive, began to subside, and even the abyssal despair that once seemed to drag his every step downward began to dull, a new question emerged in his now-cool mind.

‘Why did he protect the murderer?’

It was the very same question his mother had asked him over and over again, identical to the one he had long repeated to himself. In his turbulent heart, a slow, dark poison began to seep.

‘Why would the Emperor, who ought to be just, shield the one who harmed his own kin, and go so far as to tarnish his own dignity with ridiculous excuses in order to protect him? Was it truly because that man was a favored vassal? If that is what you believe, oh, my beloved son… then you are far too innocent.’

Once planted, suspicion took root easily in fertile soil. Even if his mother had not constantly watered and fed it, Duke Fernand would have raised that poisonous growth all the same.

To believe that all the misfortunes he had suffered were the result of forces beyond himself was far easier and more convenient than reflecting on his own faults. Had he spared even a little more thought, he might have realized how groundless such ideas were, but instead, he shut his eyes and stopped his ears without hesitation.

He saw only what he wished to see, and heard only the truths he wished to hear.

Frankly speaking, the true reason he had come to the salon of Countess Bonatienne today was that there was someone he especially needed to meet.

Ordinarily, the Duke of Fernand had no dealings with this person. Though both he and the other party were highly popular figures in high society, that did not mean they were personally acquainted. They moved in different circles, and their temperaments did not align. Given how few places the nobility frequented, they had occasionally crossed paths, but even then, only exchanged the most perfunctory of greetings.

Now, that distant history had come back to hinder him. He needed to meet this person urgently, but had no natural means of doing so. They were not previously familiar, and suddenly appearing at the other’s residence would have been out of the question. Too many eyes watched the comings and goings at that particular estate.