Chapter 67

In the middle of that busy and lively street was Eugène. He was late to leave the palace and stopped in the middle of a crowded street. In the muggy carriage, he heard the familiar call of a friendly alms basket girl and was struck with nostalgia.

Although the name of House d’Estuaire was being rekindled after decades, having been granted permission for the first week of the Grand Feaute, in his childhood, it was only the Emperor who distributed alms food in the capital.

At that time, he was a poor child who could hardly afford sweets, but he could not even dare to take the alms because of his father, who almost hated Empress Héloïse. And so, he was envious of the children his age who were free to chase after the baskets of honey bread. After his father became ill and stopped going anywhere, he still had a chance, but in the case of Eugène, it was only possible with great luck.

If he let himself be free during the festival period, the next day’s meal would prove to be a problem, so even then, he doesn’t remember enjoying himself much. Rather than that, he was usually busy helping out at restaurants that were short-staffed.

Occasionally, if he was fortunate enough to serve a kind-hearted master, he might be granted an hour or two to fetch some charity bread. But the more merciless ones showed no such leniency, forcing him to carry food for others all day while making him starve.

That he’d grown to have such a strong physique despite childhood hunger bordered on miraculous. Eugène watched from the window as the alms baskets of bread, carried by the young girls, were emptied in an instant. As they turned to leave, he allowed himself a faint smile.

The carriage finally arrives at the cathedral after a series of stops and starts due to the complicated street conditions. The attendants, recognizing the coat of arms of the carriage given by the imperial family, politely opened the door and welcomed Eugène. As he was required to attend the service presided over by the Emperor, he wore the formal ceremonial attire known as abliaut.

Over a lightchainsemade of fine linen, he wore a splendid silksurcottrimmed with velvet at the edges and richly embroidered along the sleeves. Draped across his shoulders and flowing all the way to his feet was a long cloak, secured by a platinum brooch in the shape of stag antlers, which was a wedding gift from his late wife.

It was made as light as possible because it was a formal attire to wear in summer, but the layers of fabric wrapped around him made it unavoidably hot. Following the guidance of the attendants, he ascended the stairs and, accepting a single daffodil given to him, stepped into the cathedral

The cathedral was bustling with nobles who had arrived early. The nobles, dressed in simple and dignified bliauts, stood in the positions assigned to them according to their status and conversed with each other.

Eugène, whose title ranked the lowest among the nobles, was positioned slightly behind the center of the cathedral. As he stood in front of a wooden chair with his name on it, the barons and baronesses standing around greeted him warmly.

Some of them were familiar, but most of them were unknown. Since more than half of them were not fit enough to visit the court, this was the first time they had ever seen the rumored Baron Amieux.

The noblewomen, who had no fans to cover their mouths because of today’s dress code, habitually covered their mouths with the daffodils in their hands and whispered amongst themselves.

‘Oh my, is that Baron Amieux?’

‘oa hN VJJHwItt… sI Qt YGb YbJh LaGE z aGH QhGVQwIH. z LGt IgrIvEQwV G hJbI VbGvIYkS GwH ISIVGwE VIwESIhGw.’

‘yfT lgDwTPj fT TM ngOtTMJw, nMb tft nw knMMTw Tdkn g JgO? V kgOOMP dOtwCTPgOt.’

EITp YQsTYp ILBJ’d QJdTJBTB Sfi fdITiA df faTiITLi, gUd dIT ATLdA mTiT SLi dff GYfAT. WJ GfJdiLAd, dIT JfgYTA ATTPTB SLi PfiT TLNTi df GLdGI kUNèJT’A TpT.

“Hello? I have heard much about you. I am Baronet Lanvin. My family is directly descended from House Garrette. The current Viscount Garrette is, in fact, my paternaluncle.”

“… zfm dILd pfU PTJdQfJ Qd, W Bf iTGLYY ATTQJN IQP. oLA Qd Ld dIT gLJZUTd fS VfUJdTAA zéYQTJ?”

“xfU Bf iTPTPgTi, QJBTTB! W dIfUNId Af. Wd ATTPA dILd Pp UJGYT mLA LYAf BTTqYp QPqiTAATB gp wLifJ rPQTUc. W ILaT ITLiB Af PLJp dIQJNA SifP IQP, Af Qd BfTA Jfd STTY YQsT dIQA QA dIT SQiAd dQPT mT ILaT PTd.”

Unfortunately for Baronet Lanvin, who was full of hope, there were too many people who spoke to him in this way to make much of an impression on Eugène. After that, the nobles continued to approach and bother him.

Since his seat was fixed, he couldn’t run away from them as he would at a ball, and he couldn’t be rude to the other nobles, so Eugène had to endure the ordeal. As time passed, the noise increased, and even the cool air inside the cathedral gradually heated up.

How much time could possibly have passed? As the late afternoon sun turned a deep orange, the sound of a magnificent trumpet arrived on the breeze from the other side of Lacte Street, which bordered the main entrance of the cathedral.

The slow, grave sound of wind instruments drew closer along the street. The people who lined up along the sidewalks to watch the procession of the Eastern Prince-Elector greeted the family with a loud cheer as soon as they heard the music. It wasn’t so much a show of support for House d’Estuaire as it was an anticipation of the spectacle they would provide.

To the cheers of the people, a rider bearing the cobalt-colored crest of the House d’Estuaire rode in on a white horse; behind him walked the crest-bearers of the two closest cadet branches of House d’Estuaire; behind them followed a column of clown-clad musicians carrying wind instruments; and again the horsemen of the House d’Estuaire, this time on white horses, marched in, picking up handfuls of copper coins from baskets and tossing them over the heads of the people.

Even a small denomination of five roux each would add up to a lot of money. The expectant citizens shouted with joy and stretched out their hands. They frantically snatched up the goodwill of the House d’Estuaire that was scattered over their heads and prayed to the Gods to bless them.

The march of the Prince-Electors allowed in the Grand Feaute was a ceremony to swear allegiance to the Emperor, and at the same time, a golden opportunity to make the citizens of the capital aware of their supremacy. The same was the case with House d’Estuaire, whose title was only restored after several decades, so Count d’Estuaire, or Oscar Valentiée, as he would become a Duke from this day forward, made thorough preparations for the occasion.

Behind each of the four horses stretched a long silk banner. Upon the cobalt-blue fabric symbolizing the House d’Estuaire, their illustrious family history was richly embroidered in splendid detail.

Twelve children per silk banner followed the procession, holding the long, beautiful fabric taut as they walked. The musicians play the marching tune again, followed by the monks of the monastery sponsored by House d’Estuaire, all clad in robes and singing hymns.

Among the dozens standing in a neat formation, the most striking was the young Count d’Estuaire, dressed in a silk bliaut the color of a clear autumn sky, embroidered with his family’s crest in silver thread: a shepherd’s crook crossed with a sword.

Oscar Valentiée, a man with strikingly beautiful green eyes and impeccable looks, had his long, dark hair braided classically. Like the lords of the Old Kingdom Era, a long silver tassel was hung around the waist, and it suited him very well.

Eugène didn’t know how many white horses were bought for this procession, but the one Count d’Estuaire rode was remarkably beautiful. From head to toe, she was white with no blemishes, her eyes were as blue as sapphires, and her mane and tail were luscious like a maiden’s hair, just like a mythical pegasus.

“Illuvad!”

“It is Illuvad!!”

His appearance was so similar to the knight of the old tales that people loved to tell, that maidens as well as children looked at him and exclaimed that he resembled the pure white knight, Illuvad.

He was followed by the flag bearers of the Eastern noble houses. They held the flags with pride, representing the lords of the East under the d’Estuaire banner, their polished armor gleaming as they marched in measured strides.

They looked likecuirassierswith their shiny breastplates, but it was more than two centuries ago that the nobility was forbidden to train private soldiers. Up until a generation ago, some Margraves were allowed to have private soldiers as an exception, but after the Second Landrienne Campaign, even that practice fell into disrepute.

As a result, the Emperor was the only one who had the right to train an army in the present empire. So, they were not actual horsemen, no matter how much they looked the part. The mighty power the flags once symbolized had now faded into history, and only their form remained, creating nostalgia for posterity.

Finally, the long procession came to an end with the carriers of the copper coin baskets throwing coins at the citizens again. It was a luxurious procession that would have cost a lot of money, even after mobilizing dozens of horses and costing hundreds of people.

Count d’Estuaire dismounted upon arriving before the Notre Magnat Cathedral and accepted a single daffodil, tied with a red and green ribbon, from one of the attendants. The daffodil, with its golden crown and ever-downcast gaze, has long been regarded as a symbol of imperial authority and has held this honor even in the days before an Emperor reigned.

Saint Eustace, who returned agriculture and fire by walking the entire continent step by step to revive the devastated land, left a prophecy before ascending to heaven that the Son of God, who would watch over his people like a daffodil, would return to earth as a king. As a result, in the turbulent times when kingdoms were in chaos with each other, it was fashionable to engrave a single daffodil on each coat of arms.

But now, among those of House Ardi, only the Emperor of the direct line can proudly use the daffodil as his symbol.

Count d’Estuaire took out the ivory chest he was holding, placed the symbol of the Emperor on it, and walked into the cathedral. The only members of the procession allowed to follow him into the cathedral were a group of monks from different regions of the East to perform the ceremony. As Count d’Estuaire stepped into the cathedral, a magnificent bell began to ring from the bell tower.

It was the official start of the long-anticipated first week of the Grand Feaute.

Notre Magnat Cathedral, the headquarters of the Order of St. Eustace, where the ceremony of the Grand Feaute would be held, was a magnificent and dignified structure unparalleled in the entire empire. This massive, four-story cathedral boasted high ornate ceilings, solemn vertical spires, and large arched windows decorated with tinted glass, the most artistic and splendid on the continent.

The evening sun shone on the bright stained glass, the pride of the cathedral. The languid twilight sun passed through the tinted glass delicately laminated according to the design and fell quietly between the central aisles of the cathedral. Count d’Estuaire walked to the altar, stepping on the brilliant shadows of light cast on the red carpet.

The bell rang with every step he took. As if to match the beat, the heavy pipe organ’s tone played a solemn tune. After the organ’s prelude, the choir, specially selected for today, sang old chants praising the radiant majesty of the Divine and the infinite glory of the Emperor.

Instead of the commonly usedEneca, the chants were sung inDisseor, the language used in the days of the Prince-Elector Era, making them sound even more mysterious and enigmatic since it was difficult to understand.

The young count, clad in a long cloak that dragged on the ground, slowly approached the altar, followed by forty monks dressed as pilgrims.

From his perch on the dais, three steps higher than the others, the Emperor looked at Count d’Estuaire and his party approaching him. Marquise Merlin, though accompanying him on official business, did not stand alongside the Emperor, but rather stood one step below him.

Another person standing on the same platform as her was the Cardinal of the Order of Saint Eustace, who would be in charge of today’s rites. Cardinal Giorante, who was moderately astute and secular, and well suited to Ebroin V, was also the person who helped the Emperor the most in gaining control of the Order.

“Upon the path of eternal salvation, Count d’Estuaire speaks before His Majesty, The Emperor, Deputy of God. From the first step of Saint Eustace, a new shoot sprang forth, and now at last it bears fruit. I offer to the Emperor the first harvest of this great miracle.”

Count d’Estuaire, kneeling before the high altar that reached his chest, recited a pre-determined phrase and offered the ivory chest.

When the ivory chest containing grains of the first harvest was placed upon the smooth marble altar, the Cardinal descended the steps and approached Count d’Estuaire. He made a holy sign for himself, took the daffodil, dipped it into the holy water the deacon was holding, and wet the petals. Then, lightly sprinkled water from the damp daffodil onto the Count’s forehead and shoulders to wash away any lingering traces of impurity.

All the while, the chanting continued faintly. Instead of enveloping the environment as it had at the beginning, the chant was soft and uninterrupted, flowing calmly like a background sound, as spiritual and peaceful as the sound of a brook at night.

This strange ritual, blending religious rites with a secular oath of allegiance, proceeded step by step according to a strictly prescribed order. Representing all the Eastern lords—including Eugène himself, strictly speaking— Count d’Estuaire took part in the ceremony.