Chapter 73

After collecting his tangled thoughts and composing himself into something resembling his usual demeanor, Eugène realized it was already late afternoon.

In the forest, the sun tended to set early, and if he meant to return to the camp before nightfall, it was time to make haste. When Eugène expressed his intention to head back, the young guardsman led him out of the woods.

Though it was called a “camp,” the place they were heading to was no modest hunter’s lodge. It was not merely a hunting lodge, but a distinguished auxiliary palace with a name of its own, boasting over a hundred rooms.

Perhaps thirty minutes had passed since they set off. Through the dense thicket, the ivory-stuccowalls of a building began to peek through the trees. The sunset clinging to the blue-tiled roof looked like a deep bruise, crimson toward the base and darkening into a dusky indigo at the fading edge of the sky.

Although Laurent Palace was not as splendid or overwhelmingly majestic as Imbert Palace, it still retained the tranquil aura of a castle that had been expanded over the centuries. Eugène looked at the beautiful scene and headed for the castle, following the path that led to it.

The rich aroma of sweet delicacies now filled the air as the servants in the palace were preparing meals to welcome those returning from hunting. Since the palace rooms could not accommodate all the guests, countless hunting tents now stood in orderly rows across the Winter Garden – the palace’s largest garden.

Where the forest stood empty, the garden now swarmed. As dusk began falling, the returning hunters gathered in one corner, stacking their abundant game. While servants scurried to unload carcasses from packhorses, the clerks with small desks in front of them were busy recording each nobleman’s trophies in a hunting ledger.

“Who has hunted the most so far? As expected, Count Zecre?”

“No, it must be Viscount Dèriche. I heard he caught seven deer and five foxes.”

“That is tremendous. He is a natural hunter, no?”

“Did he not participate as an officer in the Third Landrienne Campaign last year? He must have had a lot of opportunities to practice.”

Even as he walked in search of my tent, leaving his horse at the entrance of the garden, he constantly heard people talking. The biggest topic of the day was the results of the hunting competition. They argued heatedly over who had killed the most animals, and who had brought home the finest game.

Some, like Eugène, returned empty-handed, but most were more fortunate. Some had caught poultry such as pheasants and ducks, while others had caught wild boars. Yet nothing rivaled the prestige of taking the forest’s royal game – the deer.

“Is that you, Baron Amieux?”

He was casually walking across the garden, listening to most of the conversation in one ear, when a voice called out to him from behind. The voice was too close for him to ignore, so Eugène was forced to turn and answer the call.

“Viscount Despan.”

Viscount Despan, red-haired like his sister, but with plain brown eyes instead of the striking silver-green of his sister’s, approached with a friendly smile and spoke to him.

“Did you have a good hunt?”

He greeted him with feigned warmth while keenly scanning his surroundings.Could it be that he has spoken simply to find out how many game animals I have caught?Eugène regarded him with a quiet smirk. True to a young nobleman driven by pride, Viscount Despan seemed quite preoccupied with the outcome of the hunt.

“My misfortune yielded me nothing today. What about you, Viscount Despan?”

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After giving him the obligatory hollow praise, Eugène turned to the other nobleman standing behind him. Since it would be impolite to share space without introductions, the Viscount hastily introduced the two unacquainted men to each other.

“Oh, I have not had the chance to introduce you both yet. This is my brother-in-law, Lord Manik, the esteemed son of Count Manik. Count Manik is ill, and he is present here as his representative.”

Lord Manik, who appeared to be about Viscount Despan’s age, nodded his head bluntly to greet him. He was very reticent, unlike his younger sister, who was known for being chatty.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Baron Amieux.”

“I am Lord Manik, son of Count Manik.”

“It seems that you are without company, so why not join us for dinner? Tonight’s dinner is rather informal, with no fixed seating arrangements.”

Perhaps pitying the man’s solitary wandering, Viscount Despan extended unexpected kindness. While likely meant as consideration, this unsought kindness only burdened the mentally and physically exhausted Eugène. He politely but firmly declined the invitation.

“The sentiment itself is much appreciated. It would be improper of me to impose upon your private dinner.”

Despite his courteous refusal, Viscount Despan invited him to join them once more.

“There is no need to be so modest. A prepared feast improves with more companions, do you not think so? If a chance encounter like this may be called fate’s design, then let us name it so.”

Behind Viscount Despan’s bright smile, his words carried a sharp edge. Eugène frowned slightly, realizing that his invitation was not out of mere goodwill. Apparently, Viscount Despang had no intention of letting this chance opportunity pass.

“Is there anything else you would like to say to me?”

Viscount Despan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the dry question posed by Eugène. He shrugged and reached out to Eugène.

“If you are still against the dinner, then perhaps a stroll? There is another garden behind here with lovely walking paths, they resemble a maze, so one easily avoids prying eyes.”

Eugène, unable to refuse his proposal to the end, ultimately followed behind him.

The bustle of people’s voices is eerily distant, even though only one building separates them. Only the sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence of the garden.

Viscount Despan, perhaps seeking private conversation, even dismissed his brother-in-law who was beside him and walked the garden path alone with Eugène. Every time they took a step, the pebbles under their feet made a clear sound.

The Stag’s Garden was the smallest of the four gardens attached to the Laurent Palace. The garden’s focal point was a dynamically posed leaping stag fountain, and the path leading to it was decorated as a small maze of low shrubbery. Yet with its shoulder-height hedges, this so-called labyrinth offered neither challenge nor secrecy.

According to hearsay, Emperor Bauduin III, who dearly loved his daughter, purposely designed it this way to protect the princess’s virtue as she walked with her betrothed. Despite this theory, the garden had nothing to do with secrecy and consequently became the least visited area.

Typically, nobles visit gardens late at night to enjoy secret meetings. However, the Stag’s Garden, fully exposed to overlooking windows, preserved precisely zero secrets.

“I hear a lot of interesting rumors about you these days. Are you aware of them, Barom Amieux?”

After a considerable pause, Viscount Despan finally spoke. Though Eugène found the entire situation unpleasant, his face remained impassive as he silently looked at the Viscount.

“Yes, I am aware.”

Now that matters had reached this point, false modesty would be ridiculous. Eugène accepted the truth apathetically. When the test poke elicited no reaction, Viscount Despan shrugged and narrowed his eyes.

“Indeed, unless one were deaf, such rumors would be impossible to miss. Thanks to that, the noble ladies these days are never at a loss for conversation. My good wife is particularly loquacious, so I receive all sorts of news. Sometimes I think the noblewomen’s information network surpasses even that of the chief ministers.”

He redirected the conversation with an amiable smile. Eugène, impatient with such circuitousness, stared straight into his eyes.

“What is it that you wish to say?”

The cold tone, sharply cutting off the other’s words mid-sentence, constituted extreme rudeness by aristocratic society’s standards of etiquette.”

But Eugène didn’t care. Viscount Despan was one of the most influential men among the Southern nobility, but he had no intention of getting close to the Viscount. He was the Emperor’s in-law, and in-laws, whether for good or bad, were beings best left unentangled

“You are as frank as I have heard.”

“You seem to have heard a lot about me.”

“As I mentioned before, my dear wife is quite talkative. Though I have always kept my ears open since I am personally very interested in you.”

Further inside, Viscount Despan, who had been walking, suddenly stopped and turned his head to look at him.

“Did you not recently subject Countess Patrí to a great ignominy?”

Eugene had no idea what he was talking about, but then he frowned as he remembered the rumors that were sweeping high society these days.

Though the source remained unclear, gossip claimed Eugène was behind Countess Patrí’s consecutive humiliations at Marquise Bertin’s ball and the Grand Feaute. It was said that he, as the Emperor’s current obsession, had begun in earnest to tame the Emperor’s former favorite.

The rumors alleged Eugène had targeted Countess Patrí because she was the Emperor’s former favorite and had previously taken as her companion Louise de Dumont, his former wife. Supposedly nursing a grudge, he’d orchestrated her disgrace and transferred her position to Marquise Merlin, who was close to him – to Eugène, it was a progressively outrageous fabrication.

The claim that he was close with Marquise Merlin was truly the first he’d heard of it, and moreover, he’d never been involved in matters concerning the Emperor’s concubines. Yet high society, ever ravenous for imperial romantic affairs, accepted these fabrications as gospel truth.

“I shall remain silent on that subject.”

“Oh, I am not trying to criticize you at all. Should the rumors prove accurate, you have done splendidly. Countess Patrí’s combination of delusional and stubborn temperament requires regular humbling. She carries herself haughtily, believing herself the longest-reigning favorite, but in truth, during the past five years of war, His Majesty was absent from court. Excluding those years, her actual reign scarcely exceeds others’, yet the Countess never accounts for this and always behaves arrogantly.”

Despite clear disinterest, Viscount Despan discharged his verbal musket. Eugène could only stare in disbelief. He couldn’t fathom what possible reason the man had for spewing such slander about Countess Patrí to him.

Did he possibly think he’d be pleased to hear such things? It seemed Eugène’s image in his mind was thoroughly fixed as the Emperor’s new favorite.

“You appear to be mistaken. I maintain no special regard for her, nor indeed for any of the imperial concubines.”

He only thought of all three of them as beautiful women, nothing more, nothing less. The Emperor’s favorites, like royal in-laws, were not to be approached.

“Do you mean to say, then, that you hold no particular concern for Marquise Merlin?”

“We have been formally introduced, but I claim no personal acquaintance. Please do not believe all the rumors circulating around.”

That damn Toilette Officielle! The reason he was rumored to be close to the Marquise Merlin was that he had previously been invited to the Marquise’s toilette room.

“But are you not actually close to Princess Anne Meredith, Baron? Did you not dance with her nanny too?”

A flicker of tension crossed Eugène’s face at Viscount Despan’s face. Come to think of it, Princess Anne Meredith was the daughter of Marquise Merlin.– Oh, is that supposed to be the connection?The Emperor’s presence was so great that Eugène had considered the princess merely as his daughter, and he felt like he had an epiphany. For the first time, he truly grasped that for some people, the other parent might hold greater importance.

“I met her by chance and took her for a walk only once. I do not assign meaning to every little thing like that.”

Not that he didn’t question why he had to explain herself, but he couldn’t let Viscount Despan’s misunderstanding go unchallenged. There were enough complications to deal with as it was, and the last thing he needed was to get tangled up in a useless dispute between the factions of the imperial concubines.

“Then what do you think of Prince Sigeber?”

“Pardon?”

“Prince Sigeber, the eldest son of His Majesty the Emperor.”

Viscount Despan came up to Eugène, put his arm around his shoulder, and whispered softly. Though merely intending a friendly gesture, for Eugène, it was an utterly unexpected assault when the Viscount’s hand found his half-healed wound. When Viscount Despan, with his arm wrapped around his shoulder, gripped his shoulder, the wound was crushed directly. He stiffened his back with a reflexive jerk, clenching his teeth to suppress any sound of pain.

“Princess Anne Meredith is surely His Majesty’s most beloved daughter. However, she is lower in the line of succession than the three princes. Currently, the first in line of succession to the throne is Prince Sigeber. That will not change unless the Empress is suddenly decided now.”

Viscount Despan, oblivious to the other’s condition, secretly divulged what he had originally intended to say. Eugène, sweating from sudden pain and disgust, coldly shook off his hand. Partly because he disliked the touch, but ultimately to avoid revealing the wound’s existence.