The Duke’s Return
It was only natural for Princess Roella to despise her. While the praise heaped upon her was no less than that directed at Laila, that was to be expected, as Roella was the sole heir to the throne. The adoration for Laila, however, was for her as an individual, which made it an entirely different matter.
In such a climate, Laila was greeting Princess Roella for the very first time. Although she had been invited to the Imperial music salon once before, the meeting had never come to pass because the Princess had left early.
Laila offered a gentle smile and a subtle nod to the Marchioness of Crut. The Marchioness, who had been standing in the front row, eager to see how Laila would handle herself, had no choice but to fulfill her duties as the hostess.
"Your Highness, this is Lady Laila from the Duchy of Ranier," the Marchioness announced.
"It is an honor to behold the Star of the Empire," Laila said. "I am Laila, a woman of humble standing currently under the care of the Count of Andex."
Laila bowed with elegant grace, but Princess Roella offered no response.
"..."
Tension rippled through the surrounding crowd. The music continued to play, but the silence was absolute, as no one dared to speak.
Princess Roella simply stared at Laila. Was she planning to ignore her without even a word? It was certainly an effective way to trample her. Until a significant level of intimacy was established, a person of low status could only speak to someone of higher status at the very moment of introduction. If Roella chose to ignore her completely, Laila would never be able to approach her again. The Marchioness of Crut, who had made the introduction, would be placed in an awkward position, but Roella was not the type of person to care about such things.
Laila remained still, her knees bent and her head bowed, waiting. She could not rise without permission.
Just then, a maid of the Marchioness of Crut arrived with a new pair of silk gloves, only to hesitate upon seeing the situation. The Marchioness herself was also wavering, but the daughter of Count Dernburg stepped forward, took the new gloves from the maid’s hands, and offered them to Roella.
Only then did Roella, acting as if nothing were amiss, take the gloves and slowly pull one on. Only after that did she ask, in an arrogant tone, "Is that all?"
The onlookers held their breath.
"I have heard your name a few times. But everyone only says you are a relative of the Count of Andex; no one has told me which noble house you hail from."
"It is a humble house, Your Highness—one you would likely not recognize even if I were to name it."
"Then that means you have no right to stand before me. Is your father of base blood?" Roella asked with a tone of utter contempt.
Olivia, wearing the mask of Laila, looked at her with a calm expression. If Roella had truly wanted to crush her, she should have refused to speak to her at all. That alone would have made the disparity in their status clear, and Olivia would have been unable to do anything.
But Roella could not ignore her. And because of that, Olivia had gained the floor.
"I am humbled," Olivia replied. "I was under the impression that in the high society of the Sirach Empire, there were no disadvantageous customs regarding marriages between the noble and the common-born, and that children followed the status of the higher-born parent. That is why I dared to step before Your Highness."
"What?"
"Having come from abroad, I was unaware that only the mother’s status is disregarded."
Olivia spoke with calm, clear turquoise eyes, without a hint of agitation. Roella, stung by the mention of a mother’s status, flared up instinctively.
"How dare a lowly thing talk back to me! You, who dress in such a vulgar fashion just to draw the eyes of men!"
Forgetting to put on the other glove, Roella threw it directly at Olivia’s face. A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
Since it was a silk glove, it caused no pain, but it was deeply insulting. Of course, Olivia had endured far too much to feel insulted by such petty things.
She looked at Roella with a smile. Then, in a voice so low it could only be heard by the Princess standing right in front of her, she whispered:
"It was not to draw the eyes of the Duke of Schwaben."
Roella’s face turned bright red with fury. She raised her hand, ready to strike Olivia.
"You!"
Just then, a heavy thud echoed through the room as a cane struck the floor.
Reflexively, both women turned their heads. Through a path cleared by the crowd as if the sea were parting, an elderly man with a hunched back was hobbling forward, leaning on his cane and supported by Ferdinand.
The Marchioness of Crut approached him with a bright face, crying out in near-disbelief:
"Good heavens! Duke Klaus, what brings you to a place like this!"
It was no exaggeration to say that the House of Klaus, along with the House of Schwaben, were the two pillars that had sustained the Sirach Empire.
However, the Duke’s only daughter, whom he had loved more than his own life, had been assassinated, and he had learned that the son-in-law he trusted had impregnated a mistress of dancer origins. Furthermore, if one calculated the birth date of the Princess, Roella, it was clear she had been conceived before the mourning period for his daughter had even ended.
Duke Otto Klaus had collapsed from the sheer weight of his grief and betrayal.
Since then, he had never recovered his health. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he had no desire to recover.
What would be the point of rising from his bed? He had no intention of acting for Emperor Albrecht as a pillar of the royalist faction, and he had lost the child to whom he would have passed on his house. From the very beginning, he had never wanted to make his late-life daughter an Empress. If he had not been a loyal subject, and if his daughter had not loved Emperor Albrecht, he would never have permitted that marriage.
The more he mourned and reminisced, the deeper his illness grew. His loyal retainers, his kind relatives, and the families deeply connected to the House of Klaus all wished for him to rise, but there was nothing he wanted to do upon leaving his bed.
To stand against the House of Schwaben? For what purpose would he do that?
For revenge? Even then, the child of the man who betrayed his daughter would eventually inherit the throne.
He had simply decided to mourn the dead. He mourned his wife who had left first, and he had buried his daughter in his heart; he beat his chest incessantly as if he thought they might return if he called, and he commemorated those who had died for his daughter.
His old life was tenacious, refusing to end easily. Thinking that the Duke of Schwaben would be pleased if he died quickly, he felt a sense of spite and resolved to outlive that man.
That was how he had lived for twenty years.
During that time, he had never once stepped outside. He had not attended a single party, nor even a gathering hosted by the Emperor himself.
But he had come out today because of what Ferdinand had told him.
"Lady Laila, the daughter of Gisela, asks to see you."
Ferdinand had no idea how much his words would affect the Duke. He had merely wondered, 'Is the mother of Lady Laila named Gisela?' because, according to the identity she had revealed, her mother’s name was different.
But for Duke Klaus, it was different.
"Gisela... Gisela, you say?"
He had never forgotten that name.
He had not forgotten a single name of those who died with his daughter, nor those who died for her. It was the same even for the young maid. He had whispered every one of their names every single day, thanking them and mourning them.
He had risen for the first time in twenty years.
Ferdinand had told him to wait a little, promising to bring Lady Laila to him the very next day, but the Duke could not wait even an hour.
There was someone who had survived that day. Someone who could tell him about his daughter’s final moments.
He wanted to meet Gisela and speak with her. He wanted to hear about what happened that day, and he wanted to know how she had survived without dying.
He felt no resentment that Gisela had not shown herself for so long. She must have been terrified. That was surely why she could not even contact her own parents. He wanted to tell her not to worry anymore, that he would take care of her. His daughter would surely have wanted that, had she been alive.
Knowing the Duke’s resolve was firm, Ferdinand had easily found out where Gisela’s daughter was.
There was no invitation, but Duke Klaus did not care as he headed for the Crut estate. There had been few places that could stop him twenty years ago, and if the host of this party refused him, the man who had not attended a party in two decades, then that host would have no right to remain in high society.