The Marquise of Flandre’s Regret
Ezra, caught under Curtis’s gaze, answered a beat too late.
“…Thank you.”
“I understand you and my wife are already acquainted.”
“That is correct.”
“My wife has business on Papetin Street today. I’d like you to escort her.”
Only then did Chloe step in.
“I’m perfectly fine, actually. It’s far too personal an errand to require an escort from someone of Warrant Officer Dubois’s standing. I’d rather take another guard from the Grand Ducal House…”
“Chloe. It’s precisely because he is someone of Warrant Officer Dubois’s standing that I’m entrusting you to him.”
Curtis cut Chloe off.
As expected, he could see Chloe’s expression curdling by the second. Of course it would. It was no secret that Chloe and the 2nd Squad Leader were particularly close.
Naturally, before Curtis married Chloe, that had not been information worth noting.
But looking at it now, certain things stood out anew.
Their confusion differed in texture. Chloe, no doubt, felt awkward being escorted by someone who had been her friend until yesterday. On top of that, she must have been wondering how on earth she was supposed to explain the matter of her marriage to Curtis.
As for the other side…
“Warrant Officer Dubois. You can do that, can’t you?”
Curtis asked Ezra.
Ezra’s black eyes filled with confusion, but soon he nodded.
“…Understood.”
The previous king had three children.
The eldest was the current king, the first prince. Curtis was the third prince.
Between them was a princess.
The Marquise of Flandre.
Born of the same womb as the king, she too had a residence in the capital. Her circumstances were slightly different from Curtis’s. Curtis had been kept in the capital almost by force because the king was wary of him, but the Marquise of Flandre had remained there of her own will.
Whenever someone asked her, “Why do you not leave the capital?” she was fond of saying, “I’ve never had much taste for managing an estate, and besides, the capital suits me better.”
But now, she bitterly regretted having stayed.
“Auntie! Agathe is so upset!”
The young lady who had appeared without warning while the marquise was eating lunch had spent the entire meal sobbing her eyes out.
Even after the marquise had finished reading four newspapers, the weeping had not stopped. It was enough to give her a splitting headache.
The marquise rubbed her forehead.
“Upset or not, what can be done? The boy has already married. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Waaah, that’s why I’m asking you to do something about it!”
What am I supposed to do about vows already made before God and signed besides? Am I God?
The marquise swallowed the question she desperately wanted to ask.
Instead, she looked down at her teacup, intending to offer the girl some tea. But alas. The tea had long since been drained.
“My lady, shall I bring more tea?”
The maid who had served the Marquise of Flandre for many years asked cautiously, watching her mood.
The marquise sighed.
“Is there nothing cold? My throat is burning.”
The afternoon sunlight was indeed harsh. But it was not yet the season for cold drinks.
“Summer has not come yet, so… I beg your pardon. I will send a servant to the Royal Palace once more today.”
The maid trailed off.
The marquise crumpled the newspaper in her hand in irritation.
The headline was crushed whole in the marquise’s fist.
“Forget it. Do you think I don’t know it’s my brother trying to order people around with a few miserable scraps of ice?”
“Oh my. His Majesty the King… won’t give you ice, Auntie?”
The young lady, who had been sniffling and wiping her tears, widened her eyes.
The marquise waved a hand.
“He says he is busy.”
“Well, His Majesty does have terribly many affairs of state…”
And is the king personally walking to the mana-stone storage to fetch the ice himself?
The marquise nearly asked it on reflex, then shut her mouth.
Her companion might be a thoughtless young lady, but she could hardly respond with something so childish.
Whether she knew the marquise’s thoughts or not, the young lady before her wiped her tear-streaked face and asked, “Auntie. If you’re very hot, shall I send you some ice from our house?”
“No. I cannot trouble Laura over such a petty matter.”
Laura. The marquise’s close friend, and the name of Countess Montpis.
And the person sitting before the marquise, weeping like this, was none other than that Laura’s youngest daughter.
Agathe Montpis.
The pretty, spoiled youngest lady of a count’s family, and a woman madly in love with Curtis, the marquise’s half-brother.
Auntie! What is Agathe supposed to do now?
It had been at lunch today that the pretty maiden before her had flung herself half-collapsed against the marquise’s knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
For the marquise, Agathe was truly someone she wished to avoid.
In childhood, Agathe had been a lovely niece-like girl who called her Auntie despite not sharing a drop of blood with her. But after she fell in love with Curtis, she had turned into a troublemaker who got up to all manner of nonsense.
Of course, that had only lasted until a few years ago.
More precisely, until the day Agathe tried to use the marquise to approach Curtis rashly and was utterly humiliated in front of society.
After that, Agathe had received a fierce scolding from Laura and never so much as breathed Curtis’s name in front of the marquise again, living only as a sweet, pretty young lady.
Apparently, however, that had only lasted until Curtis did this thing called getting married.
“But Mother would want you to be comfortable too, Auntie.”
“It is not so difficult as all that. I’m fine.”
The marquise was extremely sensitive to heat.
Her body temperature ran much higher than other people’s, and she could not get through summer without ice. The same was true even in winter, when everyone else was trying to hold on to the faintest warmth in their tea.
The marquise’s friend Laura, and Laura’s daughter Agathe, knew that very well.
Agathe’s brows knit slightly, as though in pity.
In truth, the marquise had remained in the capital because of the heat as well.
Magic that consumed the most mana stones was usually related to temperature. No matter how wealthy a princess of Ibanes she was, the property she had inherited was not all that substantial.
Thus the Marquise of Flandre had not had the courage to leave behind the Royal Palace Mana-Stone Storage, which produced ice without end.
Nor had the king ever been petty with his sister over a bit of ice.
But now, it seemed the king had decided to be.
It had been about a week since the Flandre Marquise Residence ran out of ice.
As usual, the marquise had sent someone to the Royal Palace to bring some back.
But her servant returned empty-handed.
His Majesty the King is not receiving anyone at present… He says summer is still far off, so you should wait a little longer.
The marquise was dumbfounded.
But because she knew why the king was doing this, she held herself back.
It was because of none other than their half-brother.
Curtis had sent the Marquise of Flandre an invitation to his wedding as well.
In other words, the king withholding ice was also a kind of threat.
If you so much as attend that bastard’s wedding, you’ll regret it.
It was absurd. But she had known since around the age of twelve that her brother was that sort of man, so she endured it.
She sent only a representative to Curtis’s wedding.
She had intended to do so from the beginning anyway, even if not for the king.
He was her younger brother, yes, but only her half-brother, and not one she particularly liked.
Queen Mildred had been nearly the same age as the Marquise of Flandre, so there was also something awkward about looking Curtis in the face.
Once the wedding is over, surely he’ll send the ice.
The marquise had been wrong.
She raised her head and looked past Agathe’s shoulder at the green beryl vase.
The beautiful green beryl vase, wrapped ostentatiously in silk and set upon the table.
It was proof that the king was an even pettier, more penny-pinching, more irritating son of a bitch than she had thought.
“By the way, what is that vase? It’s truly beautiful.”
Agathe, who had happened to follow the marquise’s gaze, saw the vase and asked.
The marquise waved the matter away.
“It is nothing.”
“It looks far too precious to be nothing.”
“That is…”
The marquise, who had been about to answer, That is to say, it’s nothing special, suddenly stopped.
Agathe blinked.
The marquise stared quietly at Agathe for a moment, then slowly opened her mouth.
“…It is an item with certain problems.”
“What sort of problems?”
Should she tell her or not?
The marquise wavered endlessly.
But then she remembered what sort of child Agathe was and decided to keep her mouth shut.
Whenever Curtis was involved, Agathe tended to lose all reason.
“It’s nothing serious. More importantly, how long do you intend to stay so fixated on him?”
At those words, Agathe’s face crumpled as though she might start crying again.
“That’s cruel, Auntie! You know how long I’ve adored His Grace Grand Duke Berk!”
“And caused trouble because of it.”
“I’ve been truly quiet since then! Quiet… I even joined the Royal Guard. And my brother wouldn’t help me at all!”
By Agathe’s brother, she meant Noel Montpis.
The second son of the Montpis count family.
The people of the Montpis House were cheerful and bright—so much so that they tended toward fussiness—but among them, Noel had a reputation for being the calmest and wisest.
Your brother is rumored to be so wise and competent, so why do you suppose he won’t help you? Isn’t that proof that helping you would be a foolish thing to do…?
The marquise swallowed the words she wanted to say.
Besides, in truth, Noel had gone beyond not helping.
He had even interfered.