Chapter 8
In front of the plaza dominated by a towering clock tower, the carriage began to slow.
Albris took a silver pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time.
Manuela opened the rectangular leather trunk on the floor and took out the makeup supplies she had brought.
Eleonore was still completely absorbed in the new scenery outside the window.
It was fascinating.
The well-dressed knights in their suits of light armor, passing among the crowds, were fascinating.
So were the ladies hurrying along in dresses and shoes that looked terribly uncomfortable.
Boys who looked like priests, with white scarves draped over their black robes, caught Eleonore’s eye.
She was also intrigued by the girls who filled baskets with flowers she didn’t recognize and handed them out to passersby.
The people, so very different from those in her old world, had captured Eleonore’s eyes and ears.
Now this is fantasy!
I mean, until now, it felt like I’d been cooped up in some fancy convalescent hospital.
The platinum-blonde young lady had been leaning toward the window little by little, and before long she had climbed onto the seat, turned her back to the others, and was gazing out the window.
Manuela gently tapped the shoulder of her rather heedless young lady and moved her lips.
“Milady, let’s check your makeup before you get out of the carriage.”
Manuela’s voice pulled Eleonore back to reality.
Eleonore whipped her head around.
Her tiny face was positively overflowing with shock.
“M-makeup? But we spent more than an hour on it before we left!”
At the mere mention of that dreadful word, Eleonore shuddered violently.
To Eleonore, makeup was like hell.
If she so much as blinked, they’d open her eyes wide and tell her not to move.
And the maids would giggle among themselves, chattering away about things she couldn’t understand.
Under Manuela’s instructions, the maids had spent more than an hour kneading Eleonore’s face.
…Though, of course, the result had been lovely.
Even as she looked at her young lady’s deeply furrowed brow, Manuela didn’t bat an eye. She firmly held out a mirror.
“Look. Your lipstick has mostly worn off, and quite a bit of your powder has come off, too.”
As if I’d know what to look for.
Eleonore let out a long sigh and met the gaze of the young lady in the mirror.
It was true that makeup seemed to bring out twice as much of her beauty.
Her rosy cheeks added a lovely accent to her snow-white skin, and her red lips filled Eleonore’s face with the vitality it lacked.
Even a man who knew nothing about makeup could see that.
But pretty was pretty, and…
Eleonore kept studying the young lady’s face in the mirror from top to bottom.
Even so, she couldn’t tell what had changed since they left.
Well, if Manuela said so, she must be right.
Eleonore obediently held out her face.
If Manuela said it needed doing, then there was no escaping a touch-up anyway.
Eleonore was the young lady, but Manuela outranked her by far. At least, that was how things worked in the Béarn townhouse.
Soon, a soft brush tickled Eleonore’s cheek.
Eleonore furrowed her brows. It wasn’t because of Manuela’s touch. The laughter coming from across from her—the sound of that big-brother bastard—was getting on her nerves.
“Why are you laughing?”
Carefully opening her eyes, Eleonore glared at Albris as fiercely as she could.
“I was just remembering the old days a little.”
Even under his younger sister’s sharp gaze, Albris looked at her with a nostalgic expression as she half-opened her eyes.
“The old days?”
“Yeah. When you first came up to the capital. You thought everything was so fascinating that you spent the whole ride staring out the window until we reached the estate.”
“That’s right. I told you you’d get motion sick if you sat like that, but you wouldn’t listen. In the end, you arrived at the townhouse and spent two days in bed.”
Manuela chimed in with a small, wistful smile at Albris’s words.
Eleonore turned her gaze away and looked at herself in the mirror.
You know, Eleonore. I thought that, being the precious youngest daughter of a distinguished house, you’d be nothing like me. But I guess we do have a few things in common.
The young lady in the mirror gently lifted the corners of her mouth, as if agreeing with Eleonore.
Putting the brush that had tickled Eleonore’s cheek back into the trunk, Manuela took out the lipstick and turned to Albris with a stern expression.
“Still, Young Master, even if you are family, it’s impolite to stare so intently at a lady while she’s putting on her makeup.”
Yes, yes! Well done! Give him an even bigger scolding, Manuela!
Serves you right, Albris!
Eleonore stuck out her tongue at Albris, who gave an awkward laugh at Manuela’s reprimand.
#.
The women walking along the broad avenue soon stopped and gathered on either side of the road.
They whispered among themselves as they gazed at the man walking down the center of the avenue.
Beneath neatly arranged silver hair, his red eyes blazed like flames.
His smooth skin was clearer and more translucent than most women’s.
His broad chest beneath those squared shoulders was wide enough to hold all the women gazing at him in his arms.
So whenever the silver-haired man passed the women, their soft sighs of admiration spread through the broad avenue like an infection.
The handsome silver-haired man, however, seemed not to care in the slightest about their stares.
Despite their sighs of admiration and the occasional voice calling out to him, he simply held his head high and strode regally on his way.
And walking one step beside him, a tawny-haired man busily scooped up all the admiration the handsome man left behind.
“Hey, ladies! Are you free tonight? How about a drink? Hm? Not interested? What about you, miss?”
The man flirted with every woman who caught his eye as he walked by, taking a step, stopping, then starting again.
Thanks to that, the two men began to drift farther and farther apart.
When the gap between them grew too wide, the silver-haired man finally stopped and turned to look at the tawny-haired man.
“Christian. You’re not planning to go around prying into every woman in the capital’s evening plans, are you?”
At his icy tone, the man called Christian grinned good-naturedly and hurried back to the silver-haired man.
“Come on, though. I’ve just returned to the capital after ages. Shouldn’t I let the ladies know I’m alive? Tell them the Young Duke of Vallatiere made it back from the madness of that massive battlefield!”
“You don’t need to do that. They’ll hear I’m alive well enough without you. I’ll be going on ahead.”
“W-wait! Julian, hold on!”
Bickering as they went, the two men headed behind a large tavern in the commercial district.
It was a two-story wooden building in a shabby alley.
The two men paused in front of a firmly shut iron door and glanced around.
The sounds of drunken brawling drifted in from beyond the alley, even though it was still broad daylight.
But there was no one in the shabby alley besides Julian and Christian.
After checking their surroundings, Christian knocked on the door.
3 times, 3 times, then 2 times.
As he knocked at regular intervals, a hazel eye appeared in the peephole at the top of the massive wooden door.
Then the wooden door began to swing open toward the two men with an ominous creak.
“You’ve returned?”
A man standing before them welcomed Julian and Christian in a voice as cold as ice.
The hazel-eyed man was so unnervingly thin that it made anyone watching uneasy. He bowed to Julian in greeting.
#.
Unlike its shabby exterior, the inside of the building was lavishly decorated to suit its owner’s tastes.
The vases beside the stairs were made of porcelain, not cheap clay.
The canvases on the walls displayed sophisticated works by common-born artists who had only just begun to make a name for themselves in the capital.
As if quite familiar with the place, Julian opened the door to a room without hesitation. Inside, a richly patterned carpet woven by artisans from the East greeted the three men.
Julian naturally made his way to the large desk in the center of the room.
When Julian took his seat, the hazel-eyed man presented his master with the stack of documents he had brought.
“A report on the capital over the past two months.”
There wasn’t a trace of emotion in the man’s quiet voice.
“I see. Ernst, anything else worth reporting?”
Julian spoke as he skimmed the documents he’d been handed.
“There’s nothing else of particular note beyond what you’re reading.”
At that, Julian listlessly read through the documents Ernst had given him.
Just as Ernst had said, it seemed the capital had been quite quiet during the two months Julian had spent putting down the pirates in the east.
“However.”
“However?”
The red eyes, moving listlessly over the tiny print, suddenly stopped.
Julian carelessly tossed the documents he’d been reading onto the desk.
He sank back into the chair he was perched on and waited for Ernst to continue.
“The youngest daughter of House Béarn suffered a serious illness. She survived, but rumors say she’s lost her memory.”
Julian’s red eyes flashed.
Apparently finding that rather interesting, Julian straightened and looked at the gaunt, hazel-eyed man.
“Really?”
And Julian wasn’t the only one interested.
Christian, who had naturally fallen back while the two men discussed the latest news from the capital, raised his voice at the mention of a woman and moved closer to Julian.
“No wonder! So that’s why that tomboyish young lady hasn’t written back! She used to send you letters without fail, even all the way to the battlefield. Mm-hmm. That’s right—there’s no way our Julian would get rejected by a woman.”
At his old friend’s fussing, Julian gave a quiet scoff.
“Your Grace.”
Ernst’s voice rang in Julian’s ears—quite different from Christian’s, and coldly, impeccably composed.
Julian’s red eyes gleamed.
The title Ernst had used was one Julian shouldn’t have been called just yet.
But Julian didn’t seem to mind. In fact, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
“House Béarn is a force we absolutely cannot afford to overlook in our great undertaking. The empire may seem fairly united for now, but the western nobles would turn their backs and change their stance at a single word from the Margrave of Béarn, even over an imperial decree.”
“Besides, that old man has military strength we don’t.”
Julian nodded as though in agreement.
“Come on. Why worry so much, Ernst? She may have lost her memory, but she’s still just a woman. One look at Julian’s smile and she’ll melt and give him the shirt off her back.”
At Christian’s cocky remark, neither Julian nor Ernst gave any particular response.
Still, Julian—and even the levelheaded Ernst—
didn’t think Christian was wrong.
“Oh, and I hear Grand Duke Dmitri will be coming to the capital for this social season.”
Ernst said it indifferently, as though he’d only just remembered something.
But Julian’s shoulder twitched so slightly that even Christian beside him failed to notice.