Late at night, the nobles were talking and laughing in Fabrice's palace.
Lights pour from a diamond-encrusted chandelier, and on the gilded walls hang several paintings by Lancy, the most famous painter in Floa.
His largest work occupied an entire side of the wall in its massive size, and is Lancey's second most famous painting: “The Knight on Horseback.”
The painting depicts a man in a crimson cloak on a prancing white horse, raising his hand pointing to the heights.
The man's fighting spirit and courage emanate vividly beyond the frame of the painting.
Lancey never revealed the identity of the hero of this painting, but people believe that the man in it is the first king of the Kingdom of Floa.
No one knows how this precious painting, worth seven billion louis, ended up in the Fabrice Ballroom, but since seeing the original painting is rare, the nobles could not suppress their admiration.
In addition, flowers and luxurious sculptures were spread throughout the hall, and on the platform at the far side of it, female dancers, whose bodies were covered with transparent threads of cloth, were dancing lightly.
The hall, decorated with everything precious and beautiful, gave a suspiciously decadent and seductive atmosphere.
Sure, that was what suited Fabrice's parties.
In the hall filled with his supporters, the nobles praised Fabrice's abilities.
Of course, these were all just exaggerations.
Fabrice's supporters are not truly loyal to him, but only support him because the current king's favor is directed toward him.
Others warm to him because of his grandfather, Duke Priem.
These are nothing but opportunists ready to coup at any moment if the king's intentions change.
For this reason, only opportunists gather around Fabrice like flies around a corpse.
Fabrice looked at the nobles' faces with a satisfied smile.
I will become king.
After the Marquis Vancitert was included among his supporters, Fabrice's resolve became more firmly established.
After a period of constant anxiety due to his self-discipline, his mood was rarely good.
“Your Highness, welcome.”
“Yes, Your Highness, thank you for coming.”
Fabrice bowed with apparent humility.
That was Duke Priem.
“Forbidden, this is the least I can do.
Seeing you today makes me feel like I should live longer, to continue seeing you grow so strong.”
Duke Prim patted the prince on the shoulder.
He seemed genuinely satisfied.
“It seems that you can sleep comfortably for a while.
Marquis Vansittert is a reliable person.”
Baron Barbier, standing next to Duke Priem, spoke politely as he looked at Fabrice with malicious eyes that resembled the look of a hunter in front of his prey.
“Indeed, the Marquis controls the central region tightly.
Isn’t it about the engagement as well, and that things will turn out better in the end?”
“Surely, the rising Lomasan family will be more beneficial to His Highness the Prince than the old Dubois family that is about to collapse.”
Lower-ranking nobles complained about the Dubois family, flattering Fabrice.
Fabrice frowned.
The Dubois family, which they described as old, is a family with a tradition and reputation in the capital.
It is not appropriate for these lowly nobles, who can barely remember family names, to utter such words.
Fabrice, born into a high noble family, did not even want to hear the gossip of the young nobles in front of him.
“All these developments seem to be moving towards a bright future, Your Highness.”
The nobles said this and began to exchange toasts and drinks.
The atmosphere was friendly and cheerful.
“Please continue your support in the future.”
Fabrice looked at each noble gathered before him, one by one, and thanked them.
The dancers finished their performance and began to arrange and exit the ballroom.
Meanwhile, one of the dancers approached Fabrice's back and rubbed her hand on his broad back.
Fabrice turned to find a dancer with a beautiful face smiling charmingly, then she touched his thighs lightly while pretending to arrange his dress.
Fabrice held that small hand that touched his thigh tightly for a moment and then released it.
The dancer laughed with her eyes, then disappeared behind the red curtains spread throughout the hall.
Fabrice covered the raised corner of his mouth with his hand, and stroked his neatly styled hair.
Then he placed the cup he was holding on the table.
“Keep talking, I’ll be alone for a little while to get some air.”
“Do you want me to accompany you?”
"No thank you."
Fabrice firmly refused and entered with long strides behind the curtain behind which the dancer had disappeared.
All of these events happened within just a few seconds, so much so that the other nobles did not notice anything.
After Fabrice disappeared, someone mentioned a name that should never be mentioned in this place.
“By the way, the First Prince will suffer a little.”
The man lowered his voice as if someone might hear him.
“He went to Neuve Chavel, didn't he?”
A man standing next to him answered.
“There was a flood, and there will be no relief for last year's famine!
Relief aid!”
The speaker seemed strangely excited and his voice was high.
“Oh.”
“Just showing one’s face does not mean success.
Rather, it may be his good fortune not to face humiliation.”
“Well, with that face, maybe he can.”
“No, are you kidding?
Really.”
The nobleman said as if surprised, shook his head, and then drank the wine from his cup in one go.
Silence reigned in the place.
Half of those present thought the speech was serious.
A month had already passed since Denis had descended on Neuve Chavelle in the far south of Flois.
Contrary to the concerns of others, things were going smoothly for Dennis, who had an unoffended appearance.
He came after getting a promise of relief support from the temple due to the king's words “there is no relief aid”.
But to no avail, once he arrived in Neuve Chavel, everything was resolved through a meeting with someone he wanted to meet.
A small room set up in the corner of a closed pub.
There was a man waiting impatiently for Dennis to arrive.
A middle-aged man, shiny bald, looking extremely wealthy at first glance.
The texture of his clothes was soft and luxurious, and the gemstones studded in them were all of premium grade.
When Dennis arrived, the middle-aged man suddenly stood up and saluted him according to protocol.
“Hello, Your Highness, let me introduce myself first: I am Vincent Milad, I work in trade.”
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
Dennis sat elegantly.
Then what looked like a wall opened and slid, and a woman came out to serve tea.
Without saying a word, she poured the hot tea and then disappeared again after completing her task.
This was the perfect secret room.
“No ears can hear here, so you can talk comfortably.”
“Okay, but why did you ask to meet me?”
Go straight to the point.
Planning something secretly in a secret room was not in his nature.
Maybe his wife, but not him.
Dennis raised the teacup.
“There is no need for long talk.
I will provide the wheat and grains I have as relief aid.”
“Your words are appreciated, but may I ask why?”
Dennis stared into the eyes of the man who wanted to help him for no reason.
The middle-aged man bowed his head and began speaking quietly.
“I am a native of Neuve-Chavelle.
My ancestors grew wheat since the time of my great-grandfather and since the time of my grandfather, we started the grain trade thanks to God’s grace.
Things have gone smoothly so far……”
Dennis interrupted the man's long speech.
“Yes, well if you have a desire, can you tell me?”
“What I want you to know, Your Highness.”
Dennis looked at Vincent, surprised to hear a name that wasn't supposed to appear in this place.
“This is not an act of pure good faith, Your Highness, after the damage recovery is complete, please put our family name in the report.”
Dennis stood at the window of the governor's residence, a restored building that had been in ruins, smoking a cigar.
His gaze turns to Loyburn, where the capital is located.
Dennis sank into contemplation.
What haunts him like a shadow is the face of the woman in Loyburn.
Silky smooth golden hair, eyes as blue as the sky, and a lithe body that looked like it might break if held too hard.
Six years have passed already.
One year of engagement and five years of marriage.
The time he spent with that woman.
“Huh.”
Dennis inhaled the smoke deeply.
Since his arrival in Neuve Shavel, he couldn't even remember the last time he had slept well.
When he is alone, he feels as if his body is submerged under water.
He smoked valerian cigars every day, but without that woman, it was useless.
He just wanted to lie next to her and sleep peacefully.
What unparalleled weakness.
Dennis cradled a self-deprecating smile.
He felt as if he had forgotten how to sleep when that woman was not around.
When he realized he was dependent on her, he felt complicated emotions.
The daughter of the person who caused my mother's death.
It seemed funny to him how he swayed without being able to maintain his balance.
While Dennis was unsuccessfully burning cigars, Sylvain entered.
“Your Highness, it is Sylvain.”
After Sylvain announced his presence to Denis, he continued:
“The Upper Shavel River Dam has been repaired.”
Denis looked as if he had not heard Sylvain's words, motionless.
With his arms crossed, he looked out the window, his gaze still directed towards some distant place.
Sylvain asked again:
“When are you coming back to DC?”
Dennis finally turned and looked at Sylvain.
“The capital?”
He mumbled the word like a child just learning it.
Then, as if he had awakened from a long sleep, he issued an order to Sylvain:
“After personally confirming the condition of the dam, we will return in two days.
Prepare to return and inform the governor as well.”
“Yes, I will, and it's late at night...”
Sylvain lingered rarely at the end of his sentence.
“You'd better go to bed,” he was going to say.
Of course, since he knew this was impossible, his word was incomplete.
Dennis smiled faintly, as if he was about to break.
“Can you bring me some wine?”
“What kind...”
"Anything.
No, do we have Chateau Mouton Rothschild?"
“I will check.”
"Thank you."
After Sylvain left, Denis took a new cigar out of the cigar box.
Soon the dark room began to fill with cigar smoke.
After a while, Sylvain returned carrying a glass of wine and a bottle into the room.
“Fortunately, there was a bottle left in the wine cellar.
Do you want me to pour for you?”
“It's okay, you can leave now.”
After Sylvain left, Dennis grabbed the bottle of wine and read the label.
The woman who drank the Rothschilds.
Dennis remembered that woman.
He did not touch the wine with his lips, but he felt a desire to get drunk.
If I get drunk, can I sleep?
Dennis opened the cork with a bottle opener.
The deep, mysterious scent of wine filling the room.
That was just the feeling.
Even without drinking wine, Dennis knows what good wine is.
Because it is that woman's taste.
Dennis poured the wine into the glass until it shook, then held it to his nose.
The scent that filled my nasal cavity seemed strangely sweet today.
Saliva pooled on the tip of his tongue for a moment.
Maybe I can drink today?
At the moment when the beliefs he had maintained all along were about to collapse, he suddenly woke up.
Dennis grabbed the handle of the cup so hard it almost broke it, then set it down.
If this was someone's neck, he would want to smash it in one go.
Cigar smoke and the smell of wine.
Dennis had the illusion that he was in the woman's room at Loyburn.
He staggered helplessly towards the bed.
He felt like he was being invaded by a water monster.
Only today, he felt like he could sleep.
Looks like I can.