“Indeed. No sorrow is greater than the death of one’s child, but alas, he must not let the grief waste him. Comfort him as best as you can, Lord Jean, for you are his young son acquired at his most testing times.”
“Yes, Your Highness. It merely saddens me that I am not of a sweet nature to have comforted my father better.”
The Grand Duke laughed heartily at the remark. He stabbed the roasted eggplant before him with his fork and lifted it into the air. Jean cut a slight piece of the vegetable at the end as well and picked it up. He was aware that the duke’s eyes would narrow in a keen manner but would turn wide and round, like an innocent child’s, whenever they met with Jean’s. It was quite an explicit manner of observation. Jean pretended not to have noticed anything and proceeded to bring the piece of eggplant into his mouth.
“Tales tell me that it was the Duke of Erhardt who sought you first. Pray, where have you been before, Lord Jean? I must have been told of it, but forgive an old man’s memory.”
“I have lived in a foreign land, among men of trade, Your Grace. My birth mother had been the nursemaid of the babe of the household. I was raised as the child’s companion, a playfellow. The head of the house had grown fond of me and had been gracious enough to send me to an academy.”
“Ah, I have wondered how a young man as yourself had the gift of trade, what with your factories and mines. I understand now. Was the house of merchants the subject of an aristocrat?”
“The head of the house had indeed been bestowed with and owned a title.”
I see, the Grand Duke Robert mumbled. Jean accentuated that albeit his rearing being that of a commoner, he had been a part of a noble household, adding his presence in the academy as the crowning glory. In addition, although it was highly probable that it was a lie, in his veins ran the blood of a noble, the House of Erhardt. Jean suspected that the Grand Duke must be pondering, by this point, how to put him to use.
“It is no wonder that your manners and the grace with which you carry yourself seemed too refined to be that of one who had been in the house of a commoner. You owe much to the benevolence of that head of the house, it seems.”
“Yes, Your Grace, I owe him much. I aspire to be able to show my gratitude in the years to come.”
“Indeed. Then, have you come to the acquaintance of Maximillian in the academy?”
The Grand Duke brought up the subject of his true curiosity with a voice so nonchalant. Perhaps, it was the question he had been so very eager to inquire. It was understandable, given how Jean’s response would dictate the duke’s course of action—whether the young lord was fit to be his man or not.
The man threw his most prized question so indifferently, with such ease. The demeanor allowed for two observations. Firstly, the Grand Duke harbored such great mistrust of Jean that he would risk hiding all and every conspiracy of his.
“No, Your Highness. It was my first encounter with him at the ball prior, that day upon which I was humbled to be in your acquaintance.”
Secondly, despite his prevalent and all-encompassing mistrust, his situation was so dire that he must extend his hand, seeking help.
Jean maintained a subtle smile, slicing the meat on the newly served plate. His opponent was feigning nonchalance, and Jean was of mind to mirror the demeanor.
“Our second encounter was in the garden of this very castle, Your Highness. He appeared solitary, so I presented myself to be his willing companion. The Most Noble Prince then humbled me by inviting me to the Royal Palace.”
“You seemed to have charmed my young nephew. I have heard tell that you two were quite close companions, and it appears to be so.”
“You humble me, Your Grace. However, I merely attend upon him as required, answering his summons once or twice weekly.”
At the moment. Jean added in a light tone. He needed not impart any impression that their rendezvous bore significance to him. And wasn’t it true that the nature of the acquaintanceship between Jean and Maximillian lacked intimacy? Jean was suddenly reminded of how the Crown Prince had heaved for breath in his arms but a few hours prior. The prince pulled him nearer and indulged in his flesh. Then, after the second wave of bliss, he lay limp on the bed, drained. Jean could conjure the face fresh in his mind. The prince’s cheeks bore a rosy hue, ill-befitting his usual demeanor; his countenance showed his continued immersion in the receding currents of pleasure; his voice carried a faint hoarseness. Jean recalled each and every detail.
Jean took a sip of his wine. He let it lightly coat the inside of his mouth before letting it pass down his throat, and the bitter taste took with it the piece of memory in Jean’s mind. He briefly concealed his mouth behind the glass, concerned that the sudden intrusion of the reminiscence might have stiffened his countenance. At the same time, Jean also intended for the Grand Duke to take notice of his demeanor, that Jean found it uncomfortable to be in the presence of Maximillian but did not wish to show it. Jean was certain that that subtle tell would be the bait that would hook the duke.
Had the man seen Jean’s expression? He swiftly diverted the conversation to the topic of food. It was plain as day that the shift in discourse was intentional, yet Jean paid it no heed. The transition continued into discussions concerning the latest tidings from the nobility and the happenings within and beyond the confines of the empire. Jean found it not challenging to engage in such a discourse. He swerved in and out smoothly, carrying the conversation forward, anticipating when the Grand Duke would make mention of Maximillian again.
“Just several years ago, he was a fine young man.”
And it was when they were having tea that the most anticipated moment came. Jean looked at the Grand Duke, who smiled, his creased eyes forming a jovial curve. The smile also appeared wistful.
“I am speaking of Maximillian. I was of mind that he would make a great ruler.”
“Oh...”
But you would not have welcomed him had he stayed to be, thought Jean to himself, swallowing the words. Robert Joachim continued to speak.
“For a time, he was a fiend of intoxicants, deeply ensnared by the allure of the substance. At one point, he was referred to as the madman of the Royal Palace. After that, my once radiant nephew swiftly succumbed to his descent.”
“I had heard that it was only a brief while... that he indulged in intoxicants.”
The pause, strategically positioned, lent his words a tone of inquiry rather than defense; it was deliberate. Robert Joachim scoffed a bitter laugh.
“A brief while, indeed, for he began indulging in other matters.”
“...”
“I am greatly concerned as his uncle. I expect you to be the prince’s friend and servant in guiding him toward the right path, Lord Jean.”
The man spoke of words he had no sincerity for. Jean smiled with awkwardness, and when he said nothing further, the Grand Duke stole a glance at him. The man lowered his teacup, and Jean stayed still, waiting for the duke to observe him, waiting for curiosity to win over and prompt the duke to speak first.
“What troubles you, Lord Jean?”
Soon enough, the duke addressed Jean. Jean pretended to not have understood the inquiry, thereby compelling the duke to elaborate with greater precision.
“A shadow lurks in your countenance.”
Only upon hearing the remark did Jean part his lips, uttering the exclamation ah to give the impression of someone abruptly awoken from deep contemplation. He lowered his eyes slightly and spoke, feigning hesitance.
“No, nothing, Your Grace. I simply pondered briefly... whether I might be deemed suitable for such a position.”
It was crucial that Jean left a subtle bitter note in his tone, one that was so subtle that it would confound the listener. It would be the rope that would strangle Robert Joachim by the neck.
“Ah, my Lord Duke.”
I know what the man needs, Jean thought to himself as he called upon Robert Joachim.
“Permit me to offer a modest gift, stumbled upon by quite a chance. I fancied it might suit your taste.”
The Grand Duke needed reassurance that the young rich man sitting before his eyes was not Maximillian Joachim’s man. He needed the hope that the young man’s riches would assist him in outdoing the Crown Prince and placing the emperor’s crown upon his own brow... An affair so futile, so vain.
“A court sword from a foreign land.”
Jean presented a sword, which was wrapped in silk. He did not forget to lower his head in an expression of his politeness. The Grand Duke let out an exclamation, and the sound echoed in Jean’s ear. It was the sound of the new world, the sound of its first momentous leap forward.