“He did?” “For a few years, I thought he’d stopped, but recently he’s started up again, worse than ever. He even submitted a request to tour the shrine under a false name. I recently told him that if he didn’t stop, I’d make it into a diplomatic issue. I never imagined he’d make use of a little girl on holiday like you. You’re going to take responsibility, I hope?” Connie hadn’t known any of this. She covered her face with her hands. “He tr-tricked me…” The duke really was obstinate. So obstinate, it was a little scary, in fact. Scarlett, on the other hand, nodded like she was impressed and said, “That sounds like my father.” Like father, like daughter. As Connie was wondering what to do, Berta held out her hand. “What do you need?” Connie asked. “Why, your entrance fee, of course!” Berta said. “My entrance fee?! I thought the processing fee I submitted with my application covered that…” “That was the shrine entrance fee. Nowhere does it say you are allowed to enter the forest.” “That’s ridiculous,” Connie muttered, but since she didn’t want to get into a fight, she placed a few coins in Berta’s palm. Berta glanced down at them, then pushed her hand farther toward Connie. “What now…?” “I told you about Sena Rilifarco, didn’t I? You haven’t paid the information fee. Or the nuisance fee. That boy has run up a bill.” A half-strangled cry escaped from Connie’s throat. “I thought sh-shrines were supposed to practice virtuous poverty!” “Shrines, maybe. But the Neuen family motto is money makes right. The inheritance from Rilifarco hundreds of years ago is long gone. Finances here are tight.” As Connie groaned, Randolph—who until now had been listening silently—placed his hand soothingly on her head. “Here,” he said, handing a silver coin to Berta. She smiled with satisfaction and tucked it into her bosom so fast Connie hardly caught the movement. It was the textbook gesture of a miser. “By the way, you were asking about the Star on the boat, weren’t you?” she said, her mood suddenly improved. “Was there a reason?” As Connie hesitated over how to answer, Randolph spoke up. “She seems to have heard from someone in the Castiel family that Cornelia Faris’s starry crown is somewhere on El Sol. Do you know anything about it, priestess?” Berta’s smile froze, and her eyes narrowed. “From the Castiels, eh? I don’t know which Castiel it was, but let me give you some friendly advice. If you think you’re on a treasure hunt, forget about it.” She spit out her next words. “That crown…is a curse.” Jets of water flew out from a huge fountain, sparkling in the sunlight. This was Fortuna Park, and it was filled with people. The fountain plaza itself was a famous tourist attraction, but the shops with dark red awnings lining either side were popular with tourists and locals alike. The gelato from the White Rose was especially beloved, and maybe because it was such a sunny day, the line outside never dwindled. Lucia and Marco were standing politely at the end of the line. Lucia’s good breeding made her stand out, but she had volunteered for the job, and she was clearly enjoying herself. Antonio and Ulysses had been entrusted with finding a place to sit and were perched on the edge of the fountain, waiting for the other two to return. “…I don’t see the point of lining up in this heat,” Antonio complained. “I know the owner, after all. If I asked, he would’ve sent out gelato for all of us without the wait.” “Lucia said she enjoys waiting in line. We don’t have much chance to do things like that, after all,” Ulysses said with a grin. Antonio blushed at his brilliant smile and glanced away, unable to look straight at it. Then he worked up the nerve to ask something he’d been wondering about. “H-have you two been friends for a long time?” He was gazing at Lucia’s fluffy golden hair as she stood in line for gelato. “Me and Lucia? No…not all that long. We met last summer.” “That’s less than a year!” Ulysses flinched. Antonio realized he’d been shouting and coughed. “It’s just that you two get along so well, I thought you must be old friends.” “I’m not sure, but I feel like time doesn’t have much to do with that kind of connection. The important thing is what you’ve been through together.” “Oof…,” Antonio said, placing his hand over his heart. “D-did you tell her you liked her first?” Ulysses looked momentarily confused, then said, “Oh, we’re not together. I’m not sure how to describe it. She’s like my teacher.” “Your teacher?” “Yeah. I’m still a poor apprentice, though.” As Antonio was trying to figure out what he meant, footsteps pattered toward them. It was Lucia, holding gelatos in both hands. Marco had chosen the flavors. “You’ll have to guess which one you got by tasting it!” she said, handing them over. “Marco, don’t tell me you forgot which one is which…,” said Antonio. Marco quickly glanced away. Antonio’s gelato looked like milk with maple syrup on it, and the cool creaminess melted on his tongue, leaving a light scent and sweet flavor. Probably almond. His favorite. “Lucia?” Ulysses asked suspiciously, snapping Antonio out of his reverie. Lucia was staring past the fountain, her brow furrowed. She was looking toward Mille Street. Jolted by Ulysses’s voice, she looked back at the others. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh no, it’s melting!” With that, she hurriedly began eating her honey-colored gelato. A second later, her eyes went wide. “This is delicious…! It’s sweet and tart and refreshing but also very flavorful! Which did you get, Uly?” The prince was staring fixedly at his pale green gelato. “Let’s see…maybe nuts? It’s a bit odd, but it’s sweet. I like it. Want a taste?” “Can I, really?!” “Of course.” He held his gelato up to her mouth. She opened wide, her eyes sparkling. “Hey, that’s improper!” Antonio squeaked, evidently upset. Ulysses stared at him, not understanding. “What, you want some, too?” “What, me, eat that…?” “Yes. Here you go.” Ulysses held out his gelato. Antonio froze, his face beet red. Lucia said, “It’s really good!” but he seemed unable to hear her. Marco smiled wryly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. My young master is still rather inexperienced in these matters.” “Um, I don’t really understand, but he’s not sick, is he?” “No, just slightly self-conscious.” “I hope that’s all it is…,” Ulysses said, looking worriedly at the frozen Antonio. “…No, I think he must feel sick. Lucia, what do you—Lucia?” She had half risen from the fountain’s edge and was looking around with a vaguely tense expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Her eyes widened, then, noticing Ulysses, she smiled brightly and sat down again like nothing had happened. “I’m sure I’m just imagining things.” “Really?” “Yes. But I’m a little worried about Antonio. I think we should go, Uly.” “Um, okay…” “Also,” she said, looking past the fountain again. “I’ve been sensing someone looking at us in the most awful way.” By the time Connie and Randolph got back to the mansion after their startling encounter with Lady Berta, it was after dark. “She never did take the ashes,” Connie muttered, slumping her shoulders. She hadn’t even managed to show Berta the glass jar that contained them. As she hung her head, Randolph said soothingly, “The head priestess and the Duke of Castiel are both a handful. They’re not easy people to deal with.” Sensing the mood wasn’t right for it, Connie and Randolph had politely turned down their promised tour of the shrine. Connie hadn’t been able to withstand Berta’s silent pressure. After dinner, Lucia and the other children, who had gotten back ahead of them, went to their bedrooms while Connie and Randolph were invited to the drawing room. “Would you like a little something sweet after dinner?” asked Antonio’s mother, Daniella. She had curly, dark brown hair and long, narrow eyes of the same color. Her cheeks were freckled. With her thin build and stern features, she looked quite a lot like Antonio. “My husband should be home soon,” she said. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, Basilio Fargo returned. Weariness shadowed his handsome face, and a deep wrinkle divided his brow. Connie guessed he hadn’t found the freight he was searching for. That was when Randolph’s workaholic nature reared its head. “It seems you haven’t found the missing freight,” he said. “Not even a trace, I’m afraid.” With a sigh, Basilio pulled out a map of the ocean and spread it on the table. Randolph rose from the sofa and walked over to him. “Considering the currents this time of year,” said Basilio, “the flotsam should have washed ashore near Azara Cathedral.” “But it wasn’t there? Odd indeed. Could seasonal winds have blown it off course?” “No, the weather has been calm the past few days…” Soon they were deep in the weeds, and Connie was no longer able to follow. Randolph’s expression was as blank as ever, but to Connie, he somehow looked more animated than usual. “…I think it’s likely the freight has already sunk to the bottom of the sea,” Basilio continued. “The water around here is surprisingly deep. Finding it will be near impossible.” “So what was in the cargo?” They were already talking like old friends. “I heard it was disposable masks for tourists. True, they’re essential for Carnival, but that would hardly bring the men at the Chamber to tears. Between us, there are rumors of embezzlement going around.” “I see. That makes me all the more curious about the content of that freight.” “I have my staff looking into it as we speak.” “Let me know if I can help you with anything,” Randolph said. His tone was dispassionate as usual, but Connie thought she saw his clear blue eyes sparkle. What a hopeless workaholic. He’s beyond treatment, she thought, sighing. Daniella, misunderstanding the situation, lowered her brows apologetically. “I’m sorry about Basilio.” “But why?” “For stealing away such a sweet young woman’s companion. He has a habit of forgetting his surroundings. I’ll have a word with him about it now.” “No, Lady Daniella, please don’t worry…!” Connie said, stopping her. “Um, so they haven’t found the freight yet?” “No,” she answered, frowning slightly. “Basilio is very good at reading the currents. If he hasn’t found it yet, it surely must have sunk.” Connie was about to agree when a thought suddenly struck her. “You don’t think someone might have found it first and stolen it?” Daniella shook her head. “Travel by carriage isn’t possible on the island, so freight must be carried by hand. The area around the cathedral is crowded, and something like that would attract attention. My husband has probably asked around for information. If no one witnessed it being taken, it’s not very likely it happened.” “I see. But what if they put it on another boat?” “Transporting freight on ferries is generally prohibited, and you need permission to transport goods on the paddle steamers. There are set shipping lanes, and if someone was using them without permission, it would be reported immediately.” “Oh…” “Besides, I don’t think there would be much value in stealing that cargo,” Scarlett interjected. That was true—what would anyone do with a load of tourist masks? “You know so much about the island, Lady Daniella,” Connie said. “I grew up here,” she replied with a smile. It seemed her father and Basilio’s father were old friends. “Our family was close with the Fargos. Basilio’s growth spurt came rather late, so everyone used to think he was a girl. His eyes were as clear as a lake in winter, and his lips were like a dew-washed rose. When I was young, I thought of him as a fairy who only came out in the summer. He was a bit like His Highness Ulysses, I suppose.” “He must have been an adorable child…!” Connie agreed enthusiastically, thinking of Basilio’s handsome face. They talked about this for a while, then Daniella’s face fell. “I heard about what happened with Carlo,” she said. “Oh no, I’m sorry I stirred up so much trouble…” The Vecchio gondola, incidentally, was still hanging in the hall like a war trophy. Connie wished they would take it down, because every time she passed it, she felt pangs of guilt. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this,” said Daniella. “Carlo is inept, but he’s not a bad man underneath it all.” “…Oh?” Connie asked. Daniella’s tone made it sound as if she knew him well. “We were childhood friends,” she explained. “The three of us even used to play together… My father was a historian, and in the summers he would tutor Carlo and Basilio.” Then when did Carlo and Basilio fall out? Connie wondered. Antonio had said it was a long time ago, but there must have been some reason. She was curious, but she knew she shouldn’t pry too much. That was when she remembered that Randolph had said Daniella was knowledgeable about history. Connie had wondered why, but it made sense if the duchess’s father was a historian. “I was wondering, Lady Daniella, do you know about Sena Rilifarco?” she asked excitedly. “Sena? You mean the merchant from the days of Lorenzo Latué?” “Yes! Is he very famous?” In Adelbide, he was virtually unknown. “I don’t know about on the mainland, but here on the island, I’d say more people know about him than don’t. He was the first foreign merchant to personally serve the sovereign. He had absolute confidence in his eye for quality and never left the buying up to others, so he was constantly traveling both inside and outside the country. But where did you hear of him, Constance?” “I have a travelogue he wrote.” “A travelogue?” Daniella looked intrigued, so Connie went to her room to fetch the book. “A Lost Man’s Compass? I knew he wrote several books, but I didn’t know one was a travelogue.” She flipped through the pages with great interest. Connie was about to offer to lend it to her when Scarlett muttered, “…No one would question a foreign trader for traveling, now would they? Sounds like the perfect cover for a member of Il Rosso.” “Il Rosso?” Connie echoed suspiciously. “Oh, you know about that?” Daniella asked, looking up from the book. “About what?” “Sena Rilifarco was the sovereign’s private trader in the eyes of the public, but they say that, in truth, he carried out his employer’s orders as a member of Il Rosso.” “Really…?” “Actually, recent studies have turned up contradictions in the early purchase records of his trading company—but this conversation must bore you.” Noticing Connie’s open-mouthed stare, Daniella blushed and looked down, suddenly aware she was off on a tangent. “It’s not b-boring at all,” said Connie. “I’m just surprised by how much you know!” “It’s just a hobby. I became interested in history because of my father. But I heard most of what I just told you from Lady Berta. She’s the well-informed one.” Berta? Connie blinked in surprise. “Do you mean Berta Neuen? The head priestess of Fanoom Shrine?” “Yes. She’s more a scholar than a hobbyist, though. She often invites learned people from the mainland to the island for discussions. I’ve heard she became a priestess at the shrine because she wanted to devote herself to her studies. Oh, I have an idea. There’s a large collection of books by Sena Rilifarco in the shrine’s underground library. Maybe you should ask if they know anything about your travelogue.” Since Sena founded the shrine, it made sense that they would have all his books. “Do you go to the shrine often, Lady Daniella?” “Oh, no, I see Berta at our social club.” “Your social club?” Connie blinked in surprise. “Don’t you have social clubs in Adelbide?” Daniella asked in return. “We do, but…” Connie’s understanding was that social clubs were places for the upper classes to gather information and make connections. Men rode horses and hunted while women did embroidery. That sort of thing. The pecking order was determined by class, and the membership fees were outrageous, so the Grail family had little to do with them. Daniella seemed surprised to hear this. “Here they are simply gatherings for hobbyists. Sometimes all we do is drink tea and chat. Berta is the president of our club. The Neuens are one of the older noble families on the island. Didn’t you know that?” Connie gaped at her. So Berta Neuen was a noble! “I was certain she was just an ordinary miser.” Daniella’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she laughed. “She’s not a docile woman, that’s for certain. If you’d like, why don’t you join me at our next club meeting?” “I-I’m not very good at history…” “Oh, that’s not a problem. All we do is gossip.” “Really?” “Yes. We meet at the best coffeehouse on the island and complain about our lives while we eat delicious sweets. Doesn’t that sound fun?” She lowered her voice, like she was telling Connie an important secret. “It’s called Lady’s Holiday.” The next morning, Connie woke to strong sunlight pouring in through a crack in the curtains. She scowled, groaned, and stretched her arms above her head. It seemed she’d overslept, maybe because she’d stayed up so late the night before. She checked her watch. It was almost lunchtime. She hurriedly dressed and went downstairs. On her way, she bumped into the butler, who informed her that Randolph was talking to Basilio in the study. Connie froze. Didn’t they have plans that day to walk around sampling all the local delicacies? Feeling vaguely as if she’d been tricked, she headed for the parlor, where the children were shouting excitedly about something. When they saw her, Lucia ran over, crying, “Miss Connie!” She was holding a large pile of white envelopes in her arms. “Huh? What are those?” Connie asked. “They’re all for you!” the girl answered. “Huhh?” “It seems the whole island is talking about the trial by combat yesterday! All of these letters are from people who want you to represent them!” “Huhhh?” As Connie tilted her head in confusion, Antonio walked over. “A messenger from the courthouse was just here. A huge number of suits are being filed with the aim of going to trial by combat, and it’s interfering with court business. So this afternoon, they’re planning to open a temporary courtroom to accept cases without the usual procedures. What a move! They’re treating it like some kind of show.” Scarlett shrugged like she couldn’t care less. “Don’t these people have anything better to do with their time?” she scoffed. Connie couldn’t make heads or tails of the conversation. “Let me know when you’re ready to go,” said Antonio. “I’ll lend you Marco.” Why did he assume she was going to take part? “Hey, w-wait! Can’t I say no…?!” Antonio looked at her in surprise. “You don’t want to go?” “Why would I…?” “I assumed you were the type of rogue who would jump at any chance to raise hell…” This was a terrible misunderstanding. Connie’s cheek twitched. “Why not accept?” Scarlett prodded. “Why should I?” “We won’t make any progress sitting around this place. If you go out, you might stumble upon some sort of clue.” She was talking about Cornelia’s starry crown, of course. Connie drew her brows together, remembering the conversation with Berta at the shrine. “You’re not scared?” she asked. Berta had said in no uncertain terms that the crown was a curse. But Scarlett smiled just like she always did. “Do you think I’d let a silly little curse defeat me?” Connie stared at her. The other girl had a point. Scarlett herself was probably a much stronger curse than anything related to that shrine. Connie smiled, a little deflated. “…Fine, I’ll go.” “I knew it,” Antonio said, backing away from her. So much for solving the misunderstanding, she thought with a dry smile. Then Lucia stepped toward her and tugged at her skirt hem. “What is it, Lucia?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to invite Mr. Randolph?” “Um…” Connie crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling. He would probably come if she asked him to, but if he knew she was searching for clues about the starry crown, he might not be very pleased. At first, he acted like he was going to help her, but he seemed to be having second thoughts after their talk with Berta. Namely, that Aliénore’s surrogate mother might have something up her sleeve. As they headed back on the vaporette, he had urged her not to do anything without consulting him. Actually, he would probably be opposed to her acting as representative in more trials by combat, too. “…H-he seems very busy. I don’t think I’ll bother him this time…,” she said, smiling innocently. Lucia squeezed her hand. “Then would it be all right if I came along? I do so want to see the two of you in action again!” “Lucia…!” Half an hour later on the nose, Connie and Lucia arrived at the courthouse. When Connie gave her name to the receptionist inside the building, a staff member showed them to the courtyard. The temporary courtroom was already set up and filled with a lively crowd. There were even stalls selling food and drinks, making it look more like entertainment than a trial. “Um, so you want me to be the arbitrator?” Connie asked. “Yes. All these people have named you their representative, so Judge Donatello would rather you simply listen to both sides and arbitrate each case on the spot.” Connie’s cheek twitched. Wasn’t that the judge’s job? “I’m not sure I can do it…” “These aren’t real lawsuits,” the staff member explained. “My guess is they’re less interested in victory than in seeing the representative who out-talked Carlo Vecchio. You needn’t take it too seriously.” Well, here goes nothing, Connie thought. “Scarlett, are you ready? You mustn’t take things too far, understand?” “I know.” “I mean it. I really, really mean it.” “Ease up already. I understand. What you want me to do is knock each person out as quickly as possible, right?” “Are you sure you understand?!” People were swarming around both the plaintiff’s and the defendant’s tables, forming two long lines. On a platform in the center of the courtyard, the familiar white-haired judge was looking down at Connie with a profoundly distasteful expression. Why do you keep causing such a nuisance? Seemed to be written across his face. “It’s g-good to see you again…?” Connie said. The wrinkle between Judge Donatello’s brows deepened, and he banged down his gavel without a word. The first case she arbitrated was a drunken fight. It had apparently started as an ordinary argument, but when one of the men threatened to get violent, onlookers rushed the pair to court. What a bother. “Are you an idiot? Hitting someone in front of a crowd of spectators is practically asking to be arrested. You are at fault for leaving evidence. Next time, be smarter about your fights.” Having dismissed the man who almost hit the other, Scarlett, occupying Connie’s body, turned to the man who almost got hit. “You’re nothing but a third-rate lout for riling this man up to the point that he wanted to hit you. If you’re going on the attack, make sure you knock your opponent down so hard, they don’t even want to try fighting back.” A pair of young women in their teens each insisted the other had talked behind her back. “Backbiting, you say? And who’s the monster that told you about it? Give me a name. Yes, right here and now. What? You promised not to tell? Then break your promise, I say. Or do you dare disobey me? Good girls, that’s the way. See, now, the same girl told on both of you. You know what that means, don’t you? And you say the monster is here right now? I’ll leave the rest to the two of you. Make sure to give her hell.” A young girl was being harassed by her neighbor’s son. Just this morning, ripped-up weeds were left on her stoop. “I can understand how you might think that plant was a wilted weed, but actually it’s baby’s breath. There’s a tasteless ribbon tied around it, so he probably meant it as a bouquet. In the language of flowers, baby’s breath represents eternal love, which tells me he’s not harassing you, he’s trying to tell you he likes you. And since he’s chosen eternity, he might even be asking for your hand in marriage. Whatever his reason, if I were in your shoes, I’d burn it on the spot. What else can a gutless boy like that expect? —Come now, however disgusted you feel, there’s no need to cry… What? You’re crying from joy? You’ve been fighting with him to hide your embarrassment, but in fact, you’ve always loved him? In that case, I wash my hands of you. Do as you please.” Only the first few cases received any semblance of arbitration. The rest got a mixture of intimidation, incitement, and threats. Occasionally even bystanders were targeted. By the time that final pair became a couple, the sun was long set. “I knew you could do it!” Lucia exclaimed as Connie hung her head and covered her face with her hands. She had suspected as much from the outset, but Scarlett was truly beyond control. From start to finish, she had been pure Scarlett Castiel, the notorious villain. The crowd’s initial cheers quickly turned to cries of confusion and terror, until by the end, for some reason, they were hollering “demoness” at her. Honestly, demoness? Connie felt utterly hopeless as she imagined the next day’s rumors. But Lucia clapped her hands happily. “You were amazing!” “Amazingly demonic, I know.” “No, you were like a goddess!” “Lucia…!” She was a little angel. When Connie threw her arms around her, the girl blinked, then broke into a smile. “I feel the same!” She giggled. They joked around for a few minutes, until suddenly Lucia’s face went blank. “Lucia, what’s wrong?” The girl peered around anxiously. Then, all of a sudden, she broke free of Connie’s arms and took off running. Connie watched in a daze as she pulled a man from the shade of the courtyard trees. “I found you!” The man shouted, “Stop, let me go!” It was none other than Carlo Vecchio. “You’ve been following me since yesterday, haven’t you?!” cried Lucia. “You seemed to be searching for someone, so I assumed it was Miss Connie. That’s why I came with her today. If Mr. Randolph isn’t around, then I have to protect her myself!” Connie felt a pang in her heart at the sight of this little girl puffing out her chest so bravely. She was a little knight in shining armor. Or was she an angel? But this was Carlo. Recalling how violent he’d been the day before, Connie rushed to Lucia’s side. When she got there, however, her mouth fell open. “Wh-what happened to your face…?!” A black-and-blue bruise surrounded his right eye, like someone had punched him. “Ha!” he barked when he saw how upset she was. “What business is it of yours?” “But…” What if someone had hit him because of the trial? Wouldn’t that make it her fault? He must have read this thought on her face, because he said, a little dejectedly, “I got in an accident.” Could that really be the truth? As Connie wondered what to do, Lucia stepped protectively in front of her. “Now tell us why you’ve been following me!” “I’m not following you. You seem to have the wrong impression. I don’t intend to hurt you. I came here today to give you some advice.” “Advice?” “That’s right.” He nodded like the whole thing was a bother, then said in an even voice, “My father is angry.” “Your father…?” “Yes. He feels you have sullied the honor of the House of Vecchio.” He was talking about the notorious Gregorio Vecchio. “If you come to our house right away with the gondola and a box of candy to apologize, I’ll act as mediator. That’s what I came to tell you.” “Right now? But I can’t make that decision on my own.” It was all too rushed. This wasn’t Connie’s problem alone. As she shook her head, Carlo clicked his tongue. “Listen, little girl. All I meant was to give that detestable Basilio Fargo a little poke in the eye. I didn’t intend things to get blown out of proportion. That man is revolting, but if I go too far, it makes Daniella sad. This is all your fault.” “Um…” She tried to understand his argument, but decided it was absurd. When Carlo realized she wasn’t going along with his plan, he frowned. Then a slightly worried look crossed his face. “…Just be careful, all right?” he said. When Connie got back to the Fargo residence, a letter was waiting for her. “For me?” she asked, glancing at the wax seal imprinted with the Vecchio insignia. It was from Gregorio Vecchio. She had a bad feeling about this. She broke the seal and opened the neatly folded letter. Then, a second later, she groaned. It was a legal complaint. In other words… …Gregorio Vecchio was suing Constance Grail.
Chapter 65
25 min read