Pen and Paper Translations

“Marquis d’Albret. Let me introduce you. This is Lev.”

Marquis d’Albret.

Lev’s long eyes widened. It was the name that had come up earlier in the men’s conversation that afternoon. And the wealthy man who held the monopoly on Mobejeu tea.

He thought, sure enough, that would explain dressing himself up so gaudily, and at that moment Marquis d’Albret gave Lev a nod.

Even if Lev was the Emperor’s consort, the marquis did not seem inclined to bow to someone whose nobility was uncertain. Lev did not particularly want him to.

“Sit.”

Guien, as if it did not concern him, jerked his chin toward the seat at his side. Lev let out a deep sigh inwardly and headed that way. Truly, there was no seat of needles like this one.

“Bring the food.”

Ignoring the moods of Lev or Marquis d’Albret, Guien gave the order. All through the meal, the Emperor spoke only with the marquis.

The topics were things like how this year’s harvest would be, the tribute and tax revenues… things Lev could not make heads or tails of even if he listened. Left like a sack of barley dumped in a corner, Lev did not touch the main course before him and only sipped his wine.

He had no idea why he had been called. It seemed wisest to simply sit quietly and then leave.

While conversing with the marquis, Guien watched Lev as he drank his wine.

“As ever, ridiculous.”

It was a dinner with the Emperor and a marquis present. Yet rather than being nervous, he was wearing that bored face.

Still, he wondered whether that would remain the same once the conversation turned to what was coming next.

“By the way, I hear your second son has come to the capital?”

Guien asked, masking the mischief in his tone.

“Yes, Your Majesty. He has been here since a few days ago.”

Marquis d’Albret set down his fork and replied.

“I see. Stop by the palace with him sometime soon.”

Guien moved his knife as if it were nothing. But for Marquis d’Albret, it was different.

“Was His Majesty displeased that I came yesterday to speak about the consort?”

The marquis, now embarrassed, twitched his right cheek out of habit.

“Your Majesty, what I said yesterday was not meant like that…”

He began cautiously, but Guien cut him off without listening further.

“I know. I do not mean anything by it either. Since it came up, I merely mean to meet him.”

With that, Guien suddenly looked back at Lev.

“Lev.”

Lev, who had been sneaking glances around trying to grasp the situation, snapped his eyes up at being called.

The Emperor, who had not spared him a look, was gazing at him steadily. There was a subtle smile on his lips.

“You should not misunderstand either.”

What was he about to say now.

Lev pressed strength into the frown that formed of its own accord and asked bluntly.

“Misunderstand what?”

But he soon supplied his own answer. He recalled the words about the marquis bringing his son to pay respects.

In other words, he was saying not to misunderstand about meeting Marquis d’Albret’s son. Misunderstand what. They were not even at the stage for such things.

“I won’t.”

Lev set down the glass in his hand and answered flatly. As if expecting that, Guien’s mouth slanted up on one side. Just then—

“How impertinent!”

A barked rebuke came from across the table. It was Marquis d’Albret.

“Marquis.”

At the Emperor’s low call, the marquis bowed his head. Lev could not hide his bewilderment. He had not expected the marquis to react like that.

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

The marquis’ cheek twitched again as he answered. Lev, already ill at ease, felt even less like eating now that the mood had turned like this.

He thought it would be better to go back to his room and ask Marco to bring him some bread and set down the wineglass he was holding.

“Your Majesty, I will excuse myself first.”

No sooner were the words out than the marquis’ eyes narrowed again. As if he considered it rude for a mere consort to rise before the Emperor and himself.

Whatever the case, as long as the Emperor permitted it, Lev had no need to care. Perhaps this was even the kind of behavior the Emperor wanted from a consort.

“Very well, go ahead. You must be tired after your walk. Get some rest.”

The Emperor granted leave in an affectionate tone, as if to someone he cherished. Lev, who had had to swallow down resentful feelings after unexpected words in the garden, briefly showed a choked expression. He deliberately bowed his head meekly.

“Yes, then I will take my leave.”

But that was not the end of the Emperor’s words.

“I will see you tonight.”

Lev snapped his head toward the Emperor. His eyes were full of disbelief.

“’See me tonight’… words that invite misunderstanding.”

As expected, Marquis d’Albret’s expression, watching this, was far from pleasant.

Should he say it was because of the contract with the Emperor. That he was in the position of taking orders. Come when called, go when told, obey commands without a word. Would that be better?

But once again, Lev, thoroughly the inferior party, let out a sigh and left the banquet hall with heavy steps.

“Marco.”

Lev beckoned to Marco, who was standing along one side of the corridor, and walked quickly. Once they turned the corner the corridor grew quiet. After confirming no one was around, Lev spoke softly.

“Could you bring me something light to eat?”

“Huh?”

Marco looked up at Lev with a puzzled face. He had just come out of the banquet hall. Why was he asking for food?

Lev hesitated a moment, then soon found a suitable excuse.

“Eating with His Majesty… I was so nervous I could hardly eat.”

“Ah! Yes, I understand!”

Marco’s expression looked oddly proud as he answered, and Lev couldn’t help laughing once.

Lev trudged straight back to the room and dropped into the chair by the window. All he had done was go to the banquet hall, yet somehow the fatigue washed over him even more.

Letting out a long sigh and tipping back his head, Lev suddenly recalled what he had heard in the garden that afternoon. That Marquis d’Albret, greedy for power, had tried to make his son the Empress.

“Empress… the Empress?”

As he thought, Lev’s eyes slowly widened. He had been wondering where he had heard the name d’Albret. It was the family of the new Empress in the original story.

“Come to think of it…”

In the original, Guien and the main uke met at the Emperor’s birthday celebration. Guien fell in love at first sight then and asked him to dance.

But judging by the current situation, it seemed the meeting between the Emperor and the main uke would come sooner.

“Did my possession tangle the story…”

That was possible. In the original, the Emperor’s consort Lev entered the palace in early autumn. But it was summer now, so it had been moved up nearly a month.

…Which meant his death date had also drawn closer than in the original.

Damn it.

“Lord Lev, I brought plenty of things you can eat. Please sit over here!”

Just as Lev was screwing up his face, Marco appeared beaming. On his tray were a velvety cream soup, fluffy white bread, cheese, ham, and milk.

Lev took the tray without a word and sat at the table by the window. As soon as Marco set down the food, he tore off a piece of the fluffy white bread and popped it into his mouth.

The spread in the banquet hall had been more varied and abundant, but this tasted better. A meal should be eaten comfortably.

“Marco. Do you happen to know anything about Marquis d’Albret’s second son?”

Lev scooped up a spoonful of cream soup and asked casually.

“If you mean the second young master of House d’Albret, do you mean Lord Michel?”

Right. That was the name. A beautiful boy with honey-sleek, glittering blond hair, wheat-pale white skin, and fresh green eyes like early spring. That was the main uke, Michel d’Albret.

“Yeah.”

Lev nodded, recalling the way Michel d’Albret was described in the original. Come to think of it, the Emperor and he were both stunning blondes. If they stood together, they would literally shine, drawing every eye.

Lev ran a hand through his own brown hair for no reason. The texture wasn’t bad, but it certainly could not compare to blond.

“No, so what? So what of it…”

Annoyed at himself for making a pointless comparison, Lev gave his shoulders a little shake and dropped the hand that had been stroking his hair.

“I haven’t met him in person. He usually stays in the marquisate.”

Thankfully, Marco did not find Lev’s behavior odd and answered kindly.

“I see.”

“I’m told he hardly ever comes up to the capital.”

“Yeah?”

“But why do you ask about the second young master of House d’Albret?”

Having answered diligently, Marco now asked with eyes full of curiosity.

“It’s nothing.”

Lev considered saying the marquis had been at the banquet hall but shook his head. He did not want to invite needless misunderstanding.

“Lord Lev! Did His Majesty say he would meet the second young master of House d’Albret?”

But although Marco could not have known who had been in the banquet hall, he voiced a guess close to the truth, startling Lev.

“Huh? No!”

Lev denied it more forcefully than he meant to. Yet, having heard the two men’s conversation in the garden earlier, Marco set his jaw as if making up his mind.

“As expected, this won’t do!”

“Huh? What won’t?”

“I’ll bring a truly first-rate tailor and jeweler as early as tomorrow. You must not lose to the second young master of House d’Albret!”

Not lose to the second young master of House d’Albret. Lev had no idea how the topic had leapt there.

He stared blankly at Marco, who clenched both fists with a face burning with resolve, then burst out laughing.

In any case, in this palace the only person who took his side with such zeal was Marco.

“No, Marco, that’s not it.”

Lev quickly added,

“It only came up in conversation. So there’s no need for anything like that. A tailor, really. The clothes you brought earlier were excellent. They’re plenty for me.”

Lev had never had much desire for clothes beyond function. So, his saying a tailor was unnecessary was, as usual, not really heard by Marco. When Marco insisted, he absolutely must bring one. Lev, flustered, offered another solution.

“All right. Then… hmm, let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Yes. We play a game, and if you win, we’ll do as you want tomorrow.”

Marco stuck out his lower lip and shook his head.

“I don’t think it’ll be easy for me to win.”

While Lev was mulling over what to do, it was Marco who proposed the terms.

“Fine then. If we play three times and I win even once, please do as I say.”

Lev smiled and nodded. One win out of three.

It was a bit disadvantageous to him, but since there was room to work with, it was worth a try. So as soon as they finished eating, the table was cleared and the game board set up again.

They kept playing, and in the second round Lev won and chose the white stones.

“Ah, ah…”

As soon as Lev moved a piece, Marco groaned. The defense he had devised as a clever ploy was broken, and the white king had drawn close to the bottom right corner.

“By the way, Lord Lev.”

As he was pondering how to block again, Marco called Lev.

“Yeah?”

“When it comes to the second young master of House d’Albret, please don’t worry.”

Having finally settled on a plan, Marco set a piece in front of Lev’s king and spoke.

“I’m not worried.”

“In any case… His Majesty will not take a liking to the second young master of House d’Albret.”

“Not take a liking?”

Lev asked as he moved a piece other than the king, surprised at the near-certainty in Marco’s tone.

“Yes. His Majesty has absolutely no intention of marrying.”

“Ah…”

Lev nodded, saying he saw. He knew, of course. That to strengthen imperial power and avoid creating a faction that could threaten him, the Emperor would not form a powerful in-law clan.

And yet the Emperor ultimately fell in love with Michel d’Albret and raised him to the position of Empress.

“Guien, you too, in the face of love, end up a romantic with no help for it.”

Finding the taste in his mouth oddly bitter, Lev moved the king at once as soon as Marco shifted his piece and succeeded in escaping.

Thus, the first and second games both went to Lev in succession, but Marco finally won the third.

“Lord Lev! Don’t forget our promise, all right?”

Marco said with a triumphant look. Lev scratched his temple and started to nod with a reluctant face, then froze.

How long had he been there?

The Emperor was watching from across the room with a curious look. That look again. One hard to describe, carrying several meanings.

Interest, scorn, mischievousness, and something else.

As Lev wondered why he was being looked at like that, a thought struck him. He remembered the conversation he had just had with Marco. About the second young master of House d’Albret.

In the dining room, Lev had acted as if he did not care in the least. But if the Emperor had heard him talking about it alone with a page, it was easy to guess what misunderstanding he might have formed.

Sure enough, the Emperor twisted his lips and asked,

“Did you not say there was nothing between you?”

“That’s not… excuse me?”

Lev had been about to explain that he had no interest in the second young master of House d’Albret, that it was only because Marco was fussing, when he heard something unexpected and answered in confusion.

Guien did not repeat himself. Instead he let his gaze fall to the table, then placed it in turn on Lev and on Marco sitting opposite him. Only then did Lev realize what the Emperor had meant.

Who was supposed to be involved with whom, exactly? And even if so, then what?