Chapter 9

While Firentia was happily staring out of the window, Clerivan was in Lulac’s office.

In addition to being in charge of the Lombardi children’s education, Clerivan had information to share concerning the Lombardi family finances.

“This is all I have to report for today,” he said.

“Good work. Come, have a spot of tea with me,” the duke replied.

“I won’t object.”

Lulac rang a small bell, and servants entered from just outside the room. As one would expect from a high-ranking office, the finest tea leaves filled the air with a sweet aroma, pleasing the senses.

“So, what are your initial thoughts?” Lulac asked.

Though the question was terse, the long-standing relationship between the two made its meaning clear enough.

“I can understand your perspective, Your Grace.”

“Always so concise with your evaluations.”

Lulac chuckled softly, knowing that Clerivan was as strict with himself as he was with others.

“Until recently, I thought she was just an ordinary seven-year-old. It’s quite remarkable,” he continued.

“Actually, I was going to bring that up, ” Clerivan replied, lowering his teacup. “I rounded up some attendants who are close to Sir Gallahan and Lady Firentia, but none of them had any knowledge of the young lady’s genius.”

“As I expected.”

“When I mentioned that Firentia would be taking my class, even Sir Gallahan was surprised.”

“Hmm...”

Lulac stroked his well-groomed beard, a habit that showed he was deep in thought.

Clerivan, observing this, spoke cautiously, “Is it possible that Lady Firentia has been hiding her genius this whole time?”

“Hiding... her genius?”

“Yes. Of course this is simply speculation...” Clerivan added.

“Explain.”

Lulac’s brown eyes, dark with age like an ancient tree, held a commanding power that made any who met his gaze lower their heads instinctively. Clerivan’s face also grew serious.

“She is an exceptionally intelligent young lady. Therefore, she likely sees things that ordinary children would never notice. For instance, the position of her father, Gallahan, within the Lombardi family.”

“That could be.”

The atmosphere became even heavier.

Although Lulac had led the Lombardi family to great success, managing his children had not been as straightforward a task. In fact, it was probably the most difficult thing Lulac had ever had to deal with.

One child was too excessive, another lacked intelligence, and a third was too timid.

His eldest daughter, Shananet, was the most competent. However, she had married outside the family, risking the dispersion of their wealth. To mitigate Lulac’s concerns, Shananet’s husband, Bastian Schulz, had agreed to take on the Lombardi name. Their two sons had followed suit as well.

However, Lulac saw right through Bastian’s opportunistic nature. Even now, Bastian repeatedly caused problems by siphoning minor business rights away from the Lombardi family and to the Schulz family.

Lulac sighed deeply and shook his head.

“If only Gallahan had been a bit more assertive...”

However, it was principle for the head of the family not to intervene in the struggle for succession. He could only observe and ensure that things didn’t spiral out of control.

“Then it is fortunate that Firentia hasn’t taken after her father, isn’t it?” Clerivan asked.

The frustration that had been weighing on Lulac’s chest lifted when he thought of Firentia.

“However, Miss Firentia’s sharp intellect may also be due to Sir Gallahan’s proper upbringing. Environment is crucial after all,” Clerivan continued.

“Still, it’s quite regrettable... a shame really... that Gallahan’s low standing within the family forces Firentia to hide her genius.”

“Your Grace, you still have time to spare. You don’t have to rush it.”

Lulac nodded heavily at Clerivan’s words.

“All right. I shall observe for now,” the patriarch agreed. “I’d like for you to report directly to me after each lesson.”

Instead of an answer, Clerivan took a sip of his tea.

*Knock knock*

After waiting for his father’s permission, Viese entered.

“Father, someone from the Dyurak Guild is here.”

“I’ll take my leave now,” Clerivan said.

Only then did Viese notice that Clerivan was in the room.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said, expressing his obvious disdain.

“Long time no see, Sir Viese.”

There was obvious animosity considering Clerivan had previously spoken about Viese not being fit to be the patriarch.

“Father needs to meet important people, so get out...”

“No. Please stay, Clerivan,” Lulac interrupted.

“Father!”

Viese expressed his displeasure, but Lulac didn’t budge.

Clerivan, unable to refuse the patriarch’s command, shrugged and sat back down.

“Let them in,” Lulac commanded.

“...Yes, sir.”

Viese, clearly displeased, glared at Clerivan but moved aside without protest. A moment later, a middle-aged man in lavish attire entered and bowed respectfully to Lulac.

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I am Croyton Angenas of the Dyurak Merchant Guild.”

Angenas.

The familiar family name caused Clerivan’s brow to furrow. Angenas was linked to the family of the current empress and was also the family of Viese’s wife, Selal.

Clerivan quietly crossed his arms.

“And I am Lulac Lombardi. Why don’t we take a seat?”

Even in the brief moment it took Croyton to sit down, Viese could not hide his excitement. He shifted in his seat.

“I’ve heard a little from my eldest, but I would appreciate you repeating your plans again.”

Croyton cleared his throat.

His explanation was lengthy and detailed. After the long-winded explanation, Clerivan asked a clarifying question to get to the point.

“So, you hope to bring textiles from the eastern region, process them, and sell them. However, your guild currently lacks the capacity for such long-distance trade, and you’d like the Lombardis to handle the delivery. Is that right?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Also, you’re planning on taking a loan from the Lombardi Bank to get the funds to pay for these textiles?”

“Right. That would be appreciated.”

“Ah...”

What is this nonsense?

Clerivan could feel his temper rising and rubbed his forehead. He shot a glare towards Viese, who was sitting across from him.

Lulac also seemed uneasy and continuously stroked his beard.

“Isn’t this such a great idea, Father?” Viese asked.

He was clearly oblivious to the atmosphere in the room, and Clerivan felt ready to burst.

It was clear that Viese did not grasp the problem.

“I’d like a generous amount if possible,” Croyton added.

And this scoundrel, who might be the empress’s cousin, acts as if he is merely retrieving deposited money.

From their perspective, perhaps it all seemed the same. They were maternal relatives of first-born Prince Astana, after all. They had the backing of not just royalty, but of the empress herself.

Despite the facade of being led by the Dyurak Merchant Guild, the venture would need to be almost fully backed by Lombardi money—meaning any failure would fall entirely on the Lombardi family. It would be impossible to collect debt from the Angenas family, the way one could any other family, without completely severing ties with the royal family.

Croyton was fully aware of these factors.

Every word spoken could have significant repercussions. The only person unaware of the situation’s gravity appeared to be Viese, who was smiling broadly.

Lulac undoubtedly understood how absurd the “proposal” was.

Clerivan did all he could to keep his anger in check because he trusted the patriarch to reject the deal with grace.

“I’ll leave this matter to you, Viese. Ensure that you handle it meticulously and without mistake.”

“Your Grace!” Clerivan exclaimed.

But Lulac remained silent, his lips firmly shut.

“Yes sir! You can trust me, Father!” Viese responded enthusiastically, eager to drag the guild master away before his father changed his mind.

Clerivan, who had been alternating his gaze between a silent Lulac and Viese, realized that he had to intervene.

He leapt to his feet and spoke firmly, “Let’s push this discussion until after we’ve seen the goods.”

Viese was taken aback by the sudden interference. He had been celebrating internally, thinking it was a done deal, but what now?

This business proposal was intended to be Viese’s golden opportunity to climb further up the central ladder of power. The Angenas family was facing a slight financial crunch, and the textile business would resolve that. The royal family would also owe Viese a significant favor.

The eldest Lombardi son glanced anxiously at his father, hoping for some support, but Lulac nodded in agreement to Clerivan’s suggestion instead.

“You’re just a babysitter! How dare you meddle in our business!” he shouted.

Clerivan ignored Viese and kept his focus on Lulac.

“I do not think this is an unreasonable request. What do you think, guild master?”

Croyton, though momentarily flustered, nodded reluctantly. “Very well. I already have a batch of textiles. I’ll return with them soon.”

Viese’s face flushed with embarrassment. He looked as if he had committed a sin.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Croyton. “This is disgraceful.”

You fool! Clerivan desperately wanted to shout. Viese was groveling to a visitor who had come seeking logistical and financial aid from the Lombardis.

Even the dumbest dog knows whom to show its belly to.

One had to question whether he really was Lulac’s son, or if it would be better to ask the late lady of the house.

Clerivan watched as Lulac observed his eldest son with inscrutable eyes. Finally, unable to contain his dismay, Clerivan shook his head in disbelief.

***

“Is this the right place?”

I was standing in front of a large door. I’d lived in the Lombardi house for more than twenty years, but I had never once been in this room.

When I had attended lessons in my past life, they had been in a room not so close to the patriarch’s office. Rather, I had been in the education officer’s study in the northern annex.

“I’m sure I’m in the right place,” I mumbled.

I shrugged and pushed the large door with some effort. It opened smoothly, without any noise, and revealed its interior.

“Huh?”

I had expected a typical classroom with desks and chairs. That’s what I had seen in my past. The scene before me was entirely different from a typical classroom.

The large space was bathed in warm sunlight, and the carpet underfoot was so plush that you could comfortably lie down on it. At a glance, I could see various plush sofas of different sizes scattered around. Musical instruments and charming dolls sat here and there.

The only space that resembled a classroom held a large blackboard and shelves filled with books along the wall.

Small figures populated the room as if it were their space. They must have heard me enter, and now everyone was looking at me, each in their own way.

Bellezac was lying on the largest sofa, his mouth agape. Nearby, his sister Lorraine was engrossed in a book and sitting beside a large doll. Perched by the sunlit window, my aunt Shananet’s twin sons, Giliou and Mayron, stared sullenly at me.

They were all Lombardi blood.

My cousins.