Camille stared at Isabelle like she wanted to kill her.

At first glance, it looked like jealousy – but the look was far too intense to be born of anything so petty.

Camille was really, coldly, furiously staring at her.

“Why so silent?”

“……”

“I even gave you the space to speak because it looked like you had something to say.”

It wasn’t just her eyes that had turned blue with anger.

Camille’s lips, bitten to the point of bruising, had done the same.

She clenched her teeth so hard her whole face shook.

Just when Isabelle thought she had turned the tables completely, Camille suddenly spat out a single line.

“Even if I said it – would you understand, Madame?”

“What?”

Is there anything you can do?”

Taking advantage of Isabelle’s momentary hesitation, Camille yanked her hand away.

While the difference in strength remained the same, meaning Isabelle neither stumbled nor fell, the important thing was that Camille had escaped her grasp.

“Speak clearly.”

“No, Madame still doesn’t know.”

Camille spoke as she straightened her disheveled bonnet. Her hands, reddened from lack of blood flow, fastened the hood firmly back in place.

Isabelle could have asked for clarification again, but she had a long-standing habit. She always chose to understand on her own rather than ask for an explanation. Even with Camille, this habit remained unchanged. Earlier, her anger had simply exceeded her usual restraint.

It seemed that Camille had already figured out this habit of Isabelle’s. The sly curve of her lips alone gave that impression.

How much did she know about her?

As such doubts crept into Isabelle’s mind, Camille suddenly shouted loudly over her shoulder.

“That’s enough – everyone, come inside now!”

The door burst open and the guards rushed in. Leading them was none other than Mario, the one who had falsely accused her not so long ago.

“Lady Camille, are you all right?”

“I owe you at least that much. I’m fine, Mario.”

Although Mario was firmly aligned with the Hérétiques, he was markedly different from the other attendants, who only glanced at her furtively. His entire focus was on Camille.

“So please, allow me to accompany you…!”

“Hmm, that’s enough for now.”

Mario’s look told a story. It was too intense to be mere loyalty. Isabelle took a few steps back to watch them, only looking away when Marie approached.

“Madame, perhaps…”

“I’m fine.”

Given her somewhat disheveled appearance, Marie’s concern was only natural. Had it been Marie, she might have noticed more details.

Still, Isabelle pressed her index finger to her lips and spoke.

“Such reliable assistance you have, Madame Saint-Mang.”

“If you wish, I could share some of it with you.”

Camille leaned on Mario’s arm. Even at that moment, Mario’s attention was fully focused on Saint-Mang, not Latvien. In response, Isabelle simply gestured with a nod of her chin – an unmistakable signal for them to leave.

“Let’s go.”

It was Mario who led Camille away. The sight of them leaving without so much as a goodbye was worth watching.

She decided not to bother reprimanding them. It was clear that it would only strain her voice. Besides, she had no desire to reform them.

“Uh, um…”

At least the other attendants were clearly watching her reaction.

At least the rest of the companions were clearly watching Isabelle for clues. Mario didn’t seem to have the strength to lead them.

Isabelle turned her eyes to the youngest-looking attendant among them – the one who had spoken.

“It’s just that… Lord Murier has asked me to give you this.”

A single envelope was placed in her soft hands.

The white paper with gold trim indicated that it was a letter from Murier. Isabelle took it at once.

The sender’s signature was unfamiliar, which meant it wasn’t from the king or queen. With a growing uneasiness, Isabelle opened the envelope.

“You can all go now. Marie will clean up here.”

Before opening the letter, Isabelle made sure to dismiss the attendants in the room. She didn’t forget to give them a smile as well, grateful that they hadn’t followed Mario out.

“Y-Yes!”

The servants all bowed in unison. The one handing her the envelope even blushed. The sound of their retreating footsteps faded, leaving the room quiet again.

Only when she was sure that Marie was the only one left did Isabelle sit down. Slowly, she picked up the letter and opened it. The handwriting was vivid, making it clear that it wasn’t Louise’s.

This is the first time I am sending a letter to Madame Latvien. You must be surprised at its appearance – I understand your feelings.

However, this letter is not sent as Madame Eurbonne, but as Madame Eleonore. I hope you can understand me as well.

If I didn’t pretend it came from Moerne, I couldn’t send anything to Heretiques.

That’s enough for the introduction.

Queen Louise’s birthday is coming up. I’m sure you already know… but I was just worried. I thought with all that’s been going on, it might have slipped your mind.

Unlike when you were in Moerne, it must be much harder to get luxury items now. Even in Aranteuil, it’s not easy.

Fortunately, one of the merchant guilds has been in Aranteuil for the past few weeks. The head of the Ramune Guild is a capable person and knows exactly what Her Majesty the Queen wants. I’ve also received a lot of help from them.

I’ve recommended that their next destination be Antmaren, so I hope your meeting will be fruitful.

P.S. I don’t like madwomen either.

From Aranteuil,

Madame Eleonore

***

After Eleonore’s letter, Murier stopped delivering anything through the guards. He resumed his duties two days ago, showing no signs of discomfort. Despite his age, approaching the limits of old age, Murier seemed perfectly healthy.

Then how could the last few days of isolation be explained?

His claim to have inspected the main building was flawed.

What could there be to inspect in a place that was nothing but ruins?

She had decided to question him, but the head of the Ramune Guild had left Aranteuil earlier than expected, leaving her no opportunity.

“They must have left by now, so it’s time to prepare to receive them.”

“The candlesticks and carpets for the meeting hall should be ready, right? It would be better to start the meal a little earlier.”

It was the only way Isabelle and Murier could talk. Time was short, so Isabelle had to listen to his reports while styling her hair.

The Ramune Guild was quite large, and Eleonore, who had recommended Antmaren as their next destination, was certainly not someone to be ignored.

Even the postscript she had added couldn’t be overlooked. As for who the term “madwoman” referred to, Isabelle decided to ponder that after successfully sending the guild off.

“I’ve heard that the head of the Ramune Guild isn’t particularly interested in food, so there’s no need to hurry.”

“Well, that’s fortunate. I’ll finish preparing soon, so please take another look at the budget.”

Murier bowed and left the room immediately.

Watching his retreating figure through the mirror, Isabelle brushed her hair, which Marie was braiding and tying up, while she looked at her clothes.

Her dress, plain white and unadorned, along with a modestly uninflated bag, was no different from her usual style. The suggestion not to overdo it came from Marie, and Isabelle nodded without objection. Leaving the dressing to Marie had yielded neutral results, which suited her just fine.

In truth, Isabelle had little interest in elaborate adornments…

“You always keep it simple.”

While Marie was adjusting her clothes out of courtesy, Arnaud approached her from behind.

Aside from the grouse feather that adorned his hat, there wasn’t much else to distinguish him. Of course, with a face like his – a face that could practically devour the feather – his appearance alone was remarkable. Isabelle suppressed her urge to gasp in admiration and spoke instead.

“I detest loud things. I just prefer what I wear to be understated.”

“That’s why I made sure those two didn’t come.”

Isabelle didn’t immediately understand who “those two” were. It wasn’t until Arnaud, with his unwavering expression, offered an explanation.

“Madame Saint-Mang and… Lotur.”

“Ah.”

Arnaud seemed unaware of the actions of both his wife and his mistress not long ago. Instead of reacting, he went so far as to confine only his mistress to her quarters.

Camille also seemed to have said nothing. Suspicious, but undeniably a positive result.

What’s more, Isabelle realized that when she looked at her husband, she didn’t immediately think of Camille or Agnès. It was a remarkable change, even for her.

The impact of that night seemed to be much greater than she had expected.

‘That night…’

Her face turned red in an instant.

The blush of embarrassment was unmistakable against her pale skin, and Arnaud seemed to notice it immediately.

Just as the blush had spread over her, a mischievous smile crept across his face.

“You seemed to be in quite a hurry that night.”

But humor wasn’t the only thing on his face. Arnaud looked relieved, as if he hoped the urgency had been all she wanted.

Seeing his expression, Isabelle felt a sense of relief as well, but the deep-seated fear that had long taken root in her remained unyielding.

If, in time, he would fully realize the truth…

“Monsieur, Madame. The Ramune Guild has arrived.”

They arrived several hours ahead of schedule. Murier led a group of dozens toward them.

It might have caused some confusion, but Isabelle was grateful for the impatient guild leader. Urgency was exactly what she needed to ease her worries.

Since there was no reception area in Arnaud’s room, the guild leader and his party were directed to Isabelle’s private quarters. So Isabelle went to meet them before her husband.

“Madame, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Daniel Ramune.”

Just as Murier had described, the head of the Ramune Guild had a pale and somewhat inconspicuous appearance.

His face, which appeared to be about forty years old, contrasted with his slender build, suggesting that he wouldn’t have any particular difficulties with food arrangements.

“There may not be much to see, but I’ll make sure the merchandise is fairly priced.”

“Just to be invited is an honor.”

Daniel seemed a good person. A smile might be easy to muster, but a truly pleasant one was rare – and his was undoubtedly the latter. His friendly demeanor was immediately apparent. Isabelle responded with a slight smile of her own, almost as if in return.

After showing the proper courtesy, Daniel stepped back and one of his attendants, standing behind him, approached Isabelle with a large trunk in his hand.

The attendant had what was commonly described as a “foreigner’s” appearance. But it wasn’t his exotic features that surprised Isabelle.

“This is a gift from the head of the guild, madame.”

The next voice she heard was surprisingly familiar. It was clear that Isabelle had met him before.