Outside Count Bonetta's estate.
As we stepped down from the carriage, a middle-aged man with a long mustache came to greet us. He was bedecked in expensive finery from head to toe.
"Ah, young Lord Spencer! It's been ages. I was beginning to think I'd never see you again. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"
"It's been a while, Count. Thanks to the carriage you sent, we traveled in comfort. It was a magnificent carriage, by the way."
Aiden smiled at the Count with practiced ease. Pleased by the compliment, Count Bonetta stroked his mustache with an air of self-importance.
"Oh, it's nothing special. I have six more just like it."
There was something strangely arrogant about the Count's manner, considering he was standing before nobles of the Empire who outranked him.
I'd heard that his immense wealth gave him influence within the Kingdom of Grace rivaling that of royalty. Perhaps he'd simply grown accustomed to behaving this way.
Of course, we'd been required to surrender all our weapons before entering the estate, while behind the Count stood enormous guards armed to the teeth with guns.
Aiden, apparently accustomed to the man's attitude, smoothly introduced the Count and the Grand Duke to each other.
"Ahhh."
The Count's thin lips curled upward as he heard the Grand Duke's name.
There was no possible way he hadn't noticed Benedict, who towered over everyone else at the estate. Yet the Count let out an exaggerated exclamation, as though he'd only just become aware of his presence.
He offered the Grand Duke a formal greeting.
"What an honor to have the famous Grand Duke Richard grace my humble abode."
His words were polite enough, but something about them rubbed me the wrong way.
For one thing, the Count's estate was so thoroughly smothered in gold and jewels that there wasn't a single humble thing about it. And for another, I could detect the faintest hint of mockery in the word famous.
The Count smiled ingratiatingly.
"I've heard all about your illustrious reputation from your days in the Imperial Army. Why, my merchant company even sent you a clock once. But I suppose that's all in the past now. Ha ha ha."
"..."
By this point, his rudeness was unmistakable, however carefully he disguised it as courtesy.
I wrinkled my nose and glared at him.
Apparently, the Count knew all about the difficulties Benedict had faced since being suspended from his duties in the Imperial Army.
He seems to have conveniently forgotten how the Grand Duke became famous in the first place.
I clicked my tongue inwardly at the Count's recklessness.
After all, Benedict's name had recently been making the rounds both as the Battlefield Butcher and as an actual murderer.
"Thank you for your hospitality."
Despite the Count's behavior being enough to warrant grabbing him by the collar, Benedict merely offered a curt reply without betraying the slightest agitation.
Well, look at that. He wasn't half bad at handling business.
I silently praised him.
We hadn't gotten anything out of the Count yet, so allowing ourselves to be provoked would only put us at a disadvantage.
When the Grand Duke failed to give him the reaction he'd apparently hoped for, Count Bonetta turned his attention to me.
His eyes swept over me from head to toe before narrowing unpleasantly.
Then he began looking around, turning his head this way and that.
"Come to think of it, I heard you were visiting the kingdom on your honeymoon... Did the Grand Duchess not accompany you?"
"...!"
A chilly silence descended.
My mouth slowly fell open in disbelief.
He was pretending not to see me when I was standing right there beside Benedict!
Looking uncomfortable, Aiden pressed a hand to his forehead and opened his mouth.
"Count, this lady is—"
"I wasn't aware Count Bonetta was blind."
Benedict abruptly cut him off.
The Count frowned, clearly offended.
"Blind? Whatever do you mean by that?"
"I was wondering whether the Grand Duchess standing beside me was invisible to you."
Benedict spoke in a perfectly flat voice, looking steadily down at the Count.
He wasn't openly displaying his anger, yet somehow the atmosphere had become suffocating.
The Count flinched under his gaze, then bowed with an exaggerated flourish.
"Oh, dear me! What a terrible mistake I've made. Her attire was rather shabby... Ah, no, I mean so modest that I failed to recognize her as the Grand Duchess. I beg your gracious forgiveness."
Benedict's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
Alarmed, I studied his expression.
Other people might have mistaken his face for its usual impassive mask, but I could tell from the way his eyebrows had shifted approximately eighteen degrees that his anger was finally about to erupt after enduring the Count's insults.
What's wrong with you? You were doing so well holding it in a moment ago!
Sure enough, his hand moved toward his empty waist.
It was probably an unconscious habit, reaching for his sword.
Thank goodness we'd surrendered our weapons before coming here.
Unfortunately, there was one small problem.
Benedict was perfectly capable of killing people without a sword.
The murderous Grand Duke could tear a man limb from limb.
The Count's guards seemed to sense the danger as well. Tension rippled through their ranks, and their pale hands moved toward the guns at their waists.
"Oh, you must not be familiar with the latest fashions in the Empire! It's called vintage style. The dresses are deliberately made to look old and worn. Ho ho ho!"
I hurriedly stepped forward, plastering a phony smile on my face to defuse the situation.
I couldn't let a little insult to my face ruin our business.
"Ah, is that so? The dress looked like something a commoner might wear, with no embellishments whatsoever. I'm afraid I misunderstood."
"Personally, I don't care for dresses decorated with gold or silver thread. The same goes for jewels."
I smiled sweetly, as though I didn't possess a shred of pride, and told the most outrageous lie of my life.
There had never been a single moment in my entire existence when gold, silver, and precious jewels weren't exactly my taste.
The veins on Benedict's forehead were beginning to bulge.
Seeing this, Aiden quickly stepped in to smooth things over.
"Ha ha! Well, now that we've finished our introductions, perhaps we should discuss the clock trade. That's what we've come for, after all."
"Ah, of course. Business matters are best discussed in my study."
The Count gave a little nod and took the lead.
The interior of his estate was almost absurdly extravagant.
Decorations and works of art were crammed along the walls and throughout the corridors. With only a little exaggeration, I could have said it was impossible to tell whether we were walking through a private residence or a museum.
But instead of taking us straight to his study, which would have been the sensible thing to do, the Count wandered around the estate as though giving us a tour.
Something about his behavior suggested he wasn't particularly eager to show us his clocks.
Instead, he kept making pointless conversation with Aiden.
"I'm delighted to have the opportunity to do business with you again, young Lord Spencer. I was quite taken aback when the Aria Empire suddenly changed its designated merchant company from the Spencer merchant company to the Hayden merchant company. It's been a dreadful ordeal ever since."
"Well, that's business for you, isn't it? Just like life, it's impossible to predict."
Aiden offered a noncommittal response.
The Count then turned toward Benedict with a meaningful expression.
"I imagine the Grand Duke understands that better than anyone. After all, I've heard that recent events have left the Grand Duke's residence in rather difficult financial circumstances..."
Damn it.
I cursed inwardly.
That sly old fox Bonetta had been testing the waters this entire time.
He wanted to know whether we could actually afford to buy his clocks.
So this was how he sized people up and put them to the test.
Benedict regarded him coldly.
"That is none of your concern, Count."
"Oh, naturally. I was merely worried about whether you would have sufficient funds to purchase the clocks. I imagine obtaining assistance from the Grand Duchess's family would be difficult as well."
As he spoke, the Count glanced at me with a condescending smile.
"You see, I also operate an information guild, but we weren't able to uncover so much as a scrap of information about a family called Christie. Ha ha ha."
He was openly mocking my background.
By now, both Benedict's and Aiden's expressions had hardened.
Before either of them could intervene, I put on my most innocent smile.
"Oh, my goodness! You couldn't find anything about the Christie family? Then perhaps you ought to invest a little more money in your information guild, Count. Rather than spending it all collecting decorations for your estate."
The Count's brows drew together slightly.
Then he arrogantly raised his chin.
"My dear lady, I realize you may not understand such things, but these are hardly mere decorations."
"Oh, really?"
I gave a thoroughly unenthusiastic response to his smug declaration.
He continued pompously.
"Ha ha! Indeed. They may look like ordinary paintings to you, but every single one is a work of art of tremendous value."
The Count stopped walking and gestured toward a large painting hanging on the wall beside us.
"It isn't easy for an ordinary person to appreciate the value of such masterpieces. This painting, for example, is by Pa—"
"Pablo Llewellyn. Flowing Seasons, painted in the year 357. The first work to employ the dripping technique."
"Pablo... Er... Hmm... You know it?"
The Count, who had been just about to launch into a grand display of his superior knowledge, looked visibly flustered.
Aiden and Benedict also turned to stare at me in surprise.
I leisurely lifted the corners of my mouth.
"Isn't that the painting that broke the record for the highest price ever paid at a Stella auction?"
"Y-yes, that's right. Well, it is such a famous painting that I suppose it's only natural you might have heard of it. Ahem. Anyway... This painting over here is another celebrated work among collectors."
"Completed by Pietra Gauthier in the year 498. Landscape of Castellian. The use of the impasto technique in the oil painting is particularly striking."
"...Pardon?"
The Count stared blankly at me as I rattled off the painting's details without the slightest hesitation.
"And the next ones are by Lumiere, Degas, Friedrich, and Madeleine, in that order. Painted in the years 652, 533, 790, and 821, respectively."
I walked along the wall, naming each artist in the exact order their paintings were displayed.
With every step I took, the Count's mouth fell a little farther open.
And when his jaw had finally dropped as far as it could possibly go, I turned toward him with a triumphant smile and delivered the finishing blow.
"Am I right?"