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Chapter 69
Part 5. Who’s the Real Protagonist?
Michele, who had taken a leave of absence from school, kept his promise and learned about estate management by observing it firsthand.
In the mornings, he would come to where I was working to peek around, and after lunch, he would walk through the estate, noting any complaints. Once he had toured the estate thoroughly, it was usually around 2 p.m.
“Alright. Let’s begin today’s meeting.”
By then, everyone involved in running the duke’s manor would gather in the reception room to discuss the day’s estate matters, and around 4 p.m., they would receive visiting guests.
Sometimes Michele would accompany me when visitors came, and after the guests left, he would help with the follow-up.
“Hello, Dogaresa! The young master came along again today!”
After about two weeks, the villagers had grown accustomed to seeing the young master lingering around the estate. Whenever I went somewhere, he accompanied me, and the villagers would wave at him.
“I hear the duke’s manor has been running smoothly lately?”
“It seems Young Master Michele is ready to take on the responsibility of managing the estate.”
“And what about Dogaresa? Will he be guiding him?”
“I’m not sure. Probably, yes.”
Before long, Michele was seen as unofficially stepping into the succession process. I carefully discussed this with Ezekiel and sent a letter to the crown princess to gauge the imperial court’s reaction.
The crown princess responded positively but didn’t reveal how the emperor felt. She did, however, add that Michele should come to the capital in October.
Meanwhile, the weather shifted unpredictably—rain, sunshine, and suddenly dark skies.
“By mid-September, talks of storms start popping up,” Michele remarked one day as he removed his raincoat after touring the estate.
“Natural disasters are out of our control, so we just have to rely on the heavens… but that makes it even more worrisome, doesn’t it?”
Come to think of it, even last year when I still lived in the capital, in September, estates by the coast or on islands feared storms. The risk of flooding made them especially vulnerable.
“Even Betra worries about storms, huh?” I asked.
Michele shook the raindrops from his hair and, with the tone of a good-natured, innocent child, replied:
“Yes! A few years ago, there was a major flood here, so people are concerned. Many homes near the back gates that connect to the canals suffered property damage.”
“Certainly, floods would be dangerous.”
“On the outer islands of Betra, there are fishing villages, so there’s even more worry. The villagers go out to sea along the canals every day.”
Ezekiel, who had been watching Michele’s brisk responses, winced.
“Just to clarify for my wife, I’ve ensured that essential supplies have been stocked on the fishermen’s islands in case access from the mainland is cut off.”
Michele pouted immediately.
“Olga will probably be managing it as she did before.”
“That was my instruction as well.”
“Uncle, you’re quite impressive.”
“I don’t feel a shred of sincerity in that compliment.”
Familiar sparks flew between the two men. I observed their playful bickering, lost in thought. The fishermen on the islands would be safe; I hoped there’d be no floods this year. Various other thoughts crossed my mind.
“…Then we just need to prepare for the temple visit.”
My husband’s words caught my attention. I had visited the temple a few times myself—particularly when trying to improve my relationship with Ezekiel. The temple staff would remember me.
“In September, the ruler of the estate must make a ceremonial visit to the temple, right?”
“Yes. During this season, prayers are held at the temple, as it’s dedicated to the deity who protects Betra.”
Traditionally, the apprentice who runs the estate—and if Dogaresa was present, the couple—would visit the temple together to pray for the welfare of the estate’s people.
“We’ll be off then!”
While Michele stayed home, Ezekiel and I headed up the hill at the center of Betra, where the temple stood.
Perhaps because we had given notice of our visit, priests in their distinctive, old-fashioned tunics lined up at the temple entrance and guided our carriage safely inside.
“The High Priest will arrive shortly,” said Ezekiel, checking his pocket watch calmly as he sat cross-legged. I flipped to the back of the psychology book Michele had gifted me, reading the final chapters.
<Psychology of Conversation, Passage 83>
To take control of an interaction, you must steer the flow. Become a magician of time.
Even a perpetually relaxed person may lose their composure and end up following your lead.
“Fifteen minutes already passed.”
“As expected.”
The carriage driver had already tied up the horses and was jogging them up the hill for exercise, as if he had anticipated this.
I closed my book and played a matching card game with the cards Ezekiel took from his coat.
Soon, a gentle-looking young priest ran up and bowed at 90 degrees.
“My apologies, Apprentice! Dogaresa! I am Matteo, the trainee priest. The High Priest has just finished his prayers and is coming out.”
Ezekiel checked his watch again: 23 minutes had passed. He glanced at the watch and Matteo, speaking calmly:
“That’s alright. This isn’t the trainee priest’s fault, so there’s no need to apologize on his behalf.”
There was subtle sharpness in his words. Matteo hunched his shoulders and guided us down the long corridor to the temple’s center. I had never met the High Priest personally before.
‘When I come to the temple alone, he never even shows up.’
After several doors and corridors, we finally met the legendary High Priest.
“May the glory of the deity bless the esteemed visitors who come to the temple in September. With your visit, the city will be safe this year.”
He was a man with pale sky-blue hair and golden eyes, slender, wearing a white robe and cap, holding the staff symbolizing his communication with the deity.
“I am Giuseppe, the High Priest of this temple,” he said.
Under ordinary circumstances, any lord would have been furious to make the rulers wait for so long without apology. But these were temple priests—traditional rivals of the dukes’ house.
“High Priest Giuseppe is predictably busy serving the deity.”
“That is my fate, so I follow it.”
The priest and duke exchanged smiles.
“Being born a commoner and dedicating my life to the deity allows me to meet the duke and his consort and enjoy great honor through divine devotion.”
(Translation: Even though I am of common birth, I hold spiritual authority and influence, so I don’t have to kneel to you.)
“Serving the deity is certainly a significant role. Praying daily for all people is my duty. With the upcoming selection of a saint by the empire’s Shrine Bureau, I am naturally interested in this, as one who serves the divine.”
(Translation: You talk a lot but do little of real consequence. The temple isn’t the empire’s church; don’t get conceited.)
“My concern lies not with distant power, but solely in caring for Betra under your rule.”
(Translation: In Betra, you can’t ignore me. You’ll need to cooperate with me anyway.)
“If my wife and I govern Betra well, the priest can be at peace. We shall pray sincerely.”
(Translation: Don’t act superior. You also need us.)
No one else could understand the nuances of sarcasm spoken to one’s face like I could. Years of practice.
“Shall we proceed this way, Your Grace?”
With our brief conversation concluded, High Priest Giuseppe, guiding us to the temple center, finally stopped smiling and muttered under his breath.
