War council

In a room on the second floor of the Royal Palace, its doors and windows tightly shut, Madame de Sambelange shrank into herself in terror.

Just over ten minutes earlier, she had still been basking in the excitement of receiving an invitation from the Duke of Orléans. Now she stammered tremblingly, "Y-your Grace, I didn't... the Duke of Chartres approached me of his own accord that day... and I really didn't know I had that disease."

Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and she felt no discomfort. Indeed, her syphilis had yet to enter its second stage-many people with strong constitutions might not develop obvious symptoms until two years after infection.

The Duke of Chartres tried to console his father from beside him. "Father, syphilis is nothing. Even the great Francis I had it..."

"Shut your mouth!"

The Duke of Orléans cut him off with a roar, then glared fiercely at Madame de Sambelange. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"I-it was the day you told me to sedu... to approach His Highness the Crown Prince. You know I failed. He ignored me. Then the Duke of Chartres suddenly burst in..."

Half an hour later, the Duke of Orléans pounded his fist furiously against the desk. Fragments of teacups, incense burners, and other objects littered the study floor.

"It was all that damned Louis Joseph!" His eyes were bloodshot as he muttered through gritted teeth. "He must have learned beforehand that the Sambelange woman was diseased, then deliberately lured Philip into that room!

"Yes, that must be it!"

From that day onward, the Duke of Orléans's legitimate heir had no more than twenty years left to live. Perhaps only ten.

In this era, syphilis was a terrifying, incurable disease.

He snatched up the pen stand and smashed it against the floor,