Chapter 15: A Rude Man
The chat between Armand and the Crown Prince didn’t last long, just the time it took to drink a few cups of tea. But that was enough for the two to come to an agreement.
Both Armand and Crown Prince Solor were cautious by nature. Until they had a clear understanding of the situation, neither would take action. Rather than launching a blind attack or staying on the defensive, they preferred to counterattack, like a parry in a duel, using the enemy’s own move as an opening to strike back hard, ideally finishing things in one blow so the enemy couldn’t rise again.
It’s similar to how, after a battle, there’s always a team that goes in to clear the field. Their job is to make sure every enemy is truly dead. No half-dead survivors left behind who might try one last desperate attack.
It might sound cruel, but whenever Armand went to war, whether it was to fight off invading armies or stop monsters, all enemies left alive on the battlefield had to be personally checked. Armand and his knights had to cut open the enemy’s body to confirm they were really dead before leaving.
Many knights admired and respected their leader, but they didn’t want to be on the same cleanup team as him. That’s because, in almost every battle, it was Armand himself who led the post-battle cleanup squad.
He would walk through the bloody field, cutting up corpses with his sword while casually saying things like, “This one feels like the steak we’re having tonight,” or, “Hey, doesn’t this organ look like that messed-up pastry you had the other day?”
No one could tell if he did it on purpose or not. But after grossing everyone out, he’d go on to say, “You guys better eat more later. My stomach’s not good, I can’t handle greasy stuff,” like he wasn’t just the one making them all sick.
Sometimes, while doing all this, he’d even chew on stomach medicine, creating the disturbing sight of “a man covered in blood, grinning while munching pills and cutting open human organs.”
His sword didn’t have much decoration, either. That was because too many fancy carvings or gems made it hard to clean. If meat bits got stuck in them, the sword would soon start to smell funny. Armand didn’t care much about little things, but he didn’t want the weapon he carried everywhere to reek of corpses.
As for whether the sword still smelled bloody after cleaning, that was up to the old butler, Lug. Lug was excellent at cleaning and could always make Armand's clothes and equipment look like new.
After all, armor and weapons were tools for survival on the battlefield. Changing them too often would make Armand less familiar with his gear, and being unfamiliar in battle could cost your life. So, unless it was too broken to fix, Armand would rather go through the trouble of cleaning than replace it.
“Your Highness, the Second Prince is here,” announced the guard outside, just as Armand and the Crown Prince were wrapping up their talk and preparing to head out.
Almost at the same moment, a young man with the same short golden hair as the Crown Prince stepped out from behind the guard.
“Looks like I came at a bad time. My royal brother seems busy.”
Hearing that familiar voice, Armand turned his head and saw the Second Prince, Eric Cleia, already standing beside him. Eric reached out his gloved hand in greeting.
“Hello, Captain Armand. It’s been a while.”
Armand glanced at the white gloves on Eric’s hand and let out a small laugh, shaking his hand.
“Yes, thanks to you.”
As for what he meant by “thanks,” Eric knew perfectly well.
The fact that Armand's body still suffered from poison damage was a tightly kept secret by the Crown Prince. But Eric was still a prince, if he wanted to find out, he had his ways. Even if he didn’t know all the details, he knew Armand's health wasn’t great.
And he also knew that the poison in Armand's body got worse with cold. Even though Armand's strong body suppressed the effects, two winters ago, Eric used the excuse that “no one else could hold the line” to send Armand to the freezing, snow-covered north to guard against foreign threats, secretly hoping the cold would kill him in that temporary fortress.
Luckily, Armand's army was strong. The Crown Prince also sent plenty of support and used political pressure to secure military aid that the other side couldn’t refuse. A war that was expected to last three years ended in just over one.
For the next six months, Armand stayed in private to heal the damage caused by his illness returning. Only recently, when the pain no longer affected his daily life, did he move into the estate and start appearing in public again.
Thanks to the royal doctor secretly arranged by the Crown Prince, Armand didn’t suffer any fatal injuries. Politically, the victory led by the Crown Prince in that war greatly increased his public support, almost turning things around completely, and pushed back the influence of the Second Prince’s faction.
If it weren’t for that success, the Second Prince might’ve already taken over the capital through public opinion. He even brought up the idea of choosing a younger heir instead of the eldest son. The Second Prince had put in a lot of effort to sway public opinion, and even now, though his popularity had dropped, he was still good at controlling what people said and thought.
The “Saint Fleurs Church” was also a useful tool. A prince who spends money on charity is naturally well-liked by the people. The nobles admired the Crown Prince’s strategy, but commoners didn’t care about military genius. They wanted a peaceful life. Even if the war wasn’t at their doorstep, they still feared that one day, another enemy might rise and bring chaos again.
“You look well, Captain Armand. I guess moving into your new home has really lifted your spirits,” said the Second Prince, still holding onto Armand's hand.
“Yes, having a real home does feel better than staying in some temporary place,” Armand replied, gripping the Second Prince’s hand a little tighter.
In the royal courtyard, only the Crown Prince could be openly blunt to the Second Prince because of his older brother status. But the most disrespectful person here, without a doubt, was Armand.
People said Armand was just a rough soldier who only knew how to fight and didn’t understand proper manners. Armand himself said, “Etiquette can’t be eaten,” and openly argued with the nobles who opposed him. That just confirmed his image as a rude, arrogant man.
Most nobles didn’t bother arguing with him. He had no noble title, and while being the commander of the Royal Knights sounded impressive, it was a dangerous job, people in that role often didn’t live long. Any day he might be replaced, so the nobles didn’t see the point in sucking up to him or wasting time arguing.
The Second Prince’s supporters especially looked down on Armand. They used rumors and media to paint him as someone who was only good-looking and good at fighting, nothing else.
But Armand didn’t care. In fact, he preferred it this way. Since everyone already thought he was rude, no one dared tell him what to do. It gave him the freedom to live however he liked.
After the two of them smiled at each other for a while, the Crown Prince, looking amused, refilled his tea. The gentle clink of the cup on the coaster filled the air, and finally, the Second Prince let go of Armand's hand.
‘Just a little longer... I can endure this arrogant man. Once “Red Crow” finishes the mission…’
With that thought, the Second Prince smiled again and pulled his hand back.
“Captain Armand, are you about to leave? I still have things to discuss with my royal brother.”
As he spoke, he picked up a document with the “Saint Fleurs” seal on it.
Looks like he’s going to stir things up with the monastery again.
Armand smiled knowingly. Just as he had started to stand, he sat back down on the sofa and poured himself another cup of tea.
“What a coincidence, Second Prince. I still have things to talk about with your brother, so I’ll have to ask you to wait a bit.”
He raised his teacup toward the Second Prince like making a toast, then drank it in one go.
The Second Prince looked like he wanted to say something but stopped. He forced a polite smile, though his eyebrows twitched with frustration. He couldn’t kick Armand out, not because he lacked power, but because he couldn’t risk completely breaking ties with the Crown Prince or his people just yet. And trying to reason with someone like Armand was pointless.
“Then... when will you be done talking with my brother?”
“Well, your brother and I are old friends. It’s rare for me to visit, so we’ll be catching up for a while. If you really want to wait, Your Highness, feel free to wait by the door.”
—’The entrance? You expect me, the Second Prince, to stand around at the entrance like a servant?!’
‘Fine. Whatever. That man won’t live long anyway... One day, I’ll rip out your guts and feed them to the dogs...!’
The Second Prince took a deep breath and replied,
“Then I’ll leave my brother to his business. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
He didn’t want to waste another word on someone like Armand and turned to leave.
As for Armand and the Crown Prince, the two shared a smile as they watched him go, as if saying, “Yep, only you could pull that off.”
When dealing with smooth-talking people, sometimes you just need a brute.