Chapter 34: The Festival Meeting
"The Prolos Festival is about to begin. Does anyone have any ideas?"
Tap tap tap tap.
In the royal meeting room, besides the nobles discussing things, there was also the sound of fingers tapping on the table, a sound everyone had gotten used to by now.
Armand sat with one leg crossed over the other, tapping the table with one hand again and again. He didn’t seem to care about the meeting at all and clearly didn’t want to take part in it.
"The Prolos Festival was created to honor war heroes, so I think we should invite some knights and soldiers to be the main part of the event. We also need them to do something to keep the festival exciting."
Tap tap tap tap.
Armand wasn’t thinking about the meeting or the festival at all. He had no interest in joining the discussion.
Last night, he had something to take care of at the knights' headquarters and came back very late. He didn’t get to see Evelia. This morning, he planned to go look for her, but then got dragged into this annoying morning meeting.
His mood had shifted, from ‘Did I do something wrong? What happened?’ to ‘Damn it, can people just leave me alone?’
"The Royal Knights are a good choice. After all, they just stopped a monster invasion from the far north."
Tap tap tap tap.
“So that means Armand has to be involved too?”
Tap—
Armand’s tapping suddenly stopped when he heard his name. He was supposed to give his opinion about the knight group earlier, but he hadn’t said a single word in the entire meeting. That was very unusual for someone who normally talked too much during these things.
In fact, if the Crown Prince himself hadn’t brought up the Prolos Festival and mentioned Armand by name as part of the knights, no one else in the room would have dared bring it up, because Armand’s expression was just that bad.
It was rare to see Armand looking so cold and serious during official meetings. Today, all the high-ranking nobles, who usually mocked Armand as the “royal family's foolish guard dog”, got to see a side of him that looked like he might bite someone’s head off.
Actually, Armand didn’t do anything or say anything mean. He just stopped smiling. He no longer had that easygoing attitude he used to have, where he could casually reply to anything with a grin. But just sitting there without any expression at all was already too much for the nobles to handle.
After all, Armand had truly fought his way through life-and-death battles. When he stopped smiling, the aura of someone who had killed many enemies over the years became obvious. On his left sat his vice-captain, Carle, who was already used to this and didn’t think much of it.
But on his right was just a regular baron from a family of scholars. He had never been near someone like Armand before. Just from sitting next to him, he felt like he could smell the blood on the knight commander.
No one could tell exactly where Armand’s sharp blue eyes were looking, maybe a person, maybe a corner of the room. But no one wanted those eyes, like the edge of a blade, to land on them.
"What’s wrong, Armand? You disagree?"
Only the Crown Prince dared speak to him like that.
No matter how scary Armand looked, he was still his subordinate. He was like a fierce guard dog. No matter how sharp its teeth, it wouldn’t bite its owner.
The Crown Prince had kept Armand by his side for more than ten years. He knew Armand’s personality very well. If something serious had really happened, Armand wouldn’t even be here. These meetings didn’t matter much to him. So since he was here, it meant nothing major had happened, he was probably just in a bad mood.
But still, the Crown Prince was a little curious about what, or who, could make Armand this upset.
"Ah—" Armand looked at the Crown Prince. He was clearly in a very bad mood and didn’t bother to hide it. He even rolled his eyes. "I don’t want to give a speech."
He hated all that useless stuff that came with attending festivals.
“Haha…”
The Crown Prince, who was usually very serious during meetings, actually laughed a little. It was like they had switched roles. The one who usually smiled looked grumpy, and the serious one smiled.
"Commander, as the head of the Royal Knights, it wouldn’t look good if you didn’t attend the Prolos Festival, don’t you think?"
In this strange atmosphere, no one else dared to say anything. They were afraid that these two moody people might suddenly explode and take it out on them. Only the Second Prince, Eric, dared to continue the conversation, smiling as he organized the papers in his hands.
"The Prolos Festival is for honoring war heroes. What am I supposed to do there?"
Armand was in a bad mood today, so he didn’t even bother to be polite to the Second Prince. Normally, Armand had a careless, roguish attitude that people were used to. But this time, instead of being sarcastic, he just said things directly and bluntly. The Second Prince was caught off guard for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.
“You returned from the far north battlefield victorious, of course you're a hero. Or... is there some other version of the story about that battle?”
The Second Prince’s words were full of sarcasm. While others praised Armand's victory, the Second Prince knew how harsh and deadly the cold up north was. Even if it hadn’t killed Armand, it surely shortened his life.
As for the speech, it was nothing but a formal, scripted performance. If Armand wanted to keep his position as Commander of the Royal Knights, his speech would have to be filled with official royal language. He’d be expected to talk about the hardships of the far north, then praise the royal family’s wise leadership.
And let’s not forget, he was sent there by the Second Prince’s suggestion. He nearly died because of it, and now he was supposed to thank the one who almost got him killed.
“Second Prince—”
Armand leaned forward and slapped his palm lightly on the table. His voice wasn’t loud, but the way he spoke, with a low, dangerous tone, made him sound like a hungry wolf watching its prey. His deputy, Carle, sighed quietly, already used to this. But the baron on the other side was so frightened he forgot all about noble dignity and kept shifting his seat farther away.
“In my book, only the dead should be ‘remembered’.”
The moment Armand said that, the whole meeting room went silent. Unless the princes spoke up, no one dared to go against Armand's increasingly dark expression.
“The Prolos Celebration is to honor the warriors who gave their lives at Prolos Harbor to save others. Those brave souls would surely be proud to see our kingdom thriving like this. That’s why, Your Highnesses, as the vice commander of the Knights, I believe the purpose of the celebration should be to remind people to cherish the peace we have now, to truly love their lives. Not to force the knights to put on a show and pretend to be something grand just for the sake of it.”
Seeing that Armand had gone quiet again, and the two princes also remained silent, Carle, who was often called Armand's “external brain”, decided to step in and keep things moving.
As Armand's close friend, he understood what Armand was really thinking. He didn’t know all the details of the northern battle, but when Armand returned exhausted and cursing the Second Prince without explaining much, Carle could pretty much guess what had happened.
And honestly, even if that wasn’t the case, nobody really wants to work overtime during a festival, especially not at a festival meant to honor them.
“That’s exactly what I meant,” Armand said, seeing Carle speak up for him. He nodded and didn’t say anything more.
“So, does anyone else have any thoughts?” the Crown Prince asked with a suppressed smile, throwing the question back to the others. When no one responded, he looked toward the Second Prince beside him. “Eric, what about you?”
“…Nothing for now, Brother,” the Second Prince said, his brows furrowed. He said nothing else, but gripped the papers in his hand tighter and tighter.
“Alright then. Seems like we can’t reach a decision about the celebration today. In the next few days, everyone here, hand in a plan. When we’ve got progress, we’ll meet again. This meeting is over.”
Seeing the tense atmosphere, the Crown Prince stood up and ended the meeting. As the others whispered among themselves about the earlier argument, Armand and Carle had already turned to leave, not even pretending to stay longer.
Noticing Armand needed to blow off steam, Carle didn’t take a carriage either. He decided to walk with Armand back to the Knight Headquarters, which wasn’t far. Along the way, he glanced at Armand, who was usually full of sarcastic comments, and saw that he was unusually quiet and sulking. Curiosity got the better of him. He sighed and asked,
“What’s wrong with you?”
Armand looked at him. “You mean me?”
“Obviously.” Carle nudged him with his elbow. “You look so gloomy, it’s like you’re carrying a storm cloud over your head.”
“Haah…”
Armand let out a tired groan and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Come on, just tell me. Maybe I can help.”
“I—”
Armand hesitated, then looked at Carle. Since he considered Carle a close friend, he covered half his face with one hand and muttered.
“My maid… won’t cook for me anymore.”
“…What?”
“I said my maid won’t cook for me anymore.”
“???”
Carle stared at him in disbelief, touched Armand's forehead, then his own, as if to check if Armand had caught some mind-altering illness. Then he gave Armand a strange look.
“You’re like this because of that? You nearly started a fight with the Second Prince over that?”
“What do you mean just that? This is serious!”
“You’re hopeless...”