The Old Soldier’s Complaint
But Chloe soon remembered that Grand Marshal Victor was the one who had spent the longest, most grueling years fighting the war against the Three Kingdoms. Driven by the King's insatiable greed, Victor had struggled against their enemies for decades until Curtis Shan Berk finally joined the fray. The proof of those hard years was written on his face; though only in his fifties, his hair had already turned stark white. To a veteran like him, the King's petty schemes against Curtis must have seemed utterly pathetic.
The Grand Marshal let out a heavy sigh and muttered to Curtis, "Do you think old soldiers are the only ones who fade away instead of dying?"
"Who knows? I wouldn't be the one to ask," Curtis replied, his tone relaxed but clipped.
The Grand Marshal looked at Curtis with a trace of pity in his eyes. "You know, Your Grace, I truly find you pitiful. Queen Mildred really should have lived at least another ten years."
Chloe felt a tiny swell of emotion. Here was a war hero, born as the King's half-brother, weathering political storms with absolutely no backing but his own strength. She could feel the genuine sorrow of the old, battle-hardened soldier who had watched him grow...
"...Because there are some things," Victor continued, "that can only be learned through proper home education."
Or so she thought...
"For instance, the lesson that if you act this ungratefully to a superior officer who went all the way to the navy to fetch you a decent aide, you might just disappear overnight without a trace."
Damn it. Her touching moment was officially dead.
Grand Marshal Victor's venting went on for quite some time after that. The core of his grievance was that the two of them were giving him a massive headache and forcing him to walk on eggshells around the King. While the naive public still believed they had married for love, most people in high society—including Victor and the King—vaguely suspected otherwise. They simply lacked the proof to be certain.
"To His Majesty, whether you two are actually in love doesn't matter in the slightest," Victor grumbled. "No matter who the Grand Duke chose to marry, the only thing that matters to him is that I was the one who provided her."
"Oh, dear," Curtis chimed in, sounding entirely detached.
Grand Marshal Victor glared at both of them. Chloe, who had been sitting in absolute silence as if she didn't even possess a mouth, felt utterly wronged by association.
"In short, my neck is on the chopping block right alongside yours."
Despite decades of loyal service, Grand Marshal Victor was being pushed out of the military in his twilight years. Before Curtis's sudden marriage, he had at least been on track to enjoy a quiet, peaceful retirement. Now, it seemed he was being subjected to the King's wrath at every turn.
He let out another heavy sigh and looked at them. "Which brings me to my next question. Warrant Officer Berk, have you ever hosted a banquet? Or even attended one?"
Chloe, who had been quietly rolling her eyes, bit her lip at the sudden question.
Looking at her, the Grand Marshal's expression softened into a warm, fatherly smile—a stark contrast to the glare he had just directed at Curtis. "It's alright. I know you haven't lived the life of the high nobility. Speak freely. If you have any experience with anything even remotely similar, tell me."
"...Does a navy retirement party count?"
"Oh, good grief. I'd be better off dying early."
A muffled snort of laughter leaked from the man sitting beside her. The Grand Marshal bared his teeth at Curtis, his kind smile instantly vanishing. Curtis quickly wiped the amusement from his face, returning to his usual blank expression, but the damage was already done.
"Your Grace. You should have at least taught her this much."
"I didn't receive a proper home education myself, so I wouldn't know," Curtis replied smoothly. "You'll have to blame my late mother."
Was it just Chloe's imagination, or did Curtis cast a brief, conscious glance in her direction as he said that?
Stung by his own words being thrown back at him, Grand Marshal Victor grumbled in irritation. "I heard you aren't inviting anyone to your residence. Is that true?"
Curtis answered in her stead. "What would be the point of inviting them?"
"I knew it. But I doubt Warrant Officer Berk even realized the Grand Duke was intentionally keeping people away."
He was spot on. Chloe hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
The Grand Marshal sighed and continued. "Normally, members of ruling families introduce a new spouse to high society immediately after marriage. The pretexts vary, but they usually host a banquet under the guise of showing off their new estate."
"...Are you telling us to host a banquet at our residence?"
Your Grace, do you perhaps want a housewarming party? Do you just want to spy on your subordinate's newlywed life?
Of course, Chloe was a quick-witted soldier of Ivanes, so she kept those thoughts to herself. Instead, she just let her eyes dart around the room.
Seeing her reaction, the Grand Marshal muttered, "Sigh, damn it all."
"Congratulations. Warrant Officer Berk, who has never hosted a single banquet in her life, has been put in charge of a royal diplomatic banquet."
His words said "congratulations," but his tone sounded more like he was telling her to go jump off a cliff.
Chloe blinked, utterly bewildered. "Me?"
The Grand Marshal snapped back irritably, "Then should this old soldier put on a dress and host the party?"
Well, that would actually be hilarious in its own way... No, focus!
To put it simply, the problem was the upcoming diplomatic event with Glintland: the 28th Anniversary of Diplomatic Relations.
Originally, the crown jewel of this event was supposed to be the formalization of Curtis Shan Berk's marriage alliance. But that alliance had been thoroughly derailed by the Grand Duke's sudden marriage. Even so, the Glintland Duke, who had already arrived in Ivanes, couldn't very well say, "Oh, really? Then I'm going home," and pack his bags immediately. At the very least, the anniversary event—which served as their public cover—had to be executed flawlessly.
"The Grand Duke can just finish preparing for the military parade as planned, but you, Warrant Officer, are in a different position. You are royalty now."
"That is true, but..."
"If you were going to be this reluctant, why on earth did you marry him? Anyway, there's no turning back now, so listen up."
Essentially, there were three indispensable components to any major diplomatic event: the welcoming ceremony (which included the military parade), the main ceremony, and the banquet. There were also treaty-signing ceremonies if their mutual interests aligned, but those could be omitted for now.
Although the Glintland Duke had arrived some time ago, the welcoming ceremony had been postponed for several days due to the Grand Duke's sudden wedding. The tasks falling squarely on Chloe's shoulders were the diplomatic banquet for the main ceremony and all the administrative headaches that came with it.
Normally, hosting duties of this caliber fell to the mistress of the royal household—either the Queen or the Crown Princess. However, the current King's Queen Consort had passed away several years ago, and Crown Princess Beatrice was notoriously frail. Seizing the opportunity, the King had ordered the newly minted Grand Duchess to host the diplomatic banquet.
It was an absolute farce.
To entrust a high-stakes diplomatic banquet to a Grand Duchess who had been part of the royal family for barely ten days—and a semi-noble woman who had wed into royalty through a marriage the King vehemently opposed, no less? It was a setup designed for failure. To put it plainly, the King was determined to drag her into the spotlight and utterly humiliate her in front of the entire court.
"Just because she is frail doesn't mean she is incapable of hosting a banquet, does it?" Curtis asked, his voice cool.
The Grand Marshal replied dryly, "Her Highness the Crown Princess reportedly came down with a dreadful cold a few days ago."
"Which His Majesty undoubtedly forced upon her."
"It's a waste of breath to even state the obvious."
Crown Princess Beatrice was famous for being timid in temperament as well as weak in body. Since her husband, Crown Prince Frederick, had openly supported Curtis's marriage, Beatrice had likely been forced to play along with the King's schemes to keep the peace. Everyone in the room understood this without it needing to be said.
"There is always the Marquise of Flandre," Curtis pointed out.
"But strictly speaking, the Marquise is a widow," Victor countered.
If the King had actually wanted this diplomatic banquet to be a success, and if the Crown Princess were truly incapacitated, he would have chosen the Marquise of Flandre over Chloe. To a former princess, managing such an event would be child's play. Above all, she was the head of the prestigious Eleonora Society.
"Furthermore, His Majesty has apparently assigned a different role to the Marquise."
"And what might that be?"
"Even I don't know. But you can be sure it won't bode well for either of you."
"Excuse me, but..." Chloe spoke up cautiously.
Both men turned their gaze toward her.
"I understand everything you've explained so far. But there is one thing I am curious about."
"What is it?"
Something had been puzzling her for a while. She understood the political maneuvering behind why she was being forced to host the banquet. However, those were strictly internal royal matters. Strictly speaking, the person delivering this news should have been the Crown Princess, or at least the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Why on earth was Grand Marshal Victor, the highest military authority, the one breaking this to them?
Grand Marshal Victor let out a dry chuckle at her question. "Would you prefer to be summoned directly by His Majesty instead?"
"...My apologies." She had spoken out of turn.
Fortunately, the Grand Marshal wasn't a truly malicious man. "Good grief. I wasn't trying to tease you."
After a moment of contemplation, Victor let out a long, weary sigh. "Warrant Officer, you have married an exceptionally good husband. Truly, a magnificent one."
Despite the flattering words, his tone was anything but complimentary. He squeezed the words out with immense difficulty, looking as though he would rather swallow glass than praise Curtis.
"What do you mean by that...?"
"I refuse to let the words pass my lips. Go outside and ask him yourself."
It was a blunt, unmistakable dismissal.
It didn't take long for the two of them to find themselves ushered out of the Grand Marshal's office.
"What was that about?" Chloe asked.
Instead of a direct answer, she was met with something entirely unexpected.