The Romantic Trials Of A Transmigrated Empress
Chapter 329: Lunch tastes like politics.

Chapter 329: Lunch tastes like politics.

Roland returned to the royal castle rather quickly after funeral. He left before the coffin was lowered into the ground, whisked away at the sighting of a grass green snake slithering on the burial grounds.

Neither he nor his men noticed a moving shadow, escaping as the same time as they did after releasing the snake.

He strolled into the castle like a man on a mission and Jesting had no choice but to keep up with his energetic master.

"We have started making arrangements for the special welcome back dinner you instructed us to prepare for the crown princess your highness." He said through pants.

Roland heard the sound and he slowed down.

Relived, Jesting bent and took a deep breath. "I am getting too old for this." he muttered.

Roland turned around when the words skirted past his ears. He looked at his old butler with a modicum of remorse in his eyes. It was sometimes lost on him that Jesting was no longer the robust butler he once was. His neat silver hair was thinner than it used to be. He had a ridiculous mustache that curled at ends, having adopted to the style of other butlers in the capital.

His movements were slower and his hands shakier, with brown spots which were not there before. Roland could not help thinking that perhaps some fairy dew water could do some good for this faithful companion of his. That and retirement.

"Jesting," he walked back to the butler that had a hand on the wall and another on the cane. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, your highness. I am as fit as an aged fiddle." He replied, grimacing through the answer.

Roland stretched his arm out and touched the shoulder of the butler. "Aged fiddles sometimes need to slow down Jesting"

A footman walked past them with silver wine jars on a tray. He was walking rather quickly, following after the head maid that was rushing other maids that served in the dining room.

"Steady Osmond." Jesting shouted to the young man.

"Yes Mr. Jesting." The footman answered.

Jesting huffed and looked at Roland. "Nothing would be done right if I was not here. Look at the boy, he walks like a dancer with two left feet. I don’t know whose bright idea it was to have him carry wine vases. This is why I cannot retire."

"Because of a footman with two left feet!" Roland said skeptically.

Jesting pushed himself to stand upright. "Old fiddles are still fiddles I assure you. I will serve you until I cannot move my feet, hands and lose the ability of sight your highness. Now, on the subject of the special dinner. Mrs. Elowin has moved the venue from the courtyard to the gardens. Will you be wearing shoes or not?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course we will be wearing shoes Jesting." Roland turned around and resumed the walk to his chambers to change into his third outfit of the day.

Jesting followed slowly, recalling the day the crown prince and princess had played in the rain, in the gardens, barefoot! It was not absurd for him to assume that at some point, the couple would do something ridiculous.

Whether or not it happened, they needed to search for stones and anything deemed dangerous in the young grass.

In a new outfit, Roland joined Lord Alexander Ridley and his sons for lunch in the royal observatory, far away from the ears and eyes of nosy servants and prying eyes. It seemed that they were finally going to discuss the business that had brought them to Eldoria: the fate of their two empires.

Roland took the main seat, casually lounging on the velvet chair. He was dressed in a purple silk satin shirt that Sigrid had personally designed for him. The first two buttons were unbuttoned and a third was threatening to follow suit as it stretched in mid-mutiny.

Across form his sat Lord Alexander, a man so wealthy that wore golden cufflinks that competed with the sun in shining. Aside from his sons, at the battle were Galen, Lord Bailey, Lord Givenchy, Rudbeck, Sir Nibbles Valerius and Duke Thorin.

Roland wanted the opinions of trusted men ans they diced the two empires.

"So, get on with it Lord Alexander, or should I call you the king of the north." Asked Roland, biting gently on a cheese tart that tasted of political ambition. "Do you wish to be emperor of Medoris?"

"You will hear no argument from me." Alexander answered. "Which man does not want to be king? I am certain that all the men at this table have dreamed of it a time or two."

"Not me, your highness." Sir Nibbles rushed to remove himself from those men whose dreams were so ambitious that they opened doors to treason.

"Worry not Nibbles, all mortal men dream of being king. If we could see the gods, mortals would dream of being gods. It’s just the way it is." Roland told him before looking at Lord Alexander directly. "What exactly is it that you came seeking for from me?"

Lord Alexander put down his fork and folded his hands together on the table, next to a plate that had cut pieces of honey glazed chicken. "I have money, I can fund a war for ten years if need be but I am hoping that this will not last all ten years. I am hoping that that it will end in a day, week or month at most. You lend me soldiers and mages, I provide the money and resources."

"And what do we get for helping you?" Duke Thorin asked.

Lord Alexander smirked, he leaned back in the chair and smiled as if all this was not a great deal. "Peace, friendship, trade. Our empires are better off as friends than enemies. I passed through Nemoris on way here and I saw towns packed with soldiers, boarder walls being fortified.

There are even mages doing searches to make sure that those entering Nemoris from Medoris do not bring in weapons. Tensions are high on my side and yours, a peace treaty will be good for everyone. Eldoria is still a young empire, your king is unconscious. You cannot afford a war with Medoris and this is decided by who sits on the golden throne."

"I admit, Lord Alexander, Eldoria is still a fledgling empire but with all that is going on in Medoris right now, I am sure that we have a sixty percent chance of winning if war were to break out between out two empires." Roland said, swirling wine in a glass. "You are not the only noble Lord to claim a territory after the death of your emperor and you are not the only one seeking an alliance. I am sure that all of you are doing the same right now. I suspect that others will soon be here, asking for the same favor. The problem is..." Roland took a sip of wine and patted his stomach. "Eldoria does not fight the wars of others on an empty stomach."

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