The Former Prince Who Lost Everything Becomes a Masked Strategist, Dominates from the Shadows, and Vows Revenge - Chapter 2.2

Ignoring Alphonse’s protests, I stepped forward, walking boldly toward the Agrante family.

Standing before them, I placed a hand over my chest, bowed my head, and performed the knight’s salute.

“It has been some time, Duke Agrante, Lady Phyllis, and Lord Gaston. I am honored to see you again.”

Duke Agrante narrowed his eyes at me, his lips curling into a sneer.

“Grace, is it? The last time we met was at the winter banquet. Every time I see you, you look more and more like my loathsome brother in his youth. It’s infuriating.”

“Indeed,” Phyllis scoffed, ruffling her son’s hair. “Unlike my darling Gaston, Grace is growing into quite the unsightly young man. But just look at my precious Gaston! So adorable! My little prince!”

As Phyllis doted on her son, Gaston paid her no mind, instead greedily devouring a plate of cookies he had snatched from the banquet table.

A noblewoman nearby let out a quiet chuckle, her voice dripping with disdain.

“If you ask me, Prince Grace is far more handsome. Gaston is nothing but a pig.”

Gaston’s face twisted in rage. Without hesitation, he grabbed the plate of cookies and hurled it at the woman.

The dish shattered upon impact, cutting her cheek.

Pointing at her, Gaston bellowed.

“Off with her head!! Who dares call me a pig?! I am Gaston Orque Agrante, heir to the House of Agrante! How dare a lowly wench like you speak ill of me!?”

“That’s right, my darling Gaston!” Phyllis shrieked. “Guards, what are you waiting for?! Execute that woman at once! How dare she insult my precious son!?”

As Gaston and his mother screamed, Duke Agrante merely stood there, fidgeting anxiously, unsure of how to react.

Stepping forward, I shielded the woman from their wrath.

“Lady Phyllis, Lord Gaston, please, stop this at once! I understand your anger, but this is a banquet attended by nobility from other nations. Please, compose yourselves—”

“You dare interfere, Grace?!” Gaston spat. “Are you calling me a pig too?! Is that what you’re saying?!”

“I never said such a thing—”

“Silence, you wretch!”

With a furious snarl, Gaston struck me across the face. I staggered slightly, but compared to Gilbert’s training, this was nothing.

Bl00d trickled from my lip, yet I stood my ground, meeting Gaston’s gaze head-on.

“Please, Lord Gaston, control yourself.”

“Tch…!”

Seething with rage, Gaston drew his sword from its sheath and pointed it at my throat.

The gathered nobles gasped. The knights stationed at the banquet began rushing toward me, but I raised a hand, signaling them to halt.

Keeping my composure, I met Gaston’s eyes unwaveringly.

“Lord Gaston. Put down your sword.”

“Why do you always do that?!” he snarled. “Looking at me with those clear, untainted eyes! As if you’re better than me! Why were you born with everything—talent with the sword, a beautiful face, the right to inherit the throne—while I have nothing?! Why do you get to have it all, while I have nothing but scorn?! I hate you! I hate you so much I could kill you!!”

“Lord Gaston, I hold no ill will toward you. We are family, bound by the same bloodline. There is no need for hatred between us. Those who insult your appearance are insignificant. As royalty, we must rise above petty grievances.”

“You think you understand my pain?! You know nothing!”

He pressed the blade harder against my throat. Bl00d trickled down my skin, but I did not flinch.

I had promised my mother I would build a peaceful world.

If the long-standing feud between the Royal House of Lambert and the House of Agrante was to end, I would be the one to make it happen.

They were still human. If I could just reach them, surely, we could understand each other.

As I held my ground, staring directly into his furious eyes, Gaston’s expression flickered with hesitation.

“You…!”

Just then—

“Enough, Grace. Gaston.”

The grand doors behind the throne creaked open.

A figure strode forward, flanked by numerous knights.

It was the King of Lambert—my father, Geizerion Lambert.

His majestic crimson cape billowed as he raised his hand and declared, his voice reverberating through the hall.

“Drop your weapon at once! That is a royal command!”

Even Gaston wasn’t foolish enough to defy the king. He hesitated for a moment before letting his sword clatter to the ground.

The knights moved to restrain him, but my father halted them with a wave of his hand.

“Enough. This is a banquet, a night of celebration. Let us not stain it with conflict. Duke Agrante, do you agree?”

“Ah… y-yes, Brother…” Duke Agrante muttered. “Phyllis, Gaston, stand down.”

“Tch.”

“My poor Gaston… Those wretches don’t understand your greatness…”

Though still seething, they reluctantly obeyed.

My father had diffused the situation in mere moments.

Someday, I would become king as well.

And when that time came, I, too, would need to command such authority.

As the nobles resumed their conversations, I watched my father atop his throne, aspiring to one day become the kind of king who could bring true peace to this land.