The Humble Meal
Arkin clenched his fists tightly beneath the table. He was certain he could master anything. Archery? Riding? Swordsmanship?
Even as a child he had scaled frozen trees bare-handed all the way to the top, and as a youth he had hunted across snow-capped mountain ridges at a gallop with only his hunting hounds for company. The body he had forged into something unyielding as steel made this moment almost unbearably anticipatory.
“This task, in truth, is the very measure needed to cultivate your humility and sense of responsibility. That is precisely where… ”
Humility and responsibility. The words his uncle had always emphasized. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Seneca spoke in a grave tone.
“Washing elephants and cleaning their excrement.”
The entire room erupted in instant chaos, as though a boulder had been hurled into a still lake.
“What? Do you think we’re slaves of the stables, Priest? Are we out of our minds?”
Prince Kaichen slammed his palm on the table in fury and bellowed.
“…Elephants? Did you just say elephants?”
Princess Amalfi of Floria, resting her chin on her hand, narrowed her delicate brows and demanded, “How exactly are we supposed to do that? Clean their manure?” The remark was perfectly timed to jolt the drowsy trainees back into alertness.
“Isn’t that too much?”
“Do we look like grooms?”
Draconis wrinkled his nose in displeasure. Arkin was startled this time too. Feeding, washing, and caring for beasts wasn’t something they were meant to handle. He had expected something else entirely, and the sudden mention of elephant duty dimmed his enthusiasm.
Complaints rippled through the room, yet Seneca continued without a trace of concern.
“A monarch’s virtues include the humility of cherishing the people and discerning their needs. To value life and cast aside arrogance—this is also a precious experience that will strengthen the weight of the crown. For those of you born to rule and who have spent your lives only receiving service, it will be an experience of utmost importance.”
The trainees watched as a strange glint entered Seneca’s eyes. He drew a deep breath and added gently, “Of course, you are the successors to a great kingdom and possess noble blood. How could we fail to know that?”
“Handling elephants isn’t hard at all. I’m on good terms with them,” Zafiri said with a confident grin. Arkin glanced at the vine prince, whose curly brown hair and vibrant purple eyes still sparkled with vitality despite the exhaustion around him.
“Now that I have said everything I needed to say, please head toward the door,” the priest snapped his fingers. A crisp sound followed, and the servants entered silently carrying trays laden with food.
They circled the three tables and set down each plate in turn. A single flat barley bread brushed with olive oil appeared, and a jar of honey took the central place.
What was this? Worker’s rations? Arkin stared at the meal before him, hesitating.
“The meal before you is the ‘humble meal’ the trainee priests eat. It limits both quantity and quality so that, in a quiet atmosphere, you may reflect upon yourselves.”
More dishes were brought. Yet the portions were so meager that adding a few more plates changed nothing; the spread remained pitifully small.
Surprisingly serious. Arkin observed the scene with narrowed eyes. Boiled chickpea and a couple of figs were added, and finally a servant filled the wine goblets to the brim before retreating.
Arkin scanned the kitchen passages again, but no more food arrived. Seneca continued, “In one month a grand feast will be held in your honor. At that time you may eat to your fill and drink freely. Until then, adapt yourselves and fill your stomachs as best you can. There will be much to do from tomorrow onward.”
Once the announcement was complete, Seneca left. The dining hall instantly erupted into chaos. No one touched the food; instead, wretched complaints and shouts filled the room.
“Damn it!”
Kaichen slammed the table with his clenched fist.
“I knew I didn’t want to come… Father was so thrilled when the trainee invitation arrived! He must have planned this!”
The hair on the furious prince stood on end like needles, prickling the air. Violet sparks danced around the lightning-like strands. Kaichen let out a single scream, buried his face in his hands, and muttered weakly, “Fuck… I can’t stand even my father or my brother! I don’t want to!”
Kaichen wasn’t the only one complaining. Whines and murmurs spread from every corner, and even shy Elio slumped his shoulders. Only Arkin remained silent.
Among them, no one looked motivated; only Arkin stood with sharpened resolve, ready for the tournament. To him, the situation felt strangely bitter. The tournament wasn’t urgent. To those who saw only a difficult path ahead, it was simply “unnecessary.”
Arkin bitterly mocked himself and tore off a piece of the barley bread. Complaining would change nothing here, so he had to adapt.
He chewed the bread slowly, and it wasn’t bad. At that exact moment a shadow fell across his plate.
“Arkin, is it all right if I sit here?”
Before he could take the bread into his mouth, Arkin looked up. Princess Petra had slid into the seat directly opposite him without invitation and asked bluntly, “It’s fine, right?”
She took the seat without waiting for an answer. Petra was clearly thrilled by the coming training schedule.
“I will definitely take first place. I have memorized the entire history of this tournament since childhood and have been waiting only for today!”
“That’s ambitious.”
“Of course! I will win the tournament, become the great ruler of Stonegard, and leave my name in history!”
Petra lifted her chin with unshakeable conviction.
“Honestly, the heir’s position is a given. I want more than that. I want to be not just the ruler of Stonegard, but the ‘great ruler.’”
“Winning the training tournament isn’t a monarch’s essential virtue.”
“Of course it is. It’s just one of the many first-place records I’ve already claimed. But I want it.”
“A first-place record?”
“Listen.”
Petra extended her right hand and began curling her fingers one by one.
“I walked before I could even speak. At five I already hunted successfully with an axe. By the time I grew taller I had crossed the Eagle Mountain alone.”
Arkin felt a bitter pang; he had won first place at the Winter Forest Hunting Tournament multiple times and even brought down the largest, heaviest quarry while bearded adults watched. Now those old politicians were pressuring him for the crown.
“I want to be good at everything.”
Petra smiled at him with warmth. She grinned like she was half-joking, half-serious.
“If you’re Arkin of Solinar, this tournament is bound to be a joke. Just don’t mind me, and help me out. I really don’t want to miss my chance at first place.”
“Well, even without a training tournament win you’re already impressive… whatever. Relax, Petra.”
Arkin answered hesitantly, but Petra shook her head vigorously.
“No. I’m taking first place. So watch and learn.”