One year after the war ends
Fabian was restless in the crowded room, constantly shifting and fidgeting.
"Your Grace, you must not move so much, or else your suit will get wrinkled. We wouldn't want that, would we?"
Fabian shot a fierce glare at Laurens, who was completely absorbed in ensuring his master looked impeccable for the day. He seemed oblivious to Fabian's intense stare and pained expression.
"Laurens, come on, aren't you being too harsh on him? It's his big day! Anyone would be nervous, right? At least he didn't start swinging his sword out of nerves," Henrie quipped from across the room, trying to lighten the mood.
However, instead of feeling less nervous, Fabian found himself even more burdened. "Would you please not say that, Henrie?"
