Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Immortal Legion (1)
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My vision changed in an instant.
Before me stretched a dense, colorless forest, and behind, a vast gray sea.
"This is unexpected."
Nederman's dismayed voice rang out. Looking around at our group, I saw that not only the Fake Crown Prince was missing—Iriel was gone too.
"Lord Jenes!"
Allen noticed it first and shouted, his face drained of color.
"My eyes aren't blind."
"But!"
"And my ears aren't deaf either."
"That's a relief."
Nederman nodded in agreement, and Allen stared at us in bewilderment, as if to say this wasn't the time for jokes.
Of course, I wasn't joking.
I spoke up.
"They won't harm Iriel."
"How do you know that?"
Allen shot me a distrustful glare.
That little punk.
I considered raising my fist but decided to explain kindly, given the circumstances.
"The Crown Prince can't even protect his own fiancée?"
"...He doesn't seem like he could."
Allen looked even more serious.
Fair enough—he didn't seem reliable.
But that was fine.
Halent and Iriel weren't strangers.
She must have seen him at my engagement ceremony, and as far as I remembered, her father Treter Serious and Halent were close allies.
Plus, if he'd brought out the Fake Crown Prince, having a past fiancée like her would be icing on the cake.
She could even serve as a hostage to stop us.
For those reasons, Iriel's safety wasn't a concern.
She might be flustered, but she's a sharp girl—she'd handle it.
So.
We just needed to do our part.
"Still, what trick did that bastard pull?"
Nederman grumbled.
"No matter how hard we try to leave, we end up flying back here. We need some countermeasures."
"It's some kind of security spell, right?"
"Probably."
Nederman and Allen nodded in agreement. With a simple finger snap, he moved the three of us to the beach.
Something impossible for even a grand archmage on his own.
He must have set up security magic around the city.
With all the magic stones mined, mana supply wouldn't be an issue.
After a brief moment of thought, I opened my mouth.
"Let's figure out a way around it on the move. Allen, you carry him."
"Me?"
Nederman's eyes widened as he patted his chest, shaking his head vigorously before continuing.
"You sometimes treat Allen like he's three years old. Look at these sturdy thighs—like a bear's, aren't they? And you want me to carry a guy with legs like that?"
"If I match his speed, I won't make good time."
We needed to get back to the City of Immortality as fast as possible.
Allen couldn't keep up.
He knew that but was throwing a pointless tantrum.
"I have zero interest in carrying a man on my back. Especially one that swarthy. How about we just leave him here?"
"Leave me? You want to abandon me all alone?"
Allen protested, sounding hurt.
"Come on, carry me!"
"This is insane."
Nederman shoved the clinging Allen away with a sigh.
"I don't remember raising a kid like you."
"Then adopt me this once! I need to go rescue Iriel too."
"What can a guy who can't even walk on his own do?"
I cut into their bickering.
"Carry him while I'm asking nicely. We don't have time for this."
"Then you carry him, punk! You're young and spry. I'm a middle-aged man with aching knees every morning! And an unmarried bachelor at that. If I throw my back out, will you take responsibility?"
Nederman resisted fiercely.
He really hated the idea.
This guy never listens to reason.
So, I had no choice but to draw the blade of intimidation.
"You want me to leave you here too?"
"Oh! That's a great idea. Go on ahead. You can handle it alone anyway."
"You're right. Then take a nap."
A nap that might last a lifetime.
Shing.
"Wait, hold on. Fine, I'll carry him. You damn brat!"
"See? Why fight it when you know Lord Jenes's temper?"
"Ugh, shut up and get on. Who knew I'd be carrying a bear of a man at my age? How about we remove the middle leg while we're at it? Might make me feel a bit better."
"What kind of talk is that? I told you I have someone to marry! Why are you so heartless?"
"Enough chit-chat. Focus. We're moving fast."
We ended the brief scuffle and were about to head into the forest when—
Rustle.
An unfamiliar shadow emerged from the colorless woods.
* * *
Seated side by side with the Crown Prince on the sofa, Iriel received tea from Halent.
She'd been truly flustered when she suddenly found herself alone in the blink of an eye, but Halent had been more amicable than expected.
He hadn't confined her separately and had even reassured her that Jenes and the others had safely reached the coast.
His attitude was remarkably relaxed, even knowing Jenes was a Sword Master.
That only made Iriel more uneasy.
It felt less like carelessness and more like pure confidence.
But there were no other options.
Jenes would return here anyway, so until then, she had to think of what she could do from here.
Halent set down his teacup and spoke.
"Long time no see."
"..."
"You weren't so young you'd forget me."
"That doesn't mean we're on greeting terms."
She remembered.
When she and Lucian had fled the mansion, the banner of the Barrein Family approaching the castle.
The image of the wolf staring forward from a black background was still etched in her mind.
And at that time, this man had been the head of that house.
"You think I wiped out your family?"
"No."
On the day Francia fell, her family's fate was already sealed.
It wasn't because of Halent.
He had actually bought Lucian and her time to escape by urging her father to defect.
Even if it wasn't intentional.
"Good that you know."
"Why insult the dead Crown Prince? And why should this man have his entire life stolen?"
"Did I steal his life?"
Halent smirked and glanced at the Fake Crown Prince. He sat quietly beside Iriel, looking thoroughly cowed.
"Isn't she bold?"
Halent eyed him coldly before continuing.
"That's birth for you. Unlike you, who can't even meet my eyes. Do you think I stole your life?"
"..."
The Crown Prince said nothing.
"Shall I teach you your true origins?"
Halent indifferently recounted his past.
"You were a child slave. Treated worse than animals wherever you went, living like livestock until you died nameless somewhere. But born a slave, now you're the Crown Prince. You can even have this girl, whom you'd never dream of in a lifetime."
Halent's gaze turned to Iriel.
"How's that? Your fiancée. And soon, the one you'll marry."
"What nonsense is that!"
Iriel flushed red and shouted, but Halent replied nonchalantly.
As if it were obvious.
"Why? Weren't you engaged to the Crown Prince?"
"He's not the real Crown Prince!"
The Fake Crown Prince looked at her. Meeting those sad eyes, Iriel couldn't muster more anger.
Halent smirked at her.
"Fake? Who says he's fake?"
"Huh?"
"I'll proclaim him Crown Prince to the world. And he'll declare himself the same. Who would dare call him fake? Scream all you want—no one will believe you."
This was also why Halent had revealed the truth in front of Jenes and the others.
To Halent, the Crown Prince's authenticity was irrelevant.
He could make a fake real anytime.
As Iriel bit her lower lip and fell silent, Halent turned to the Crown Prince.
"Chin up."
"..."
The Crown Prince, sunk in gloom, slowly raised his head at the words. His expression was one of anguish over his denied life.
He seemed unsure how to process this.
Halent coldly rebuked him.
"That's a face with Barrein blood. Don't make that pathetic expression with it."
"...Yes."
As the Crown Prince forcibly composed himself, Halent continued.
"Whether you become fake or real is up to you."
"..."
"If you want your old life back, I'll rip off that face and sell you as a slave. Return your lowly name, restore your original life. But."
A chill wind stirred at the corners of his eyes fixed on the Crown Prince.
"If you choose to be real, you'll live as Crown Prince. So if you want your face and name back, just say so anytime."
He lifted his teacup leisurely.
"As I said, the choice is yours."
A heavy silence followed.
Iriel, frustrated, turned to the Fake Crown Prince.
"Hey. Say something. You talked fine in front of Lord Jenes. Why are you suddenly mute?"
"Th-that's..."
The Fake Crown Prince stammered, pale-faced.
It wasn't just because he was fake. He couldn't even properly look at Halent from the start.
Meeting those cold, icy eyes made his heart shrink.
Until now, he'd never disobeyed—or even thought to disobey—the man he'd believed was his uncle.
Interest flickered in Halent's eyes as he watched silently.
"That man's name is Jenes? What a coincidence."
"I'm frustrated, so can I ask something?"
"Ask away."
"Why go through all this? Why make a Fake Crown Prince as a governor? Why force this man into a false life for the Immortal Legion? What are you really after?"
Halent's gaze shifted to the Crown Prince.
His shoulders trembled.
"Pathetic. A Crown Prince babbling so lightly."
"I-I thought they misunderstood—"
"Enough."
His voice dropped like frost, utterly different from how he spoke to Iriel.
Even Iriel found it surprising how favorable he'd been to her.
Undeterred by the momentum, she pressed on.
"It's not just to drive out the independence army after ten years of effort. Teaming with the Empire doesn't fit that either."
"You're right."
Halent smiled in satisfaction.
"It's overkill just for that."
"Then why?"
"That's none of your concern."
"You said I could ask anything!"
"I didn't say I'd answer."
Halent set down his teacup and rose.
"Off you go. Take a walk in the garden, get closer. You're marrying soon, after all."
"I'm not marrying!"
"And one more thing I want to ask."
"You think I'll answer?"
"If you're alive, then Lucian is too."
"No. My brother is dead."
"You're bad at lying. Out."
"It's not a lie!"
At Halent's call, knights entered from outside the door.
He looked at the two seated side by side.
"Escort the Crown Prince and his fiancée."
* * *
We silently watched the figures that emerged from the colorless forest.
There were three in total.
Their attire—made from animal hides, gripping wooden spears—was uniformly exotic.
Like people who'd lived apart from civilization for ages.
To think such folk were on this island.
"We've come to fetch you."
They said.
At least they spoke the common tongue.
"Shouldn't you state your identities first?"
At my words, the one in the center solemnly stamped his spear on the ground.
"We are the Umpaumpa Tribe, masters of Imotel Island and guardians of this land."
Umpaumpa Tribe?
Nederman and I exchanged glances.
They were clearly the village chief's tribe.
His ancestors had left the island and forgotten the way back, settling elsewhere.
Since they hailed from the City of Immortality, aka Imotel Island, their presence here made sense.
But why fetch us?
I said,
"We're in a hurry. Tell us why."
"Why we've come for you?"
"Yeah."
He stamped his spear solemnly once more, muttered to himself gravely, then turned to his comrades behind him.
"...What was the reason again?"