Chapter 161
Chapter 161
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 161
Chapter Title: Either a Bitter Enmity or Destiny (3)
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Not just the Royal Knights. The soldiers of the 2nd Central Army who had followed behind them all knelt as well.
"Hmm. Uh..."
Vincent glanced around awkwardly in his hesitant stance. His face showed his inner conflict over whether he should kneel or not.
It was amusing enough to just let it be, but before the mood grew too heavy, I decided to wrap things up.
Smooth.
I gave a nod to the Old Knight, and he rose back to his feet, standing tall once more.
Rumble.
The knights and Central Army soldiers followed suit, rising to their feet.
With over two thousand people sitting and standing all at once, it was dizzying just to watch.
If I felt this way, how must Vincent and the Winter Castle retainers feel?
As expected, they still hadn't recovered their wits.
A laugh burst out.
These were tough veterans who wouldn't flinch even if an army of ten thousand appeared at their backs while fighting an equal force. Seeing them all make the same foolish faces was just too much to bear.
Foolish, indeed. They should have realized it before kneeling. What it meant for the King's First Guard Knight and the entire Royal Knight Order to leave the palace.
Vincent shot me a questioning look.
In response, I arrogantly tilted my chin up and removed my glove.
Then I extended my hand toward him, showing it off.
The ring permitted only to the Crown Prince, the seal of the Crown Prince.
"Huh?"
But it was gone. It had definitely been there just a few days ago.
Smooth.
Someone approached at that moment.
It was Adelia.
She slipped the ring onto my finger.
A large ring embedded with a hefty ruby. It was the seal I was looking for.
Why did Adelia have this?
"A few days ago, you said it got in the way while gripping your sword, so you left it with me."
As if reading my mind, Adelia explained where it came from. Complete with a sigh.
Only then did I remember handing off this oversized ring to her because it never quite felt right.
"Ahem."
I cleared my throat and extended my hand again.
Everyone was staring at it.
But I'd missed the timing, so I couldn't see Vincent and the Winter Castle retainers' startled reactions.
Instead, I just earned a reproachful glare from the Old Knight.
Scolding me for handling the sacred proof of the Crown Prince so carelessly.
The Old Knight chastised me.
"Then make it comfortable to wear."
I had my own defense.
This ridiculously huge, gaudy ring was useless for anything but proving status—and it was nothing but a hindrance otherwise.
Wearing something like this would make you lose even a winnable fight.
You're lucky if your fingers don't snap.
The Old Knight's lips twitched at my words. But I struck first.
"If you're about to spout some stale nonsense about how the Crown Prince fights from the front—or no, leads from the rear—then I don't need it."
As the Old Knight opened his mouth, I quickly added another line.
"I came here to fight, not to stand back with my hands folded, flapping my gums."
The Old Knight's lips twitched several more times before he sighed and shook his head.
Vincent approached him and said,
"You'll need to steel yourself. Protecting His Highness means you and the Royal Knights will be right in the heart of the battlefield."
Was it encouragement or mockery? Hard to tell.
Judging by Vincent's expression, it was half and half.
He'd been so deferential just moments ago, but now he wore the face of Winter Castle's lord, not a friend's son.
And the Northerners, including Winter Castle's lord, generally didn't think much of knights from south of the North.
They saw them as playing at knighthood, swinging swords safely from the rear. No matter their swordsmanship, they could never be true men.
It was the pride of the Northerners, who had guarded the kingdom for ages.
Vincent's face plainly showed those sentiments.
Come experience it for yourselves, it said. And see if the southern knights are truly worthy.
"We'll provide quarters for now, so rest and recover from your journey."
His expression and demeanor remained impeccably polite.
No matter how Northerners felt about southerners, they couldn't ignore the goodwill and efforts of those who had rushed to lend a hand.
"Who knows when you'll get another chance to rest if not now."
Of course, he didn't forget to add a touch of territorial snark while being so polite.
**
Winter Castle was plenty vast, but it was still tight for accommodating nearly ten thousand troops.
With the reinforcements from the royal family arriving, the fortress was at full capacity, its barracks bursting at the seams.
The supplies that came with the capital's forces filled every facility to the limit.
And even now, the Northern lords kept sending more provisions.
Among them were some from the central regions, not the North. Including goods from Count Brandenburg's house, which commanded the Iron Hammer Archers, and other nobles who'd fought alongside on the central defensive line.
They couldn't send troops due to heavy losses from the last war, but letters came with the supplies, declaring their hearts were with the North.
Perhaps thanks to that unexpected goodwill and camaraderie, even the Rangers booted from the overflowing barracks didn't complain.
"Northerners never mistreat a guest who comes calling."
They gladly yielded their spots to the guests out of Northern pride.
But Winter Castle's chill had its limits—you couldn't endure it on pride alone.
"Argh, why the fuss here!"
Ranger Company Commander Yorden grumbled at my words.
What's the point of a big room all to yourself? People should make some room, he said.
I clutched my head.
My head already ached from the Overlord's presence and what lay ahead, and now veteran Rangers like Yorden were lounging in my quarters, making it worse.
"Go crash with your lord!"
"The early birds already claimed spots there. And the lord's been nagging more lately—better to pitch tents than deal with him."
I nodded in sympathy before scowling fiercely.
"There are other commanders!"
"Same story everywhere. All packed tight. Give up."
At Yorden's cheeky retort, I exploded in irritation.
Of course, I had no real intention of kicking them out.
We had history, after all.
Then I suddenly looked at Yorden's face.
"Wait, you're a company commander. Even squad leaders have their own spots—why are you here?"
Yorden flinched.
"I, I handed my room to the rookies ages ago."
He sounded suspiciously evasive.
Acting like he was just visiting for fun.
In the end, I couldn't stand the crowding and had to leave the room.
"Where are you off to!"
"Too stuffy—need some air!"
"Take care!"
At the Rangers' farewell—as if it were their own room—I just shook my head.
The moment I stepped out, a chill swept over me.
Adelia appeared like a ghost, draping a fur coat over my shoulders.
I'd sensed her presence long before, so no surprise there. But it still felt off seeing a Sword Master waiting on me like a handmaiden.
"You don't have to do this anymore."
She shook her head at my words.
She did it because she wanted to, so don't stop her.
Curiosity struck me.
"Adelia. What do you do when I'm not around?"
I couldn't imagine what she got up to in my absence.
Arwen trained with her sword, that Ilai guy trailed after Arwen. Vincent handled castle affairs, and everyone else had their routines.
Just Adelia had none.
"Nothing. That way, I can come right away if Your Highness calls."
As expected.
Thinking of her spending her days just waiting for my summons made her seem so loyal. And yet, so stifled.
Even I, who'd been a sword, had things I wanted to do. For her to waste her time waiting on the off-chance I'd call...
"At least use that time for..."
I froze, looking into Adelia's earnest gaze.
I'd realized my words could turn from suggestion to command.
"No wishes of your own?"
So I just asked.
"To serve Your Highness comfortably, ensure Your Highness wants for nothing, keep Your Highness from harm, and for Your Highness to..."
I scowled, and she trailed off.
I stared her down intently until she finally gave the answer I wanted.
"I want to see my family."
Her family was all in the capital.
Her spirited little brother had been taken in by Nicollo as an apprentice, and her aunt had landed decent work at the palace, from what I'd heard.
If she wanted, she could see them anytime.
"If you want, go visit them now."
I urged her again.
"Right now, being by Your Highness's side is more..."
Her face flushed a bit as she spoke, then she bowed her head deeply.
Back to square one.
She wouldn't leave my side, and I couldn't leave Winter Castle.
I asked if there was anything else; she said that was it.
I fell into thought.
A long while later, I told her,
"Spend some time on yourself."
I chose my words carefully, urging her to live for herself so my goodwill wouldn't become shackles.
She looked lost but replied that she understood.
I'd bet she forgets the moment she turns away.
And spends the day waiting for me again.
Suffocating, yet endearing.
And guilt-inducing.
Adelia was my sore spot.
Ilai griped that I favored her unduly, but how could I not?
While others pursued their goals through me, Adelia alone lived a life divorced from her own desires.
I still vividly remembered her drunken outburst.
Why torment her like this? Why not leave her be? All she wanted was to live happily with her family.
What did the prestige of Sword Master mean to such a woman?
One content just to care for her brother and live quietly with her aunt, without a shred of ambition.
"When this war ends and we return to the capital, invite your family to the palace."
We'd have to head back to the palace anyway once it was over.
The King had laid down that condition when I, sensing trouble, rushed the schedule.
Return immediately upon completion.
Part of why the Old Knight and Royal Knights followed was to drag me back by force if I vanished elsewhere or lingered too long at Winter Castle.
"We'll dine together, make introductions."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Adelia answered as usual.
But she couldn't hide her subtle excitement.
I sighed and headed back out.
The fortress buzzed with pre-battle preparations.
Infantrymen grunted hauling heavy shells, knights patrolled the walls checking for weak spots.
On-duty Rangers hugged the battlements against the biting gale, eyes fixed solely on the mountains beyond.
One of them suddenly raised a hand.
"Monsters!"
Horns blared across the walls at his cry. Urgent bells tolled from the watchtowers.
Ding-ding-ding.
Troops poured out from the fortress interior.
Among them were Yorden and the veteran Rangers who'd been loitering in my room.
I joined them atop the wall.
Winter Castle's leadership soon appeared on the battlements as well.
"You're already here?"
"Just out for a stroll."
I gave Vincent a vague reply and peered into the snowy expanse.
Monsters poured endlessly from the mountains.
Ten thousand, twenty thousand.
"Hmm."
Then thirty thousand.
"They're still coming!"
The stream from the mountains showed no sign of slowing.
Monsters kept surging forth without end.
Even Vincent and the knights, unflappable as ever, paled and stiffened.
The entire plain was choked with monsters.
Not the chaotic rabble of before.
Goblin units clutching green banners.
Orc units hoisting red standards.
Trolls and ogres gripping blue and yellow flags.
With their own banners raised, they were no longer a mere horde—they were an army.
Orcs pushed through the monster ranks to the front.
Among them, an especially massive orc raised a huge standard high.
Flutter.
The red banner unfurled in the howling gale.
And at its center, the emblem blazed for all to see.
Black flames roaring on a crimson field.
It was the banner of the Furious Flame Legion.
The nightmare that had crushed countless strongholds in the endless wars of old had returned to the world.
And the master of that nightmarish legion revealed himself.
A body half-melted by burns.
Sinister red eyes crackling with lightning.
A grotesque beast that had clawed its way out of hellfire.
The Overlord, mounted on a grotesquely enormous griffon, gazed down upon Winter Castle.