Chapter 209
Chapter 209
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 209
Chapter Title: 63. Sword and Rose, and Lion (1)
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I walked to the center of the training ground.
Crisp.
Standing right in front of Duncan Seymour Tudor, I arrogantly lifted my chin.
My attitude clearly rubbed him the wrong way. The duke's eyes sharpened, and his aura intensified, prickling my skin like needles.
His ferocious fighting spirit thrilled me, drawing another laugh from my lips—which only seemed to grate on his nerves further.
Duncan Seymour Tudor's face hardened.
At the same moment, a storm-like pressure began swirling around him.
It was the same intimidating force I'd seen when I first returned from the north, the one that had cowed the kingdom's knights.
The only difference this time was that it was directed at me.
I am the Crown Prince of the kingdom.
To unleash such a razor-sharp aura in my presence was a grave overstep.
"Duke of Tuton, retract your aura at once and show the proper respect due to the kingdom's sole Crown Prince!"
The Royal Knights, who had arrived early and surrounded the training ground, bellowed in unison.
The words were in the kingdom's tongue, but grasping their meaning wouldn't be hard.
Yet the duke neither withdrew his aura nor offered me any courtesy.
He simply stood ramrod straight, glaring at me and the kingdom's knights.
"Any further insolence will be taken as proof of ill intent!"
A hundred Royal Knights placed hands on their sword hilts and issued another warning.
But neither the duke nor his Tuton knights softened their stance in the slightest.
The Royal Knights issued no third warning.
Clang!
Swords were drawn without hesitation, aimed at the Tuton knights. On the walls encircling the training ground, hundreds of palace guards had appeared, bows trained and ready.
"This is the palace where the sovereign of Leonberger resides! Anyone who refuses to show respect to his eldest son has no right to be here!"
"We will now disarm you in accordance with procedure!"
Even as the Royal Knights shouted sharply, the Tuton knights showed not a flicker of unease.
Exchanging auras before a spar was common enough. They must have thought the Royal Knights' aggressive moves were just a ploy to break their spirit.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
Ever since the queen was lost to an imperial ambush, the Royal Knights had grown far more vigilant. They were ready to cut down anything that threatened the royal family's dignity or safety.
Even if it was the famed knights of the western continent—the Rose Thorn Knights.
As the Royal Knights advanced with swords and shields at the ready, a faint murmur rippled through the Tuton ranks.
Duncan Seymour Tudor scowled at me.
His gaze seemed to ask why I was blowing this out of proportion, why I wasn't reining in the Royal Knights.
I snorted.
Why should I? For what reason?
They were merely fulfilling their duty.
If there was fault, it lay with the Tuton lot, who disrespected the kingdom at every turn and acted as they pleased.
Step. Step.
While I did nothing, the Royal Knights steadily closed in on the Tuton knights, one step at a time.
Finally, they reached arm's reach—close enough that a downward sword stroke would connect.
At this rate, the foreign knights faced the humiliation of forced disarmament.
Clang!
Unable to withstand the pressure, the Tuton knights drew their swords in unison.
There were no orders to drop weapons or submit. No warnings at all.
The Royal Knights simply concentrated mana at their sword tips and assumed combat readiness in silence.
The air grew thick with tension, bloodshed imminent.
Whoosh.
Duncan Seymour Tudor raised a hand.
That simple gesture instantly quelled the unrest among the Rose Thorn Knights.
Click.
The Tuton knights sheathed their swords as one and snapped back to attention.
Glaring alternately at his knights and the Royal Knights with a rigid expression, Duncan Seymour Tudor turned to me.
"Do you want war?"
He asked coldly, in fluent kingdom tongue.
"Oh? You speak our language after all."
I'd pegged him as arrogant, but he was cunning too.
"I asked if the kingdom wishes to make an enemy of Tuton."
Ignoring my quip, Duncan Seymour Tudor pressed on.
"Isn't that what you want? Acting so brazenly in the heart of our kingdom leaves me no choice but to see it as provocation."
"Is that truly how you see it?"
A faint smirk tugged at his eye.
His gaze implied that not every nation held equal standing.
Tuton, of course, stood above.
Pfft.
I burst out laughing.
Bending at the waist, laughing like a madman.
"Wow. This is insane."
As I suddenly cracked up, Duncan Seymour Tudor frowned.
"What's so funny?"
I wheezed for a good while before answering.
"A kingdom that nearly fell into ruin by forgetting its past glory meets one drunk on faded laurels, blind to its own decay. What could be more ironic?"
The arrogant duke furrowed his brow.
He'd caught that I meant Tuton—the kingdom lost in past glory, unable to see itself.
"You asked if I seek enmity."
His blatant condescension sparked fury in the duke's eyes.
"Before I answer, let me ask one thing."
I rattled on regardless.
"The kingdom proved itself by triumphing over the empire. So what proves you, beyond empty boasts of past western supremacy?"
I added pointedly.
"I'm questioning whether Tuton even qualifies as an ally."
The duke's face turned icy at my insolence.
"Men who would've been swept away if not for the empire's civil war strut so boldly."
I gave a cold smile at his revealed true colors.
"So that's Tuton's answer."
I summoned a nearby Royal Knight.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Keeping my eyes on Duncan Seymour Tudor.
"Tell Montpellier and Count Kirguyen to halt negotiations immediately."
No alliance needed.
The moment I spoke, the training ground froze over.
I savored the chill while eyeing Tuton's esteemed duke.
He still hadn't grasped the situation.
He firmly believed I was just bluffing to humble Tuton, that I'd back down at the right moment.
But I had no intention of relenting.
"All as Your Highness wills."
The knight who received the order merely glanced at his retreating back.
"There. That's my answer to your question."
Only then did belated doubt flicker in Duncan Seymour Tudor's eyes, his stiffness cracking.
I leisurely watched it turn to bewilderment.
"They say you're quite the figure back home. Your authority as envoy must be vast. I do hope it's enough to unilaterally scrap these talks."
I jabbered coldly.
"Your Highness is right."
Then a woman's voice drifted from behind.
"Seymour truly lacks the authority to void the negotiations."
A soft whisper, yet laced with steel.
I turned.
"I, Hestia Noiman Tudor, am the one in charge here."
There stood Tuton's princess, Hestia Noiman Tudor.
"Seymour. If you've been rude, an apology is in order."
Still slender as a reed in the wind, but no longer just fragile like yesterday.
"Forgive our rudeness."
Duncan Seymour Tudor bowed his head.
The shift was so dramatic it bordered on absurd.
"A sincere apology always reaches its mark. I'm sure His Highness felt Duke Seymour's fully."
The princess gazed at me gently, like soothing a child.
But her eyes were brazen.
As if saying my real goal wasn't some apology.
The naive princess was gone.
In her place, a schemer who'd swallowed a hundred serpents.
Tuton's princess gave a look. Duncan Seymour Tudor silently took position behind her.
As if it had always been his place.
I watched impassively.
I'd known all along.
That Hestia Noiman Tudor, Tuton's princess, was the true power in this delegation.
"I'll accept the apology."
I waved it off.
Crisp.
The Royal Knights encircling the Tuton knights withdrew as one. The archers atop the walls vanished too.
The princess's eyes widened in a smile.
She seemed delighted by my swift decision.
"Of course, a word won't erase all grudges so easily."
Her smile stiffened at my follow-up.
"The rest will sort itself out in the clash of swords."
I glanced at the princess, then addressed the Tuton duke again.
"No more delays. Let's begin."
The knights of both sides faced off across the training ground.
The sharp auras had long settled into deep reservoirs, but the tension only thickened.
In the midst, Duncan Seymour Tudor signaled me, inquiring how we'd conduct the spar.
"Group or one-on-one, format doesn't matter. We'll do as Tuton wishes."
"Same here."
I'd said it to preempt complaints post-spar, but he replied smugly.
As if concessions were the privilege of the strong alone.
And he saw Tuton as that strength.
I pressed no further.
"Then one at a time, winner stays on."
"How many will you field?"
I couldn't help chuckling.
The kingdom's knights, anxious lest they miss their turn, had been shooting me fervent looks.
So fervent my back burned.
Those without a shot would resent me forever.
I had no desire for that.
"We've set this stage. Wouldn't be fun with just a few bouts."
"Then...?"
"Until one side admits defeat or runs out of fighters. Only then will there be no regrets."
A small cheer rose from behind me.
No surprise. Battle-hounds who'd scrapped daily on northern and southern fronts, cooped up in the palace—it must've been maddening.
"I'll go first."
"Nonsense. Obviously me."
Bickering over who went first.
I turned to see kingdom knights glaring at each other.
Quellan, leveraging his Black Spear Cavalry command, demanded to lead. Ilai sneered, listing endless reasons why he should. Even Arwen wedged in, stubbornly insisting on first.
Utter chaos.
"Like rabid dogs itching for a fight."
"Not words befitting Your Highness."
I muttered in disbelief, and Ilai shot back with a baffled look.
As we bantered, the duke's voice cut in.
"Are Leonberger's knights not ready yet?"
Unlike us, theirs waited obediently for him to call names.
A fine, exemplary sight.
"Anyone yapping now goes dead last."
I promptly made our knights emulate them.
"I trust both sides will give their all while preserving harmony between our nations."
I smirked at the princess, who'd appointed herself referee.
Harmony? We'd never had any to break.
If anything shattered, it'd be egos and skulls.
"Winner shows mercy to loser, loser honors winner. Swords are blind, so please, hold back to avoid needless casualties."
Tuton's princess cautioned repeatedly against overheating.
Too bad.
I wanted this spar fierce, not tepid.
As she moved to start it, I stepped forward.
"Needs stakes to really fire things up."
Brandishing the dwarf-forged sword by the master smith.
"Gasp!"
The Tuton knights, edged for battle, sucked in breaths. Even mighty Duncan Seymour Tudor.
The combative spirit the princess had barely soothed...
"The knight with most wins claims this sword."
...flared like wildfire.
Spreading fiercely to our side too.
Speaking for the princess, who gaped speechlessly.
"Begin."
No sooner said than the once-patient Tuton knights clamored at their duke.
Begging to be called first.
Duncan Seymour Tudor eyed me steadily.
Then named one.
"John Stewart."
A burly Rose Thorn Knight stepped up beaming.
"Your Highness, let me go first..."
"Me first..."
Our knights howled in protest.
"Too late."
I pointed to the training ground.
While they squabbled, someone had already entered.
Ilai.
Quellan and the knights jeered.
"Bernard Ilai. Eldest son of Count Ilai, captain of the Dawn Knights, silver lion of the kingdom who felled countless imperial knights in war."
Ignoring them, Ilai grandly introduced himself before the Tuton knight.
"Winner shows mercy, loser honors winner."
The Tuton princess belatedly signaled the start.
And.
Crash!
The Rose Thorn Knight tumbled ingloriously across the ground.
Duncan Seymour Tudor's face froze. His watching knights went slack-jawed.
"Next!"
Ilai, sword aglow at full power, haughtily beckoned.
The first time I truly liked the guy.