Chapter 212
Chapter 212
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Sword and Rose, and Lion (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The cheers of victory and admiration had already been shown in full, so I couldn't fathom why they were now spouting such cringeworthy lines about me being the greatest knight of the North or whatever.
I stared intently into the knights' faces.
Their eyes flicked toward me, then rolled over to the Teuton knights, repeating the motion several times.
A look of profound relief was evident on the faces of the knights as they busily rolled their eyes.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
I'd wondered why they were making such a fuss now, but it seemed resentment had been building up against the Teutons, who had been lording over the kingdom from their high horses all this time.
Judging by how they were going out of their way to taunt them like this.
"Enough now."
I waited until they'd vented their frustrations adequately before cutting off the cheers.
"The match is already over. No need to rub their defeat in any further."
Ilai shot me a look of utter disbelief.
His eyes seemed to say that this wasn't something for me—the guy who'd toyed endlessly with opponents who'd already lost their will to fight—to be saying.
As always, I brushed off his unspoken question without a second thought.
Then I glanced at the Teutons.
The so-called greatest knight of the West was still dazed, practically dragged off the training grounds by his subordinates propping him up. The rest of the Teuton knights, not a single one without crippled limbs, limped after him as they left the arena.
All that remained was Teuton's princess.
She gazed at me with an inscrutable look.
She bowed her head hastily as our eyes met, then vanished from the training grounds.
"Let's head back."
With no further business in the arena, I left as well.
I'd stayed up watching over Adelia's condition until the sun had fully risen, finally collapsing into bed in my chambers and sleeping until it hung high in the midday sky.
Not long after I woke, Ilai and Arwen came to see me.
"But what on earth possessed Your Highness to show mercy?"
Ilai asked with a face that screamed incomprehension.
"I thought for sure you'd lop off at least an arm or two."
Arwen said nothing, but her expression showed she agreed with Ilai.
"Humiliating them worse than death is punishment enough. What's the big deal about leaving their arms intact?"
I replied indifferently, and Ilai immediately shot back.
"That's exactly why I'm asking. Normally, Your Highness would've severed an arm and still delivered humiliation worse than death."
I nodded absentmindedly before frowning.
What the hell did he think "normal me" was like?
"Warlord ended up with his limbs hacked off even in death, his head displayed alone on Winter Castle's walls. Overlord begged pathetically before meeting a gruesome end. Every enemy who's faced Your Highness has suffered the same fate. You're not going to claim otherwise now, are you?"
I bristled, ready to retort, but ended up reluctantly agreeing with his words.
At a loss for words, I shut my mouth, and Ilai pressed on.
"So what wind blew this mercy toward the Teuton duke?"
I scowled and replied flatly.
"If he'd tried even once to exploit it, I might've done as you said."
I'd halted countless sword strikes at the very last moment. Duke Duncan Seymour could've abused that easily if he'd wanted.
But he never once attempted it.
Had he ignored those strikes that wouldn't even graze him and pressed the attack, the outcome might've been different.
Right up until the end of the duel, before his fighting spirit broke, he stubbornly traded blows with me without fail.
It was something I might've overlooked normally, but Ilai's desperate struggle from moments before still lingered vividly in my mind.
Ilai taking the mana-infused ring strikes head-on, and this duke pursuing my strikes—they didn't feel all that different.
That was why I'd left his limbs intact.
"What do you mean by—"
"Enough. That's the end of this conversation."
But no way in hell was I telling Ilai that.
I put on a stern face and shut it down there.
Ilai looked like he had more questions, but then his eyes lit up as if remembering something important.
"Reward me."
"With what?"
"No one else won more matches than I did."
He puffed up with pride, strutting before me.
I shot Arwen a look asking if this nonsense was true.
"I won four. Sir Quean won four. No one else exceeded three. The only other was the Teuton master who lost to Lady Adelia—he had four wins. And Lord Ilai took five."
Ilai's face grew even more smug at her words.
I stared at him blankly before picking up the dwarf-forged sword I'd kept enshrined in one corner of the room.
Then I handed it to him, still in its sheath.
"Huh?"
Ilai gawked at me, dumbfounded, as I offered it freely. He'd probably expected me to haggle over giving such a precious blade to the likes of him.
"What? Not taking it? Don't want it?"
"Who said I'm not taking it?"
I made a show of pulling it back, and he lunged forward in panic.
He snatched it like it might vanish, cradling it in both arms and fawning over it ridiculously.
I watched him for a moment before casually strolling to one side of the room.
To the chest packed with dwarf-forged gear.
From it, I drew another sword.
A stunning blade with a roaring lion engraved at the hilt's end.
This too was a masterpiece crafted with utmost care by the master smiths.
I admired it from every angle, smiling in satisfaction, then turned to Arwen.
"Arwen."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Take it."
"Yes, Your Highness. Yes?"
Arwen, who'd been eyeing Ilai with a hint of envy, finally turned to me. Her eyes widened at the sword in my hand.
"It's yours."
Arwen stared at the blade in a daze before shaking her head belatedly.
"I didn't claim the most victories like Lord Ilai, nor have I done anything deserving of such a precious dwarf-forged sword."
She humbly declined repeatedly, insisting she wasn't worthy of such a treasure.
"I brought these specifically to award to the Silver Lions. No need to refuse."
I tapped the lion emblem at the hilt's end pointedly.
Arwen's eyes went wide. But she still showed no sign of accepting it.
"Tch."
I clicked my tongue and bent at the waist.
Then I swiftly unbuckled her beloved sword from her hip and fitted the masterwork blade in its place.
"Y-Your Highness! Wh-what is this?!"
"Hold still."
I stopped Arwen as she recoiled in shock and focused on the task, but it wasn't going smoothly.
"Adelia always does this, so I've forgotten how to sheath one properly."
"Y-Your Highness! How can you do this?! Please, stop!"
Even as I fumbled, Arwen's face flushed beet red, pleading with me to stop.
"Quiet. You're distracting me."
Ignoring her protests, I buckled the new sword to her waist.
"There. Perfect."
Only after forcing it onto her fidgeting hips did I straighten up.
"Fits like a glove. Dwarves sure have an eye for this."
The sheath and hilt suited her as if made for her from the start.
"Y-Your Highness..."
I smiled contentedly at Arwen, who didn't dare touch the sword and just stamped her feet with her face still flushed, then glanced at Ilai.
He looked utterly stupefied by the unexpected turn.
He finally shouted belatedly.
"I-I'm a Silver Lion too!"
His face was full of grievance.
One guy fights his heart out for a sword, while another gets one personally buckled on despite refusing—must've stung.
"You said these were for the kingdom's Silver Lions, so surely mine's around here somewhere?"
He composed himself carefully, stealing glances at me and gulping as his eyes fixed on the masterfully engraved lion ornament.
"One per person."
I answered flatly.
"This is legitimate war spoils I fought for!"
"Yeah. Congrats. You fought damn well."
"D-don't tell me that's all?"
"You got praise, you got a sword. What more do you want?"
Ilai protested that no one got treated like this.
"Giver's prerogative."
He was speechless at my shameless reply, mouth flapping open and shut.
"Y-Your Highness. Please take it back now."
Arwen belatedly pleaded with me.
Instead of answering her, I chided Ilai for making Arwen uncomfortable on his account.
Hearing that, Ilai couldn't protest further out of concern for her and just grumbled.
Only after enjoying the sight thoroughly did I award Ilai a masterwork Silver Lion sword as well.
Of course, I reclaimed the first one.
To the guy venting fury over having a gift snatched back, I snapped that I'd give him something else instead of the sword, so quit whining.
"Something else... like armor maybe?"
I nodded, and he beamed as if he'd never sulked.
But the smile froze on his face moments later.
Ilai narrowed his eyes and asked.
"Wait, you're not planning to give that to all the Silver Lions too, are you?"
I didn't answer.
"Your Highness!"
Ilai jumped up and down.
He whined for ages.
Like I'd let him go without taking care of it.
Only after promising him a dwarf-forged shield later did he finally pipe down.
With Ilai's mouth finally shut, I asked Arwen why they'd come.
"Your Highness, the kingdom's leadership has been waiting impatiently for you since early this morning."
I headed straight to the conference room.
Grand Marshal Billefeld, Maximilian, Siorin, and the rest of the kingdom's top brass were waiting.
"Your Highness."
"Brother."
I took their greetings and settled into the head seat.
"What are the Teutons up to?"
Siorin calmly reported their movements at my question.
Duke Duncan Seymour Tudor had shut himself in his lodgings, refusing food and drink, while the other knights focused solely on healing their wounds from yesterday.
"Only Teuton's princess has sent people several times to inquire if Your Highness is awake."
"Planning to complain about yesterday's duel?"
Maximilian answered this time.
"No. The princess conveyed no regrets about the duel, stating full acceptance of the results."
"Then why seek me out?"
If not to protest yesterday's events, there was no reason for Teuton's princess to want me now.
She should be focused on recovering from the defeat and countering the kingdom's dwarf-forged gear advantage.
Maximilian, who'd been staring at me, spoke cautiously.
"When I asked her envoy the purpose, they said it was a strictly personal matter."
"Personal matter?"
"The Teuton princess wishes to meet with brother."
Grand Marshal Billefeld nearby added.
"She wants to meet alone if possible."
"Alone?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Just the two of them, no attendants."
I frowned at the marshal's words.
Negotiations had collapsed, their duke in despair after a crushing defeat—why request a private audience now?
It wouldn't benefit her in this situation.
As I pondered her intentions, the others offered opinions.
"Yesterday, the way the Teuton princess looked at brother wasn't ordinary. Maybe she fell for your lion-like prowess..."
I let Maximilian's words slide.
"Meeting her will reveal her intentions naturally."
I glanced at the marshal at Siorin's words laced with hostility; he nodded.
"You should at least hear her out."
After a moment's thought, I nodded.
"Send word that I permit the private meeting, and we'll do it at my palace."
As they said, I'd uncover any hidden motives soon enough upon meeting her.
I returned to my palace at once.
Not long after, the princess arrived.
Dressed far more elaborately than at the banquet.
Her face flushed like a girl in love.
"Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped me.
I hoped to god it wasn't that utterly useless,
pathetic beauty of hers that prompted this private audience.