Chapter 214
Chapter 214
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 214
Chapter Title: 63. Sword, Rose, and Lion (6)
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The young lion of the North, known as the Crown Prince, and the Second Prince, lately revered as a saint.
Of the two, the first to catch her eye was the younger brother.
For a man, his face was excessively gaunt. But it didn't look wretched.
His delicate features and gentle expression were something she'd never seen among Teutonic men, who idolized raw masculinity.
She'd heard the Kingdom of Leonberger shared a similar atmosphere to Teuton.
Yet he was far too different from her expectations.
The Second Prince exuded elegance in every small gesture and word, never forgetting to show consideration for others.
He was flawless as a human being, as a royal, and as a man.
If she had to nitpick a flaw...
"My brother..."
"If not for my brother..."
"Back then, my brother..."
It was only that his mouth spilled stories of his older brother every time it opened.
He looked perfectly healthy, too.
That damn "brother, brother." He clung to him so desperately that he resembled a duckling trailing after its mother.
Setting aside his excessive idolization and envy of his brother, the Second Prince's first impression exceeded her expectations.
But his older brother fell short.
There wasn't even the slightest trace of the consideration his younger brother possessed.
The Crown Prince stared at her with outright rudeness.
Yet the look in his eyes was a kind she'd never encountered before.
The gazes men directed at her usually fell into one of two categories.
They admired her as an unreachable flower blooming out of reach,
or those with talent and status gazed at her with greed and desire, eager to pluck her on the spot.
The Crown Prince's gaze belonged to neither.
His eyes, dark blue like the northern sea that had made her swoon countless times on the journey here—
the emotion they held was, astonishingly, nothing more than interest. No more, no less.
He looked at her as if she were some amusing diversion.
That gaze was so unsettling and repulsive.
She inwardly cursed the rude Crown Prince a thousand times over.
At the same time, an inexplicable frustration welled up.
Only later did she realize it stemmed from his attitude, as if she weren't even worth considering.
She sneered inwardly.
She had no intention of stooping to vulgarity, but neither would she let a man treat her like some exotic beast on display.
She figured meeting his eyes with a slight smile would suffice.
Most men lost their composure at that alone.
But it had no effect whatsoever.
Her pride stung, and she threw him overt glances, perhaps a bit excessively.
The more she did, the colder his eyes grew.
When even the flicker of interest at their corners faded away, she felt an inexplicable sense of loss.
That was probably why.
She, who normally had no interest in knights' spars, had deliberately headed to the Leonberger royal training grounds.
When she came to her senses, she was serving as the official witness.
And there, she witnessed it.
How ferocious and valiant the kingdom's knights truly were—knights said to have lost their vitality under imperial rule.
To the northern knights, superficial wounds or a few broken bones meant nothing.
They fought as if losing an arm in a spar was fine, so long as they won.
It was absurd.
Why risk their lives over something as trivial as a duel?
By comparison, the Rose Thorn knights seemed positively saintly.
The Kingdom of Leonberger's knights were like savage beasts.
And they weren't savage for savagery's sake.
Even she, with no knowledge of swordsmanship, could tell that the Rose Thorn knights' skills fell short of theirs.
The starkest difference lay with the Quad Chain knights.
The Rose Thorn Order had five renowned Quad Knights besides her uncle—men without formal titles but famous nonetheless.
In contrast, the kingdom fielded only three masters for the duels.
"Knights who still synthesize mana in their hearts..."
"I'd heard the rumors, but to think it was true."
"Leonberger must be full of talent."
From the Rose Thorn knights' chatter, she learned that two of them were relics who synthesized mana in their hearts.
"That trash skill even mercenaries bother with? We'll smash it spectacularly."
"One strike should do it."
The Rose Thorn knights dismissed them as amateurs honing worthless techniques and boasted of victory.
And then...
"Urk!"
"Keuk!"
They were smashed to pieces, one after another.
By the very Leonberger masters they'd looked down on.
And shockingly, two of them were women.
Swords were a man's domain—a woman wielding one was unthinkable.
At least in Teuton.
But apparently not in the kingdom.
"Next!"
The black-haired female knight shook the blood from her longsword and shouted.
She was so dazzling that Hestia Neumann Tudor lost herself in the sight.
The image of that female knight standing proudly before a kneeling man was exactly what she'd always yearned to become.
She cheered for the female knights in secret.
But sadly, they lost.
The black-haired one claimed four victories before falling to a Teutonic Quad Knight, while the dusky-haired one—who fought fiercer than any man—was personally broken by her uncle, Duke Seymour.
A merciless hand unlike her usually righteous uncle.
It was a warning to everyone.
To the surging Leonberger knights brimming with momentum.
To the Teutonic Quad Knights defeated by women they'd scorned.
And to his niece, harboring impossible ambitions.
Her buoyant mood sank in an instant.
She mourned the horrific future awaiting the dusky-haired female knight.
But the tragedy she anticipated never came.
"Tch."
The Crown Prince, who moments ago had been chatting and ignoring the duels, was suddenly atop the training ground.
The Rose Thorn knights buzzed.
"To block His Excellency the Duke's sword so easily."
"And he jumped in so hastily, stance all unstable."
From their talk, she learned the Crown Prince had completely shattered her uncle's sword momentum with a single strike.
They said he'd defeated imperial paladins countless times. It wasn't mere rumor.
A truly astonishing achievement for such a young age.
But Hestia Neumann Tudor believed it meaningless before her uncle, hailed as the West's finest. She thought the title of Northern young lion wouldn't sway him either.
It was a rash judgment.
There was a flash of light, and before she knew what happened, the duel was over.
Her uncle stood dazed, clutching his half-shattered sword. The Crown Prince stood before him, chin raised arrogantly.
Both unscathed, but distinguishing winner from loser was child's play.
Astoundingly, her uncle—the West's finest—couldn't even block a single strike.
But the real shock was something else.
"Again!"
Claiming the sword's quality was poor, the Crown Prince proposed a rematch.
Her uncle flew into unprecedented rage and faced him with the seriousness reserved for a lifelong nemesis.
And lost.
Lost countless times, enduring humiliations beyond count.
Toward the end, he couldn't even resist, reduced to a plaything.
"Princess!"
At the Crown Prince's call, she snapped to and declared his victory.
Her uncle still hadn't recovered. In the end, he was all but dragged out, supported by knights in a daze.
Then he holed up in his quarters and never emerged.
Judging by his last appearance, it seemed impossible for him to regain his former vigor during their stay.
The entire delegation's mood plummeted.
Negotiations hadn't even properly begun, yet defeatism had already spread.
Amid it all, only Hestia Neumann Tudor brimmed with vitality.
With her uncle—protector and overseer both—reduced to a half-invalid, her nominal position finally became real.
She sprang into action immediately.
She dressed with utmost care and sought out the Crown Prince.
It wasn't a method she favored, but she was prepared to try a honey trap.
She couldn't even attempt it properly.
"Is that all?"
The Crown Prince fixed her with utterly cold eyes and told her that if her business was just spouting empty words, she should leave.
It wasn't an idle threat.
When she lingered, he abruptly stood from his seat.
And headed for the door.
Hestia Neumann Tudor intuited it.
If she let him go now, there'd be no chance for a private audience again.
The expression he'd shown just before turning away made it clear even this meeting was a waste of his time.
"What does the Kingdom of Leonberger want? No—Your Highness the Crown Prince, how far do you intend to go?"
She grabbed the departing Crown Prince and laid bare the plan she'd harbored in her heart all this time.
Her heart pounded wildly.
One misstep, and she could lose everything.
A gamble the usual her would never take.
"Now that's interesting."
Fortunately, the Crown Prince seemed pleased with the cards she'd shown.
He even asked what she wanted.
Hestia Neumann Tudor didn't hesitate to state her desire.
"Make me consort of the Kingdom of Leonberger."
What an ironic fate.
She'd longed to transcend the limits of womanhood, yet the first man she bared her soul to was for a mere consort's seat. A bitter smile escaped her.
But for now, it was the best option.
By all accounts, the Crown Prince paid little heed to internal affairs. He preferred roaming battlefields over lingering in the palace.
Rumors even swirled that he delegated most governance to his younger brother, the prime minister, and the grand marshal.
Becoming the consort of such a man wasn't a bad deal.
Let men handle war, women rule.
"If Your Highness takes me as consort, you and the Kingdom of Leonberger stand to gain much."
She believed he wouldn't refuse.
The seat of royal consort was worth that much.
She was certain of it.
"Impossible."
No.
A curt refusal, devoid of even a hint of leeway.
"It's obvious you'd swallow the kingdom whole if left unchecked."
The Crown Prince explained coldly.
She couldn't even muster a rebuttal.
Before that gaze, transparent as if peering into her soul, no lie was possible.
Having expected acceptance, her words caught in her throat.
As her lips moved soundlessly,
"But something else? That could be negotiated."
the Crown Prince said indifferently, rising from his seat.
"Something else...?"
Regaining her wits, she asked what he meant.
"Why ask me?"
The Crown Prince clicked his tongue.
"Aren't you Teuton's representative?"
The words "Teuton's representative" struck her heart.
She went blank without realizing it.
The Crown Prince showed no interest in her thoughts.
She thought that was it, but
"Think it over carefully. Who knows? Through negotiations with the kingdom, the very walls you've longed to surpass might crumble."
no.
"Exclusive trading rights for dwarf weapons would thrust even a powerless princess straight to the heart of power."
The Crown Prince knew even the ambitions she hadn't voiced and the full context.
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart began to race furiously.
"I-I'm not sure what you mean."
She composed herself and feigned ignorance.
The Crown Prince said no more about her dangerous ambitions. He merely smirked.
Thud, thud.
As he gripped the door handle, the Crown Prince suddenly turned back.
"Next time we meet, drop the acting. You've no talent for it."
At the unexpected words, she smirked despite her daze.
"No Teuton has ever said that."
She teased playfully at the stingy assessment, and the Crown Prince snorted.
"Teutons are all oblivious."
At the absurd conclusion, she finally burst into the laughter she'd held back.
Then she felt his unwavering stare and shut her mouth.
Her uncle or father would have scolded her for unprincesslike behavior.
The Crown Prince preferred that genuine laugh over her manufactured floral smile.
"Laugh like that in front of me from now on."
It suits you better.
With that, the Crown Prince left the room.
Bang.
The door shut.
Left alone, Hestia Neumann Tudor stared blankly at the door before absently touching her face.
'In front of me from now on.'
'Suits you better.'
His indifferent words echoed like thunder in her mind.
Why was her heart suddenly pounding like this?
**
"Did I do something unnecessary?"
Regret flooded me the moment I stepped out.
I shook it off.
The Teuton princess was a rare talent, one in a million.
Even without me, she had the ability to bloom on her own someday. Indebtedness in moderation would serve the future far better.
"Queen material..."
Recalling how the Teutons referred to her, I snorted.
"Teuton's rose, my ass."
Lioness, maybe.