Chapter 228
Chapter 228
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: Sometimes a Gentle Plea is Stronger than a Sword (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
To the envoys, the nobles of the Leonberger Kingdom were nothing to write home about.
They'd dressed up as fancy as they could manage, or so they thought, but their outfits were so far removed from continental trends that they came off as not just exotic, but downright provincial.
At least the great lords were somewhat presentable, though even they were a far cry from refined.
Their faces were so stiff and wooden. Here they were, hosting a grand victory banquet, yet they showed no sign of actually enjoying it.
Some nobles even looked downright anxious.
It was the first banquet in nearly a century to include foreign envoys. In the envoys' eyes, all this behavior looked like nervous fretting over whether foreign nobles might find fault with them.
They'd pulled off an astonishing victory against the Empire, sure, but they still hadn't shaken off their small-country mentality.
That was what the envoys thought.
They were wrong.
The kingdom's nobles weren't anxious about impressing the foreign envoys.
"I hope nothing crazy happens here today."
"Come on now. This is a momentous banquet to celebrate our victory. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Since when has a 'momentous' occasion ever been safe from disaster?"
They were just worried that something might go wrong right here, at this very event.
"God help me, just hearing 'royal banquet' makes my heart drop these days."
Having lived through the recent string of royal banquets that all ended in disaster, the nobles were genuinely concerned this one might go the same way.
Of course, not every royal banquet had ended badly.
"Even His Highness the Crown Prince wouldn't stir up trouble with foreign nobles present, right?"
"Don't forget—he didn't hesitate even with the Imperial ambassador there."
The problem was the Crown Prince.
Every banquet he'd attended had devolved into some kind of incident.
It wasn't even a few years ago that he'd hurled insults right in the face of Marquis Montpellier, who was still ambassador at the time.
And it wasn't long ago that he'd marched in with the northern lords and dumped an orc head at the King's feet.
Just recently, kingdom nobles had been massacred here for treason.
All of it had happened right here, in this very hall.
Given all that, it would have been stranger if the nobles hadn't been on edge.
"Please, let today pass without a hitch."
The nobles prayed fervently.
They hoped the banquet would fulfill its true purpose—celebrating the kingdom's victory—and perhaps even be remembered as the historic day the Crown Princess Consort was chosen.
As if sensing their unease, Second Prince Maximilian arrived early to reassure them.
"Don't worry," he said. "Just enjoy the banquet."
"Are you absolutely sure there are no surprises from the royals—or rather, from His Highness the Crown Prince—that we nobles aren't privy to?"
Count Brandenburg, commander of the Iron Hawk Archers, invoked their camaraderie from the central front to press Maximilian.
"The royals have no agenda for this banquet beyond commemorating the victory and selecting the Crown Princess Consort. So please, my lords, set your worries aside and enjoy yourselves."
Only then did the count turn away with a relieved expression.
Watching his retreating back, Maximilian let out a quiet sigh.
Truth be told, he wasn't entirely confident himself.
He hadn't lied, though.
It was a fact: the royals had invested no other meaning into this banquet beyond the victory celebration and the selection.
The issue was the selection itself.
It was the royals' will, not his brother's.
Father had assured him he'd talked his brother around, but that did little to ease the anxiety.
"Whew. It's a good day. No need for dark thoughts."
Maximilian shook off his unease.
One by one, kingdom nobles approached to greet him.
Their words were polite, expressing admiration for the kingdom's victory, but their eyes sharply scanned him, probing for any edge.
Desperate to glean even a scrap more about the kingdom's inner workings.
He was already exhausted from soothing his own nobles, and now the envoys were glaring daggers, making his burdens all the heavier.
The three-day banquet had only just begun, and already the back of his neck felt stiff as a board.
Even so, Maximilian treated the envoys with utmost courtesy.
These were people who wouldn't have spared the kingdom a glance in the old days—or even recently, when they'd have minded the Empire's watchful eye.
Yet here they were, crossing mountains and seas to visit.
To forge friendly ties with the kingdom.
He couldn't afford to squander potential future allies.
As Maximilian stood in for the absent royal hostess, graciously hosting nobles and envoys alike, the main banquet finally commenced.
"The rightful heir of Lionel Leonberger, upright ruler of the Leonberger Kingdom and the most noble of all! Eldest son of the Leonberger royal house! Savior of the North! Lion of the North! Kingdom's mightiest knight! His Highness Crown Prince Idrian Leonberger enters!"
His brother—the star of the evening—had finally made his entrance.
"Pay homage to Crown Prince Idrian Leonberger!"
The musicians' lively tunes filling the hall fell silent as nobles dropped to their knees, bowing their heads and shouting in unison.
With the deference one might show a king, his brother arrogantly swept his gaze across the room.
Surveying the assembled nobles, his eyes suddenly fixed on the envoys' section.
Those piercing, crystalline eyes seemed to peer straight into their souls.
The envoys who met his gaze froze solid.
They should have bowed in respect, but they'd even forgotten that much.
As Maximilian moved to remind them, his brother spoke first.
"Quite a crowd you've got here."
His tone was indifferent.
Only then did the envoys snap to attention, bowing their heads and offering their respects.
Maximilian was impressed.
They'd been all honeyed words and probing stares with him, but before his brother, they couldn't even lift their heads.
Like rabbits before a lion.
Thud. Thud.
As he dazedly watched their obeisance, footsteps approached.
His brother was already right in front of him.
Maximilian's eyes lit up.
His brother, who usually wore nothing but drab armor, was resplendent today in pristine white ceremonial garb.
It was so dazzling and heroic that Maximilian nearly forgot his princely dignity and cheered aloud.
Look at him! My brother's so dashing. Even the North's young lion has the looks to match.
"What're you gawking at?"
"Your radiance is just... blinding, brother."
"You're such a lightweight."
His brother chuckled softly and headed for the dais.
Maximilian followed, eyes on his back, and ascended the platform.
"Everyone, rise."
His brother flopped casually onto the seat beside the throne and murmured.
The nobles stood and watched the dais, awaiting the Crown Prince's words.
"Since we're here for a banquet, enjoy it to the fullest."
Marquis Billefeldt clutched his forehead at the speech—or lack thereof. Siorin Kirguyen sighed.
To Maximilian, even that seemed utterly manly.
"Don't mind me."
His brother added, before sinking deep into his chair.
With a profoundly sour expression.
Clap.
Someone clapped, and the musicians struck up again.
Music filled the once-silent hall anew.
"Wonder when this'll end."
His brother was already grumbling boredly.
In truth, the Leonberger Kingdom wasn't all that well-known.
For one, its location at the continent's northernmost tip made travel a nightmare. And with no standout specialties to lure visitors, there was little reason to brave the inconvenience.
The Empire's exorbitant tariffs and tolls were another deterrent.
Only a handful of history buffs recalled that the kingdom had been founded by exiles fleeing Imperial persecution, its annals filled with wars against the Empire.
To everyone else, it was just some backward northern backwater.
Without their stunning victory over the Empire, the envoys wouldn't have come at all.
People wanted to gauge their strength firsthand—and forge bonds while at it.
Things they'd never have dreamed of before, cowed by the Empire.
But the Empire's prestige had crumbled after defeats at Dotrin and now Leonberger.
For the first time, people doubted its might.
Maybe the self-proclaimed continental hegemon was just a bloated windbag.
Of course, befriending its enemy on mere suspicion was risky.
But the Empire was too preoccupied to care.
The Fire Dragon ravaged the south, while the 3rd and 5th Princes waged civil war over succession in the center.
If you were plotting something, now was the time.
But first, assess the kingdom that had beaten the Empire.
If their power fell short of expectations, it confirmed the Empire's decline. If it matched or exceeded, a new continental power had risen.
Either way, no loss for them.
The problem was the lack of intel.
Since arriving in the north, kingdom knights and soldiers had kept them under tight control. They'd been herded straight to the capital with no chance to scout.
Only upon reaching the palace had they glimpsed the kingdom's elite troops.
"The Royal Knights are better than expected. Their aura suggests plenty of real combat experience. Even the regular soldiers have high morale and strict discipline—true elites."
"That even the court knights needed war to reach this level... Does it mean the kingdom's a mess, or that their forces are genuinely strong? Hard to say."
They'd barely scratched the surface of the kingdom's might, yet it only bred more confusion.
After agonizing deliberation, they reached a conclusion.
"We'll judge after seeing the Leonberger heir."
So they waited for the banquet to begin—and for the Lion of the North to appear.
And appear he did.
Eyes that pierced the soul.
An overwhelming presence dominating the hall.
From the moment the Leonberger heir stepped forth, the envoys could scarcely breathe.
Forget probing—they could barely meet his gaze.
He just sat there on the dais, bored out of his mind, yet he clearly ruled the room.
They hadn't even caught a glimpse of that sword said to have felled Imperial paladins by the dozen.
But they knew.
The rumors were true. The North's lion who made Empire troops quake was no myth.
That realization ended their reconnaissance.
Now it was time to actively court the kingdom's friendship.
As the envoys buzzed with activity, the kingdom's sovereign entered the hall.
And without preamble, he declared:
"Whichever woman captures the Crown Prince's heart shall become Crown Princess Consort."
Go ahead, he said, and steal the Crown Prince's affections during the banquet.
Title, origin—none of it mattered.
It was an utterly bizarre proclamation for a royal marriage announcement, recklessly provocative before envoys expecting political alliances.
To them, it sounded like the kingdom's power was so vast that mere political unions or alliances wouldn't cut it.
It wasn't, really.
The King just figured his marriage-averse son tying the knot at all was blessing enough, so he'd blurted it out.
The envoys grew urgent.
"Plans have changed! Tell the princess to prepare at once!"
"But the princess isn't due at the banquet until tomorrow..."
"I said plans have changed!"
Heralds slipped out; envoys scrambled.
Meanwhile, kingdom nobles lined up before the dais, paying respects to the King.
Each with a finely dressed daughter or niece in tow.
And so, the Crown Princess Consort selection banquet truly began.