Chapter 243
Chapter 243
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 243
Chapter Title: 70. Ominous Clouds Gather (2)
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The king burst into hearty laughter upon receiving the report from Marquis Villepeld.
"I'd been wondering why that boy, who was rampaging like a calf with a thorn in its rear, had gone so quiet all of a sudden."
The marquis could only look embarrassed.
"I'm deeply worried about how the Silver Lions will take His Highness's intentions."
"Well, they won't exactly welcome that boy's wishes with open arms, given their pride. Some might even find excuses to refuse the summons."
"I doubt it'd go that far, but it's certain they won't move easily."
The king nodded slightly and continued in a resolute tone.
"Then we have to make it so they have no choice but to move."
"In that case..."
"I'll send a royal decree directly to them myself. I'll gather them by the king's command."
"That would make things far smoother, and His Highness will surely express his gratitude to Your Majesty."
"Gratitude? Nonsense."
The king shook his head.
"It's only been a short time since that boy rose from his sickbed after his grievous injury. The external wounds may have been healed by magic, but there's no way his insides are fully recovered after being slashed so deeply by a sword."
A flicker of self-reproach crossed the king's face.
"And yet, he's spending his days so fiercely. He considers even the time to tend to his own body as too precious, preparing for the future instead. Adding a few words before such resolve—what's so great about that?"
The king said the image of the crown prince fighting the Penta knight was still vivid in his mind. He couldn't forget how the boy, drenched in blood from head to toe, never took a single step back but pressed forward.
"And this is hardly the first time. He's survived those brutal battles every time, staking his life on the line."
At those words, the marquis's face grew somber as well.
"From this moment, I revoke the confidential access ban on the crown prince. Marshal, provide maximum support for everything that boy does."
"Of course."
To the marquis's resolute reply, the king added in an even firmer tone.
"However, the orders regarding his departure from the palace and participation in battle remain in effect. Support him as needed, Marshal, but ensure he doesn't get dragged into any danger, no matter what."
"I shall bear it in mind—nay, engrave it upon my heart!"
With the main discussion concluded, the king suddenly glanced back.
"Count."
The captain of the Royal Knight Order, standing silently, bowed his head slightly at the king's call.
"Go."
The old knight stiffened at the abrupt command.
"Don't tell me you can't leave my side due to duties. I don't believe the Royal Knight Order's skills are so lacking that my safety would be jeopardized by your brief absence."
Before the king, who offered no room for compromise, the old knight could only ask reluctantly for a delay, his face unwilling.
It seemed he needed time to mentally prepare to seek out the former poor student he had once taught and expelled.
The first to respond to the summons was the lord of Iron Lion Castle, two days' ride from the palace.
"What now?"
York Willoden, leader of the Iron Lions, was puzzled by the second summons already this year but headed to the palace with his knights nonetheless.
"Go see the crown prince."
After a few formal words of welcome, the king directed the Iron Lions' leader straight to the 1st Prince's Palace.
"Why does His Highness want us..."
York Willoden led his men to the 1st Prince's Palace once more.
Upon seeing the scene beyond the wide-open doors, York Willoden froze.
In the center of the devastated palace stood the 1st Prince.
"I've been waiting ever since I heard you'd arrived at the palace. Good timing, Count."
The crown prince greeted them with a sly grin.
Somehow, the eerie welcome made York Willoden glance around instinctively.
The training grounds and gardens were a wreck, and the crown prince's knights—clad in dented, shattered armor—lay scattered about in similar states.
A strange glint of sympathy flickered in their eyes.
"I ask you this: What matters more to you? Honor and pride as knights?"
Turning back, York Willoden saw the crown prince's face, now stripped of any smile.
"Or the kingdom's brighter tomorrow and its peace?"
York Willoden answered without hesitation.
"For the glory of the lion. With the claws of the lion. It's one of the oaths we Iron Lions swear upon our commissioning."
The crown prince smiled enigmatically, as if he understood or perhaps not.
"It sounds like you're saying you'd live for the kingdom even if your honor and pride as knights were trampled in the mud. Did I get that right?"
"The phrasing is extreme and radical, but it doesn't stray far from the Iron Lion Knight Order's founding purpose."
The name Iron Lion itself symbolized the Kingdom of Leonberger's sword, so York Willoden nodded in agreement.
"Good."
That was a mistake.
"Ilai."
No sooner had the crown prince spoken than the palace doors slammed shut with a thud.
"From now on, I'll treat you not as knights, but as swords."
York Willoden glanced at the Ilai heir standing by the doors, then turned back to the crown prince.
"Treat me like hammer and anvil."
"What do you mean by..."
As York Willoden frowned in question, the crown prince grinned broadly.
"It means I'll be hammering you relentlessly from here on out."
The crown prince drew his sword.
"Everything I'll do from now on stems from my desire for you to become sharper swords."
The famed sword Dusk, now known throughout the kingdom, began to hum lowly.
"Don't hold it against me."
That moment sealed the fate of the Iron Lions and York Willoden.
"Hoo."
Arwen Kirguyen steadied her ragged breath and surveyed her surroundings.
Iron Lions littered the ground. Beside them rolled the palace knights and Ballerhard knights, their armor little more than scraps of metal.
Only a handful of knights, including the Silver Lions, still stood with swords in hand.
"Since it's the first day, we'll stop here. It'll be tougher starting tomorrow, so rest well tonight."
With that, the crown prince sheathed his lowered sword and turned to leave.
"Ha. What in the world is this?"
The Iron Lion Knight Order's leader stared at the empty space, chuckling dryly repeatedly.
Arwen sighed softly at the sight, noting the dissatisfaction and bewilderment on the fallen Iron Lions' faces.
Staying silent might earn needless resentment, tarnishing the noble intent, so she stepped before the old knight—once her superior—and explained the circumstances the crown prince had omitted.
"His Highness worries that if the kingdom's knights don't improve, the casualties will be grave when war breaks out again."
York Willoden sighed in response, his voice calmer than she'd feared.
"A few years ago, when His Highness first visited Iron Lion Castle, I told him myself that a few sparring losses wouldn't tarnish the Iron Lions' name. Perhaps he sees today's events as an extension of that."
Fortunately, York Willoden didn't seem greatly offended.
"I'm just concerned. Ignoring procedure and protocol like this, acting so drastically—it might invite unnecessary grudges."
He shared her bewilderment and dissatisfaction at the sudden swordplay, but with the Penta knight's palace raid so recent, he seemed more empathetic to the crown prince's concerns.
Or perhaps he held back because she was once close to the crown prince.
Unlike other Silver Lions, the Iron Lions' leader was deep-minded and calculating—more politician than knight.
Half right, half wrong.
"Tch. I can guess your thoughts from that look."
York Willoden was shrewd enough to read unspoken thoughts without mention.
"I'm a knight too. How could I not respect His Highness, who reached the Penta realm I gave up on and claimed victory against it? And how could I not welcome the chance to learn from such a knight?"
But contrary to her assessment, his nature wasn't purely political.
The aspiration and respect in York Willoden's eyes were genuine.
"Though rolling in the dirt like this in my later years is hardly pleasing."
With a playful quip, he glanced ahead.
"Still, His Highness spared my face somewhat in his strikes. I can only be grateful."
He glanced at Bernard Ilai, bloodied and nearly unconscious.
"Hm."
Arwen didn't bother telling him the crown prince had been especially harsh on the Ilai heir—no mercy there.
Unaware, York Willoden bellowed at his men.
"Get up, you lot!"
The Iron Lions staggered to their feet.
As Arwen watched them rise, she suddenly realized something.
The expressions of those few Iron Lions who'd looked dissatisfied at the crown prince's radical approach had changed.
The initial resentment was gone.
The fire in their eyes burned with rare eagerness—the chance to cross swords with the kingdom's strongest knight, who'd toppled even a Penta.
No way.
Arwen turned her head.
There was York Willoden, berating his subordinates.
He was utterly unpredictable.
Surprised by the knightly side from someone she'd pegged as purely political, she was surprised again wondering if even that was calculated.
"No need to overthink it. He's just keeping a promise to an old friend he couldn't fulfill in life—doing so now."
Sensing her gaze, York Willoden remarked casually.
She couldn't tell where sincerity ended and calculation began.
But one thing was clear: York Willoden would be a staunch ally to the crown prince.
He didn't disappoint her expectations.
The Silver Lions, gathered at the 1st Prince's Palace in response to the summons, couldn't hide their discomfort at the crown prince's proposal.
"Heh heh. This is awkward."
The captain of the Royal Knight Order—latest to join due to duties despite proximity—was endlessly chuckling dryly at the irony of receiving instruction from the student he'd once taught swordsmanship.
"I'm familiar with His Highness's brilliant swordsmanship, but at my age, my limbs are too stiff to change training methods now."
Joachim Schultz, the count who'd first met the crown prince at the recent banquet, politely declined.
"Hm."
Richter Litein, who'd fought alongside him in the last warlord conflict, didn't outright refuse but looked unenthused.
They all acknowledged the crown prince's feat against the Penta knight with respect and deep admiration, yet recoiled at the proposal.
"What's the problem if we can get stronger? Seriously."
Bernard Ilai couldn't comprehend them, but Arwen fully understood the Silver Lions' bewilderment.
Awe for the crown prince was separate from this.
After all their years and achievements, rolling in the dirt under guidance from someone half their age—with far less time wielding a sword—was too much.
Then York Willoden stepped forward.
"Come on, everyone. Let's talk one by one."
He spoke privately with each Silver Lion, and those displeased with the situation soon changed their tune, agreeing to train together.
Curious what he'd said, Arwen stared at York Willoden.
"It's just the petty eloquence of a small-minded man—unsuited to an upright, righteous knight like you. Don't ask."
His sly expression made prying awkward, so Arwen pretended not to notice the Silver Lions' sudden shifts.
And so the training began.
The Silver Lions, brutally shattered by the crown prince's sword, poured their resentment onto York Willoden.
"Better rolling in dirt than blood puddles, no?"
But he brushed it off boldly.
Fuming, the Silver Lions couldn't retract their words and rolled in the dirt daily with the other knights.
Time passed.
The initially resistant Silver Lions adapted to the harsh methods, growing accustomed to defeats in wretched states.
"His Highness is undoubtedly a genius."
"No one in the world could achieve this much in such a short time."
"A talent unprecedented in history. Astonishing."
Forgetting dignity, sprawled on the ground, the Silver Lions marveled endlessly at the crown prince's realm.
"His true power, the Martial Ode, hasn't even appeared yet. Aren't you all marveling too soon?"
Bernard Ilai, more battered than any, boasted smugly from beside them.
"Since defeating the Penta knight, His Highness has grown astonishingly. Even without the Martial Ode, enemies are scarce now."
Adelia Bayern, relatively intact, praised him shyly yet proudly.
All Silver Lions except Percival Altringen—summoned by the crown prince post-spar—raved about him thus.
But Arwen said nothing, merely gazing worriedly in the direction the crown prince had vanished.
Though it'd been just over a month since all Silver Lions joined, this brutal training had started three months prior.
And the crown prince hadn't skipped a single day.
Others rested briefly to recover; only he held his post.
He wasn't unscathed.
He'd suffered countless wounds amid the intensity, worsening since the old knights joined.
Even palace mages had limits healing him.
Magic mended surface cuts, but torn muscles and bones couldn't heal overnight.
He had to feel the pain of flesh tearing, the agony of swinging until mana depleted daily.
Impressive as his dominance was despite injuries, worry outweighed it.
He was human, not iron.
Cuts hurt; wounds needed rest.
Arwen had seen him—the unflinching prince, bloodied by blades—wince in pain, however fleeting.
Others noticed nothing.
His maturity beyond years, his lofty realm beyond measure, blinded them.
His knights shouldn't be so blind.
Yet few could gauge his state now.
Kals Yulihi always fell early, no chance to observe; Bernard Ilai wasn't perceptive enough.
Winterfort knights, muttering "Can't shoot arrows now" at severed arms, needed no mention.
Adelia Bayern seemed aware but wouldn't oppose her lord.
Only Arwen remained.
But she couldn't dissuade him. She'd have before, but not now.
Seeing his anxious, hurried face silenced her throat-high words.
"Not enough. Still far from enough."
His daily mutterings stopped her.
He was deeply anxious.
Preparing alone for something imminent.
Hardly trivial.
He'd bared teeth at empire war prospects; this drove him to self-abuse.
She'd tried asking directly, but words failed.
One day, sensing her turmoil, he spoke gravely.
"Words have power; uttering them can make existences real. Right now, I don't want to lend them strength from my lips."
His cryptic words deepened her worry.
But sometimes, answers emerge unbidden after endless pondering—and they're not always welcome.
This was such a case.
Two months after gathering the Silver Lions, a messenger arrived at the palace.
A flag signaling urgent news on his back.