Chapter 253
Chapter 253
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 253
Chapter Title: 72. Land of the Knights (3)
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Idrian had made up his mind.
This time, he would truly focus on the growth of the knights rather than himself, guiding them to use this opportunity as a springboard to reach even greater heights.
To that end, even as reports poured in daily from the messengers, making his hips twitch with impatience, he forced himself to stay put.
It wasn't easy.
He wanted to grab his sword and charge out of the fortress right away.
Especially when the messengers described monsters that sounded tantalizingly appealing, his mind was already racing across the vast plains, far from the fortress.
He imagined sprinting through those plains, locked in fierce battles with the monsters, only to sink into despair.
Countless reasons why he couldn't leave the fortress flooded his thoughts.
First, the Silver Lions, including Arwen, and the knights desperately needed information on the monsters.
His top priority was to analyze the appearances and traits noted in the reports, gauge their identities, and warn how lethal their venomous fangs truly were.
Only then could the knights and soldiers minimize casualties—and, more importantly, reduce the suffering of the beleaguered civilians.
Something he couldn't achieve by wandering the kingdom aimlessly.
Second, he had to obey the king's command.
The king had sent messengers multiple times to warn him, pinned in the central region. He would overlook Idrian's refusal to return for now, but anything beyond that would not be tolerated.
Defying it could mean he wouldn't be where he wanted—when he wanted—during the upcoming war with the empire, the king had threatened.
Third, Vincent weighed on his mind.
Vincent had persuaded the king not to let him leave the palace, and if Idrian caused trouble, Vincent would share the blame.
Idrian absolutely did not want Vincent suffering because of him.
Beyond that, there were countless other reasons to stay.
He soothed himself like this and forcibly held his position.
It was excruciating punishment for him, unbearable torment.
The thrill he'd recaptured by bursting out of the stifling palace faded away entirely.
Day by day, he lost his vitality.
A vicious lethargy set in.
If he endured much longer like this, he'd go mad.
Then, as the flurry of urgent reports and bad news began to taper off,
just as the Silver Lions and subjugation knights had adapted to fighting the familiar monsters and no longer desperately needed his intel,
the pent-up stress finally exploded.
"Huh?"
When he came to, he was already charging across the plains, the fortress left behind.
"Well, now that I'm out, no point turning back."
He glanced at the fortress, now too distant to see, then turned his horse's head.
He headed straight west into the kingdom, toward a village tormented by monsters.
Impulsively setting out without a guide, getting lost was inevitable.
But by pushing his horse relentlessly, he arrived at his destination not too late.
There, pretending to be just another knight from the vanguard, he reassured the villagers.
They rejoiced as if salvation itself had arrived, simply because one knight had come.
Before their eyes, his grand ideals about prioritizing the knights' growth rang hollow, and the future repercussions for him and Vincent seemed trivial.
For these people, it was life or death right now—surviving today mattered more than tomorrow's peace.
Idrian shook off the lingering hesitation in his heart and sprang into action.
Learning the monsters' lair from the villagers' tales, he charged straight in.
The monsters he faced weren't particularly formidable.
But they had multiplied enormously in no time, and Idrian vented the frustrations that had gnawed at him for the past half-year on them.
The first rush, sword in hand, felt great.
Slicing through the snarling, charging beasts eased some of his built-up stress. When he utterly annihilated their settlement, he even felt a sense of fulfillment.
But the satisfaction didn't last.
"Your Highness, it's time to return."
He hadn't even wiped the blood from his sword when Kals arrived, leading the wretched Yorden and the royal knights.
For a fleeting moment, he considered fleeing, but Kals astutely read his intent and listed out the dire consequences of escape—painting them in vivid, horrifying detail from the most tragic angles.
"None of that future will come if Your Highness joins us on the road back now."
Idrian, already aware but not fully grasping the potential doom awaiting him, despaired and followed them back.
His steps were leaden.
It felt like dying of thirst with only wetted lips, or starving with a mere crumb in his mouth.
Then he'd recall the villagers' faces to console himself.
Their joy at seeing him, their cheers upon hearing the monsters were slaughtered.
Remembering their stunned expressions upon realizing the "mere subjugation knight" was the kingdom's crown prince brought a smile.
And he etched it in his heart:
Above all, rescuing those in peril came first. Restoring their peaceful daily lives was his utmost duty.
In other words, it was the obligation of a crown prince—and the rightful mission of a knight.
"I heard your excuses."
A sharp voice snapped him from his reverie.
"So, Your Highness means to say this wasn't a grave mistake, but fulfilling your duties as crown prince and a knight's sense of mission."
Vincent glared at him with a frosty expression.
"Uh."
To Vincent, it might sound brazen, but Idrian reiterated the justification for his actions.
It fell on deaf ears.
"Didn't you once say that wielding the sword yourself might quell minor chaos but isn't a fundamental solution?"
Vincent dismissed his newfound cause with a single stroke.
"N-now the Silver Lions and knights no longer need my intel..."
Before he could finish, Vincent thrust a stack of documents before him.
"Letters that arrived at the fortress while Your Highness was away. See for yourself who sent them and what they say."
Idrian awkwardly took them and read.
Some were from the Silver Lions, others from lords.
Senders varied, origins spanned east, west, south, north—but the contents were similar.
Each sought information on newly appearing monsters and his advice on countermeasures.
"Where the hell are these things crawling out from..."
Awkwardly avoiding Vincent's gaze, Idrian began drafting replies.
Whoosh.
Vincent snatched the finished letters.
"This is urgent. Select the swiftest riders and ensure these reach their destinations as fast as possible."
He summoned a waiting knight outside and handed them over, announcing it loudly as if for Idrian's ears.
Idrian was struck dumb.
Vincent crossed his arms and glared.
It was like sitting on a bed of nails.
"Sigh. Fine. I never truly believed Your Highness wouldn't cause trouble. I can handle this much."
"Then..."
"No. I will report to His Majesty. That's my promise to him."
Vincent declared the Ballerhard clan kept their word no matter what, intending to report everything.
Idrian had no grounds—or face—to stop him.
Depressed at the thought of total exclusion from the next war, he hung his head. Then Vincent let out a long sigh.
"His Majesty said he doesn't believe Your Highness will fully obey. He told me he could overlook one lapse, and to judge based on my opinion first."
Idrian's eyes lit up at Vincent's reassurance not to mope.
"I'll report it as unavoidable due to urgent shortages of available forces. With the proclamation in place, His Majesty won't find it too suspicious."
"You mean...?"
"Even if it goes up, no major repercussions."
"Vincent, you're the best!"
He jumped up and hugged Vincent.
"This is the last time. Next, you'll face His Majesty's punishment without escape."
"Of course! As if I'd mess up again! I was just so stifled my head spun! I thought I'd waste away and die."
"I know. That's why I didn't stop you when you slipped out."
Vincent admitted knowing and allowing Idrian's escape.
"Then why send Kals and Yorden...?"
"I thought you'd just ride off some steam and return. If I'd known you'd go that far, I wouldn't have let you."
Vincent sighed deeply and shoved him away.
Then he pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it over.
"Your mess, you clean it up."
With that, Vincent turned and left the room.
Didn't you say he wouldn't let it slide this time?
Shut up.
See? I told you.
Quiet.
Hearing Vincent and the knights outside, Idrian checked the letter's origin: the Silver Lions' fortress at the southern border.
Without hesitation, he broke the seal. Two letters inside, different seals.
He first opened the one stamped with Montpellier's seal.
『As Your Highness instructed, we spread the rumors discreetly, drawing a significant number of mercenaries. We'll filter out the infamous or suspicious ones and send them to the border.』
Idrian immediately checked the other: from the southern army commander.
『We've identified and sorted spies and unsavory elements from Count Montpellier's group, but the remaining numbers exceed expectations. Letting them all through at once could cause chaos.』
『Please guide us on how to proceed.』
Before replying to the legion commander, Idrian rummaged through past reports in his drawer.
Finding the Silver Lion closest to the southern fortress, he penned a response.
『I'll send Bernard Ilai. Hand the mercenaries to him.』
He also wrote urging Ilai to head south immediately.
Calling in Kals from outside, he ordered the urgent letters delivered swiftly.
"One more thing."
As Kals bowed and turned to leave, Idrian stopped him.
"Among the new rangers from the north, there's a Hansen."
"Ah, that Yorden's..."
Idrian nodded at Kals's trailing words and added,
"Find him and bring him to my room at once."
"Right away, Your Highness."
Soon after Kals left, the rookie ranger arrived— with uninvited Yorden in tow.
"This is the crown prince of the kingdom. One wrong word, and you're done."
At Yorden's growl, the already tense rookie flinched and bowed deeply.
From his demeanor, they'd clearly had a close talk beforehand.
Idrian couldn't help chuckling.
"Your Highness must've heard the rumors—this guy's clueless about his place. Worried he'd mess up before you, I gave him a proper education beforehand."
Yorden puffed up proudly, oblivious.
"You didn't lay a hand on him, did you?"
"What? The Ballerhard rangers have no such childish traditions!"
As Idrian stared, Yorden blustered shamelessly.
"We do have traditions like stripping ranks for open talks to understand each other deeply, or sparring like real combat to prepare!"
Idrian laughed again.
Yorden's words all but admitted to such a "talk" or spar already.
"Yorden."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Looking at the oblivious ranger, Idrian said,
"I pray you keep your ass intact from here on out."
Offering condolences in advance for the impending tragedy.
Then he turned to the pitiable ranger blinking in confusion, and the man beside him.
A man so hot-tempered that even a Dragon Slayer struggled to rein him in once riled.
Called "Ill-Tempered Lumberjack" by allies, "Raging Slaughterer" by foes—a swordmaster.
The third sword of the old kingdom to appear before him, after Gallahad and Boris.
The most reckless, fiercest Blood Lion: Hannibal.
His descendant stood there, inheriting not just the talent, but the savage traits intact.
A cub yet unaware of his own identity, soon to vividly recreate his ancestor's ferocity.
Idrian smiled in satisfaction.
Inwardly offering deep condolences once more to the poor ranger.