Chapter 265
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 265
Chapter Title: 74. If the Night is Long, the Dream is Deep (4)
Gazing down at the hole pierced through his son's chest beneath his clasped hands, disbelief flickered in the father's eyes.
"How could you..."
He couldn't even finish the words he spat out.
"How could you..."
The father repeated the same phrase over and over, fumbling for words.
"Be in such a state..."
Only after a long while did he finally squeeze out the question.
"Didn't you say you wouldn't fight? Didn't you say you'd stay safe in the rear and look after the people? Didn't you say it would only take a moment, that you'd wrap things up quickly and come right back...!"
His eldest son gave no reply.
"Then why... why you! Why did you return like this!"
No matter how many times he asked, or asked again.
"Northern Duke! Answer me! What in the world happened there! Why has this child ended up like this!"
The young duke, who had been standing by the cart with his head bowed, suddenly dropped to his knees.
"...Kill... me, please..."
At that voice thick with despair, the father opened his mouth several times.
Then he looked back at the scene beside him.
Thud.
The knights standing by the cart collapsed to their knees as if crumbling.
"I... I just want to know. Why this child has become like this. But why won't you answer..."
The knights lowered their heads further.
"Ah..."
Staring at them, the father let out a sigh.
Twisted and shattered iron armor in utter disarray, glimpses of red bloodstains peeking through the gaps.
The moment he took in the knights' wretched states—clearly having rushed here without a thought for their own wounds—his anger had nowhere to go.
The father glanced at the knights.
"Hngh."
He reached out a hand toward his eldest son.
The limp body of his son swung limply toward his fingertips.
Stripped of his iron armor, his son's body was so light it was startling. Unthinkingly, the father pulled it into a tight embrace.
As if, unless he held on firmly, the child in his arms might float away at any moment, as if that wound-riddled flesh might shatter right then and there.
Thus, the father stood frozen for a long while, clutching his son's body.
He still couldn't believe it.
The child in his arms seemed like he might open his eyes even now.
Where a vigorously beating heart should have been, there was only an empty hole—yet his son's body still felt warm. Even after the journey from the central regions here, when it should have stiffened rigidly, the flesh remained as soft as that of the living.
But no matter how long he waited, his son did not open his eyes.
Clinging to that futile hope, standing stock-still for ages, the father finally took a step forward.
But after just one step, he had to stop again.
Drip.
His hand fell limply; as if entranced, the father stared at the fingertips.
Twisted, torn, and split fingers stabbed into his vision. A mangled, blistered palm, as if burned, pierced his eyes.
Those trained hands reduced to such a state—he could picture his son gripping his sword, fighting fiercely.
The father's resolve crumbled.
"Hngh..."
The teeth clenched in desperate restraint finally parted.
"Kaaaaahhh!"
A wail burst forth from the gap.
Clack.
The Royal Knights surrounded the king.
The knights standing behind him seized the ends of his red cloak and extended their hands.
Whoosh.
A red curtain sprang up around the king.
But though the curtain hid the tears of a father who had lost his son, it could not muffle his grief-stricken sobs.
"Kuhhh."
From beyond the curtain came the sound of a father weeping for his lost child. Outside, the knights who had lost their lord knelt with heads bowed, sobbing silently.
Marquis Billefeld looked to the sky.
This was too cruel.
The sprout on the queen's grave hadn't even bloomed once yet. Fresh flesh hadn't even begun to grow over the wound in the king's heart.
The old marquis gritted his teeth, forcing strength into his reddened eyes.
Suppressing his expression with effort, the old marquis looked ahead again.
"Escort His Highness back to the palace!"
The second prince, who had adored his brother, finally fainted. The Royal Knights hoisted him up and dashed toward the royal palace.
Amid all the commotion, an unnatural silence enveloped the king.
Only occasional sobs drifted out.
When even those sounds faded away, the king emerged, parting the curtain of benevolence.
He staggered as if he might collapse at any moment, yet he refused to entrust his eldest son to anyone else until the end.
No one dared step forward, merely watching.
The captain of the Royal Knights suddenly glanced at Marquis Billefeld.
The iron-willed knight, eyes bloodshot, gave him a look.
Please handle the aftermath.
It was an unwelcome request, but the marquis nodded silently.
"Royal Knights, return to station."
With that, even the Royal Knights followed the king through the castle gates.
And until their figures vanished completely, the crown prince's knights did not rise.
"Northern Duke..."
After hesitating several times, Marquis Billefeld stepped before them.
"Your wounds look severe. Go tend to them. And don't let foolish thoughts waste away your body."
Even at the old marquis's words, the young duke showed no sign of rising.
The other knights were the same.
The marquis let out a long sigh and raised his hand.
"Guards."
He summoned soldiers from the Grand Marshal's office and had them forcibly lift the young duke and knights.
"Escort the Northern Duke and knights to the palace."
Even the crown prince's knights, famed for their toughness in the kingdom, were dragged away powerlessly by the soldiers.
"What is to become of the kingdom..."
The marquis sighed softly and followed behind them.
Having rushed back upon hearing that the king was outside the royal capital on business, Shiorin Kirguyen couldn't bear the worry for his eldest daughter.
And so, disloyally, he sought her out before even the king.
Having abandoned even his duties as prime minister for this, he still couldn't catch a glimpse of his daughter's face.
Standing before his eldest daughter's chambers, he froze in place, unable to move.
Hngh.
Like a mouth muffled by cloth, the stifled, choked sob was faint enough to ignore if one tried—but to him, it roared like thunder.
It was only natural.
For him, it was no different from the sound of the world collapsing.
His steadfast daughter—who had stubbornly followed her own path against his opposition, who had never once shown weakness despite the hardships of walking a woman's path—now wept muffled sobs.
In agony as if his heart were tearing into a thousand, no, ten thousand pieces, he had to pull back his hand from the door handle time and again.
He couldn't bear to leave, yet staying tore at his heart.
Unable to do either, suffering in silence, footsteps approached from behind.
Startled, Shiorin Kirguyen whipped around to find the intruder.
At the end of the corridor, Vincent Ballerhard stared at him with a dry expression.
Don't come.
He mouthed silently, urging him to leave since the timing was poor.
But the young duke ignored his earnest plea.
Thud, thud.
At the unusually heavy footsteps, the stifled groans beyond the door cut off abruptly.
Shiorin Kirguyen glared at Vincent Ballerhard with resentful eyes.
But Vincent Ballerhard approached and stood before the door anyway.
"I said the timing isn't right. If you have something to say..."
"To be frank, my anger toward you hasn't subsided in the slightest."
Before Shiorin Kirguyen could finish, Vincent Ballerhard interjected.
His voice grated like rusted iron.
"What are you..."
"If it weren't for you, perhaps there might have been another way."
"Northern Duke! Shut your mouth right now!"
Shiorin Kirguyen shouted in anger at the reproachful words.
"But my shame outweighs that anger."
Even before that sharp fury, Vincent Ballerhard steadfastly continued.
"While all of us, myself included, cowardly turned away and averted our eyes, only you faced reality squarely. And so, you alone bore the heavy burden."
Shiorin Kirguyen, about to bellow at the intruder, faltered and closed his mouth.
"As an elder and a superior, it was utterly pathetic."
Only then did the pain and regret in the young duke's eyes come into view.
"But as I am now, I can't even say I'm sorry or thank you—so it seems that's the limit of my vessel."
Vincent Ballerhard spoke in a bitterly galling tone, as if chewing bile.
"I'm going to His Majesty to atone for my sins. If dishonor follows, I'll bear it all. I'll do my utmost to ensure His Majesty's wrath doesn't extend to you. So, just focus on recovering. I hope you remain an honorable knight as always."
With that, the young duke bowed his head to Shiorin Kirguyen.
"That's all. My apologies."
Before Shiorin Kirguyen could respond, Vincent Ballerhard turned and left.
Watching the duke's lonely departing back, Shiorin Kirguyen turned to the door again.
After hesitating for a long while, he too left after murmuring that he'd return later.
Thus, the door remained unopened as everyone departed.
Leaving Arwen Kirguyen's chambers, Vincent Ballerhard sought the king at once.
"Your Majesty."
In the dim room, the king sat before the bed where the crown prince lay.
Gazing at that wretched back, Vincent Ballerhard bit his lip until it bled.
"That day, the elves came."
After a long pause, he began recounting the horrific events of that day to the king's back.
Without omission or embellishment.
How the crown prince had fought, how he had met his end.
The king listened in silence.
"And with that light, Your Highness collapsed..."
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
Kals Yulihi, catching the crown prince, paled as he checked his pulse.
Then he froze like stone.
"Out of the way!"
Vincent Ballerhard shoved Kals aside and checked the crown prince's pulse himself.
Gone. No pulsation of a living being could be felt.
"T-This can't be..."
He checked the crown prince's condition again.
But no matter how many times, the result was the same.
Just then,
A ghostly pale hand slipped into the crown prince's bosom.
The hand of the half-elf who, in her final moment, had plunged her sword into the wicked elf's chest.
"What are you..."
As the knights hesitated in shock at her sudden intrusion, the half-elf pulled a small vial from the crown prince's bosom.
She uncorked the nectar-like elixir and poured it into her own mouth.
Those watching dazedly reached for her in belated rage, but she suddenly bowed her head.
And pressed her lips to the crown prince's.
Seeing her struggling to pry open his sealed lips, they realized she was forcing the elixir in.
Flash.
A soft light emanated, enveloping the crown prince.
A glimmer of hope appeared in the knights' eyes.
The crown prince's words—that using nectar to save him would be pointless—mattered not at all.
They only prayed for a miracle.
But no miracle came.
Even after the half-elf parted her lips and the gentle light fully faded, the crown prince's breath did not return.
The peerless elixir that had saved even a king on death's doorstep could only mend one of the countless wounds on the crown prince's body—the hole in his chest.
"Aaaah...!"
The knights, staring blankly, snapped to at the half-elf's beast-like wail.
"Ahhh...!"
Gesturing frantically at them, the half-elf signed.
"Let's go back quickly...?"
Fortunately, her signs resembled those of the rangers, and Vincent Ballerhard understood.
But that was all.
He comprehended the signs but not the meaning behind them.
No matter how he pressed, the half-elf repeated the same gestures.
"As time passed, Your Highness's healed wounds began reopening. Perhaps she simply wished for him to return whole, even a little."
The long tale finally ended.
After a prolonged silence, the king spoke.
"The warmth left in this child's body was merely the lingering scent of the elixir seeping into his flesh."
The father's voice, clinging to hope until the end only to have it crushed, echoed chillingly hollow.
"Your Majesty...!"
Vincent Ballerhard dropped to his knees.
"I pledged that, come what may, Your Highness would return safely during his excursion, yet I failed. Please punish this disloyal, incompetent wretch! And command me! To exact bloody vengeance on those who did this to him! Even if every Ballerhard falls in battle, I will claim the blood debt!"
Even at those anguished, resolute words, the king did not turn.
"Go back. Tend to your body first."
He merely issued the dismissal in a toneless voice.
"Your Majesty!"
"House Ballerhard has already shed too much blood. I won't permit mobilization—know that and withdraw."
"Your Majesty!"
"I know you were like blood brothers with this child. Your grief must be profound given your bond, so vengeance can wait until you've regained your composure."
Before Vincent Ballerhard could speak again, the king raised a hand.
"No more words. Please leave. Be it false warmth from the elixir, I cannot yet release this hand."
At the quiet denial laced in that flat tone, even Vincent Ballerhard bowed his head and withdrew.
Kals Yulihi refused even treatment, holding his post.
His comrades, seeing his pallid face and blood-soaked tunic as he stood resolute, urged him to heal and rest first—but he stubbornly refused.
What right did he have to treatment, what face to rest, when he couldn't protect his lord? He even lashed out.
Unable to stand it, the Royal Knights captain personally ordered him dragged away, but he ignored even that.
"If you force me, I will end my own life."
An unreasonable threat that wouldn't have worked otherwise.
But even the stubborn captain didn't reprimand him today.
If it eased his mind even slightly, it wasn't so bad, he said, even patting his shoulder.
Kals Yulihi was grateful for the consideration disguised as such, yet disagreed entirely.
His mind would never ease. No, it must not.
Even now, regret and self-recrimination crushed him.
He had always wished to be the crown prince's top knight. When asked who he cherished most among them, he longed to be the name given.
Looking back now, it was presumptuous.
He shuddered at how half-hearted his feelings for the crown prince truly were.
When Arwen Kirguyen shouldered the burden everyone ignored, he had turned away.
When the half-elf ignored the crown prince's final words and pulled out the elixir without hesitation, he had merely watched.
When Adelia Bayern tried to follow the crown prince in death several times, he had only frantically stopped her.
When Bernard Ilai tore off the silver lion epaulet of his life's ambition, he did nothing.
When Vincent Ballerhard begged forgiveness before the king and vowed total vengeance, all he could do was listen from outside the door.
At every moment, he had been a mere bystander, nothing more.
That fact tormented him unbearably.
He loathed himself for craving the crown prince's favor with empty resolve.
Thus, he could endure only by tormenting his body like this.
Moreover, he despised this self-consolation even more.
As he trembled in self-loathing, a soft voice suddenly pierced his ear.
"Who goes there!"
Kals Yulihi drew his sword and spun around.
A woman draped in a pure white cloak gazed at him.
Staring at the woman's strangely blurred face, focus slowly faded from his eyes.
Then they drifted shut.
Thud.
The Royal Knight's body, rigid until the deep night, finally crumbled.
Gazing down at the fallen Kals Yulihi, the woman glided like a ghost through the darkness toward the king.
Creeeak.
The door opened.
The woman stood before it, waiting silently.
For the father—who had desperately resisted inevitable slumber, fearing his eldest son's body might grow cold while he slept—to finally fall fully asleep.
Thud.
The father, resisting to the end, clutched his son's hand tightly and collapsed.
The woman slipped inside.
Standing by the bed, she gazed steadily at Idrian Leonberger.
After a long moment, the woman sighed deeply.
An expression formed on her blurred face.
It was profound pity,
utmost reverence,
and heartfelt affection.
The woman extended her hand.
Space warped, dragging a grotesque mass to her fingertips.
Without hesitation, she brought the mass to his chest.
The mass was sucked into the gaping hole.
And light began to flow.
The woman smiled softly.
Her form gradually blurred.
A faint smile bloomed on the lips of the woman, the pure white night sorceress Ophelia.
⟨ That is enough for me. ⟩
And in that instant,
Whoosh.
Radiant light burst forth.