Chapter 271
Chapter 271
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 271
Chapter Title: 75. More Proudly Than Anyone (4)
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Vincent Ballerhard, like most people in the kingdom, did not believe in God.
"Your Highness has awakened!"
At least, not until the messenger arrived from the capital.
"God! Thank you!"
For the first time in his life, he gave thanks to the divine.
"To the capital... I'm going to the capital."
He set off for the capital at once.
He couldn't even remember how he had slipped out of the fortress or made it to the capital.
By the time he came to his senses, he was already at the Crown Prince's palace.
"His Highness is waiting for you."
"Just a moment, make them wait a moment."
The Crown Prince, whom he had so desperately wished would survive, was right there inside.
He should have been overjoyed, but there was no time to dawdle here.
He was afraid to step inside.
The image of the Crown Prince smiling innocently even as a blade plunged into his chest was seared into his heart like a brand. The vibrant energy and spirit that had defined him in life were gone, replaced by a limp, lifeless form that still haunted his vision.
He couldn't forget the sight of the Crown Prince lying in bed with his eyes closed.
Suddenly, a dark thought struck him: what if this was all some ploy by someone to halt the Northern Army's advance? What if the Crown Prince was still exactly as he had been the last time he left the palace?
That's why he couldn't bring himself to enter.
For fear that his horrific imaginings might prove true.
"Duke of the North...?"
As a puzzled look crossed the face of the Royal Knight, Vincent Ballerhard finally mustered his resolve.
Step.
This single step he took now demanded more courage than any he had ever taken before.
His sluggish pace quickened bit by bit.
Clank, clank.
Soon, he was practically running.
Finally arriving at the Crown Prince's chambers, he flung the door open.
There was the Crown Prince.
He looked noticeably gaunt, but he was lying in bed with his eyes open, alive and breathing, gazing at Vincent.
The moment he saw the Crown Prince propped up against the bed, a storm of emotions surged within Vincent Ballerhard.
It was heartbreaking to see the restless troublemaker lying so feebly on the sickbed, his frame noticeably thinner.
At the same time, a fire ignited in his chest.
If he didn't set him straight now, that foolish Crown Prince would throw his life away like a speck of dust again. He would plunge a blade into his own chest for his so-called greater cause as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Such a thing could never happen again.
If someone had to die, it should be him.
To ensure that, he needed to break this habit once and for all.
He had to drill it into his cousin, who treated his own life so lightly, with words harsh enough to make him think twice before causing trouble, even if just to avoid hearing them.
He unleashed every word he had wanted to say but held back before, wrapping them in the cruelest, most vicious packaging.
The Crown Prince was utterly dumbfounded.
His face said he never expected his beloved maternal cousin to come at him like this.
It was a relief. His anger subsided.
Once the rage faded, joy finally filled the void.
Thank you for surviving. For staying alive.
"I'm so glad you're back, Your Highness."
So he pulled him into an embrace and said as much.
The Crown Prince said nothing.
He just stared blankly at Vincent, still in shock.
"Vincent, you're really good at harsh words."
Only after a long while did he mutter something between admiration and exasperation.
"The Ballerhards are the kingdom's foulest-mouthed rangers. And don't forget, I was once a ranger too."
It was a warning: if it happened again, he wouldn't stop at cruel words—he'd unleash a barrage of curses, so prepare himself.
"I've never really heard rangers curse much..."
The Crown Prince pouted and grumbled.
"Those sleazy bastards act meek only in front of Your Highness."
"Why?"
"Who knows, plenty of reasons. Maybe they hold their tongues because you're royalty, or maybe it's the caution they felt when you first visited Winter Castle that stuck. You were just a kid who hadn't even had your coming-of-age ceremony yet."
Before the Crown Prince could snap back at being called a kid, Vincent added,
"By the way, Yorden's the worst curser among the Ballerhards. Listening to him will rot your ears."
If curses had ranks, Yorden was a master. Even the foul-mouthed rangers bowed to him.
"Oh? Yorden?"
Curiosity lit up in the Crown Prince's eyes.
His face plainly showed his intent to experience this ear-rotting profanity someday.
Seeing that, Vincent thought to himself,
He'd have to ship that reckless ranger captain far away to keep him from showing off his vulgar talents before the Crown Prince.
Having sealed the poor ranger's fate, Vincent hurriedly changed the subject.
"Anyway, I trust you've gotten the point, Your Highness. You're not one to ignore advice—you just don't listen."
"I get it: don't be reckless with my body, and consult others before starting anything."
"Good, you've grasped the essentials."
The Crown Prince scowled, displeased by the tone as if scolding a child.
Then he pressed further.
The Duke encompassing the North had nearly started a massive war swept up in personal emotions—what fault was that, if not grave?
Such words fell on deaf ears for Vincent Ballerhard.
"If it were just my emotions, you could call it personal. But if it's what everyone desires, it's no longer personal—it's a greater cause."
"His Majesty tried to stop it."
"His Majesty isn't a Ballerhard."
Honoring the fallen with enemy blood, mourning and commemorating them—that was Ballerhard tradition. No outsiders had any say.
It was blasphemous to say before the king, but Vincent felt no hesitation.
The king did not rebuke him either.
He was probably smiling inwardly.
As long as the Ballerhard blood from his mother flowed in his eldest son, the insular, tightly knit Ballerhards would back him fully.
And that was indeed the case.
No Ballerhard saw the Crown Prince as an outsider.
"Anyway, cause or tradition—now that Your Highness has returned alive, it all means nothing."
The tense atmosphere finally eased.
Those who had been standing back joined in, congratulating and welcoming the Crown Prince's return.
How much time passed like that?
The Crown Prince began to nod off.
He had only been propped up in bed, answering questions. Yet he seemed thoroughly exhausted.
Seeing him drop his head and fall asleep, the others exchanged silent glances and quietly withdrew.
Vincent watched until the end as Adelia Bayern gently laid the Crown Prince down and tidied up, then slipped away himself.
Clank, clank.
He tried to tread as lightly as possible, but he couldn't fully silence the clash of his armor.
In the end, he woke the Crown Prince.
"Vincent."
The Crown Prince called to him in a drowsy, sleep-thick voice.
"Don't die with your head chopped off."
"..."
"Don't end up with your head just rolling on the floor..."
What ill omen was this? As Vincent opened his mouth to reply, he closed it again.
The Crown Prince had already drifted back to sleep.
"Mm... head... can't get cut off."
Even in sleep, he mumbled as if talking in his dreams. Vincent shook his head.
Did that mean anywhere but the head was fair game?
As he stepped out, Adelia Bayern, who had straightened the Crown Prince's bedding, followed.
Vincent, who had questions for her anyway, glanced back at the door and spoke.
"How long has he been like this?"
Adelia Bayern's face darkened instantly.
"Ever since he woke up."
"The whole time?"
"Yes. The whole time. He hasn't even gotten out of bed much. He spends most of the day lying there like that."
Vincent frowned.
"And..."
Adelia hesitated several times before speaking, watching him.
"Since he woke up... not once has he asked for his sword."
He froze.
An ominous imagination flashed through his mind. A horrific assumption he prayed would never come true.
"His Highness just woke up. Don't jump to conclusions."
He shook off the dark thoughts crowding his head.
"Don't take your eyes off him for a second. Attend him faithfully."
He repeated the order several times.
Call him immediately if anything happened.
**
Adelia Bayern dozed lightly, ears perked.
Ready to act if anything went wrong with the Crown Prince.
But her body, worn from constant vigilance lately, betrayed her will and succumbed deeply to sleep despite herself.
Snore.
"Ah."
Startled awake by her own snoring, she reflexively checked the bed.
"Huh?"
She froze.
The Crown Prince, who had been sleeping like the dead, was gone.
Sleep vanished in an instant.
Adelia Bayern bolted from the room.
As she opened her mouth to announce his absence—
Grab.
Someone clamped a hand over her mouth.
She instinctively seized the hand, twisted to break it, and drew the dagger hidden in her clothes with her other hand, aiming for the assailant.
But she never thrust the dagger.
The figure in the moonlight was someone she knew well.
Gunef, the half-elf who served the Crown Prince, stood there.
Even with his arm twisted painfully, distorting his face, he didn't utter a sound. Adelia quickly released her grip.
The freed half-elf moved his lips silently.
Quietly.
Then he pointed into the distance.
She saw figures hidden in the garden shadows and bushes.
Royal Knights, the Crown Prince's silver lions, even the kingdom's sole duke.
All concealing their presence, watching somewhere intently.
Adelia followed their gazes.
There, in a deeply shadowed corner of the garden, was the Crown Prince.
Gazing blankly at the sky. Mumbling endlessly to himself in a low voice.
Focusing naturally, she caught his words.
He lamented the full moon's plight, unable to whiten the sky no matter how bright. He sighed over his own fate, never to face a white night again.
Adelia couldn't understand a word.
Yet the heavy emotions within were painfully clear.
Her chest ached inexplicably. Tears welled up without reason.
Thus, she watched the Crown Prince with misty eyes.
Now silent, he stared endlessly at the sky before staggering to his feet.
Tap, tap.
Lost in the sight, the half-elf Gunef tapped her shoulder.
Quickly. Back to the room.
At the silent urging, Adelia startled and dashed back to the room.
Even in her haste, she minimized her presence and slipped in through the window so the Crown Prince wouldn't notice.
Then she pressed her head to the bed and squeezed her eyes shut.
Thud, thud.
Footsteps approached.
Swish.
The blankets rustled.
Soon after, steady breathing sounded.
Adelia cracked her eyes open quietly.
The Crown Prince, eyes closed, was asleep again.
Blissfully unaware of what had just happened.
Adelia gazed at the sleeping Crown Prince with a somber expression.
She had desperately tried to avoid detection, yet part of her hoped it would all be for naught.
The usual Crown Prince would have seen through it.
No matter how she hid her presence or pretended to sleep shamelessly, she couldn't fool his eyes and ears.
That was certain.
But the Crown Prince noticed nothing.
Not her presence, nor her ragged breathing, nor even the clumsily hidden figures in the shadows and bushes.
This was no good sign.
**
No sooner had dawn broken than visitors poured in.
They were the ones who had hidden in the garden the night before, watching the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince greeted them with a smile.
But the guests maintained stiff, rigid faces despite his welcome.
"What's this? What's going on?"
Only then noticing their expressions, the Crown Prince frowned and asked.
Their already tense faces froze solid.
"What the hell is it?"
He pressed again, but they only glanced at each other—no one stepped up to answer.
In the awkward silence, the Crown Prince reached out and poked Bernard Ilai's stomach.
"Speak."
Startled by the sudden jab, Bernard Ilai yelped.
"C-Could it be... you can't use a sword anymore?!"
The blunt, direct question froze the entire room.
"What, that's it? I thought some disaster had struck with all of you barging in at dawn."
His nonchalant, almost bored response drew collective sighs of relief from the knights, as if on cue.
"But how did you know?"
When the Crown Prince spoke again, no one immediately grasped the implication.
"Know what?"
Bernard Ilai asked back, and
"What else? That I can't use a sword."
The Crown Prince replied.
As if it were no big deal. In a thoroughly indifferent tone.