Chapter 272
Chapter 272
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 272
Chapter Title: 75. More Proudly Than Anyone (5)
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The fact that the speaker was nonchalant didn't mean the listener could afford to be.
"Th-then what about Mana Heart?"
Bernard Ilai asked frantically, like he was having a fit.
"Can't use it. Mana Heart's completely shattered."
The crown prince remained utterly calm.
His attitude was so serene—despite the immense loss—that it even made one wonder if his head was okay.
Perhaps because that demeanor felt so utterly divorced from reality, Bernard Ilai struggled to accept the crown prince's words.
"You're joking, right?"
Instead of answering, the crown prince gazed at Bernard Ilai with clear, transparent eyes.
Clank.
Bernard Ilai suddenly drew his sword.
And thrust it forward abruptly.
"What are you doing?"
"I know it's a joke."
"I don't joke around like this."
"No. It has to be a joke."
Bernard Ilai thrust the sword out again.
"Show me your Aura Blade. Or Sword Aura."
His face was filled with desperation, despite the deliberately playful tone.
The crown prince let out a sigh and took hold of the sword.
Thud.
But the sword he grasped along with that sigh didn't stay in his hand for even a moment before dropping onto the bed.
"What are you doing?"
Bernard Ilai picked up the sword again and forcibly shoved it into the crown prince's hand.
Clang.
The sword, crafted with the utmost care by master smiths, hit the floor.
The man, pale at the sharp sound, squeezed out his words.
"Is it because it's not your usual sword? If so, I can fetch Your Highness's sword right now..."
"Bernard."
The crown prince cut him off and slowly shook his head.
"You already know."
"What do you..."
"Can't hold a sword."
He raised his hand to show everyone.
The hideous, torn and split palm.
"Can't properly hold a sword with hands like these..."
"No. That's not true. Absolutely not. Look at my hands. Mine are just as scarred as Your Highness's..."
"Can't use mana, no strength in my hands. Can't even walk properly right now."
At that matter-of-fact confession, Bernard Ilai stared blankly at the crown prince before collapsing to the floor.
"...How. How can you..."
Bernard Ilai clenched his teeth and forced out his voice.
"How can you be so calm?"
The crown prince gave a small shrug.
"This isn't punishment."
He wore a gentle smile, like a saint.
"It's the gift she left me."
His eyes chased the form of someone absent, gazing vacantly into empty space.
"Looks like she wanted me—who only ever charged ahead—to finally stop and rest like this. Wanted me—who knew nothing but swords and war—to at least forget them for a moment and look around. That's why she revived me but didn't fix my shattered Mana Heart. She definitely had the power to do it."
He spoke slowly, his voice thick with hoarseness, longing, and grief, just as he had murmured alone in the garden the night before.
"Maybe she wanted me to start over. To stop being chained to the past and begin anew. Anne seemed to hope for that too. At the end... she called me Ian, not..."
The crown prince suddenly turned to the knights.
"So that's what I'm going to do."
And gave a small laugh.
"Just like they wanted."
It was a smile utterly free of shadows, one that someone lost in despair could never muster.
"Live like a human for once."
A relieved smile, like that of an ascetic who had found enlightenment at the end of hardship.
At the same time, a hopeful, expectant expression—like that of a boy dreaming.
The knights were left speechless by that innocent face so out of place with the situation.
Utterly baffled expressions, unable to comprehend what the crown prince was saying.
All except one: Arwen Kirguyen.
"That's a good idea."
As the knights stood dumbfounded, Arwen Kirguyen stepped forward and spoke to the crown prince.
Her eyes shone with pride. A faint smile played on her lips.
To the other knights, her expression was just as inscrutable as the crown prince's words and attitude.
"Knew you'd say something like that, Arwen."
But the crown prince replied nonchalantly, as if he'd expected her response from the start.
"I'll be Your Highness's sword."
At that moment, Adelia Bayern stepped forward with what she considered a resolute expression—but to others, it looked utterly kindhearted.
"That's what I swore from the beginning."
The crown prince's eyes widened round.
Then he curved them into a smile.
"Reliable."
That was the beginning.
"So what if there's no sword? Thousands of northern swords and spears await Your Highness's command."
Vincent Ballerhard growled that if anyone dared block your path, he'd bury them under his eyes right then and there.
"Your Highness told me yesterday to be your shield. So I shall be nothing but your shield."
Kals Yulihi calmly stated his resolve, vowing to fulfill his duty as a Royal Knight.
And Bernard Ilai—
Bang.
—flung open the door and stormed out.
"That fool..."
Vincent Ballerhard bristled at the immature outburst.
"He's been following only Your Highness's back since Winter Castle. He's probably struggling to accept the situation."
Arwen Kirguyen stepped in, mentioning how deeply Bernard Ilai admired the crown prince as a knight and yearned to emulate him, soothing the others' discontent.
Vincent Ballerhard clicked his tongue, then suddenly asked the crown prince as if it had just occurred to him.
"So, what are you going to do from now on?"
"No special plans yet."
The crown prince smiled brightly.
"Figure I'll laze around and think for a bit first."
"Give me a knife."
Vincent Ballerhard scowled fiercely.
"Weren't you going to laze around and think?"
"Yeah. I lazed."
The crown prince said it proudly, as if he'd accomplished something grand.
"And the conclusion's a knife again?"
"Yeah."
"What for? You can't even hold it properly."
"I said I was fine, but aren't you being too blunt about it?"
"Does it hurt your feelings?"
"Not really. Just feels like your attitude flipped too fast."
"You've never been one to hold things in anyway."
"True enough."
A brief exchange of meaningless banter followed.
"So why do you need a knife you can't even hold properly?"
Vincent Ballerhard narrowed his eyes and asked, prompting the crown prince to pout.
"I can at least hold a small knife."
"Planning to learn dagger techniques?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"To make something."
At the unexpected reply, he frowned and asked.
"Make what?"
"You don't need to know that far. Just get me a knife."
"I need to know the purpose to procure the right one."
"For whittling wood."
Another answer that defied expectations. Vincent Ballerhard narrowed his eyes at the crown prince.
"So, gonna get it for me or not?"
The crown prince urged him on with what he considered a menacing glare.
"Don't need wood?"
"What the hell is this?"
The crown prince let out a hollow laugh upon seeing the pile of lumber in one corner of the training grounds.
"Asked for wood, and you hauled over an entire forest."
It was an absurd amount—enough to build several houses with plenty left over. Not for mere carving.
And Vincent Ballerhard hadn't sent just lumber.
"Why are you here?"
The ranger standing before the wood pile grinned.
"Heard you're making something out of wood."
"But."
"The most important thing for wood carving is handiwork! And for handiwork, it's Yorden! Your one and only Ballerhard master carpenter!"
The crown prince snickered at the long-winded reply.
"Ballerhard's top drunk, best ranger, biggest cusser. And now top carpenter?"
"Minus cusser, add handsome, and that's me to a T."
Even at the crown prince's jab, Ranger Yorden shot back cheekily.
And then boasted at length about his many talents.
"See how useful I am now?"
"Not sure about that. But I get why your patrol uniform's unlucky."
At those words, Yorden—who'd been nonstop chattering—finally shut his mouth for the first time.
But true to his chatty nature, he soon opened it again and started babbling.
"So, what are you making? Jewelry? Statue? Furniture? Weapon?"
"Well, what I'm trying to make is..."
"Just say the word. Ballerhard's top carpenter will turn Your Highness into a fine woodworker in no time with all my experience and know-how."
"Like I was saying..."
"Got a girl in mind? How about jewelry? People think wood trinkets are cheap market trash, but that's ignorance—they know one side, not the other! Wood grain jewelry can be so elegant; once you see it, you'll never think that way again."
The crown prince reeled, having tried and failed to speak several times.
His head must have been spinning from the ranger's relentless chatter.
Swipe.
Adelia Bayern, silently supporting the crown prince, gave the faintest frown.
Yorden clamped his mouth shut with a gasp.
"...So, what are you making?"
Only after a long pause did he cautiously ask, glancing at Adelia Bayern.
Only then did the crown prince, dizziness passed, answer the ranger's question.
"A statue."
"Statues come in all kinds. Depending on size and shape, the wood varies greatly..."
"Adelia."
Just as Yorden slyly started chattering again, the crown prince called to the handmaiden knight at his side.
"Cut that for me."
"How shall I cut it?"
"Right now, into exactly eight pieces from that size."
It must have sounded like she was pondering how to dismember him, because the ranger's face drained white.
"W-wait a sec..."
Before the ranger could finish, a flash of sword light gleamed.
"Gah!"
The ranger hurriedly patted down his body.
Rumble.
Then he looked right behind him.
One nicely colored plank from the mountain-like pile had been perfectly split into eight pieces, rolling on the ground.
Step, step.
Adelia Bayern glanced at the ranger and strode past.
Clack.
She gathered the wood pieces and presented them to the crown prince.
"Perfect."
A satisfied smile bloomed on the crown prince's face as he checked the pieces.
"Let's head in. Grab that knife over there."
"Yes, Your Highness."
A brief exchange followed, and the crown prince turned and vanished toward his quarters.
"Body may be like that, but personality's the same—puts my mind at ease."
Left alone, the ranger watched them go and let out a sigh of relief.
But the relief was short-lived.
"Argh! Screwed up! If not this, it's endless long-range patrols!"
The ranger wailed alone, thinking of his liege who seemed itching to send him far away for some reason.
From that day on, the crown prince devoted himself entirely to whittling wood.
He didn't let go of the carving knife even when guests arrived, immersing himself except when sleeping.
But carving with mangled hands wasn't easy, and the results of his diligent efforts were thoroughly underwhelming.
"Looked easy when Anne did it. Way harder than I thought."
The crown prince grumbled softly, looking down at what he'd made.
Adelia Bayern suddenly stared intently at the crown prince.
"Why?"
"Just curious who this Anne is that Your Highness mentions so often..."
The crown prince picked up the wood piece he'd set down momentarily and answered.
"She exists. That kind of person."
And resumed whittling with his injured hands.
"Foul-mouthed, but warm-hearted. Small stature, but wields a sword like no other."
Adelia Bayern couldn't see the crown prince's downcast face.
"Told me to live without minding others' eyes. To live as the human Idrian Leonberger, not the knight."
But it wasn't hard to imagine his expression.
"To live more proudly than anyone."
He was surely smiling.
"That's the kind of amazing woman she is."
With deep warmth.