Chapter 275
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: Idrian Leonberger (3)
The knights looked at the crown prince with ambiguous expressions that were neither smiles nor frowns.
His hopeful words were fine, but their faces clearly showed they couldn't fathom why he had suddenly presented them with that sculpture.
"Now you get it, right?"
The crown prince spoke to them in a deliberately boastful tone.
Get what, exactly?
The question that surfaced on the knights' faces was identical, as if cast from the same mold.
"Ah."
At that moment, Kals Yulihi let out an exclamation.
"Could it be..."
Just as he opened his mouth to say something.
Grab.
Someone gripped his shoulder.
It was Arwen Kirguyen.
She quietly shook her head.
A look of puzzlement appeared on Kals Yulihi's face.
"Indeed. I see."
But instead of answering his unspoken question, Arwen Kirguyen chimed in agreement with the crown prince's cryptic words.
The crown prince lowered the hand he had raised.
His face carried a hint of smug satisfaction.
But that lasted only a moment.
"Yawn."
The crown prince yawned with a weary expression.
"It seems Your Highness is fatigued."
Adelia Bayern stepped forward and dismissed the knights.
"What in the..."
Gawain Gerst scowled deeply and tried to step forward, but the knights blocked his path in unison, like a wall of broad backs.
"Then, Your Highness, we'll take our leave."
"Rest well."
The crown prince swept his half-lidded gaze over the knights before collapsing onto the bed.
He fell asleep as if passing out.
Adelia Bayern took the carving knife and sculpture from the crown prince's hand and signaled to the knights with her eyes.
The knights quietly filed out of the room, muffling their footsteps.
Swoosh.
As soon as the door closed, Vincent Ballerhard turned around with a cold expression.
There stood Gawain Gerst, surrounded by the knights.
"Gawain Gerst."
His icy voice made Gawain Gerst stiffen involuntarily.
"How long must I endure your arrogance?"
"I..."
"You reek of alcohol. Did you dare stand before His Highness in that state?"
"I, I just..."
"Has the drunkenness frozen your tongue as well?"
The affable demeanor he had shown before the crown prince was gone.
In its place was the lord of winter, his eyes frozen with stern severity.
"I just... with His Highness..."
Under that frost-like aura and dignity, Gawain Gerst repeated the same words over and over.
"I despise you. That face claiming to be the world's most wretched, that pettiness that never changes with time, that irreverent gaze you fix on His Highness—I hate it all."
Vincent Ballerhard spat out his disgust while glaring at Gawain Gerst.
"...I knew you hated me, my lord."
"Yes. Good. But you don't know the real reason I loathe you."
Vincent Ballerhard's expression grew even colder.
"The true reason I despise you lies in that half-hearted attitude of yours."
His eyes brimmed with revulsion and contempt.
"What are you, exactly? What gives you the right to hover around His Highness? You're neither serving him with true loyalty nor following him with reverence. You merely circle him like a phantom, without sincerity. Are you even worthy to be His Highness's knight?"
Gawain Gerst bit his lip under the blade-sharp criticism, saying nothing.
"Northern Duke."
Arwen Kirguyen, who had been standing silently aside, stepped forward.
"That's enough."
Vincent Ballerhard shot Gawain Gerst one last frigid glare before turning sharply on his heel.
"The next time we meet, expect no mercy from me."
With that, Vincent Ballerhard vanished down the corridor.
Gawain Gerst stared blankly at the end of the hall before dropping his head heavily.
"I didn't know. Truly, I had no idea. That's all..."
"Don't delude yourself."
He jerked his head up at the sighing interruption.
"I didn't step in to hear your excuses."
Arwen Kirguyen regarded him with utter impassivity, as if he were a complete stranger.
"I don't disagree with the Northern Duke."
Even though he had once been a knight under her command, she looked at him without a shred of emotion.
"You need to clarify your position."
She didn't raise her voice in reprimand.
"If you can't offer His Highness proper loyalty and respect, it might not be a bad idea to change your affiliation. If you wish, I can petition His Majesty to reinstate you to the position originally intended for you."
Nor did she lash out coldly.
"Perhaps that would be better for you and your comrades."
She merely suggested it flatly.
"Go back and tell your comrades everything you've heard and seen. Deliberate with them. Decide how you'll conduct yourselves moving forward and make your stance clear. Then come find me."
Her words cut all the sharper for their calm delivery. Gawain Gerst's face twisted as his mouth opened and closed silently.
But in the end, he said nothing and bowed his head again.
After standing there dazed for a long while, Gawain Gerst suddenly offered a small bow and turned to leave.
"By the way, why did you stop me earlier?"
Kals Yulihi, watching his retreating figure like a defeated soldier, asked as if the thought had just occurred to him.
"Weren't you about to ask about His Highness's hand?"
Arwen Kirguyen replied matter-of-factly.
"Yes. I wanted to ask if His Highness's recent dedication to sculpting was part of training to regain sensation in his lost hand."
"That's why I stopped you."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"Over the past seven years, he has shouldered burdens unfit for his age and lived with fierce intensity."
Her gaze turned toward the door.
"I hope His Highness bears no more such loads. Not even hopes or expectations."
Beyond that door, where the crown prince lay.
"But soon enough, he will have to shoulder much again."
Her eyes deepened.
"Whenever that time comes, until then, I wish only for him to set aside that intensity and find peace."
Her gaze was as unyielding as her moniker, the Steel Knight.
"For that, I am prepared to do anything."
A month had already passed since the crown prince began making sculptures.
Surprisingly, his sculpting skills hadn't improved a bit in that time.
There was scarcely any difference between the 'Anne' he made a month ago and the recent unidentified lumps.
At least, that's how it seemed to Adelia Bayern.
But the crown prince apparently thought otherwise.
"Oh! This one's pretty good!"
The crown prince exclaimed in admiration at the sculpture in his hand.
It was an assessment Adelia Bayern couldn't comprehend.
So she chose to keep silent.
But her lord wouldn't leave her be.
"Adelia. Look at this."
His voice brimmed with excitement.
Turning her head, she saw the crown prince proudly holding out a ragged sculpture, gazing at her expectantly, as if awaiting praise.
His eager eyes were so burdensome that she involuntarily lowered hers.
Unfortunately, her exhilarated lord didn't notice her discomfort and chattered on happily.
"Isn't this the best one I've made so far?"
Unable to agree, she managed an awkward smile.
Thankfully, his attention didn't linger.
"Almost done now."
The crown prince refocused on his near-complete masterpiece.
Whether the formless wood chunk was truly nearing completion was debatable, but it was a relief for her nonetheless.
Adelia Bayern quietly watched her lord.
Watching him hum a tune and caress the sculpture with such evident joy lifted her spirits.
A soft smile crept onto her lips unbidden.
Scrape, scrape.
The ceaseless sound of whittling felt languid and peaceful.
Lulled into drowsiness, she naturally yawned.
"Done!"
Her half-open mouth snapped shut in surprise.
"Wow! I made this!"
The crown prince, clearly delighted with his creation, kept marveling at it with a satisfied grin.
Watching him, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Seeing him so gleefully animated was her greatest joy, but anticipating his request for her opinion already gave her a headache.
Lying would go against her nature.
Being honest would only disappoint him.
This was a true dilemma.
The other knights avoided such awkward moments by vanishing like ghosts whenever he neared completion.
They'd reappear after he started a new one, observe briefly, and leave.
Today was no different.
Not a single knight who usually wore down the threshold was in sight.
She anxiously awaited their arrival.
"Adelia. What do you think?"
But those she hoped for didn't come, and the moment she dreaded arrived first.
"Your Highness?"
"What vibe does it give?"
"Wh-what vibe do you mean?"
"Don't you feel that battle-hardened, soaked-in-blood aura?"
"Now that you mention it, maybe..."
Under his persistent questions, her face nearly crumpled into tears.
"What's this now?"
Her savior was the Winter Lord.
"Oh! Vincent! Perfect timing. Check this out. My masterpiece."
"Masterpiece? That?"
The Winter Lord asked dubiously.
"Yeah. A dual-wielding mercenary obsessed with gold. Spot on, right?"
"Can't even tell if it's holding dual swords. Heck, not sure if it's even human."
The lord's retort made the crown prince click his tongue.
"Really?"
His look implied the lord was an uncultured philistine, prompting Vincent to scowl fiercely.
"No. How should I know? It looks more like goblin meat chewed up and spat out by an orc."
"Hah. Fine. This is why I can't talk art with sword-swingers."
"Anyone hearing that would think you're not one."
"I'm not. I can't even use a sword."
"..."
The Winter Lord stared at the crown prince in disbelief.
His eyes asked why he had to say that now, so brightly and casually.
"Why? What's up?"
The crown prince, of course, paid no mind.
"Fine."
"Fine by me too."
"From now on, I won't show you anymore, Vincent. You wouldn't get it anyway."
"Do whatever."
It was hard to believe this childish exchange was between the crown prince of a nation and a mighty duke, but it was nothing new to Adelia Bayern.
The two had bickered like this forever.
She recalled them squabbling over whose banner had more plumes and chuckled softly.
As she watched the two men, ill-suited to their ages and stations, bicker, the door opened.
"Hm?"
Arwen Kirguyen, entering, froze at the boisterous atmosphere.
"Perfect timing, Arwen."
"A paragon of fairness like you can give an honest opinion even before His Highness. We need your take."
The crown prince and Winter Lord brightened at the sight of her.
"Arwen, you know what this is, right?"
"Do you know what this is?"
Their simultaneous questions made Arwen Kirguyen glance at the proffered sculpture.
"A man wielding dual swords, isn't it?"
Joy and dismay crossed their faces.
"See! Arwen got it at a glance!"
The crown prince beamed triumphantly.
"No way! Impossible! How did you recognize goblin meat spit out mid-chew?!"
The Winter Lord looked utterly defeated.
Arwen Kirguyen didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow at their theatrics.
"Northern Duke. His Majesty summons you."
She stated her business as if she hadn't heard a word.
"His Majesty?"
The dejected Winter Lord startled and looked at her.
"He said he's waiting, so you should hurry."
The Winter Lord glanced back at the crown prince.
"...I'll go for now."
The crown prince waved him off with a still-smug face.
As the scowling lord exited, Arwen Kirguyen spoke as if it had just come to mind.
"The mercenary band and some knights departed from Branburt County have arrived at the southern fortress and joined up with Lord Ilai."
"Why tell me that?"
"Thought you might be curious."
"Not curious."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
Arwen Kirguyen stared steadily at the crown prince.
He met her gaze.
Feigning nonchalance.
But only for a moment.
The crown prince spoke with evident displeasure.
"Tell them no drinking. Guy's got rotten habits. Gets drunk and babble-y. More talk means more mistakes."
"Understood. I'll pass it on."
Arwen Kirguyen bowed with her usual stoic face and turned to leave when the crown prince stopped her.
"Let's go together."
He rose from the bed.
Adelia Bayern, watching nearby, immediately reached out to assist him.
Arwen Kirguyen did the same from the other side.
"Arwen, take care of those."
He nodded toward the sculptures he'd made over the past month.
"Which ones?"
Arwen Kirguyen strode over and asked.
"All of them there."
"All of them?"
"Yeah. All."
Her eyes asked why.
"You'll see soon enough."
Instead of explaining, he simply requested.
Arwen Kirguyen nodded once and gathered them up.
Meanwhile, Adelia Bayern helped him dress.
"The night air is biting."
"The fur's heavy."
"You still need to wear it."
Ignoring his grumbles, the ever-devoted Adelia Bayern draped the thickest fur over his bony shoulders.
"Good now?"
She smiled at his question, as if seeking permission.
"Then let's go."
The crown prince staggered toward the door. Adelia Bayern hurriedly supported his shoulder to prevent a fall.
"Your Highness?"
As the door opened, Kals Yulihi, who had been waiting with his back to it, widened his eyes in surprise.
Spotting Arwen Kirguyen laden with sculptures, he quickly took some from her.
"Let's go."
The crown prince headed straight for the training grounds.
"Sort the driest logs from those and stack them here."
Without question, Adelia Bayern stacked the wood as instructed.
"Now, fire."
At the crown prince's word, Kals Yulihi gestured. A court knight fetched a burning log from a distant fire and thrust it into the pile's gaps.
After a moment, red embers glowed through the cracks.
Crackle, crackle.
The dry wood ignited swiftly.
"Catches quick."
His words held a sigh-like tone. Standing silently, watching the flames, the crown prince extended a hand to Arwen Kirguyen.
"Hand it over."
"Your Highness?"
Puzzled but compliant, she passed him a sculpture.
The crown prince stared blankly at it for a long time.
Then, after what seemed an eternity, he cautiously reached out.
Plop.
The sculpture—born of pricks and cuts from the carving knife—fell into the flames.
The onlookers' eyes bulged at the sudden act.
"Your Highness?"
"Another."
Ignoring them, he took it, stared blankly, and tossed it in.
Repeating the process.
Each gaze was prolonged, each motion deliberate, so consigning all to the fire took considerable time.
Once done, the crown prince's face was profoundly strange.
As if conducting a loved one's funeral, it was choked with grief.
For mere sculptures.
He stared into the flames for a long while.
Murmuring softly.
"Snow-capped peaks, frozen valleys, blood-soaked ramparts stand silent." "Only the dawn's assault horns echo through."
⟨ Dirge of Souls ⟩
"Before them I stand, my body burning to ash, awaiting spring's arrival." "Birds return, defying the gales that swept their path." "The fortress sheds its icy shroud, ragged and exposed, finally awakening to stretch."
The dirge begun before the orc-piled corpses.
The song of spring finally arriving after the harsh winter.
And at that moment,
Whoosh.
The yellowish flames erupted into brilliant blue.
Identical to the soulfire blaze that had once bloomed along his blade instead of lightning.
"Y-Your Highness?"
The startled onlookers turned to him.
But the crown prince wasn't looking at them.
He simply gazed endlessly at the blue flames, and
"Farewell."
Bade someone goodbye.
His earlier grief vanished, replaced by a radiant smile.