Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: The Steel Crown
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Helena and the Eastern Crows were remarkably capable talents in this particular field.
No, having sharpened their blades while waiting solely for this day, they might well have been the only ones suited for the task.
It took a total of four days for the severely injured Richard to fully regain consciousness.
In that time, Helena moved with tireless diligence, executing half of the corrupt officials and detaining the other half.
Of course, beyond that, she entered the ruined palace and secured all the historical records and vital royal documents that could not be allowed to be lost.
She also compiled records and testimonies of every atrocity committed by former Prime Minister Gregorz and his cronies, lending even greater strength to the royal authority that lay ahead.
Yet when Helena returned after completing all her missions, a clear bitterness shadowed her face.
It stemmed from a single corpse she had secretly brought into camp inside a carriage, evading watchful eyes.
'Wilhelm II.'
They had found him on the palace terrace, a chill place swept only by biting winter winds.
His illness had progressed so far that he drew his final breath alone, with no one beside him.
But Helena—who had despised the inept royal family and king—had recovered Wilhelm II's body for a clear reason.
She had uncovered the mastermind behind it all from the palace underlings.
What Helena showed me was a vicious poison herb known as Golden Tail.
"It only grows wild in Agui Mine. It clouds the consumer's mind and eventually drives them mad. They dosed him with it steadily."
In truth, doubts had lingered from the start.
The Wilhelm II in my memories, frail as his body was, had never been a king who neglected his people.
But after the Knight King's death, he became an entirely different man—and sure enough, the sudden change traced back to former Prime Minister Gregorz.
For an instant, my mind went blank.
More troubling than the shock of this hidden darkness was how to break the news to Richard now that he was lucid.
Richard, who had once hurled insults at his revered father, seething with betrayal over his incompetence.
If he learned the truth, it would tangle him in complex emotions laced with profound guilt.
"Should we keep it hidden?"
"......No."
After wrestling with it, I chose to tell the recovered Richard the truth myself.
It was essential for the former king, who had died so wretchedly—and for Richard, the future king.
'Bury it all in history.'
A simple tomb of pristine white cloth rose in a deep forest near the plains.
Only Richard, Ronald, and I were granted leave to enter.
"Father."
The first word he uttered before the body was "father"—a title unspoken for far too long.
Struck by its unfamiliarity, Richard wept silently, words failing him entirely.
Could he neatly sever the knot of resentment, hatred, guilt, sorrow—all mingled together?
For now, only an irreversible past and faint memories lingered.
Richard did not simply brush it off.
He quietly interred his grief and bid farewell to the man who had been both king and blood father.
A king must bear it wholly.
Having granted one day to Richard the man, the next day he emerged as King Richard, announcing his survival to the troops.
Yet before wrapping up all matters and departing for the capital, one final task remained.
Like it or not, it was a humiliation and a reckoning with history that Richard alone must handle.
"Gregorz."
True to form as the architect of every outrage, former Prime Minister Gregorz had prepared multiple escape hatches and exile routes.
But thanks to the Northern Army's timely advance, he was cornered and seized by Helena and the Eastern Crows at the mouth of a sealed canyon.
Kreeeeak! Thud!
Cough, cough!
His face matched the bastard from my memories.
I ungagged him and slapped his cheek just before he could spew his drivel.
Crack!
"......Gregorz."
Blood sprayed across the ground as Richard, waiting behind, stepped forward.
His eyes, having buried every emotion, held nothing but icy detachment.
Ptoo!
Gregorz spat shattered teeth onto the dirt and lifted his head with a guttural chuckle.
"Well, Richard. It's been ages. If I'd known we'd meet like this, I'd have killed you long ago—but I squandered my chance."
"......"
"Not even angry, eh? Trying your hand at playing king now? You and that father of yours lived too soft. That's why it came to this."
He had forsaken his life long ago.
With his final fallback—escape—a failure, resignation was all that remained.
Yet clinging to his frail pride, he flicked his sly serpent's tongue to the end, insulting the former king and Richard alike.
Vicious. Craven. Petty. Repulsive.
How much more evil could that frail old husk contain before finding satisfaction?
A man who knew his every sin yet pressed on to the bitter end—like hot tongs before me, I ached to draw my sword at once.
But Richard himself remained utterly unshaken, master of his feelings.
He knew this composure made the wretch all the more wretched.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"......Losers have no voice. History's always been that way. I sincerely pray the East meets the same fate."
Sensing death, Gregorz shut his eyes.
Richard stepped back and swung his drawn blade without a moment's pause.
Schwick!
"Gaaahhhh!!"
But Richard had not severed the neck to end a life—he sliced the eyelids.
With exquisite control honed through training, he took only the eyes.
"Gouge out the eyes and tongue. Keep him alive, unable to hear, speak, or see."
"Grk! Aaaagh!"
"You must learn how agonizing it is to live, Gregorz. Live long enough to witness the East etched into history."
Mercy killing was never the plan.
Having gifted the bastard eternal torment, Richard sheathed his spotless blade.
He strode from the reeking coffin of carnage, leaving Gregorz's screams behind without a backward glance.
His shoulders seemed lighter, his stride unbowed.
Released from his burden, Richard at last prepared to soar unburdened.
He was the sole son to inherit the throne from Wilhelm II.
The august Knight King vouched for him, and the North's Sword Saint stood vigil at his side.
Having repelled craven invaders from the East, he was both the kingdom's shield and its vanquishing sword.
Who could doubt this new king?
Legitimacy, righteousness, prowess—a royal authority beyond challenge had been born.
'Eastern King Richard.'
The reorganized Eastern Army marched unhindered toward the capital.
It evoked the East's golden age, radiant as sunlight.
No questions remained. Refugees trailed the army's path back to their homes.
The old Eastern forces and retired generals, disbanded under duress by corrupt officials, bowed gladly to the new sovereign.
Stalled common sense resumed its course.
As chaos ebbed, the sick found healing, the dead proper graves—belated but sunlit.
War orphans, pitied and taken in by miraculously reunited families and soldiers.
The East, now aiding one another, reclaimed its strength to rise anew.
'The King's Return.'
After a fortnight and two days of marching amid pacification, king and army reached the capital Dupidia at last.
None barred the royal progress; none dared cry usurpation.
This was Richard's unadulterated triumph, born of his stand against injustice.
Chaos swiftly concluded.
Armed with ironclad authority, Richard expedited restoration orders and seized all embezzled wealth for the state.
Grain fed the starving.
Enslaved were freed; laborers earned fair pay, not plunder.
Reading sincerity in his deeds, the former king's last loyalists sought reinstatement, eager to serve the realm.
Yes—the East had never been shattered glass, merely rusted steel.
United around a steadfast king, its steel resolve launched the signal toward renewal.
Winter—a touch milder than the North's—passed, followed by another month.
At last, in Dupidia, King Richard's coronation ushered in a new era.
Waaaaaah——!!
The capital drowned in cheers.
Multicolored confetti swirled in the sky; citizens lined the route, blanketing the king's path in flowers.
Hahaha!
Long live His Majesty Richard!
Blessings and acclaim erupted from the throng! Laughter tickled the ears, savory aromas teased the nose.
Today, eat, drink, revel.
Easterners, long toiling in sweat, savored the festival from their hearts.
Doooong——!
But when solemn bells tolled from the distant palace, all froze.
Late afternoon, sunset aglow—the long-awaited coronation was underway.
Laughter ceased; Easterners straightened attire like magic and streamed toward the palace.
This was the people's true reverence, beyond violence or tyranny's grasp.
The palace precincts brimmed with onlookers.
Long-pike Eastern troops paraded the avenue; the Eastern Crows—now Royal Guard—flanked the king.
Doooong——!!
The final toll lingered long.
Richard emerged before the palace in brown plate, proud and tall.
Step, step, step.
All held breath in homage.
His boundless gaze swept the world, then passed ancestral mausolea and statues.
From prince to king, beginning to end. Slowly, Richard knelt on one knee.
There stood Ronald, eyes misted, bearing the crown aloft in both hands.
"He who kneels to ancestors, who gladly succeeds the former king, who shields the people and safeguards the throne—what is your name?"
"Heir to great forebears, son of Wilhelm II, shield of the folk, sword of the crown! And Richard, born to live and die in the East."
"Then don the lost crown and swear fealty. Thus shall you reign as East's king."
"I swear—and swear again."
Ronald lifted the crown skyward.
The steel crown, reforged from molten ore, caught twilight and gleamed gold.
Ah—so it earned the name golden age.
Placing it upon the Eastern King's brow, Ronald proclaimed in solemn tones.
"The steel crown has found its master."
Long live the King!
Long live the King!
Waaaaaah——!!
Weighty silence shattered.
Crowned Richard rose; the people unleashed their roar.
And on this final day of joy, Black Arrow and I blended into the masses.
She, arms linked quietly, asked me.
"Leaving without a farewell?"
"We must return north."
"Richard'll be heartbroken."
I smiled faintly and turned away.
Arm in arm with Black Arrow, I melted slowly into the crowd.
"We'll meet again someday."
Best to draw out meetings, hasten goodbyes.
The wanderer who ended his long odyssey vanished from the capital after the rite.
Thus the tale, like a fairy story, drew to a blessed close—leaving only the epic great Eastern King Richard would pen.