Adults and Children (2)
"...I assumed this was an offer requiring no deliberation whatsoever."
That nanny must have schooled him thoroughly.
A look of displeasure crossing his features, Duke Crowner withdrew his hand from Edwin's shoulder. "Why do you hesitate?"
"Well, that is..." Edwin's voice trailed off into uncertainty.
He knew better than anyone that even if his circumstances had improved compared to the past, fundamentally nothing had changed. Which only makes this harder to decipher. What if accepting this offer brought disaster upon them? What if refusing it invited an equally terrible catastrophe? To the young prince, it was impossible to fathom which choice held any promise of a good outcome.
"Haha." Watching the boy flounder, Jerome let out a thin, mocking chuckle. "It seems Your Highness is incapable of deciding anything on your own."
"...Pardon?"
The abrupt shift from courteous warmth to cold condescension left Edwin bewildered. His small fists clenched tight, fingernails digging into his palms.
Jerome let out a weary sigh and continued. "I do not know what poisoned whispers that nanny filled your head with in the interim, but I extended this offer out of pure goodwill."
Whispers? Rachel? Edwin's brow furrowed sharply.
"What do you mean by—"
"I understand, of course. Your Highness is still young, naturally swayed by the adults in your immediate orbit." Jerome gave an indulgent, patronizing nod. "Yet you are an imperial prince. A lion does not take counsel from a cur."
"..."
At those disparaging words, Edwin's expression darkened.
Jerome, completely indifferent to the boy's shifting mood, pressed on. "Are you aware that your nanny was merely an adopted child taken in by a count's family? She is nothing more than an ignorant, foolish woman who knows nothing of how the world truly works." The duke openly dismantled the absent nanny's character without an ounce of hesitation. "So do not allow yourself to be dragged about by useless drivel. Think carefully on—"
Before the grand duke could finish his sentence, a resolute voice cut him short from below.
"Duke Crowner."
A pair of piercing sapphire eyes—strikingly reminiscent of the Emperor's own—fixed upon him with unwavering intensity.
"Rachel is not that kind of person."
The young prince was looking straight into the continent-class warrior's eyes, refusing to flinch.
"Do not speak of her that way."
Unmistakable hostility blazed within those two youthful eyes, daring to challenge him.
Well, look at this.
A faint twitch disturbed the corner of Jerome's eye.
"...Prince Edwin." He closed his eyes briefly, then reopened them with absolute frigidity. "A command can only be issued when one stands upon higher ground than one's counterpart."
In that singular breath, an overwhelming, suffocating tide of bloodlust washed over Edwin.
"Gasp—!"
The young prince choked on his own breath, his knees nearly giving out as his head was forcibly bowed beneath the crushing weight. Sweat poured in torrents down his chalk-white face.
"What a pity." Jerome observed the shuddering boy with total indifference before abruptly retracting his aura. "I truly believed Your Highness would comprehend my good intentions."
Edwin gasped for air like a drowning man dragged from the depths, his chest heaving violently.
"I shall take it that you have declined my offer." Turning his gaze back toward the training grounds as if nothing had transpired, the duke waved a dismissive hand. "Our discussion is over. You may take your leave."
Take his leave? Did that mean he was forbidden from attending training from this moment on?
Dismay written across his face, Edwin hesitated, rooted to the spot.
"What are you doing? Fall into the ranks."
A wave of relief washed through Edwin upon realizing he had not been banished from the field after all. But as he hurried to catch up with the marching knights, Jerome's voice drifted lazily from behind.
"Ah, one more thing. If you fail to complete today's full quota, there will be no need for you to show your face tomorrow." Jerome offered him a warm, genial smile that chilled the blood in Edwin's veins. "After all, stragglers are nothing but a hindrance."
The afternoon sun beat down with blistering, unrelenting ferocity.
As they pounded up the mountain trail, the knights of the Gloria Knights' Third Division kept glancing over their shoulders.
"Is this really all right?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, he's an imperial prince. Having him roll in the dirt right alongside us feels a bit..."
"Leave it be. The Commander explicitly ordered us not to pay him any mind."
"Even so..."
"He's right. The kid's practically still a baby..."
The knights grimaced as they watched the Third Prince stumbling after them, his face a miserable ruin of sweat, tears, and runny snot.
"Why is an imperial royal so skin and bones, anyway? The youngest squirt in my household has more meat on him than that."
"Didn't you hear? The Third Prince is the Penniless Prince."
"Penniless Prince? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means he has jack shit to his name, just like us."
Most of the Third Division knights were commoners of exceptional skill. The sole reason they remained relegated to the Third Division despite their martial talent was their birth.
"Fair enough. If he had any backing, why would a high and mighty prince be sweating through drills with commoners like us?"
"Hey, do you think he's going to pass out again? Orders or not, running a little kid into the ground with our regimen seems excessively harsh."
"Quit worrying about him! We're on the verge of dying ourselves—who has the breath to pity anyone else?"
"Pick up the pace! If that kid catches up to our heels, the Commander will skin us alive!"
"Dammit all! What's gotten into the brass today?!"
With their own survival on the line, the knights quickly pushed all thoughts of the prince from their minds.
Meanwhile, Edwin was suffering just as agonizingly as they were. No... maybe I'm already dead. His knees creaked with every jarring step, and the soles of his feet felt as though they were walking on live coals. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to collapse, to abandon everything and run away.
His mind was in complete disarray. Why had Duke Crowner offered to instruct him? Had something transpired between him and Rachel? But deep down, none of those questions truly mattered.
I made Sir Jerome angry.
Edwin's brow knit in sorrow. Having the hero he so deeply admired turn against him was a bitter pill to swallow. Still, I don't regret it. Insulting the person he trusted most in the world, right to his face—that was something he could never abide. If anything, the encounter had shattered Edwin's illusions about the grand duke. To discover that his idol was a man who could so casually demean someone another person held dear was a profound and crushing shock.
"...I'm an idiot."
"If you have breath enough to talk to yourself, you must still have stamina to spare."
"Eek!"
A voice speaking right beside his ear startled a shrill yelp out of Edwin.
"S-Sir Philip?"
The figure who had ghosted up to his side without so much as a whisper of footsteps was none other than Philip Meyer, Vice-Commander of the order. Edwin looked back and forth between the retreating vanguard and the knight commander in utter shock. "Um, this is the very back of the formation..."
"Too much tension in your shoulders. Shorten your stride." Cutting through the prince's stammering without hesitation, Philip dispensed clipped instructions. "Do not swing your arms wildly. Clench your fists lightly and pump them forward and back."
Edwin blinked at him in a daze as the rapid-fire critique continued.
"A mountain slope is not level ground. Do not land on your heels; strike the earth with the entirety of your foot."
"Excuse me, Sir Philip...?"
"Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth." Philip's silver plate armor gleamed beneath the sunlight filtering through the canopy. "If you wish to remain in this training, you would do well to heed my words."
Numbly, Edwin adjusted his posture precisely as instructed. The moment he did, a miraculous shift occurred. Running became noticeably less grueling. His footing stabilized, and his pace even seemed to pick up.
"Then I shall take my leave." Having said what he came to say, Philip surged ahead, effortlessly leaving the prince behind.
Did he... just help me?
Edwin stared at the knight's retreating back in astonishment. Why? It made no sense whatsoever, but there was no luxury to ponder it. The silhouettes of the other knights were already fading in the distance. Grateful for his newly steadied breathing, Edwin redoubled his efforts and pushed forward into the ascent.
Twenty round trips to the mountain summit.
Against all odds, Edwin endured the hellish ordeal to the very end. Nor did it stop there—he pushed through the horizontal ladder traverse that had caused him to faint only the day before, clearing every single rung. Though the knights made a show of indifference, silent astonishment rippled through their ranks. Not a single man among them had expected the frail, diminutive prince to survive the brutal training of the Gloria Knights.
"Phew..."
Exhausted, Edwin sat alone beneath the shade of a sprawling tree, watching the knights gathered on the opposite side of the clearing as they cooled themselves. Despite the grueling punishment they had just endured, they laughed and bantered with easy camaraderie.
Edwin remained still, curling his legs close to his chest. I want some water... He had sweat so profusely that his throat felt parched and raw, yet he chose to endure the agonizing thirst. To get water, he would have to approach the knights and ask, and that was something he could not bring himself to do. They'd only feel uncomfortable around me.
The young prince was well aware that the knights took no pleasure in his company. Had not the late Emma constantly cautioned him to mind his conduct? She had taught him that the mere fact of his imperial bloodline was enough to place an unwelcome burden on those around him.
Just then, a small container was thrust into his line of sight.
"Whoa! Sir Philip...?"
Once again, it was Philip Meyer. Having approached without making a sound, the vice-commander dropped onto the grass beside the prince with a muted rustle of leather and steel.
"It is water."
"Ah, th-thank you."
Hesitantly, Edwin took the canteen. After glancing nervously at Philip's profile, he popped the cap and greedily gulped it down. It was plain water, yet on his parched tongue, it tasted as sweet as wild honey.
"...Thank you. That helped so much." Edwin carefully extended the canteen back to the knight seated beside him.
"Is it wise for Your Highness to accept food and drink from others so readily?"
"H-Huh?"
Looking down at the flustered young prince with a face devoid of all expression, Philip added coldly, "For all you know, I might have laced it with poison."