Chapter 119 - As Known, Like a Scoundrel (3)

Siorin was feeling that the eyes watching the delegation had increased noticeably these days.

Wherever they went, there were always gazes following them, and ears eavesdropping. Even when walking through the wasteland outside the city, he could feel people tailing them.

All of this was a change that occurred after the First Prince decided to start this bizarre sparring march.

Wherever they went, the First Prince made the kingdom's knights face the imperial knights.

Sometimes they competed in the mastery of the sword one-on-one, and sometimes they formed groups to determine superiority in strength.

The number of spars fought alone or in groups like that had already reached over 200.

And astonishingly, the kingdom's knights had not recorded a single defeat. It was an unbelievable record.

All of that was thanks to the First Prince's incredible foresight.

Who would face whom, who would step up in what order, and when to step back—the First Prince decided it all. As long as they followed the arrangements he designated, there was never a chance of losing.

Siorin found that endlessly fascinating. At times, he even had the absurd imagination that the young prince might possess the ability to confirm the mastery of knights.

The First Prince's eye and foresight were that sharp.

And surprisingly, such foresight also worked on the Paladins of Marquis Yves Saint.

Marquis Yves Saint, who acted as if the Montpellier family's identification token meant nothing to him, abruptly put forward his Paladins and proposed a spar.

It was a move with the obvious intention of breaking the delegation's recently rising momentum.

Siorin thought the prince would refuse the spar.

But that was not the case.

The prince accepted Marquis Yves Saint's proposal all too willingly.

He merely delayed the time of the spar to deep in the night.

The climate of the Empire's central region was too sweltering compared to the northward-leaning kingdom, so they should clash swords only after the sun set and the ground cooled—Marquis Yves Saint did not refuse those words.

And when night fell, the prince put forward three knights.

They were categorized as the most taciturn individuals in the delegation, along with the two mysterious women among the prince's knights who always kept their cloaks pulled down and never opened their mouths.

Neither their mastery nor their origins were known. All Siorin knew about them were the names Gawain, Trindal, and Kamp written on the roster submitted by the prince.

The prince had those three taciturn knights face the Paladins.

The format was a group battle of three against two.

The kingdom's knights outnumbered them by one, but the Paladins did not mind.

Rather, saying that it did not make sense for two Paladins to face three regular knights, one Paladin even stepped back, declaring he would step up alone.

The prince sneered, telling them not to change their words later. The Paladins, naturally, pretended not to hear him.

The spar began. And a terrible chatter commenced.

"You're a Paladin? Let's see if you have the right to use that name. Is this what a ring is? My stomach is churning. I feel drunk without even drinking alcohol, so isn't this truly wonderful? It's nice clashing with an imperial knight after a long time since it brings back old memories."

They flapped their mouths endlessly even while swinging their swords, and they continuously blabbered even while vomiting blood as their insides were shaken by the energy loaded in the Paladin's sword.

It even made him think that if the Empire's Paladin were to lose, it would not be because of the sword, but because he couldn't stand the chatter and surrendered.

However, apart from their chattiness, the three knights' swords were by no means easy to deal with.

Even Siorin, whose Swordsmanship was merely learned as a noble's refinement, could notice the fact that the knights had professionally trained in cooperative combat techniques.

The knights were that agile, and their movements were organic.

But that was all.

The side dominating the spar was clearly the Empire's Paladin.

The destructive power granted solely to Silver Lions, solely to Paladins, was an overwhelming force the three knights could not overcome.

The front of the knights' clothes was soaked with the blood they vomited, and their complexions were pale like corpses.

Yet even in such a state, the three knights mocked the Empire's Paladin.

"The Empire's knights have rather regressed."

"You have the form and style, but there is no will within them."

"You are not a Paladin, but merely a sword-swinger."

The knights, who spoke as if it was a pity or pathetic, suddenly stepped back and whispered something.

『The King graces us with his presence.』

It sounded like a round song, or perhaps just a meaningless whisper.

『There is no one who dares not bow and worship.』

When one whispered, another took up the words, and the last one took them up again.

『That very worship offered to the King shall be the source of my life.』

Immediately after, a blinding flash of light burst forth.

For Siorin, it was impossible to even know how the spar had ended.

By the time he came to his senses, the spar was already over, and the blood-soaked Paladin was kneeling.

The condition of the three knights was not intact either. They, too, looked as though they would collapse at any moment, and they were actually staggering.

At that moment, the First Prince quickly stepped forward to announce the end of the spar and declare the kingdom knights' victory.

The Paladin, belatedly realizing the situation, jumped up and grabbed his sword again, but it was already too late.

In the end, the Paladin glared at the three knights lying on the ground with a face full of anger before returning to his place.

The Iron Lions, who had been watching the situation with intense tension, belatedly erupted into cheers. At that moment, Siorin also forgot his duties and cheered along with the Iron Lions.

It felt like his chest would burst.

Siorin, who had not even shown his face in The Capital because he hated seeing the nobles of a powerless kingdom wagging their tails at the Empire and the King of a weak nation succumbing to despair, even teared up at the sight of the kingdom's knights defeating the Empire's Paladin and roaring in victory before them.

However, the joy of victory, the small compensation for a history of humiliation, and the jubilation did not last long.

When the First Prince put forward Arwen for the spar with the remaining Paladin, Siorin felt as if his heart had dropped with a thud.

The remaining Paladin was full of venom to make up for the defeat, and he did not hide his will to break the momentum of the kingdom's knights, even if it meant taking the opponent's life if necessary.

To put forward his precious Arwen in front of such a Paladin. No matter how much her skills had been verified through the previous spars. That was a truly unacceptable matter.

But the First Prince remained adamant.

He said it was not for victory, but to take the final step that she had not been able to take.

Arwen also agreed with the prince's words.

His daughter's face, showing not an ounce of fear, was filled with fighting spirit, and Siorin simply could not bring himself to stop her.

And the spar began.

Arwen struggled surprisingly well against the Empire's Paladin. But to her, who had not crossed the wall, the Paladin beyond the wall was like an impregnable fortress.

All of her attacks were crushed all too easily in front of the Aura Blade. Her spirit and fighting spirit scattered vainly in the face of the Paladin's overflowing mana.

The spar continued for a long time.

While rolling on the ground several times, Arwen's once-neat attire became covered in dirt, and her tightly tied hair became a disheveled mess, hardened with blood and sweat.

Everyone knew it. That the Paladin was intentionally dragging out the time.

On a smaller scale, it was to inflict humiliation to erase the result of the previous spar from people's minds, and on a larger scale, it was to imprint the gap between the Empire and the kingdom onto the delegation once again.

Siorin requested that the spar be stopped, but the prince did not accept it.

He merely told him to wait.

He couldn't know what on earth he was supposed to wait for, nor did he want to know.

He didn't want to see his daughter's figure repeatedly rushing in battered and bruised, only to be sent flying, any longer.

Just as he was about to step forward with his authority as the guide to request the spar's termination, the prince stopped him.

Caught in the prince's grasp, he looked at his daughter.

His daughter, who had rolled on the ground miserably, raised her sword. And then, grabbing her hair that was tangled with blood and sweat, she chopped it off.

Her beautiful hair was instantly cut off from below her neck.

And Arwen's face, which had been hidden by the tangled hair, was revealed.

She was smiling.

It was a deeply relieved smile, and also the satisfied expression of one who had finally grasped what they desired.

WOOOONG.

Arwen's sword cried out.

And at that moment, a blinding flash bloomed from the tip of her sword.

A light fundamentally different from Sword Aura, sharper and more destructive.

It was the Aura Blade.

It was the moment another Silver Lion was born in the kingdom.

She thrust her sword just like that. Unlike before, the Paladin did not dare to look down on that strike and met it seriously.

Dozens of invisible sword strikes went back and forth like that.

Then, suddenly, the Paladin declared defeat.

That was also when the face of the First Prince, who had been calm even when Arwen was rolling on the ground battered and bruised, contorted.

"Fucking bastard, a piece of trash without the bare minimum of respect for those walking the path of the sword."

The prince spewed curses.

Siorin could not understand what that meant. He only knew that the emotions surfacing on Arwen's face as she stood there blankly were nothing but a profound sense of loss and regret.

Only later did he learn the fact that she had been rapidly acquiring the enlightenment of her awakening, and that this process had been forcibly interrupted because the Paladin declared defeat.

The prince remarked that this was a manifestation of a petty mindset to not become nourishment for a foreign nation's knight, rather than an attempt to break the delegation's momentum.

The prince cursed the Paladin for days on end.

Nonstop spewing harsh words that a thug in a marketplace would use, who knows where he learned them.

"He'd rather die than see someone else succeed. A narrow-minded piece of shit who'd grab his stomach in jealousy if his cousin bought land."

Looking at such a prince, Arwen was actually smiling.

The sense of loss and regret she showed that day were nowhere to be found. She said that since she had now taken a step, she just needed to walk steadily, even if it was slow.

Watching that sight, Siorin couldn't help but feel somewhat touched.

His daughter, who had left the family to become a knight, had become a Silver Lion and wore such a confident face. While overflowing with pride and satisfaction, he felt an inexplicable sense of sadness and loss on the other hand.

Especially when he looked at his daughter's face staring at the prince with deep eyes, his anger would boil up.

"Doesn't your head feel empty?"

The First Prince, who shamelessly babbled while insolently stroking his daughter's ebony-like hair,

"I just left it as it was, I didn't particularly have an attachment to it. Thinking about it now, I feel it might be better to cut my hair short as a knight."

And the sight of his daughter nonchalantly accepting such touches from the First Prince were entirely displeasing to him.

He firmly suppressed those ugly emotions.

Because right now, he was the guide of the delegation, not a father.

But it was not easy.

The First Prince had been acting extremely friendly with Arwen noticeably often these days. It was exceptionally so, especially when Siorin was holding back his boiling insides.

It was a trick with obvious intentions. It was an action done purposely for him to see. He was undoubtedly enjoying watching him seethe inside.

He knew it all. But it was hard to hold back.

If it hadn't been for the Empire's messenger who suddenly arrived, he would have truly exploded this time.

"Halt!"

The imperial knights, dressed in gleaming golden armor and mounted on excellent steeds, appeared and brought the delegation to a halt.

"Everyone, disarm yourselves and prepare to receive a noble personage."

And then they abruptly ordered them to unequip their swords and store them in the carriages.

"By a noble personage, you mean..."

"His Highness the Imperial Prince has arrived."

At those words, Siorin turned his head to look for the First Prince.

The First Prince, who had been playing useless pranks with Arwen's hair until then, looked back at him just in time.

"Ask which one it is."

Siorin, nodding his head, asked the imperial knight.

"May I know which Imperial Prince has arrived?"

At his question, the imperial knight furrowed his brows.

It was a gaze that seemed to ask what a noble from a weak nation dared to do by knowing which Imperial Prince it was, when an Imperial Prince is an Imperial Prince.

* * *

From the moment I arrived in the Empire, I constantly wondered which one would seek me out first.

Would it be the third, a violent scoundrel, or the fifth, who possessed the qualities of a wise ruler?

And now, royal guards dressed in golden armor appeared from a distance.

"His Highness the Third Imperial Prince of the Great Bourgogne Imperial Family has arrived! The delegation of Leonberk shall show the proper respect due to a member of the Empire's imperial family!"

The one who sought me out first was not the wise ruler, but rather the violent and foul-tempered scoundrel.

I looked beyond the human curtain created by the royal guards.

His neck was so stiff you'd wonder if it wouldn't break, and his shoulders were raised as high as possible.

A face that might be stern in his own mind, but to others was merely arrogant and insolent.

Surprisingly resembling the atmosphere of the Scoundrel Prince when I first saw him in the vault,

the Imperial Prince of the Empire was right there.

If there was a difference, it was that while the blubber-laden Scoundrel Prince was merely a foul-tempered and incompetent scoundrel,

the imperial prince before my eyes was a disaster-like scoundrel born with all sorts of terrible traits—that was the only difference.

'Welcome. I've been waiting for you.'

I smiled with satisfaction as I watched the disaster of the Empire approaching me.