Chapter 239 - Those Who Chase the Dawn (4)

"Hah..."

Malcoy kept sighing. Each sigh became a needle pricking my chest.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. At long last, Malcoy spoke.

"Your Highness. I have spent my days and nights learning this country's language and customs, waiting for the day you would summon—"

"As you've no doubt heard, war has broken out between Dotrin and the Empire."

But I had no intention of sitting still and letting him pour out his grievances.

"Dotrin has already reclaimed the lands west of the sea of trees that it lost in the last war, and is advancing westward with unstoppable momentum."

"What are you suddenly talking about...?"

"The imperial forces are scattered everywhere, unable even to mount a proper response. They've suffered defeat after defeat."

"Your Highness, what I am trying to—"

"Neither the Third nor the Fifth Imperial Prince spares a thought for the eastern territories. They're obsessed with winning the throne, so in a way, it's only to be expected."

Malcoy tried to interject several times, but I ignored him and explained the situation as quickly as I could.

"But there are limits. I can't understand how they still haven't devised any meaningful countermeasures when things have come this far. At the very least, they ought to gather their forces and prepare for a decisive battle against Dotrin. The eastern forces alone would rival Dotrin's army if they all assembled."

Malcoy's pout disappeared.

"And yet the Imperial Army shows no sign of moving, let alone assembling in one place."

Interest began to stir in eyes previously filled with nothing but betrayal and resentment.

"As if they're waiting for something."

"You suspect something, Your Highness."

After listening quietly for a while, Malcoy finally spoke again. At last, he had taken my bait.

"Do you believe the Imperial Army's defeats are all deliberate?"

Inwardly, I smiled in triumph. Outwardly, I lowered my voice and answered gravely.

"Even the sharpest spear eventually grows dull if it keeps striking armor and shields. Armies that pushed deep into imperial territory have invariably met a bad end."

Malcoy nodded.

"You are quite right, Your Highness. When the enemy's momentum is strong, the Empire's provincial armies prioritize drawing them deeper in and blunting their edge rather than risking a direct confrontation. Breaking the enemy's swords and spears is..."

"The job of the Central Army, which serves the Imperial House directly."

Malcoy tilted his head.

"You know an extraordinary amount about the Imperial Army."

Know about it? I had faced it often enough to be sick of it. Four hundred years ago, when this country's founder led the Blood Lions toward the imperial capital, I had been there. And when they broke through the Imperial Army's encirclement and returned to the kingdom, I had been with them too.

But I couldn't tell Malcoy that.

"The kingdom's history is one war against the Empire after another."

I gave him a brief explanation for my detailed knowledge of the Imperial Army.

Then I returned to the original subject and asked his opinion on its halfhearted response. With the mightiest army, the one meant to crush the enemy, tied down by civil war, I couldn't understand why the imperial forces were still sitting silent, as though waiting for something.

"Could you give me a more detailed account of the war?"

After a moment's consideration, Malcoy asked for specifics.

To that, I replied,

"I don't know."

I told him I didn't know the details myself.

His expression stiffened.

"I submitted to my enemy and played the fool, only to defect to Leonberk afterward. It is understandable if you find me untrustworthy. But my intention in joining this kingdom was never fal—"

"No, that's not it. I really don't know either."

It was the truth. The king had told me about the war, but withheld the details. Where Dotrin's army was headed and by what route, where battles had occurred, how they had unfolded—he had told me none of it.

He had even barred me from the Marshal's Office, where all the kingdom's intelligence was gathered. For good measure, he had threatened severe punishment if I disobeyed and entered, or sneaked in and was found out afterward.

Under those circumstances, all I could do was pester the messengers coming and going from the office for scraps of information.

"I was under the impression that you are this country's future ruler, Your Highness."

"So was I."

Malcoy stared at me in disbelief. His eyes seemed to ask just what I had done for a crown prince to be denied access to his own country's secrets.

"I haven't done much."

Just things like leaving something resembling a will and departing without a word, only to be carried home a bloody wreck. Or being sent with a delegation, then disappearing during a tour of sparring matches against an enemy nation's knights and returning much later. Or wandering foreign lands as a mercenary and fighting a little roughly.

A few minor incidents. That was all.

To my mind, they were utterly trivial, insignificant incidents, and all firmly in the past. I thoroughly disapproved of the king's pettiness in using them to put pressure on me.

But what could I do? It was a royal command. Apparently, the safety of the crown prince who would inherit this country mattered far more than the war at hand.

"Your Highness, I need intelligence to analyze the Imperial Army's movements. Any conclusion drawn from these fragments would be nothing more than unreliable speculation. Without information, I can make no judgment at all."

"I said I didn't know. I never said there was no information."

"Then where exactly is this information?"

Malcoy thumped his chest in frustration.

"The Marshal's Office."

I answered as though he had asked something perfectly obvious.

"Didn't you say you were forbidden by royal command to enter the Marshal's Office?"

"I am. You aren't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're going into the Marshal's Office."

Malcoy scowled, apparently realizing at last why I had summoned him.

"So you want me to act as your spy..."

Having gone through every sort of hardship to weed out the Palace Count and the kingdom's nobles who were effectively imperial spies, I stiffened involuntarily at the word. Seeing my expression, Malcoy hastily bowed in apology.

"Forgive me, Your Highness. That was ill spoken."

"I'll overlook it this once, considering your ignorance of the kingdom's circumstances."

At his swift apology, I just as swiftly relaxed my expression and explained what he was to do at the Marshal's Office. He was to examine the intelligence gathered there with his own eyes and bring it to me. Then we could put our heads together and uncover what the Empire was plotting.

Looking incredulous, Malcoy asked how that was any different from being a spy.

I shook my head and firmly told him that this wasn't spying, merely preparing for a possible contingency. He still looked unconvinced.

"It's different."

Whether he agreed or not.

"Tell the Grand Marshal I wish to see him."

I immediately dispatched a messenger to Marquis Bielefeld. Before long, he arrived at my palace.

"His talents are too valuable to let go to waste. Keep him at your side and teach him well, and he'll prove immensely useful."

The old marquis looked from me to Malcoy and back.

"Ha, ha, ha."

Then he gave a sudden, hollow laugh.

"If that is all you wished to say, I shall take my leave. There is a great deal of work I must finish."

He abruptly bowed and turned to go. I stopped him, reminding him who had discovered the talent in a maid when no one else saw it and raised her into one of the kingdom's Silver Lions.

"It seems you don't trust my eye, Marquis."

"How could that be? I trust you more than anyone, Your Highness. Indeed I do."

The marquis looked at me and sighed deeply enough to sink the earth.

"I merely wonder why now, of all times. And why the Marshal's Office, of all places."

"Because his talents are precisely what the staff officers there need."

"You truly have no other intention?"

He asked as though he could see straight through me, and I smiled awkwardly. Even I knew my scheme was transparent. But this was exactly when I needed to be brazen.

"The sooner he begins, the sooner his talents will bloom. This decision is for the kingdom's future. I trust you, of all people, understand my intentions."

Instead of answering, he merely kept sighing.

"Very well. I'll let it pass this time."

At last, he accepted my proposal.

"Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

"Of course you did."

Sighing once more, he offered a brief bow and turned away.

"What are you doing? Come along."

At the marquis's words as he paused in the doorway, Malcoy startled and looked at me. I gave him a nod. Only then did he move to stand behind the marquis.

The marquis glanced at Malcoy and left the room, with Malcoy following. Once I was alone, an inexplicable unease crept over me.

"Why did he give in so easily?"

It wasn't like that sly old fox.

But I soon shrugged off the unease, deciding to take the good fortune as it came.

That was a mistake. I only realized it a week later, on the day of our first rendezvous.

Late that night, I was waiting for Malcoy at the agreed meeting place when I sensed a familiar presence in the distance. Marquis Bielefeld.

I quickly hid in the darkness, hoping he would walk right past me.

But he didn't pass. He stopped directly in front of me.

"I already know you are here, Your Highness."

Then he added,

"You can wait, but he will not come."

It wasn't difficult to work out what had happened. I emerged from the darkness. The marquis, who had been looking around in entirely the wrong direction, finally turned toward me.

"Malcoy told you everything."

At my sulky remark, the marquis heaved a deep sigh. Then he spoke reproachfully.

"He is a man already scarred by having submitted to his enemy once. How could you give such an order to someone like that? If you truly intend to make great use of him, you must also learn to tend to his wounds."

I flinched and went still. Not because the marquis knew Malcoy's story.

"Treat him with honor. You may have given the order without much thought, but even a seemingly trivial matter can wound the pride of a man with such a past."

It was because his admonition addressed something I had never considered. Only then did I realize how thoughtless I had been.

As I belatedly reproached myself, the marquis spoke gently.

"It is enough that you understand now. From this point on, you need only watch over him as he finds his place in the kingdom. Fortunately, his talents are exceptional, rarely seen in this world. Before long, they will earn recognition, and he will find his footing."

I could only stand there in silence.

"But are you truly so impatient? You would learn all this in due course."

"The Empire's movements make me uneasy. I can't just sit still."

At my excuse, he let out a long sigh.

"It is our inadequacy that makes you so anxious. We have given you so little reason to trust us that you cannot rest unless you see to everything yourself."

He gazed steadily at me, then sighed briefly and spoke.

"His Majesty and I understand your concerns. The staff officers are analyzing intelligence day and night, and they will find an answer soon. For now, there is just one thing I can tell you: what you fear will not happen."

His tone was strangely confident.

"Because we will draw our sword before the Empire draws its own."

Apparently, they had some sort of trump card prepared.

"Has that eased your frustration somewhat?"

"No. You've made it worse."

I meant it. I couldn't even guess what the kingdom had prepared, so he had only made me more curious.

"If you won't tell me, you shouldn't have brought it up."

The marquis gave a gentle smile at my grumbling.

"Do not be so impatient. You will learn soon."

"Soon?"

"Yes. Soon."

And so our meeting ended, leaving me with nothing but questions. Returning to my palace, I immediately took up my sword, went out to the training ground, and swung it without rest.

For now, that was all I could do.

After a whole night of sword practice, the distracting thoughts crowding my mind vanished as if they had never been there. This suited me a hundred times better than clumsily playing at being a pen-pusher.

From then on, I spent most of my time wielding my sword. At first, it was to clear my mind, but eventually I became intoxicated with the act itself.

When I came to my senses, Adelia, now recovered from her injuries, was practicing beside me. Arwen and Eli were there too.

"Shall we spar? It's been a while."

Eli went first. The weakest of the Silver Lions I had gathered.

"Just so you know, the circumstances last time were unfavorable in a number of ways."

He had been ambushed and given no chance to respond properly. The knights the other Silver Lions had dealt with were mere chaff. He alone had crossed swords with the Penta Knight.

Eli went on and on, answering questions no one had asked. Apparently, being the only one with no notable achievement during the Nightmare Knight's attack on the palace still weighed heavily on him.

"Fine. Then show me what you can really do this time."

There would be no ambush, no demonic sword to cut his soul. I egged him on, telling him this was his chance to prove himself through pure skill, and he eagerly gathered light around his blade.

And then,

"Urgh!"

Not long after we crossed swords, he was rolling across the ground in a bloody heap.

I looked at the half-conscious Eli, then turned away. Arwen already had her sword drawn and pointed at me.

"Come at me."

I flicked my sword tip arrogantly.

Arwen steadied her breathing briefly, then kicked off the ground. She began driving me back with a torrent of starlike sword aura. Her attacks were incomparably sharper than before, but I dispersed them one by one.

"Aren't you long past the point of fixating on form alone?"

All the while, I kept pointing out her shortcomings.

After we had sparred for some time, she retreated a few steps and lowered her sword.

"Thank you for your guidance."

"Keep moving forward as you are, without wavering. Your steps will always lead you true."

"I will remember that."

Though her sweat-soaked hair and clothes were somewhat disheveled, her posture remained as straight as ever. I regarded her with satisfaction and lowered my sword.

Adelia stopped me.

"Adelia?"

She usually wasn't particularly eager to cross swords with me. Puzzled, I looked at her face and saw frustration lingering in her eyes.

I couldn't tell whether it stemmed from her helpless defeat at Duncan Seymour Tudor's hands or from self-reproach at being unable to help her lord as he fought for his life against a powerful enemy.

I was simply delighted that, for the first time, she had taken up her sword and stood before me of her own accord. I adjusted my grip.

Unlike Arwen or Eli, the Sword Marquis's descendant was a rather difficult opponent to take lightly. I steadied my breathing and settled into a proper stance.

BOOM!

A golden flash hurtled toward me. It was a savage, brutal slash, fundamentally unlike Arwen's well-balanced blend of strength, speed, and finesse, or Eli's wind-sharp strikes.

"Excellent!"

Exhilarated, I swung my sword like a madman, only lowering it when Adelia was knocked away in utter exhaustion. Pride welled up as I watched her standing there, still clutching her sword despite her gasping breaths.

"You're finally beginning to shed that air of a maid."

Adelia blushed. Just when I thought she was becoming a little more knightlike, she was back to her usual self. I didn't mind that either, so I laughed heartily and thoroughly tousled her hair.

"You're both complete monsters."

Eli, who had woken at some point, sounded thoroughly appalled.

But his face was covered in injuries that hadn't been there when we sparred. Come to think of it, I remembered kicking something out of my way several times during the later bouts.

Apparently, that had been Eli.

Fortunately, he seemed utterly unaware of it. I hastily brought the session to an end.

Several days passed. Then the "soon" the marquis had spoken of arrived.

Far sooner than I had expected.

And in a form I had never imagined.