Chapter 37 - Now That I Have Finally Found Where I Belong (1)

When I attended the banquet again the next day, I felt that more people were watching me than ever before.

Blatant gazes of scrutiny.

Those who were not satisfied with merely watching approached me.

They spouted all sorts of words to sound out my inner thoughts.

Sometimes they put on ridiculous acts of flattery, and sometimes they subtly asked about my surroundings.

If I brushed them off and moved elsewhere, another group would flock to me.

Were banquets always this exhausting?

A setting I had so deeply envied when I lived as a sword had now become an exhausting, uncomfortable, and boring place.

The Queen looked at me. Ignorant of my inner thoughts, she wore a pleased expression the entire time. It seemed she was just that happy that I was receiving the attention of the nobles.

Even though I was merely exhausted.

"Prince."

Then, that damn ambassador of the empire appeared.

"I heard you got engaged to an elf."

As if a prince of a small kingdom meant nothing to him, Montpellier's tone was arrogant.

"I unfortunately had matters to attend to that day and could not be present, so I missed out on a good spectacle."

Montpellier wore a genuinely regretful expression.

"But why are you alone today?"

A bizarre heat flickered in his eyes.

Greed, desire.

The primal instinct of a man directed at an elf renowned throughout the world was conveyed in its entirety.

"Ha."

It wasn't something I had accepted out of want, and I had no real intention of marrying her, but superficially, Sigrun was still my fiancée.

His attitude of treating the Princess Consort of a kingdom like a cheap dancer was truly absurd. I turned my head. I looked around. The gazes following me remained the same, and many had heard Montpellier's words with their own ears.

However, not a single person stepped forward to point out his insolence.

At first, I was dumbfounded, and then I was angry. And finally, my head cooled completely.

"Why don't you try summoning her? The empire lacks nothing, but unfortunately, elves do not exist there."

Montpellier flapped his despicable mouth.

"Huu."

Suppressing my boiling anger, I looked up at the platform.

I saw the Queen's stiff face. It was obvious she was worried I might cause an accident.

I saw the King's face. Even though his own nation's prince, his eldest son, and that eldest son's fiancée were being treated like cheap dancers, his expression remained impassive.

Did it mean a discarded scoundrel son was none of his business?

No, it shouldn't be like that. No matter how hateful and detestable I was, the King should not act like that.

An imperial dog was acting arrogantly like the master of the kingdom, insulting his own country, wasn't he?

The King should have stepped forward. No, even if it wasn't the King, at least one of these people should have stepped forward.

But no one stepped forward.

So I stepped forward.

"Marquis. Do you consider the Princess Consort of a kingdom to be a cheap dancer who comes when called and leaves when told?"

At that moment, the ripe atmosphere of the banquet hall cooled like a lie. The flowing music and the non-stop chatter of the nobles could no longer be heard.

The nobles looked at me. Their eyes widened so much they seemed ready to tear, acting as if a disaster had struck.

The King looked at me. It wasn't as blatant as the nobles, but the emotion contained within was not much different from theirs.

"How dare you..."

Montpellier's voice was heard. I turned my head and saw his face flushed deep red.

The imperial dog opened his mouth again.

"For a prince of a small kingdom to insult a Marquis of a great empire..."

"It is a prince of a kingdom pointing out the disrespect of a mere Marquis of another country."

Sounds of sharp gasps could be heard from everywhere.

"H-How dare..."

"Shut your mouth. Before I cut off that deceitful tongue right now."

The nobles dropped their jaws at my violent words. Those could rather be called silent screams; the kingdom's nobles turned deathly pale.

Looking at their faces, I thought.

Perhaps after today, I would suffer even more contempt than before. Earning the support of the Capital's nobles had become forever impossible.

I knew it. I knew that what I was doing right now was a foolish act.

But this is the path I must take.

The soul of one who turns a blind eye to their own heart for the sake of personal peace and gain is bound to gradually lose its light.

Those who compromise can never reach Transcendence.

Losing the greater for the lesser (小貪大夫).

What was great to them was small to me, and what was small to them was great to me. And I had no intention of giving up the great for the small.

"Whoops!"

Then, Marquis Bielefeld appeared. Just like that day, he staggered as if drunk and spilled his wine. The only difference was that this time, the one drenched in wine was not me, but Montpellier.

"To make such a mistake! Ambassador!"

Wiping Montpellier's face with his sleeve, the Marquis gave me a look.

"You must change your clothes! I am immensely worried that your precious body might catch a cold!"

Marquis Bielefeld made a huge fuss and led Montpellier away. Watching his shameless acting, a chuckle naturally escaped me.

The one drenched in cold wine was Montpellier, but ironically, my head cooled down.

"Let go!"

Montpellier roughly shook off Marquis Bielefeld. No, he tried to shake him off. Marquis Bielefeld frantically shook that Montpellier back and forth.

An old man like Marquis Bielefeld grabbing and shaking the sturdy Montpellier was a rare spectacle.

"Eek!"

Unable to suppress his rage, Montpellier turned around in anger. Only then did Marquis Bielefeld let him go.

Marquis Bielefeld clicked his tongue as he looked at me. His wrinkled eyes contained both reprimand and concern.

Still, there was one. Someone who knew who the master of this kingdom was.

"Come this way! Let's get your clothes changed first!"

Marquis Bielefeld and Montpellier disappeared outside the banquet hall.

Hmm.

The chilled atmosphere of the banquet hall remained exactly the same. And so did the cold gazes of the King and the nobles staring at me.

But that was only for a moment.

The King and the nobles withdrew their gazes. And they never looked at me again. They acted as if I were invisible, and I was left entirely alone in the middle of the banquet hall.

"Your Highness."

If it hadn't been for Sigrun, who attended so late, I would have concluded the banquet all by myself like that.

With her appearance, the atmosphere of the banquet hall heated up again. Those who had been treating me like a non-existent person turned their gazes back to me.

No, more accurately, to Sigrun.

"Your Highness is a truly amusing person."

Sigrun said to me quietly.

"I didn't do it to amuse you."

"I am already looking forward to three years from now."

Sigrun said to me with flushed eyes. The men who stole glances at her let out sounds as if they were losing their breath.

However, to me, that gaze was merely repulsive; I knew that the emotion contained within it was a twisted affection that smiled at the sight of the other's ruin.

* * *

The Third Prince Gillian Leonberk felt his stomach turn inside out upon hearing of the engagement between the First Prince and the elf.

"As if plucking the flower of Iron Lion Castle wasn't enough, how dare he take an elf..."

He originally had no intention of attending the banquet. However, after hearing the rumors about the elf, he was so restless that he couldn't stand it.

So he attended the unscheduled banquet.

It was a futile act. He had thought that no matter how pretty some mere girl was, it wouldn't be much, but the elf's appearance seen from a distance was beyond his imagination.

His guts twisted.

After the banquet ended, he ground his sword. So that its edge wouldn't dull in the soon-approaching duel.

"Should I cripple him? Or pretend it was an accident and kill him?"

No, no. Killing him would cause too big a problem, so leaving a moderate gash and making him unable to function as a man would be enough.

Gillian endured the fever that visited him every day by thinking about how he would deal with that scoundrel.

"I'll crush you miserably."

He intended to hand him the most humiliating defeat possible. He even entertained the audacious delusion that upon seeing that unsightly state, the elven woman might break off the engagement and choose him instead.

Just thinking about it was enjoyable.

Gillian waited eagerly for that day to come.

A day that felt like a year passed, and a week that felt like ten years flew by. And finally, the day of the duel arrived.

He ignored the scoundrel who swaggered in with a crude Training Sword slung over his shoulder, and rolled his eyes around.

"Why? Is someone else coming?"

Unfortunately, the elven woman he had been waiting for was nowhere to be seen. His original plan of securing a splendid victory in front of her was foiled.

His energy drained. As he let his sword drop and sighed in deep a sense of loss, the scoundrel spoke.

"If there's no one, let's start right away."

They would naturally start even if he stayed still, yet the foolish bastard was even rushing him. Gillian smiled fishily and turned his head.

Count Sturmhilde Stuttgart, Commander of the Royal Knights, stepped forward.

The Count was a notary dispatched separately by the royal family to prevent any rumors regarding a duel between royals, as well as an observer sent to prevent any unforeseen, unsavory incidents.

"His Highness the First Prince has nominated His Highness the Third Prince as his duel opponent. Is this correct?"

The Count looked at the First Prince and proceeded with the procedures of the duel.

*Nod*, the First Prince nodded insincerely.

"His Highness the Third Prince has accepted the duel with His Highness the First Prince. Is this correct?"

"That is correct."

Having received their agreement, the Count quickly continued.

"Both of you wish to prove your swords in this place, but only one shall enjoy this. As God chooses that one with unclouded eyes, those gathered here shall become those eyes and witness the victory and defeat. Thus, the truth of the outcome goes without saying. Do both of Your Highnesses agree?"

The two of them nodded simultaneously.

"Since both of Your Highnesses wish to prove your swords and become the victor, I declare the duel established. This has been permitted by the lawful ruler of this land, His Majesty the King Lionel Leonberk, and notarized by Sturmhilde Stuttgart, Commander of the Royal Knights and recipient of the glorious title of Silver Lion from His Majesty, so no one can object to the outcome."

*'Why are there so many words just to cross swords once,'* the First Prince got irritated, but the Count paid no mind.

"The duel begins. The duel ends when one side cannot continue the match, when they admit defeat themselves, or when the notary judges that victory and defeat have been decided. May the victor please show mercy to the loser, and the loser must not object to the rights of the victor."

As the Count stepped back, the First Prince immediately stepped forward. Gillian, as if he had been waiting, also grasped his sword and stood in the middle of the training ground.

"Both of Your Highnesses, please draw your swords. I earnestly request that the bond between Your Highnesses not be harmed by this duel."

The Count declared the start of the duel.

Gillian smirked as he looked at the First Prince.

"I prepared this much for you, brother. Do you like it?"

Since the banquet had just ended not long ago, he was able to gather far more nobles than initially expected. It was a shame that the elven woman did not attend, but it would still feel quite good to humiliate that scoundrel in front of them.

"I've felt this for a while now."

The First Prince said, tilting his head crookedly.

"You talk too much."

Gillian's expression stiffened rigidly.

"I sincerely hope you remain the same even when the duel ends."

"If you aren't coming, should I go?"

Gillian raised his sword. Numerous sword forms came to mind. Among them, the one he chose was the most flashy and the most complex sword form.

He stepped forward while re-gripping his sword.

At that moment, the figure of the First Prince entered his eyes. Holding his sword upright, his momentum was as sharp as a blade.

But his foot had already taken off and his sword was moving. He couldn't back down against a scoundrel who had learned the low-grade arts of the Mana Heart.

To boost his momentum, he kicked off the ground even more forcefully.

Huh?

He had definitely kicked off the ground toward the First Prince, yet the opponent was growing further away.

CRASH!

The sky and the ground swapped places countless times. Severe pain rose from his chest. He was out of his mind. He couldn't understand at all why he was rolling on the ground, or why he was looking up at that degenerate.

"I originally meant to play with you a little more. But I've gotten a bit busy."

A voice too impassive to be called a mockery.

"Your Highness. Are you alright?"

The Count approached and asked. Gillian said he was fine and raised his body. No, he tried to raise it.

However, he could neither say he was fine nor raise his body.

"W-What happened?"

"C-Could it be that His Highness lost?"

Hearing the murmurs of the spectators, he tried to get up somehow.

"In my capacity as the notary and observer of the duel, I judge that His Highness the Third Prince is unable to continue the match."

No. I can still fight.

This time, too, the words did not come out of his mouth. They merely lingered in his mind before fading away.

"The victor of this duel is His Highness the First Prince."

The moment he heard the Count's declaration, his vision spun.

Physical pain and mental shock seized and shook Gillian. Unable to endure it, he simply fainted.

* * *

When the Third Prince lost consciousness like that, the watching nobles lost their words.

No one in this place expected that the Third Prince, renowned as being Gifted with the Sword, would be knocked out so vainly. Seeing the Third Prince tremble intermittently and then stop altogether, the nobles turned their gazes.

There stood the First Prince, his sword dangling carelessly.

There was none of the excitement or sense of accomplishment that should rightfully belong to a victor. The First Prince merely looked at his fainted younger brother with an indifferent face.

"Tsk."

The First Prince clicked his tongue. Suddenly raising his head, he looked around.

"Is this not the picture you expected?"

A voice that was neither a threat nor sarcasm; the nobles, who had been staring at him as if possessed, were startled and lowered their gazes.

What kind of gaze...

The nobles who met his eyes shrank their shoulders at the First Prince's strangely wavering gaze. Not even knowing why, they simply bowed their heads instinctively.

"People calling themselves nobles, flocking in droves to a children's fight."

The First Prince shook his head, then disappeared far into the distance. Until he had completely disappeared and could no longer be seen, no one opened their mouths.

Even while those under the Count's orders bustled about checking on the Third Prince's condition, the nobles did not speak.

They merely looked at each other, parting their lips wordlessly before closing them again.

"Did His Highness really lose?"

After a long time, someone broke the silence. That was the start. The nobles began to flap their mouths competitively.

"H-How?"

"How could our Prince lose to His Highness the First Prince, who has barely begun his training a few months ago!"

Some were in disbelief,

"He let his guard down! He was hit by a sudden surprise attack and couldn't even react!"

"That's right! It was a cowardly move!"

And some were in denial.

"As the observer and notary, I command you."

Looking at them, Count Sturmhilde Stuttgart spoke coldly.

"If anyone adds their personal opinions to fabricate the outcome of today's fair match, I will take it as doubting my credibility as the observer and notary of this duel."

At those words, the nobles who had been chattering wildly shut their mouths.

Having thus sealed the mouths of the nobles, the Count looked in the direction the First Prince had disappeared.

"Amazing..."

It was a dry voice, but what was contained within was, however faint, definite admiration.

* * *

It was after a full day had passed that Gillian regained his consciousness.

Blinking his eyes blankly for a moment, Gillian belatedly shook off his daze and screamed.

"Damn it! That damn scoundrel bastard!"

He grabbed and threw every single object within his reach. He took his anger out at random on the servants who appeared after hearing the commotion.

But his rage did not dissipate in the slightest.

The fact that he had rolled on the ground without even properly extending his sword in front of the spectators he had gathered was so shameful he couldn't stand it.

His insides burned fiercely.

It felt like his body would burn to ashes if he stayed like that.

"Get ready! We are going to the 1st Prince's Palace!"

At Gillian's words, the servants fretted and stomped their feet. They seemed to have something to say but couldn't bring themselves to say it.

"Did you not hear me! I will go and compete for victory again!"

He would not let his guard down this time. He would no longer suffer like the day before, when he was beaten without even knowing how.

Although the First Prince's unexpected skill was surprising, he was confident he would definitely win if they fought properly. The art the opponent had learned was a relic of the old era that gathered mana in the heart; as long as he drew out the mana of his Circuit, there was no reason for him to lose.

Because the First Prince knew that fact, he must have thrust a single strike for a quick victory.

As he ground his teeth and vowed to avenge his humiliation, a Royal Guard approached.

"Your Highness."

"Are my words a joke! I said I will go again and repay this disgrace!"

"That is not it."

Already in a foul mood, the fact that even the normally quick-witted Royal Guard was dawdling made a raging fire erupt in his stomach.

"How many times must I say it!"

"Your Highness, His Highness the First Prince is not present."

"What! Has his dirty habit flared up again, and he is out stirring up the entertainment districts outside the palace!"

Thinking of the First Prince chattering away, using him as a subject for his drinks at a tavern, he felt almost dizzy.

"Where is it! I will go find him right away."

"That is not it, Your Highness. His Highness the First Prince is not in the Capital."

At the knight's words, Gillian showed a dumbfounded face.

"What does that..."

"His Highness the First Prince has left with His Excellency Count Ballorhard."

The Royal Guard hesitated before speaking.

"Left? To where?"

"I heard they are going to the North, where House Ballorhard is located."

Gillian, who had been blankly spacing out for a long time, stammered.

"T-Then what about me?"

At those words, which were beyond dumbfounded and even foolish, the Royal Guard bowed his head. It was probably because the rock bottom shown by his precious, sheltered fifteen-year-old young master was embarrassing.

"Aaaaargh!"

Gillian screamed and started throwing things again.

* * *

"Did we really need to hurry to this extent?"

My maternal uncle asked from atop his running horse.

"There is no place for me in the Capital."

The moment I made an enemy of Montpellier, the air surrounding me changed.

I could completely feel the hostility and contempt dissolved in that sharp air. And I realized the fact that there would never be anyone among the nobles of the Capital who would stand by my side.

I was not disappointed.

I had no intention of pathetically clinging to those who flattered the imperial dog without even knowing who the master of their own country was.

Rather than exhausting myself pouring effort into those pathetic things, it was better to invest my time in those who matched well with me.

"Are there even such people?"

At my maternal uncle's scolding, I grinned.

"Wouldn't soldiers and knights match better with me than nobles?"

"They may not be as calculating as nobles, but they are far more conservative. Winning their hearts will not be so easy."

"Well, if we roll around in the mud together, an affection that wasn't there will eventually blossom, so what are you so worried about?"

At my words, my maternal uncle shook his head.

"I don't know. I cannot shake the thought that you are rushing too much."

My maternal uncle's words also made sense.

After the banquet ended, meeting the King, receiving permission to head North, and leaving the Capital again—it was all handled as fast as roasting beans in lightning.

"Marquis Bielefeld said so too. That there is nothing for me to gain in the Capital. When even the Marquis says so, what reason is there to just waste time in the Capital."

When the banquet ended, Marquis Bielefeld came to find me.

He did not express his support right away, but the Marquis gave me a few useful pieces of advice. Telling me to try building a faction outside the Capital was also the advice given by the Marquis.

"Still, it's too hasty. If you rush your steps, you might not notice even if you drop something. Is it not a time to walk carefully, step by step?"

"It is not a time to be taking it so easy."

My maternal uncle probably wouldn't even dream of it.

That the scariest lunatic in the world was chasing right behind me with a blade.

Sigrun, the grace period I received from her was not that long.

If I kept dawdling, I might actually end up marrying a lunatic. No, rather than that, the possibility of being eaten before then was highly likely.

Even in the past, I had seen countless times how she ruined others.

I still vividly remembered her image; like a child tearing off a dragonfly's wings, she would eventually chop off her opponent's limbs and only show a satisfied expression after watching them gasp for breath.

Everyone she took an interest in met the exact same end.

And this time, apparently, I was that dragonfly.

I had to hurry and build my strength before her patience ran out.

I also knew that it was unreasonable to surpass the power and status of an Elder High Elf in a short period of time.

Because the power she had accumulated over a thousand years was something so incredible that I could never match it unless I regained the power of my original body.

But there was no rule in the world saying one had to just die.

I, too, had my own plans.

If things went well, neither living my entire life in anxiety with a lunatic as a spouse nor getting eaten by a hungry elf would happen.

Of course, to put that plan into action, I had to grow as fast as possible.

It was impossible in the Capital.

Peace makes people weak and dulls their swords.

The Capital was exactly that kind of place.

There was a separate place that would accelerate my growth and sharpen my sword.

The place where human qualifications were tested the most, the place where the most Poems of Martial Deeds were born.

The place where I belonged was the battlefield.