Chapter 69 - Finally Adapted to the World (2)

For the past three weeks, I had been awake, yet not awake.

I was alive, yet no different from being dead.

All I could do was,

simply listen to the sound of the wagon wheels struggling to turn.

Listen to the urgent shouts and screams.

And continuously circulate my energy while holding onto my ruined heart.

The final moment of escaping the battlefield on the back of a lancer's horse repeated endlessly in my head.

The image of my uncle, who had been surrounded by Orcs and eventually disappeared from sight, came to mind all too vividly. The sight of the knights and lancers dying right before my eyes was still fresh in my memory.

My heart throbbed as if it were being torn apart.

This pain was a punishment for my foolish self.

I simply chewed on the pain.

I had been complacent.

Despite wanting to become king, I had just left everything to my uncle.

Despite wanting to reach Transcendence, I had not been prepared to pay the corresponding price.

My plans were no different from those of a lazy optimist,

and my resolve was as half-hearted as a mere child's.

I had been arrogant.

Intoxicated by past glory, I had looked down on everything.

I even considered death trivial and looked down on it.

Among the countless deaths I had witnessed, not a single one was mine,

yet I had swaggered as if I had even transcended death.

All the actions and thoughts I had had were no different from the shallow ones of someone enjoying a game.

I was a foolish, arrogant blind man.

That was why I lost so much.

And only then did I open my eyes.

I finally realized it now.

At that moment, a new thought and wish were engraved in my heart.

Thump.

Messages rang out in my head.

[A new Poem of Martial Deeds...]

[A new trait...]

I did not listen.

Because what I had to do from now on was not to create some petty poem.

* * *

"Y-Your Highness!"

It was certainly a welcome event that the unconscious First Prince had woken up. However, no one could readily approach him and say they were relieved. The moment they saw those blazing blue eyes, their lips clamped shut.

Gulp.

Someone swallowed their dry saliva.

Step.

The First Prince took a difficult step forward.

Step, step.

Even while stumbling, he continued to move forward. The lords, not knowing what was going on and simply rolling their eyes around, were in front of him.

The lords exchanged glances. Count Hestein was pushed to his feet and spoke.

"Y-Your Highness. I am glad you are safe..."

As the Count spouted his lip service, the First Prince's body swayed and leaned forward as if to collapse.

Count Hestein, who had been babbling away, absentmindedly reached out to support him.

The First Prince pushed the Count away.

Swish.

The Count's eyes widened. The treasured sword of House Hestein, which had been safely tucked at his waist until just a moment ago, was now held in the First Prince's hand. *Drip. *

The red liquid flowing down the blade filled his vision.

The Count instinctively felt his body. He did not feel any pain.

"Your Highness. Just what are you..."

A murky, phlegm-boiling sound mixed into his voice. The Count raised his hand and felt his neck.

A subtle scratch could be felt at his fingertips.

"Huh?"

From that split gap, hot liquid surged out.

"Gurgle."

Count Hestein's eyes rolled back, exposing the whites, and he fell backward just like that.

"Count Hestein!"

"Count!"

A commotion erupted a step late. The lords screamed.

"Y-Your Highness!"

The startled figures of House Ballorhard shouted out.

"Brother!"

The Second Prince hurriedly ran over and blocked the First Prince's path. The First Prince was dragging his sword and moving toward another lord. "Step aside."

At the deeply sunken voice, Maximilian stretched out both hands and spoke.

"I am angry too! I feel the same as you, Brother!"

Instead of answering, the First Prince took a step to the side.

"But not like this! Now is the time for everyone to unite and stop the Orcs!"

Maximilian blocked his path once again.

"Unite?"

The First Prince twisted his lips.

"It's not even funny."

A voice as twisted as that twisted smile.

"Brother!"

Maximilian shouted urgently.

"Vincent. How many messengers did we send?"

The First Prince asked.

"We sent a messenger about once every three days for three months, so there are roughly thirty of them."

Vincent Ballorhard answered in a cold voice.

The First Prince looked at Maximilian again.

Maximilian unconsciously dropped his gaze.

"Y-Your Highness. P-Please calm down. We also had our own circumstances."

"Your Highness! No matter how guilty we are, you cannot do this! It is not right! It is against the law!"

There were those who were terrified and begged, and those who protested against Count Hestein's death.

"Since you refused the Margrave's conscription order without a valid reason during wartime, it is grounds for summary execution."

Erhim Kilinger stepped forward and spoke in a stern voice.

"Despite the royal descendant of the Leonberk Royal Family reaching a dangerous state, you feigned ignorance, which is akin to breaking the sacred oath of a vassal.

This is also grounds for summary execution."

Words that would not have worked in normal times, but now it was wartime. Belatedly grasping the situation, the lords turned pale white.

"That is absurd! How could we have known the urgency of Winter Castle!"

"We have the right to defend ourselves! If there is guilt, hold us accountable through a trial!"

Listening to their urgent shouts, the First Prince pushed his younger brother's shoulder.

A weak gesture with almost no strength behind it, having just risen from a sickbed.

"Winter Castle has not fallen."

If we wanted to hold out, we could have held out as long as we wanted.

"Winter Castle was abandoned."

But Maximilian could only helplessly step back.

"Sort them out."

At the First Prince's words, Erhim Kilinger stepped forward as if he had been waiting.

"Count Shurtl. Baron Eaton. Baron Cardane. Baron Barheim."

At the sudden roll call, the lords looked at each other.

"The four of you who were just called, please step back over there."

The lords whose names were called hesitated before retreating to a corner of the tent.

"They are all of them."

At Erhim Kilinger's words, the First Prince spoke coldly.

"There are sixteen human bastards, but only four are even remotely human..."

The lords turned stark pale.

It seemed they only then realized that a verdict had been passed without them even knowing.

They looked for their escort knights. Knights drawing their swords blocked the front of their lords.

The sight of nobles aiming their swords at royalty without a single inch of hesitation.

The reality of a kingdom that was so diseased it had completely rotted away lay bare before my eyes.

Maximilian felt dizzy.

Suddenly, a *Gah* sound was heard. He turned his head at the gruesome noise.

The escort knights were falling over, spewing blood. There were green shadows weaving between them. A disgusting smell of blood and a fresh smell of grass simultaneously pierced his nose.

It was the Elf swordsmen who had joined them in the last battle.

The Elf swordsmen, who had dealt with the escort knights in an instant, shook the blood off their swords and lined up behind the First Prince.

Taking their place, the Iron Lions stepped forward.

"Y-Your Highness! Please forgive us!"

"If you forgive us just this once, we will pledge our utmost loyalty!"

The lords, forced to their knees by the Iron Lions, screamed and begged for their lives. However, the First Prince ignored their pleas.

"Gah!"

Every time he swung his sword, the life of one lord fell.

A certain baron who shouted that he would face a trial until the end had his chest slashed, and a certain count who groveled and begged became a headless corpse. A certain viscount who abruptly stood up and tried to run away was stabbed in the back multiple times.

Among them, there were those who drew their swords and tried to take the First Prince hostage. There were also those who drew their swords at the last moment and resisted.

The First Prince stumbled, but he tenaciously cut them all down.

"Huff. Huff."

Exhaling the breath that had reached his chin, the First Prince glared at the remaining ones.

The lords wet themselves upon seeing him covered in blood, his eyes flashing a blazing blue. And so they died and sprawled in their own urine and blood. As if his strength had run out, the First Prince slumped to the floor.

"P-Please spare me!"

Now, there was only one left.

Count Quern, who used to strut around boasting of his friendship with Montpellier, begged while shedding tears and snot.

The First Prince placed his hands on the floor as if crawling.

"Y-Your Highness! P-Please! Just once..."

The First Prince climbed atop Count Quern, who was flailing his limbs and retreating, and drove his sword into his adam's apple as if collapsing.

"Gurgle."

The Count grabbed his neck and thrashed about.

Count Quern died squirming ugly and foully like a maggot.

"Phew."

The First Prince dropped the sword and fell flat on his rear.

The blazing blue light subsided. An expression surfaced on his parched face.

It was a rather tired face.

However, his gaze was more piercing than ever before.

A woman approached and supported the First Prince. He sat down heavily on a chair.

Everyone in the tent stared at him.

Among them, some had relieved faces, while others had stiff faces as if worried about the aftermath.

The figures of Ballorhard were mostly the former, while Maximilian and the commanders from the Capital were mostly the latter.

"Antoine."

The First Prince didn't care what kind of expressions they looked at him with.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Have the soldiers spread a rumor right now."

He simply said what he needed to say.

"That the nobles fled in the middle of the night to save only themselves."

At those words, the leader of the Silver Foxes bowed his head and stepped out of the tent.

"Erhim Kilinger. Sort out your troops and take over the castles of the dead lords. Do I need to give you the justification as well?"

"Would it suffice to say that Your Highness stepped forward to protect their relatives, looking after the lords who died dishonorably while fleeing alone?"

"Good. Hurry."

Erhim Kilinger disappeared, leading the Iron Lions.

The First Prince's instructions continued. The knights and troops of Winter Castle exited the tent gripping their swords with murderous looks on their faces.

Those who received the orders did not question him at all. They simply obeyed.

Even the new Count, who was now the ruler of Ballorhard, sprang up like a highly disciplined new adjutant and began his explanation when instructed to explain the circumstances up until now.

Count Shurtl watched all of it with a terrified face.

Watching the First Prince pour out orders covered in blood, his legs trembled. The sight of the nobles dying gruesomely right before his eyes was still fresh in his memory.

He couldn't even breathe loudly. If they made eye contact, he felt like he would wet himself.

The First Prince's presence was just that bloodthirsty, and there was something about him that made people cower.

"Count Shurtl."

"Yes! Your Highness!"

Startled by the sudden call, Count Shurtl jumped and answered.

"The kingdom has abandoned the North."

Count Shurtl's expression stiffened as he remembered the pressing issue he had briefly forgotten due to the sudden bloodshed.

The royal family's decision to set up a defensive line south of the river was virtually no different from meaning the abandonment of the sixteen northern territories.

Just as the northern lords had abandoned Winter Castle, the royal family had also abandoned the northern lords.

The only future left for the North would be a miserable one where they were trampled by the Orcs without receiving help from anyone, just like Winter Castle.

"I will not abandon the North."

The First Prince spoke while looking at Count Shurtl, who had bowed his head with a dismal face.

"The 3rd Legion and I will remain here."

The First Prince declared.

"I will start anew here."

For a prince of a country to say that in a land ruled by his father, there was something oddly peculiar about it.

Because it sounded like the declaration of a monarch.