Chapter 87 - Nobles, Princes, the King, and the Empire (4)

The soldiers of the North were originally supposed to be guided to a temporary encampment outside The Capital immediately after the victory ceremony, but thanks to the First Prince's stubbornness, they were all able to stay within the outer castle walls.

The Palace Count, who suddenly had to find lodgings for nearly a thousand soldiers, grabbed his head in distress, and the captain of The Capital's guards also had to sweat profusely to strengthen security in preparation for any potential unrest or unforeseen incidents.

The First Prince dismissed their complaints, stating that this was a right the soldiers who had risked their lives to fight rightfully deserved to enjoy.

"Do not drink excessively. Do not cause a disturbance. Do not leave The Capital. As long as you keep these three things in mind, you may do whatever you please while staying in The Capital."

He even went a step further, granting his soldiers permission to roam freely and even opening his own pockets to distribute reward money. When the Northern lords, who were studying the First Prince's mood, joined in on this, the ones who grew excited were the soldiers.

Getting to stay in The Capital's lodging facilities instead of rigid barracks, and with their pockets now heavy with coin, praises couldn't help but pour from their mouths.

"Just as I thought, the only one who understands the hardships of bottom-rung soldiers like us is His Highness."

"Now that you mention it, there's no one else in the entire world like His Highness."

The veteran Rangers of Ballorhard occupied the tavern and continuously praised their superior's virtues.

"Is the His Highness you lot are talking about perhaps His Highness the Second Prince?"

The heavy drinkers, who had initially been intimidated by the Rangers' rough appearances and atmosphere, slyly struck up a conversation.

They seemed to have many questions about the Northern soldiers who had caused such a stir in The Capital yesterday and today.

"No."

As if they had made a promise, the Rangers held up a single finger.

"Of course it's His Highness the First Prince."

The heavy drinkers' faces turned sour.

Although they might revere him as a savior or a war hero in the North, to the people of The Capital, the First Prince's notoriety as a scoundrel abandoned even by his own father was still far more prominent.

"I don't like the looks on your faces."

"What, do you have some sort of problem with His Highness the First Prince?"

Seeing their expressions immediately turn threatening, the heavy drinkers hastily waved their hands in denial.

"It's not that, it's just that we know so little about His Highness the First Prince."

"We only know that he left The Capital and has now returned, we haven't heard any other stories. I'll buy you a round of drinks, so why don't you tell us the details?"

The simple Rangers immediately softened their expressions at those words.

"Ahem. Well, if you insist."

And with spit flying from their mouths, they began to chatter about just how incredible a person 'Our Highness' was.

"When His Highness first came to Winter Castle, it was none other than me, Yorden, who went out to meet him. And I met His Highness standing firmly all alone in the raging blizzard, shouting at and leading the terrified soldiers."

Stories straight out of the beginning of a heroic epic poured out, from claiming they thought they would go blind the moment they saw the boy wrapped in a dazzling halo, to saying their knees buckled at the sheer presence of him carrying four large soldiers at once while pushing through the blizzard.

"No. So. Are you saying that in a blizzard where it was hard to even stand still, he carried four grown men, one on each shoulder and two under his arms, and ran for a full day and a half?"

"We would have frozen to death in the blizzard if we walked leisurely, so what else was there to do? Clenching his teeth and running... Wait, are you perhaps not believing what I'm saying right now?"

The Ranger, who had introduced himself as Yorden, threw a fit like a thief turning on the victim. He completely ignored the very slight exaggeration and very slight beautification mixed into his story.

"No. We believe you. Please continue."

When the heavy drinker coaxed him by offering him another drink, Yorden pretended to give in and started his story again.

The entire process from the First Prince killing an Orc Warrior on his first mission to facing off against the Warlord at Winter Castle flowed from his mouth.

The heavy drinkers, who had initially been half-heartedly chewing on the story like bar snacks, lost their words at some point and listened to Yorden's words as if bewitched.

They let out continuous sighs when he spoke of the months of desperate struggles fought by the soldiers of Winter Castle, and when they heard that the former Count Ballorhard and his knights had perished while fighting the King of Orcs, they raised their glasses high to mourn their deaths.

And by the time he finally described the scene where the defeated Northern army reclaimed Winter Castle, they were even tearing up.

"If His Highness hadn't been there, we still wouldn't have been able to reclaim the castle."

"Reclaiming the castle wouldn't have been the issue; we probably wouldn't even be alive to enjoy the luxury of raising our glasses in such a warm, sunny place."

Of course, they still seemed unable to fully believe that a boy of a mere sixteen years had slain a monster that even highly renowned knights had failed to catch after rushing it, and that such a young boy had united the Northern lords to resolve the crisis.

Regardless, the Rangers spoke boastfully.

"Do you understand? This is the kind of person our Highness is. I don't know what the people of The Capital have thought of him all this time, but he is a true Hero. I am ready to die for His Highness at any time."

"Stop making a fuss. As if there's anyone among the soldiers of Winter Castle who doesn't think the same."

The Rangers, who had exchanged glances with serious faces, soon relaxed their expressions and began to giggle.

"That bastard Bilbo. He made up excuses to back out of the trip to The Capital because he didn't want to march, and now he doesn't even know what kind of luxury he's missing out on here."

"Tell me about it. He outsmarted himself."

At those words, the heavy drinkers generously treated them to plenty of drinks and snacks, telling them to enjoy a proper luxury. It seemed they wanted to pay the price for the story in their own way.

"Let's show them the spirit of Northerners! Let's start by emptying ten glasses like real men!"

"As the greatest drinker in The Capital, I accept that challenge!"

The Rangers and the heavy drinkers mingled, starting a boisterous drinking party. Before long, even the tavern owner joined in, drinking and chattering noisily. However, there were men who could not blend into the heated atmosphere of the tavern.

It was Gawain and his comrades who had followed the First Prince.

"Do you believe those words?"

Gawain did not answer.

Because it was a hard story to believe.

A boy who hadn't possessed a single outstanding trait just a few years ago, and a foolish boy lacking so much discretion that he would sell out his own country's knights to the empire. Who would believe that such a scoundrel had become a knight capable of taking down a monster that even the Silver Lion couldn't handle in just a few years?

"A prince who speaks the language of Orcs, what a load of crap."

A story like a heroic epic perfectly suited for a bard to sing—there was a limit to how absurd something could be.

But it was also difficult to disbelieve it entirely.

If all those stories were truly lies, the Northern lords would never revere the Scoundrel Prince like a king, and the soldiers would never openly declare their willingness to lay down their lives for someone who wasn't even their lord.

"Let's just observe for now."

Gawain said.

The First Prince had told them to watch closely everything that happens in The Capital; if they watched, they would come to understand his meaning.

Gawain and his comrades, who had been lost in thought in silence for a long time, rose from their seats. Without even touching the drinks they had gone out of their way to order, they left the tavern just like that.

The Rangers, who had been frantically mingling with the heavy drinkers, glanced at their retreating backs and whispered softly among themselves.

"I still have no idea why old man Nicolo made us do this. Didn't he have all the other guys do it too, besides us?"

"How should I know? God knows what goes on inside the heads of those so-called scholars. All we have to do is talk some shit and score some free booze."

"Well, that's true, but..."

"Where did my drinking buddy go!"

At the heavily intoxicated voice, the Rangers changed their expressions and rushed back into the drinking party.

* * *

Leaving the tavern, Gawain and his comrades headed straight for their lodgings. And there, they encountered the First Prince's messenger waiting for them.

It was a female knight they had run into a few times before.

Was her name Arwen Kirgayen?

"His Highness is waiting for you."

She spoke in a voice as cold as her haughty impression. Then, without even giving them a chance to reply, she turned around and began walking somewhere. They followed the female knight for a long while. Passing through the complex streets of The Capital, the royal palace revealed itself.

"Ah..."

Gawain let out a groan.

It was the royal palace he had thought he might never set foot in during this lifetime.

Coming to such a royal palace only after losing his Circuit, it was only natural for his feelings to become complicated.

It would have been nice if he could have proudly passed through while carrying a treasured sword bestowed by the King.

Forcing his turbulent emotions to settle, he continued walking.

After walking for a long time, they found themselves at the 1st Prince's Palace before they knew it.

CRASH!

An explosive sound pierced their ears. Frowning and turning their heads, they saw the First Prince exchanging sword strikes with a handsome knight in the middle of a spacious training ground.

CRASH! CRASH!

With golden armor and a tunic bearing a lion, the knight was clearly a member of the Royal Knights.

Yet, against a Royal Knight who was called the kingdom's finest elite, the First Prince was exchanging strikes without showing a single sign of being pushed back.

While they watched the knight and the First Prince spar as if possessed, the female knight, having finished her duty, bowed her head and went to stand in attendance on the opposite side.

CRASH!

At that moment, a fierce explosion erupted. And the knight and the First Prince, who had been closely locked together exchanging endless sword strikes, sprang apart.

"You have grown to an unrecognizable extent."

"Is that so? Karl, you're a bit more disappointing than I expected."

"You should catch your breath first."

"It's just because my stomach is churning from fighting a Knight of the Ring for the first time in a while after slicing nothing but Orcs day in and day out."

"I don't doubt it."

The First Prince and the knight looked at each other and laughed.

"Welcome back."

"Yeah. I never imagined Karl would be the one guarding this place."

"I also didn't expect you to draw your sword first instead of giving a greeting."

Gawain watched the scene, completely mesmerized.

Wearing a tunic engraved with a lion roaring while stepping on a dragon—the Dragon Slayer crest symbolizing the Royal House of Leonberk. Standing proudly before one who inherited the blood of Leonberk was precisely the sight that Gawain and the other three hundred and twenty-three men had desperately yearned to become.

A sense of deprivation caused his face to contort without him realizing it.

"I don't know who you are, but you'd best withdraw such an inappropriate gaze and aura. This is the residence of Leonberk's bloodline; it is no place for those who lack reverence to step foot."

Looking at him, the Royal Knight said.

At the sharply rising aura, Gawain and his comrades ended up taking a step back involuntarily.

CLENCH.

Gawain bit down hard on his lip.

It was a terrible feeling.

To be scolded by a knight bearing the exact appearance he had envied, and to be pushed back by that aura.

"Lower your aura. They are the ones I called."

"But Your Highness. Their disrespectful mindset is far too blatant..."

"I said, withdraw your aura."

Being able to inhale a breath that was blocked, all thanks to the petty generosity bestowed by the very prince who had reduced them to this state, was truly awful.

"I hope you all do not forget where you are."

Having said that, the Royal Knight took a step back. However, he did not withdraw his sharp gaze until the end.

His intent to cut them down in a single strike if they tried any nonsense was perfectly clear.

Gawain turned his head with a stiff face.

"Take it."

Before his eyes was a bundle of magenta clothes.

He hurriedly accepted the bundle of clothes and widened his eyes.

It was a knight's uniform.

Although it did not bear the Dragon Slayer crest they had so desperately wanted to wear, that magenta clothing was undeniably the uniform of a royal knight, one he had never once been able to wear.

Because the crest of a crouching lion was one that only the eldest son of the kingdom could use—it was, for all intents and purposes, a crest of the royal family.

"This is..."

"Do not worry. Just because you wear those clothes doesn't mean you become my knights."

You'll have to stay in the royal palace for a while, so you can't walk around looking like that, can you? The First Prince said.

Gawain couldn't give any answer and simply stared blankly at the uniform over and over again.

The hatred and resentment in his heart remained unchanged, but his burning desire to become a proud knight remained unchanged as well.

To an extent that surprised even himself.