I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song
Chapter 87: Nobles, Princes, Kings, and Empires (4)

Nobles, Princes, Kings, and Empires (4)

At first, some of the northern soldiers were led to temporary quarters outside of the capital after the victory ceremony was done with, but thanks to the stubborn persistence of the prince, every soldier had been given lodgings inside the city walls.

Suddenly, the royal officials had their heads wrapped around the problem of finding accommodation for close to a thousand soldiers.

The capital guards were also pressed hard to patrol the streets and establish boundaries in the case of unforeseen rioting or other emergencies.

Prince Adrian dismissed their dissatisfaction, stating that it was only right for soldiers who had risked their lives to enjoy a comfortable stay.

“Don’t drink too much, don’t start any trouble, and don’t leave the capital. If you keep by those three rules, you can do anything else you want to do while in the capital.”

The first prince had even taken further steps, allowing his soldiers to roam freely and opening up his own pockets to pay them a stipend. The soldiers were greatly excited, and the northern lords also enjoyed watching the first prince’s largess.

So instead of having a hard stay in barracks, the soldiers stayed in lodges and inns and taverns throughout the capital, and their pockets stood thick with coin.

“After all, it’s only His Highness who understands the grievances of simples soldiers like us.”

“I don’t have many words for these nobles, but I doubt there’s another person like our Highness in this world.”

Balahard’s senior rangers had taken over a bar and were praising the many virtues of the first prince.

“Is this Highness you speak of the second prince?” one of the bar patrons quietly asked, who had at first been afraid of the rough looks of the rangers. The man who had asked the question had been afraid the previous day, but this day he was curious why the rangers had such rosy language for a royal.

“No, not him,” said one of the rangers, raising a single finger. “It’s the first prince who has furnished so fine a stay for us.”

The regulars of the capital shook their heads at this. It was only in the north that Prince Adrian was called a savior and a hero. Here in the capital, it was known that the prince was a lecher, an exile, and some even said that he was a traitor.

“I don’t like your expression, friend. You got something to say against the first prince?” a ranger demanded from one of the regulars.

The men’s faces became full of fear, and one of them raised his open palms into the air.

“No, not all! It’s just, well, we don’t know much about the first prince.”

“That’s right, I only know that he left the capital, and now he’s back. I haven’t heard anything else, but let me buy you northern archers some drink so we can talk about in detail.”

The down-to-earth rangers quickly relaxed their expressions at such words.

“Hmm, that’s a good idea.”

One of the rangers brought the tankard of ale to his mouth and then began to talk about how great ‘Their Highness’ was.

“The first time our Highness came to Winter Castle, it was I, Jordan, who met with him. I saw him then, as he faced a blizzard on his own, shouting and leading his terrified soldiers from the front, helping them through the storm. “

The moment that Jorden had seen the boy struggling through the snow, he had thought that his sight had betrayed him, for so stunned was he by the appearance of a prince leading four large soldiers through that blizzard. Jordan’s tale brought a lively debate to the patrons.

“So you’re saying that he ran a full day and a half? With one on his shoulder and the others by his side? Through a blizzard that grown men struggle to stand upright in?”

Jorden’s face became red as the regulars questioned him.

“A man would freeze to death if he walked leisurely through a blizzard. What must I tell you? I saw him running, and right now, you are so sure that you don’t believe me?”

“No, no! I believe you, please continue.”

One of the patrons called for more drink, but Jordan indicated he still had some and continued his tale.

“The first prince killed an Orc Warrior on his first mission, and…” Jordan spoke on and finally recounted the tale of the battle with the Warlord at Winter Castle. The patrons, who had at first listened with half-ears as they nursed their drinks, now followed Jordan’s tale, and they were lost for words. When he told them of the months of struggle and death that the soldiers of Winter Castle had faced, they all groaned in sympathy. When they heard of the former Count Balahard and his knights being cut down as they faced the Warlord, the regulars raised their cups, tankards, and glasses to commemorate the death of such brave warriors.

Finally, Jordan spoke of how the once-defeated northern army had retaken Winter Castle, and the men’s hearts were filled with wonder.

“If His Highness had not been present in the north, we would never have reclaimed the castle and the Balahard name.”

“Ah, but if you have never regained that castle, you would have enjoyed the luxury of tilting back glasses in this warm sun of ours!” one of the patrons mocked. It seemed that, from all the stories, these men of the capital could still not believe that a boy of sixteen had defeated a monster that not even the greatest knight of the kingdom could kill. And some of them doubted that Prince Adrian could have solved the hardship of the north by rallying its lords.

Whether people believed them or not, the rangers cared little.

“Okay then? Our Highness is just that kind of person, and I don’t know what you central people think of him, but he is a real hero. I am ready to die for his cause and for his sake any day and any second.”

“Hah, it must be all the shivering you folk of the north do, if all of you would sell your lives so readily,” one of the patrons joked in a friendly fashion. The rangers, whose faces had mostly been serious up to now, relaxed and laughed along.

“Bilbo here, well, he almost didn’t march south with us, and I see he doesn’t even know how to enjoy the luxuries of the capital,” one ranger joked as he clapped one of his comrades on the shoulder.

“You think so? I’ve tricked you then,” Bilbo responded.

In the end, the party of the capital served the rangers generously with alcohol and snacks, asking that they enjoy themselves properly. It seemed that they wished to pay for the tales of the north, in their own little way.

“I’ll show you the true toughness of a northerner! Come now, let’s start with ten cups and empty them like men, till only one stands!”

“As the best drinker in the capital, I accept your challenge!”

The rangers and the people of the city mingled and engaged in noisy, boisterous banter. Suddenly, even the bar owner joined the fun, downing a tankard and belching loudly.

Still, some men could not join in the revelry and the bar’s friendly atmosphere.

They were Gwain and his comrades, who had followed Prince Adrian here.

“Do you believe what he said?”

Gwain did not answer, for it was indeed an incredible story.

A few years ago, there was a boy without any special duties or good qualities, and that fool of a boy had not shown any wisdom when he betrayed the country’s knights to the empire. Who could believe that such a pathetic creature could become enough of a knight to defeat a monster that even the greatest knights could not defeat, and all of this in just a few years?

‘A prince who spoke with orcs.’

It sounded like a heroic story, perfect for any bard to sing, even if there were elements of vanity contained therein.

Still, it was difficult to dismiss all such tales as lies. Indeed, if such tales were false, then the lords of the north wouldn’t be supporting a prince as if he was king, and the soldiers wouldn’t so openly talk of giving their lives to someone who was not their lord.

“Let’s just observe things for now,” said Gwain.

He thought back to the first prince telling him to observe the happenings in the capital, and he guessed that if he and his comrades did so, they would soon enough grasp the true meaning of things.

Gwain and his fellows had woken up and had remained silent for a long while. They had left the bar without even touching the glasses of drink that they had ordered.

The rangers had mixed with the other patrons. A few of them glanced at the back of the bar as they whispered to one another.

“I… I don’t know what the hell Niccolo said to inspire such actions. Didn’t we have more guys here, other than us?”

“I understand what you’re saying, friend. What’s in the head of those scholarly humans? Roughly, I say we don’t break our teeth, and just drink more booze. That’s it.”

“That’s it, but-“

“Where’s that person, that one that was drinking, that one who bet me, huh?”

Upon this drunken realization, the rangers changed their expressions and rushed back to the table.

* * *

Gwain and his comrades headed straight to their lodgings when they left the bar. They encountered a messenger from the first prince, who had been awaiting them. It was a knight that they had encountered several times before, and Gwain remembered her name to be Arwen Kirgayen.

“His Highness is waiting,” she stated in a voice as cold as steel. Without giving the knights much time to respond, she turned around and started heading in a direction. Gwain and the others followed her as they wove through the complicated maze of streets and alleys until the walls of the royal palace finally appeared before them.

“Aagh,” moaned Gwain. There it was: The royal palace, which he had thought he would never enter in his entire life.

Since he came to it after he had lost his rings, his emotions were very complicated. He forced such dizzying feelings down as he continued walking. After traversing the palace grounds for a long time, they reached the First Palace.

‘Klang!’

An explosive sound of metal upon metal broke into his ears. He frowned as he turned to its source and saw that the first prince was dueling with a handsome knight in the center of a spacious hall.

‘Klang! Klang!’

The knight wore golden armor, and a lion was upon his tunic. He was obviously a member of the palace knights.

Still, the first prince was exchanging blows without a sign of being pushed back, and this against a palace knight. They were said to be the best in the kingdom.

Gwain watched the battle between the knight and the prince, who fought as if he was possessed. Arwen bowed and headed to the other side of the hall, her duty done.

‘Klang! Klang! Klang!’

An intense barrage of strikes occurred, and the knight and the prince both stepped back after their close melee.

“You have grown to an extent that I had not expected,” said the knight.

“Fighting Carls must have been different than what you had expected,” came Arwen’s comment from the side.

“Yes, His Highness is out of breath!”

“Hah, I have cut down so many orcs, so it has been a while since I’ve faced a Knight of the Ring, so I must say, my insides are sore.”

“Never one to be fooled, then.”

Both the first prince and the knight laughed as they faced each other.

“You have returned hale.”

“I’m okay, but I would never have imagined that you, Carls, would have kept your talents so hidden.”

“Well, I didn’t think that you would attack me with your sword before uttering a single greeting.”

Gwain was fascinated by the entire exchange.

The man whore a tunic depicting the Leonberger dynasty’s dragon slayer symbol, which was a roaring lion stepping on a fallen dragon.

Such a symbol, of being defiant in the face of adversity, is exactly the opposite of the family that had sold out three-hundred-and-twenty-three knights, Gwain included.

His face became distorted as he recalled the deprivations that had been thrust on him.

“I don’t know who you are, but I advise you to get rid of that hateful gaze, and that violent attitude. This is the place where the ancestor of all the Leonbergers rest, and not a place where the disrespectful dare tread,” the palace knight said as he looked at Gwain.

The power in the room had sharply and swiftly risen, and Gwain and his comrades had unwittingly stepped back.

Gwain chewed on his lips, trying to bear that terrible feeling.

He had been yelled at by a knight whose position he envied, and then he had been pushed back by the man’s rings.

“Release the momentum of your rings, Carls. I have summoned them here.”

“Your Highness, their disrespect is so blatant-“

“Release your momentum.”

The knights had been breathing hard yet now felt a moderate generosity toward the man who had broken them as the palace knight stopped channeling his mana.

“I just hope you don’t forget where you are,” the palace knight said as he stepped back, his sharp gaze never leaving them.

They could sense his willingness to cut them all down at the first signs of threat.

“Receive this,” the first prince said.

There were stacks of fuchsia clothing before him. Gwain stepped forward, took a bundle, and unfolded it.

It was a knight’s uniform. Although it did not bear the dragon slayer’s symbol that they had wished for all their lives, the fuchsia suits were the uniforms of royal knights, uniforms they have never worn.

The pattern of a crouching lion was a symbol that only the eldest son of the kingdom could wear, for it was a purely royal symbol.

“This-“

“Do not worry, wearing that suit does not make you my knight. I’m sure I’ll be in the royal palace for a while yet, but I got around to doing this, at least,” the first prince said.

Gwain could not answer as he blankly stared at the uniform.

The hatred in his heart still existed, but so did his desire to be a confident knight.

To his surprise, he realized that he still held that latter emotion.