I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song-Novel

Nobles, Princes, Kings, and Empires (2)

“Servant!” shouted Gwain. “Bring me a drink!”

He slammed the table as he shouted, but neither the barmaid, who was cleaning tables nor the owner, who counted coin in a corner, pretended to see him. It was because the drunk Gwain’s brutality was not a new thing; he acted like this on a daily basis.

Damn… I wasn’t always… always like this.

Gwain loudly breathed as he lay his head on the table. He hadn’t been such a boring and boorish man years ago. He had held a sword in the name of the king, and his heart had been filled with a proud mission. Although his body had hidden away in an abandoned fortress, he had never forgotten his spirit and the truth that beat in his heart.

It had been a time of waiting and waiting for the glorious day that had been promised, a day of the great world that was to come.

He now knew all too well that what waited for him was not golden glory but deep, dark despair.

One day, the king had come to the abandoned fortress, and the king was not alone, for two handsome boys rode beside him.

The king had said that he might not be able to bring about a new grand order in his life, so he would prepare his sons for the future, for they were, after all, the next generation of the royal family.

His damned chubby face… and those curious eyes! More like the queen than his father.

The one boy didn’t seem so active, yet seemed adorable enough as children tend to seem. He was unlike his younger brother, for his eyes shone so differently. The first impression of the first prince was that he was a perfectly normal boy – but that ordinary boy had cut asunder a hundred years of planning done by the kingdom. Every three months, there would be a royal visit to the fortress. The day that Gwain recalled was exactly the third time that such a visit, from the First Prince, had occurred.

Gwain had left the fortress for a short while, and the next thing that he heard was the sound of marching, and soon enough, thousands of soldiers appeared. In the midst of them, there fluttered a flag with a golden lion, the emblem of the Leonberger dynasty.

There was a king, and there was a prince, and there was that hated ambassador from the empire!

“Everyone, assemble here, and kneel,” said the king. Gwain and his comrades listened to the king’s bloody words. They heard him say that the grand vision had failed and that the empire had become aware of their existence. The First Prince was next to the ambassador. He smiled brightly, and the king said that everything was his fault.

Gwain and his comrades made up their minds there and then. They had sworn always to honor the Leonberger royal family, yet after that day, they had known the king to be a cancer to his kingdom, and they had denied him as the monarch of the country.

The king said that his actions were the only way to avoid hardship for the royal family, and the knights did not resist his decision.

All the soldiers who had come with the king were soldiers of the kingdom, so they aided in this breaking of the kingdom’s spirit, as they remained calm while the king denounced his knights.

The empire’s dog had wished the knights not to resist and quietly surrender and promised them that they would be free men if they broke their rings. Gwain and his comrades had hoped that the king would not accept such a dishonorable compromise.

However, the king accepted it and swore on his life that it would be done.

And so all three-hundred-and-twenty-three knights, Gwain among them, broke their mana rings with their own hands and their own wills.

The pain was terrible, yet the real torment came after that day. The cause they had devoted their entire lived toward and the skills that they had honed were lost and ruined overnight. Fragments of the shattered magical rings became like sharp daggers that pierced into their internal organs. So great was the pain of their severance that these knights could barely sleep without drinking all day. Amid their drunken and ruined lives, news of the kingdom reached their ears.

They heard of the feud between the king and the first prince, and the rumor that the first prince was on the verge of being confined after his many wanderings and moral corruption had brought shame upon his family.

Shortly thereafter, they learned that Prince Adrian had left for the north with his uncle. The tales from the northern war soon became common gossip. They heard that Count Balahard had been killed and that the shield of the north, Winter Castle, had collapsed.

Yet, they heard that the northerners were completely stubborn in their defense and that the first prince had rallied the survivors to defeat the king of the orcs.

It was also around that time that people started to call Prince Adrian by another, a name which sounded impossible for a stupid princeling to be called.

The savior of the north, no matter how stupid he is, hah!

Gwain laughed, yet not as loud as he thought he had. After suffering for so long, Gwain had started to suspect that he could no longer be angered. Funnily enough, his anger only came when he found out that the monthly royal grants would no longer be paid out to him.

Gwain was no fool, and he fully realized that it meant that the royal family had decided to forget about them completely.

“Fuck them all.” He stood from his seat, all the while swearing at the barkeep who didn’t come no matter how many times Gwain had called him. He stumbled out of the bar and began to piss on a wall. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“I don’t know who you are, mate, but you clearly decided to brush dust off of the wrong man,” Gwain said as he fixed his pants.

“You’re Gwain Gust, is that right?”

“I don’t know such a person,” replied Gwain without looking back.

“His Highness, the First Prince, has sent for you.”

Gwain stiffened where he stood.

“His Highness has politely invited you north.”

Gwain shook his head.

“You got the wrong man here, mate.”

He once more denied his identity, but this tactic did not convince the men who surrounded him.

“Let’s go north first.”

So Gwain did head north, dragged there as he was.

The north, which had been said to have become a sprawling field of bones, was quite different from what Gwain had imagined.

He thought that it would have the atmosphere of a cemetery, which was not the case at all.

Certainly, there were many traces left by the great battles and hideous massacres, yet there were people about the land, and they were quite active.

Men who carried weapons were to be seen everywhere, and the lords’ soldiers tolerated this open bearing of arms by the populace. In the atmosphere of the entire region preparing so diligently for war, Gwain felt out of shape. The whole kingdom’s forces had been shrunk by imperial decree, so the north felt like a different world.

“The northerners no longer believe in the kingdom and the nobility. They have decided to protect themselves,” explained the man who had found Gwain and had identified himself as an intermediate mercenary of the Silver Fox Mercenary Corps.

“So, you mean the lords know of this?”

“If it weren’t for the prince, not even you would have been able to join the army. His Highness has given permission for the people to arm themselves, and the nobles dare not object.”

Gwain shut his mouth, and although he was powerless, the first prince still disgusted him. However, he had heard the first prince’s tale countless times as they journeyed through the northern provinces. The peasants and young people recognized the Silver Foxes and invited them to stay over at their homes, even if it made for poor living. On each visit, the tales of Prince Adrian were told, for it was thanks to him that the orcish army had been swept from the north, and neither did the Silver Foxes leave out the battles for Winter Castle, nor the saga that was the war upon the Rhinethes.

“I knew, right from the moment that we found you, that you bore ill will against His Highness. I advise you to be wary of such feelings, at least here in the north.”

Gwain did not respond to the mercenary’s words.

And finally, they arrived at Winter Castle.

He reunited with his old comrades after all that time, yet before they could fully enjoy the feeling of their reunion, the Silver Foxes took them somewhere: They came before the first prince.

His chubby breasts were gone, and no trace remained of that curious and playful boy.

Prince Adrian was a well-formed young man.

Looking at that scarred face, Gwain felt indescribable emotions. He felt anger first, and was then overwhelmed by a feeling of deprivation. He was miserable to the core, for the man who had thrown them into the gutter had become the hero of the north.

All these feelings of abandonment, anger, and shame roiled in his mind until he could only be confused.

“What kind of glory did you come seeking here?”

Gwain could barely hold it. He wished that he had rather died that day instead of living a life so hard. He was terrified by his regret and angered that he had survived after he had torn his mana rings apart.

Why had he even come here? And why did his comrades do so as well?

Before this, he had not even thought of taking revenge, and the first prince had now him criticized for it!

“If you came here, intent on sticking a knife into the back of the trash that had sold you and the kingdom out…”

It would have been better for him not to come, for now, the anger had come back once more. Even if everyone else in the realm had dismissed them and kicked them away as underdogs, as failures, it did not seem possible for Prince Adrian to do so.

Gwain let flow with swear words and insults as his shame and anger only increased.

“Here I am, the sinner who broke your rings and betrayed the kingdom’s future! If things are left as they are, this sinner becomes king. Isn’t it terrible indeed?”

When Gwain somewhat awoke from his emotional fugue, he felt very confident, grasping a sword once more.

He rushed at the first prince as if possessed, and in the next moment, he crashed to the floor in pain.

“I said I would give you a chance, I never said I would give you victory.”

The moment that he saw the blatant ridicule on the prince’s face, he charged, and once more was he beaten back.

“Then, you don’t have to wait,” the First Prince continued as he stared at Gwain’s fallen comrades.

“You can infuse mana into your swords again … That is, if you want to prevent the trash that had sold you and the kingdom out from becoming the king.”

Prince Adrian’s words were blurring together in Gwain’s mind. He asked a boon from them, and Gwain challenged him.

“You will fight for the kingdom, not for me.”

Gwain had had no intention of becoming a soldier for the kingdom; he believed himself a coward after destroying his rings.

That was at least the case until the first prince spoke of the empire. He had offered the knights another chance of revenge, of warring against the imperial dogs. Prince Adrian laughed, asking if they would rather crush one stone or three trillion?

Crazy guy, but even if you’re crazy… you’re still rotten.

Gwain knew that he could not let this prince dominate the kingdom; he didn’t even want to allow a man who had sold his country to have any say in the country’s future. Gwain vowed then that he would claim his revenge for that shameful day whether he stored mana in his heart or in his stomach.

Despite such promises, Gwain still laughed. He had guessed that there remained little in this kingdom that was worth burning, but now the need had come upon him, and he knew that there was still a great many things that had to be burned.

He figured that his feelings were definitely ugly and could not be compared to his brilliant sense of duty in the past.

For the first in many years, Gwain fell into a deep sleep without needing to be drunk.

His comrades continued to flock to the castle, and men who had lost their will to live came out blazing like avenging angels after they met with the First Prince. Even if they had been beaten up, they had magic again, so they used it to heal their bodies. It was a low-level technique, yet as the saying goes, if someone is hungry, you never cover the rice, whether it be hot or cold.

Funnily enough, it had been the first prince who had taught them. It was as if he had given them whetstones to sharpen the daggers that they would plunge into his back. Gwain could not comprehend Prince Adrian’s thoughts, yet he didn’t really care about them.

No matter what the prince was thinking, all that mattered was that Gwain gain his revenge. First, against the empire that had made the king deny his knights and the knights deny their king. And then against the informant who had caused it all, yet the latter revenge could wait.

Gwain had seen the admiration for the prince countless times upon entering the north, and even greater was that feeling among the people of Winter Castle. What kind of man was the first prince to the northerners?

The broken knights still held the same hellish hatred in their hearts, yet Gwain and his comrades were not selfish and petty enough to ignore the northerners simply because they had their own private grudges.

Gwain figured that maybe he and his comrades would not even be selected to take part in the great war, though he knew that if he had been among northerners, then maybe the empire might never have claimed his rings.

Gwain wondered whether the first prince was trying to figure out such things and use those facts to his advantage, yet he could not be sure.

How could you guess the inner thoughts of such a spontaneous man?

What remained clear was that Gwain and his comrades would not ignore the cause, so they had hidden their undiluted hatred deep, for they knew their private revenge was still far off.

They had to regain their strength first; then, they could focus on revenge. Each time Gwain channeled mana, the broken fragments of his rings shook his entire body, and he could not help but recall the shame and sorrow of that terrible day as the tormenting pain pierced through his body. While experiencing another one of those maddening days, Gwain heard the first prince make an unexpected proposal.

“If there is anyone who wants to join us, they can march with us along the royal road and to the capital.”

Gwain and his comrades were conflicted by the announcement until thirty of the three-hundred-and-six knights finally applied to be part of the marching order. Some of them just wanted to see the king again, even if from a distance. Others had chosen to go to the capital, being driven by vague emotions, and Gwain counted among their number.

Gwain and his comrades marched between two-hundred rangers, and they were followed by the First Prince and his escort of lancers in black armor. While they marched through the north, a great many people joined them. There were some heads of northern families whose family names were well known, while the other smaller noble families were ones that Gwain had only then learned of.

Regardless of the low or high prestige that these nobles held, they all showed the same extreme courtesy and respect toward the first prince. And what of all the young people and peasants? Every time the army passed through a city, the outpouring of hospitality was tremendous. The armed forces made a terrifying spectacle, yet none of the northerners who welcomed the first prince and his attendants showed any fear or were in any way reluctant to visit the camps. So extreme was the hospitality and worship of the common folk that it seemed to Gwain as if Prince Adrian was a king who reigned a foreign world called the north. Such scenes repeated themselves in the central kingdom. Count Brandenburg had personally met the prince by the bridge that spanned the Rhinethes and which connected the northern and central regions. The count’s hospitality and respect were also considerable, though not as extreme as that of the northerners.

Gwain and his comrades sighed at such things, for even if the sight that they saw was pretty didn’t mean that it had surpassed their limits. Still, they dared do nothing, for their swords felt heavy in their scabbards. They exchanged heavy-hearted glances with one another, and then Gwain suddenly felt as if he was being watched. The First Prince had been riding ahead of them. He now stared squarely at them.

Gwain could not try to comprehend the thoughts and feelings that were contained in those blue eyes.

On the night that they camped but a day from the capital, Prince Adrian came to them.

“From now on, keep your eyes open and watch everything that occurs on the royal road.”

Such words clearly held an unknown meaning, and Gwain could not sleep until dawn. He noticed that his comrades also had bags under their eyes.

“March!” came the roar of a leading knight, and the procession from the north broke camp and once more marched along the road. As the afternoon passed, they finally reached the plain that overlooked the capital.

“From far off, we see the troops of the Royal Guard approach!”

The Black Lancer heard the words of the cavalry scouts, and soon the military flags of the north were hoisted, and the northern lords stood stiff and looked sharp.

The riders that approached were dirty and dusty, and they stopped under momentum and talked in a hurry.

“Highness! It is an honor to meet you! I am Palail, leader of the 24th Squadron from the Patrol Cavalry of the Royal Guard Corps!” shouted one of the horsemen, who seemed wary despite being in the presence of his fellows.

“We pay homage to Your Highness, the First Prince.”

The leader of the cavalry patrol hesitantly approached and gave his polite bow to the gathered nobility.

“Not far from the capital, we have prepared a field for the soldiers of the north to rest upon.”

The field itself acted as a euphemism, one which had a clear meaning. The northern army had already increased by nearly a thousand men as it had traveled down the royal road. On the face of it then, the recommendation was reasonable.

The capital was the heart of the kingdom and the monarch’s home, and it was reasonable that an army, no matter who led it, could be barred from entering the city. But these warriors, this army, was the very same that had repelled the large army of monsters that had invaded the south! They had, for all intents and purposes, saved the capital!

“We stay here, ready the camp!” ordered the first prince.

“Ready the camp!” the order flowed through the mouths of spearmen and knights alike.

“Well, Your Highness?” the cavalry leader had seen the northern army unpacking their wagons and setting up camp, so he had called to the first prince with a grim face.

“I’ll give you a day,” was Prince Adrian’s only response.

“What does Your Highness mean by-“

“Twenty-four thousand orc heads,” came the dry reply, due to the uncomfortable nature of the topic. “That is the number of monsters that had invaded the kingdom, as well as the number of monster heads that we had severed.”

The fervor and spirit contained in the prince’s words were neither dry nor embarrassing.

“Chief Palail of the 24th Squadron from the Patrol Cavalry of the Royal Guard Corps!”

“Yes! Your Highness!” replied the utterly depressed cavalry leader, as if he was having a seizure.

“I will ask you now,” said the prince as he regarded the man. “Are we a triumphal army which had fought and bled for this kingdom? Or are we merely a group of factions that the kingdom is wary off?”

“Sir, this is a victorious army!”

“Then why are we treated as if we were almost an enemy, or a mere band of mercenaries, instead of a victorious army!?” shouted the first prince.

“Sir, I am sorry!”

The cavalry leader dismounted, knelt before his horse, and bowed his head.

“Rather than hiding like a meerkat on the plains, I would rather march back north. Unless we were given a proper greeting, of course,” Prince Adrian said coldly.

“Either we are given a triumphal march through the streets, or a victory ceremony. Anything else, you will have to prepare properly, as befits our great triumph. I give you a day, and I won’t wait here for more than a day.”

The cavalry leader mounted his horse and rode away.

The first prince stared into the direction into which the cavalry patrol had disappeared. He clucked his tongue.

“The royal road hasn’t changed at all,” he mused.

It was unknown whether he was lamenting a certain state of affairs or whether he was merely referring to the peaceful atmosphere of the royal road and the surrounding countryside.

Only the prince’s cold face, as if the frosts of the north had been gathered into a single entity, gave any indication that his mind had experienced some discomfort.

Gwain and his comrades had observed the entire scene, their faces stern.