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

The Difference Between Enemy Ships, Rewards, and Loot (2)

The Marquis of Bielefeld had been shocked when the second prince, Maximilian, had returned home.

The boy who had been so kind and wise had become a strong man in mere months.

Seeing the prince’s vigorous appearance, the marquis had known that the Leonberger blood still flowed strong and that there was still hope for the kingdom.

All in all, the growth of the second prince was remarkable.

“I am normal, and compared to my brother, I have changed little,” Maximilian would say to sharp-eyed nobles who praised him, and he always spoke of himself humbly, almost as if he was ashamed. The marquis greatly admired the prince’s humility at that time.

The common saying that no brother was only an older brother was not used in the Leonberger royal family, so the marquis saw little reason for Maximilian’s humble attitude.

The first prince once more visited the capital, and it was clear that he had become a completely different person. The only thing that remained the same was his arrogant look.

His body was scarred, and his eyes had become fierce and feral, like those of a beast. Many lords and knights now followed the boy who had been alone his entire life.

His presence was also overbearing, and even the high lords had inadvertently bowed their heads to him. If Maximilian was a charmer who chose the central path, his older brother was the ambitious one who forged ahead and paved the road.

From the moment that Prince Adrian had appeared, he had overwhelmed the wills of his audience – as all the nobles had bowed before him.

The Marquis was concerned by the first prince’s extreme ambition, Prince Adrian was too rude and radical by far.

Even when he had dealt with the king – his father in private but the monarch in public – his words and actions had been far too harsh. He had looked like a child who knew not how to control a sharp blade, and his every action had seemed precarious.

Whatever one says must be held to in practice instead of theory, and the path one walks must be straight and righteous.

No matter the past, it was certainly true that the first prince held true to such tenants.

Yet, his journey was too violent, and his steps too eager, and he enjoyed staring at those who he had trampled as they lay screaming.

Prince Adrian possessed ambition, but he lacked the tolerance to pave the road for the future safely.

‘So close, so close,’ the Marquis thought ruefully. ‘Is there any advice I can give him? Would he even listen?’

Either way, the situation did not look good. That which is strong must someday break.

Moreover, the new political movement’s strength was not perfect, for the northern nobles who supported the first prince were only a section of the entire nobility of the kingdom.

They had been born and raised in a barren land, and so they respected his spirit, yet their support bases were fragile and their poverty undeniable.

The first prince should not have revealed himself so soon.

The greedy and cunning hyenas would not be completely scared away by a young lion. They might be bowing their heads before his prestigious presence and for his cause, but their insidious nature could always prove more deadly than the valor a lion.

It was clear that the young lion needed protection from the pride – even if the pride leader was an old lion with blunted claws and plucked teeth.

The Marquis had hoped that the first would soon realize this.

He soon realized, rather, that all his feelings had been like the feelings of a worried old woman.

The first prince was not just a young lion. The Marquis of Bielefeld had realized this as soon as the imperial ambassador had named Prince Adrian as tower lord of the new Spire. Up till then, there had been little hope for Bielefeld to embrace, and he did not intend to embrace the first prince’s little coup.

When he heard the news of the Spire, though, he regretted that he had ever doubted the first prince.

The seed of wizardry had dried up in the kingdom during the past century. Evidence of the first prince’s brilliant political ploy was the sudden change of heart of the nobles. Before Montpellier had spoken, they had no wish to send their sons or their funds up north. After the announcement of the new tower, these same men had stayed behind, all discussing who shall be sent north. Some of them were so bold as to offer their eldest sons, while others wanted to send their youngest and most pampered ones.

All of these nobles clamored and bickered, saying that it had to be their sons that became sorcerers or wizards. Of course, if one considered such things with a cool head, it would quickly become clear that not just anyone can be a wizard. However, these men weren’t able to abandon even the unlikely chance that their sons would be among the first new mages. In the end, it mattered little whether they gave up their eldest sons, their second sons, or their adopted sons, for all that truly mattered was the intelligence of the candidate.

“Hmmm,” the Marquis of Bielefeld mused to himself as he left the banqueting hall, after seeing even his closest friends so ardently discussing the new tower. Bielefeld then headed straight for the First Palace.

“Well! Even if I had brought him a gift, and not seen him in such a long time?”

“His Highness has just entered his bathtub, so please come back later, m’lord.”

The entrance to the First Palace looked like a small aristocratic town, packed with nobles, most of them leaving minutes after they had arrived.

“I am Count Dunstein, Dunstein! Tell His Highness I ask to see him.”

Count Dunstein was among these nobles, and he was considered one of the greatest lords in the east.

“His Highness has just had his meal. If you return later, m’lord, I’ll tell him that you are here.”

The same answer was given to a prestigious countess, who wasn’t even allowed to step over the threshold.

“Well, well,” the Marquis of Bielefeld said, seeing that the prince knew the value of the weapon he had in hand.

‘It will be difficult to meet him today.

Seeing that a stern and upright knight had been posted as the gatekeeper, it seemed clear that none would meet with the prince, so Bielefeld turned around. At least, he tried to turn.

“Sir! Are you not the Marquis of Bielefeld?”

The palace knight, who had been so consistent in barring entrance for the desperate nobles, stared and stared at the marquis.

“Have you been seeking an audience with His Highness?”

“Yes, but His Highness said that he has eaten, so I shall return later.”

“No sir, please come inside and wait.”

“Huh?”

“Come this way, sir.”

The Marquis crossed the threshold into the First Palace and went through the door, past the palace knight, who tried to pretend that he was not smiling.

“No! Why can he enter? Who will go in, and who will not?”

“The Marquis of Bielefeld has already made an appointment.”

“What bare-faced lies! I saw so clearly, with my own eyes, that His Excellency was about to leave.”

“Hah, Bielefeld was just acting in consideration to His Highness, so that he does not have to suffer the trite talk of an elder.”

Many of the nobles were hurling insults from behind. However, the palace knights remained consistent in the application of their duties.

“Huh, those are some great guards,” the marquis noted.

He had long known the nature of the palace knights, but he didn’t know that there would be one among them with enough spirit to so blatantly say what he wished to say in front of numerous nobles. The marquis was being led through the First Palace, and no one paid much attention to him.

“What is the name of that knight?”

“Who is Your Excellency talking about? Ah! You mean Sir Carls?”

The palace knight who was guiding Bielefeld had named the knight as Carls Ulrich. The marquis also learned that Carls and some of the knights had been protecting the prince’s vacant palace for more than a year. The Marquis of Bielefeld could only shake his head.

“Your Highness, His Excellency the Marquis of Bielefeld is here,” the palace knight said as he knocked upon the door and then opened it.

“Please enter.”

The marquis patted the knight on his shoulder and went straight into the room.

“You came earlier than I expected.”

“Your Highness.” Carls had told some nobles that the first prince was eating or that he was in filthy water. Instead, Prince Adrian was drinking tea with two ladies who sat opposite him.

“Mr. Marquis.” The seated women had recognized the marquis, had gotten up from their seats, and bowed their heads to him.

One of them, Bielefeld as recognized as the knight Kirgayen, whose name was famous across the capital – He had never seen the other woman’s face, yet that did not mean that he did not know who she was.

The rumors that the first prince had knighted one of his maids were still a staple piece of gossip when anyone spoke of Prince Adrian.

Most such rumors scraped the surface of obscenity, so the Marquis had never given them any heed.

“I heard that Your Highness was trying to sleep after the meeting, yet I find you having tea at your leisure?”

“Did you even believe Carls?”

“No way, Your Highness. Everyone was disbelieving of his excuses.”

The first prince giggled, and then eventually had to laugh at the marquis’ answer.

“Please, sit down. Arwen, Adelia, sit down. Are you fine, Marquis?”

The Marquis of Bielefeld nodded roughly and took a seat.

“I spoke with Your Highness right here, a bit more than a year ago.”

“Indeed, and I didn’t even keep the custom of serving tea back then.”

“You did it, Your Highness, you got your army.”

When they met a year ago, the marquis had suggested that the first prince leave the capital and gather forces and resources in the provinces. He had stated that the prince had nothing to gain by staying in the capital. The first prince had then followed his uncle as they left for the north. And now he had returned as the leader of the north, a leader who had gained the loyalty of all seventeen lords.

“I sometimes think that I have suffered in the north for no particular reason.”

The marquis studied Prince Adrian’s face as he said this. The face was beautiful and resembled the queen’s, yet was crisscrossed by many scars. It was clear to what extent the boy had suffered in the north.

“You had to suffer, Your Highness, for in the end, it was worth it.”

“Even if those are empty words, they lighten my heart.”

The first prince lounged back on the sofa, burying his back into the cushions.

“Okay then, Marquis, did you come here due to an interest in the tower?”

“If I said that I was not interested, I would lie. But, I have something to tell Your Highness,” the Marquis of Bielefeld said as he glanced at the women.

They understood the meaning of his glance.

“We shall get up.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Marquis, and I’ll see you next time.”

Arwen and Adelia left the room.

“What talk is so important that you send others out of the room?”

“Your Highness,” the marquis said, giving a small laugh, “I implore you, do not be too hostile to His Majesty.”

The first prince frowned.

“Don’t judge His Majesty solely on that which had been revealed, I say this with certainty: His Majesty is never what Your Highness thinks he is.”

Prince Adrian did not answer.

“The empire took its time to weaken the force of the kingdom. Moreover, they had worked diligently to sever the limbs of the royal family. Their efforts became even more severe in His Majesty’s generation. His Majesty has lost far more than Your Highness can surmise,” the marquis quietly said as he looked at the stubborn prince.

“And he has kept a lot, for-” the prince started to state, yet the marquis cut him off by standing up.

“Please keep in mind the fact that the royal family is the most reliable support Your Highness has, they are not the enemy,” Bielefeld said.

“If your sword is sharp, you can easily draw it and swing it, yet beware in becoming too eager and saying that there are always more people to be sliced, more people who have to be killed.”

The Marquis of Bielefeld continued to say that strong things must always break. He finally left the prince after having given his sincere advice.

The next day, the debate on the orcish war began, a debate which the king had delayed the day before.

The first proceeding was the furnishing of gifts to the central lords and the central army for holding off the monsters from the southern banks of the Rhinethes. More rewards followed as the meeting continued, rising ever up the ranks.

“On behalf of the royal family, I gift ten horses, fifty sets of iron armor, and one hundred bolts of silk to the Second Prince Maximilian Leonberger, who had fought in the battle from the front lines, leading the legions on behalf of the royal family.”

“The castle was still ruined, Your Majesty.”

The king kept his silence after he had given Maximilian his reward.

However, all the gathered aristocrats in the banqueting hall knew that the official governmental procedure was not yet done with – The first prince’s reward yet remained.

Even if only half of the tales were correct, Prince Adrian still had to receive a greater reward than anyone gathered there. His achievements were those of a hero who had saved the kingdom, and so it was difficult to determine what manner of prize he deserved.

The anguish was felt as the king continued to remain silent.

To the Marquis of Bielefeld, it seemed as if the king’s heart was caught between two conflicting emotional tempests.

The line of succession surely depended on the manner of gift that the king gave his sons.

If a great boon were given, then, on the surface, it would seem as if the discord between father and son had ended. Naturally, the first prince would regain all his rights as the eldest son, even if he would always be despised in his father’s eyes.

If an inadequate gift was given, it meant that the king did not accept the first prince as a member of the royal family and did not accept his proclamation as being the lord of the north.

No matter how much the king’s hands were tied at that moment, he was still the ruler of the country, for he sat on the throne.

“Well…” Even though the king had already thought at length about what to do, he still struggled to speak.

Fortunately, the first prince was not as rude and violent as he had been the day before.

The Marquis of Bielefeld smiled.

‘Don’t make unnecessary enemies – the royal family is not your enemy.

The first prince seemed to have accepted his advice to some extent, which greatly relieved the marquis.

Such relief quickly proved to be another illusion.

“Father, give me what I want!”

Bielefeld threw his head into his hands, despairing. There were clearly some brave enough to decide by themselves what rewards the monarch had to furnish for their contributions.

“I ask nothing else, father.”

Seeing the king’s stern face and sturdy manner, the first prince asked for his gift with great confidence.

“Just a single sword is reward enough.”