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

Chapter 169

Filling the Wineglass with Blood (1)

No one dared to speak first, so important was the matter at hand. Still, rather than being pressured by the prospect of it, they all seemed keen on the subject.

“Take the Black Lancers too,” said Vincent after a long silence.

He went so far as to say that he could even send half the rangers with me along with the lancers. I refused, saying that Winter Castle’s defenses would be too weakened.

However, Vincent did not bend before my will.

“After studying the movements of the monsters in the mountains, the evaluation is that there will be no large-scale invasion by them this winter.”

“According to the rangers, most of the monsters that survived the siege have headed for the Frost Mountains, far beyond the Blade’s Edge Mountains.”

The commanders who had kept quiet now spoke up as they gave strength to the views of their count.

Everyone said, in essence: “Do not worry about Winter Castle.”

“The winter is over,” said Vincent firmly.

He went on to explain why winter, the hardest of times, was over, but his words didn’t sound like much to me. Blah blah blah.

Then, like a hallucination, a noise of something breaking forced itself into my ears. It was as if all the walls had been covered by a thick layer of ice which was now starting to crack; it also sounded like the breaking of a thick chain, so great a chain that it had connected my previous life to the present.

My heart thudded in my chest, and my temple was heating up like crazy.

The air in front of me seemed hazy, as if it was warm vapor.

“Your Highness?” Vincent called to me anxiously.

His face looked the same as it had been in the recent battle, and he expressed his concern, asking if my body had suffered some damage. I didn’t even know what it was that had happened. As I regained my senses, I heard the ringing sound of dwarves hammering coming through the conference room window, as well the lively swearing and shouting of the rangers.

‘The birds who’ve flown back along the road the wind passed by return’

‘The fortress once exposed to cold and snow now wakes and stretches’

I heard [Poetry of War – Poem of Spring] echoing in my head, and somehow, it fit my mood nicely.

In the end, it seemed that not accepting the craven offer of the old orc did not matter, for when the war was won, and after countless monsters fled in terror, winter was already over.

Even while it snowed upon the mountains and blizzards raged across the land, and while the frigid weather around the castle was the same as ever, spring had secretly snuck up to our noses like a thief in the night.

I only realized this now, for this great peace has not existed from the beginning. All I needed was time for the snow to melt and the seeds to sprouts from the earth.

This enlightenment brought me such happiness that I could not help but laugh out loud.

“Your majesty, did you suffer a concussion in the last battle?”

The upright man, Vincent, who had abandoned peace the moment he had made his choice and rather chose bondage to a cause, chose to struggle, still spoke with worry, for he did not know that spring was imminent.

But they will know it soon, once the snow upon the walls melts and once their damp furs and armor dry out.

They would know that spring had come; they would finally realize it.

* * *

The meeting was over, and night had come.

As I walked across the wall, I saw a familiar face in the distance. It was Vincent, and he was clutching a bottle of wine.

“Vincent.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said as he saw me and then raised the bottle.

I did not hesitate as I took it from him and smacked it to my lips.

“Drink a little, only a little! It’ll be annoying if I have to go down and get another one.”

It was unreasonable for him to be so stingy with such cheap wine, especially as he was a count. So, I downed the entire bottle and relaxed my arm. My insides felt hot as the wine flowed into my stomach.

Vincent frowned as I handed him the empty bottle, and I gave a bored burp.

After Vincent threw the emptied bottle over the wall, he put his hand into the deep, inside pockets of his fur cloak.

‘Shh~’ when he showed his hand once more, he held a new bottle. I arched my eyebrows, for Vincent had acted as if there was only a single bottle, yet here he was with another.

This did not improve my mood, for it felt as if his lie was a slap in my face, yet even if I was grumpy, I could not think of an excuse by which I would condemn his behavior.

Vincent popped the cork of the other bottle, and as he started drinking from it, it seemed as if he had been looking forward to this drink.

‘Ugugug~’ as he drank, I noticed how flushed his face was. It seemed that Vincent had drunk quite a bit before I had come upon the wall. I reached out my hand, but Vincent hid the bottle behind his back.

“There is really no more after this one.”

“Stop being such a childish lord.”

“If you really want to drink, go and get your own.”

“You’re annoying,” said I.

“You’re annoying me too,” said he.

The rangers who were doing their jobs by staring over the wall shook their heads as if finding our behavior absurd. I ignored them and turned away from Vincent, and as I stared out at the mountain range rising over the snowfield, I heard the sound of Vincent chugging wine. For a while, I only listened to the sound of him drinking, and I said not a word.

‘Pchoop!’

I heard the sound of a cork being popped, and when I turned my head, I saw that Vincent had a fresh bottle at his mouth.

“It’s the last one,” promised Vincent.

“Oh, that is the last one?” I asked, for, contrary to his words, I could hear a clanging of glass coming from his coat. It seemed as if he had brought up all the liquor that had been in the castle’s kitchen.

I looked at him in silence, and I saw that Vincent’s face was anguished.

I didn’t know if it was because of some regrets he held about the choice he had made or because he was concerned for the future.

Vincent did not speak and give voice to his feelings, and I had no intention of speaking up and offering some sort of consolation or encouragement.

I sat by his side for a very long time. I sat there until Vincent completely emptied the last bottle.

‘Chuf~’ he stumbled up from his seat.

“I’m going down now,” said he.

“Uh, I’ll come down later,” came my answer.

Vincent looked at me and then turned around.

‘Strk~’ his waist had been slumped against the wall when he had sat, but as he walked, he straightened his back. And once he had walked a few steps, I saw he walked straight without shaking or stumbling.

I saw no signs of drunkenness, and his posture did not speak of a man in agony: All I saw was a man’s rock-hard back, straight and true.

“Oh, it’s cold,” said Ranger Jordan as he sneaked up and handed me a bottle and a cup once Vincent was finally out of sight.

“Keep this one a secret from the count,” said Jordan.

“Uh, thank you.”

Jordan told me that he did not want to drink the bottle with the other Ranger Company Commanders because it was a special drink for a serious occasion. We sprinkled our last cup-fulls over the wall and onto the snow in memory of those who have passed away in the recent battle.

I started heading down the wall.

“Your Highness,” said Quéon as he looked at me and frowned, and it seemed that he had smelled the alcohol on my body as we passed one another.

“The wind blows hard, so please get inside quickly,” Quéon implored, coughed, and continued climbing the stairs leading to the castle wall.

As I walked past Quéon, I remembered that the drunkards I had left behind on the wall were still there.

“Ah, poor Jordan,” I expressed my casual condolence, wishing them luck with their future encounter with the stern, one-eyed cavalry commander.

* * *

The next day, I woke up a bit late and immediately summoned my knights.

I checked their achievements, one by one. What they had gained in the recent battle, and what effect their efforts had on the war. There were no great changes for Arwen, for her rings had only recently hardened.

I quietly studied the momentum of Arwen’s energy. Among the Sword Masters using rings I know of, the strongest one had been my uncle. The Silver Lion, as well as the palace knight commander from the central region, were inferior in many ways to Bale Balahard. And Arwen also fell short of his level, yet her solid nature, the stability of her rings, and her countless practical experiences made her a harder knight than any I knew.

I was very pleased with the sturdiness hidden under her delicate appearance.

“Your energy fits your nickname of ‘Knight of Steel.’”

“I just try my best,” said Arwen with a blushing face as she stared at the knights beside her.

I followed her gaze, which settled on Adelia and Eli. Their changes, unlike Arwen’s, were very dramatic and noticeable. The greatest change within them was their karma.

After they had fought against the greenskin Overlord, they had finally gone beyond [Extraordinary] and reached the level of heroes.

Although the Overlord’s spirit had been damaged long ago and the karma they had gotten from the battle wasn’t perfect, it was clear that they had at least gained a limited amount of it.

Thus, Eli had been able to add another verse to his dance poem, and Adelia was able to recite an additional verse of [Poetry of Sudden Change].

It was a great development, I decided, and then, as a test, I proposed some duels between the Masters.

It was Eli who has stepped up first, and a guy who would normally take care not to even so much as step on Arwen’s shadow now pointed at her, challenging her to a duel so that they could see which way the wind was blowing.

I watched their duel with great interest, for it was between a Knight of the Ring and a Knight of the Heart.

Every time their swords clashed, Eli’s Aura Blade was shattered. From the pale face of Eli, it was clear that he was pushing himself so hard that he would soon be vomiting blood.

The anxiety in his mind shone clear upon his face, and I saw that he was wondering whether he should recite [Poetry of the Full Moon] or not.

But his concern soon proved of no use, for before he could answer the question to himself, Arwen’s sword touched his throat.

“That’s enough,” said I.

Arwen caught her breath for a brief moment and withdrew her sword. Eli bowed his head. I could see that he had a lot he wanted to say, but he did not want to show ill behavior in front of the woman he favored, so he held such words back.

If he had been a more normal man, he would not have found it strange that he had lost, for he had not recited his Muhunshi and also pushed himself too hard to attain victory.

“Would the results have been different, even if you had fully recited your dance poem? The level of experience and skill between the swordplay of you and Arwen is great,” I told Eli as he chewed on his lips.

He said nothing, merely leaving the empty square that we were in and disappeared off somewhere.

Next was Adelia’s turn.

Her swordplay was still lively, for she had not yet learned moderation, and I could see she was hesitant to step forward. But it was Arwen who asked me if she could duel with Adelia. I could see Adelia’s assent in her gaze.

“Good,” said I, “if it becomes dangerous, I’ll intervene.”

I put my hand on the hilt of my sword as I said this, and I cried out that the duel was about to start. Although she usually fought blindly on, Adelia was still a rare genius when it came to the art of the sword.

And she had watched the battle between Eli and Arwen. Although I was not certain, I suspected that Adelia had figured out why Eli was defeated.

My guess proved correct, for Adelia had indeed been thinking on how to deal with Arwen in her own way after she had witnessed the defeat of Eli. However, the problem was that Adelia’s method proved to be several times more radical than I had thought it would be.

“Ready your swords!”

As the duel began, Adelia chanted [Poetry of Sudden Change], and her sword glowed with a golden light.

“Damn crazy!” Adelia swore as she instantly blocked Arwen’s first strike. Adelia angled her blade, and a golden beam of light flowed from it.

‘Schka!’ and as that uncomfortable noise rang out, Adelia’s sword flashed as it struck into the ground.

‘Kdwa!’ the power of Sudden Change lost its direction and slammed into the cobbles of the empty courtyard.

Despite the fact that the power of her poem had been angled so as not to cause harm to Arwen, I had been forced to take a few steps back. As I was about to look at the spot where I had stood moments ago, Adelia threw her sword aside and ran to me.

“Your Highness!”

Her face was filled with great concern as to whether she had injured me by chance.

Seeing that pure face of hers, I looked down. The hole gouged in the ground was deep enough to bury a person in.

I was somewhat sickened by the sight of it. Then, as I loosened my tingling wrist, I started to organize the ranking of the Sword Masters in my mind.

Adelia went first, Arwen second, and Eli came in last. Not one of them was weak when compared with the other champions of the kingdom.

I was satisfied and laughed out loud and then set about continuing the work of verifying the strength of the others.

All the other knights were summoned, and it came to be that over five hundred knights gathered in the vacant courtyard and stared at me.

Some of them had the edges of their blades sharpened due to bearing an old grudge in their hearts, while others had eyes that flashed with anticipation.

As I looked at the once-broken knights and the erstwhile Silver Foxes, I stretched out my finger and motioned to one of them.

“Antoine, come out.”

The middle-aged mercenary had once been the leader of the Silver Fox Mercenary Company, but he had since become one of the many knights of Winter Castle. He came and stood before me.

“Show me what you have learned from the recent war,” I ordered Antoine.

Hopefully, this time it would not be some such a ridiculous song as ‘The Blade That Cuts the Knife.’