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

Chapter 271

Be More Dignified Than Anyone (4)

Vincent Balahard, like most of the citizens within the kingdom, did not believe in God.

“His Highness has awakened!”

That was, at least, until a messenger came from the capital.

“God! Thank you!” He expressed his gratitude for the first time. “I will go to the royal capital… the capital.”

He went straight to the city, not even remembering when he had left the fortress and how he eventually reached the capital. When he snapped awake, he found that he had already arrived at the prince’s palace.

“His Highness is waiting.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.”

The Crown Prince, who he had wanted to live so much, was waiting. Of course, Vincent should have been happy, and he knew he had no time to delay. Yet, once inside, he stopped, seemingly looking terrified. The image of the prince smiling brightly as he stuck his sword into his chest remained like a bad vision. The overflowing vitality and spirit of the prince had been clearly felt then, as well as the appearance of his drooping body; it was all still fresh in Vincent’s mind.

He could not forget the sight of the prince lying in his bed with closed eyes.

Suddenly, Vincent thought that all of this might be somebody’s ploy to prevent the northern army’s advance. He thought that the Crown Prince might be in the same state as he had been when Vincent had left the palace. So, he couldn’t go inside. Maybe his terrible imagination would become reality, then.

“Duke of the North?”

By that time, doubts had arisen in the palace knight’s face, and Vincent Balahard was barely able to settle his heart.

‘Chuck!’

The one step he took then took more courage than any other step he had ever taken. His slow pace gradually accelerated.

‘Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!’

Then, he almost started running. Finally arriving at the prince’s residence, he froze in front of the door. There lay the Crown Prince. Despite being remarkably emaciated, the prince breathed and had open eyes, looking at Vincent from the bed. The moment he saw the prince, feelings of sorrow raged within Vincent.

It was very regrettable that the prince, who had never been able to remain still for a moment, had suffered such an accident, now lying in bed without strength and looking noticeably thin. At the same time, a great rage rose inside Vincent’s heart. If he didn’t get it all out right now, the stupid prince would throw his life away again. He would, as a matter of course, plunge a blade into his chest for the sake of his cause.

It should never happen again; if someone had to die, Vincent determined that it would be himself. To make sure of that, he had to change the prince’s habits right away. His cousin, his younger brother, who considered his life to be insignificant, had to be firmly instructed on how to avoid accidents, even though he might hate the harsh and scathing words. Vincent pulled all the words he wanted to say from his heart, stopped his thought processes, roughly wrapped the words together, and poured them out.

The Crown Prince was completely shocked. His face showed, without a doubt, that he had not expected his dear cousin would act like this. Vincent was relieved and his anger subsided. After it disappeared, only joy filled him.

“Thank you for coming back, Your Highness.”

And so, he hugged him and told him it was well that he had returned.

The prince was silent, still looking blankly on with an expressionless face. After a while, still confused, he spoke.

“Vincent. You’re very good with harsh words.”

“When it comes to filthy mouths, the Balahard Rangers are the best in the kingdom. And don’t forget that I was once a ranger.”

Vincent’s words had not just been harsh; they had also been a warning, delivered with swear words, that the same thing should not be repeated in the future.

“I haven’t heard many rangers swear at all,” the prince grumbled, pouting.

“The sneaky guys pretend to be meek only in front of your Highness.”

“Why?”

“Well, there are a number of reasons. It may be that they take into account that your Highness is royalty, or it may be a careful habit they have maintained ever since you first came to Winter Castle as a child.”

Before the prince, who was struck by the word ‘child’, even opened his mouth, Vincent spoke on. “For your information, Jordan is the number one curser in Balahard. When I hear him curse, it feels as if my ears are rotting. If swearing was measured in levels, I’m sure Jordan would be a master. Even rangers who live with such words in their mouths fold whenever they hear Jordan.”

“Hoh. Jordan?”

Curiosity arose in the prince’s eyes. His face clearly showed his interest in wanting to hear Jordan’s rotten curses.

The frivolous Ranger Company Commander had to be sent very far away so as not to show off his accursed skill in front of the Crown Prince, Vincent thought to himself. After determining the poor ranger’s fate, he hurriedly decided that it was now time to change the topic.

“I’m sure you’ve heard enough from me anyway. Your Highness is the who doesn’t listen, not the one with dark speech.”

“For once, I understand that I should not carelessly punish my body, and if I do so without consulting with others, I’ll be punished.”

“That’s it—you’ve figured out that point.”

The Crown Prince gave off a crippled impression, like a small child who did not feel pleased with an adult’s tyrannical attitude. Vincent could not ask if he was all right, for he himself had been engulfed in private emotions and tried to start a great war, a fault of his which was by no means small. For Vincent, the prince’s words up till now had made him feel that his plan would not have worked. And the prince did speak of this.

“If you were alone,” he said, “I would say that it was your private quest. But once you make it something that everyone wants, it is no longer your private emotions, but a collective cause.”

“Your Highness makes it sound dry, yet your Highness is a man of Balahard.”

It was the tradition of Balahard to comfort the spirits of the dead with the blood of enemies, and so express one’s condolences and remembrance. There was no room for anyone to intervene in such vengeance. Vincent knew it was a disrespectful thing to say in front of the king, but he did so without hesitation. The king did not blame him for it; he was probably smiling, Vincent guessed. As long as Balahard blood, inherited from his mother, flowed through the firstborn son of the king, he would give full support for Balahard. Their ties were close and strong. Indeed, it was true.

Yet Vincent, a Balahard, still regarded the Crown Prince as a stranger during most times.

“Anyway, such a cause is tradition. And… whatever. It’s meaningless now that your Highness has returned to life.”

The slightly rigid atmosphere only then relaxed. Those who had stepped back entered the conversation, celebrating and welcoming the prince’s survival. How much time passed like that?

The Crown Prince had begun to doze off, simply answering other’s questions as he sat in his bed. In the meantime, he seemed more and more exhausted. Eventually, those that saw the prince’s head drooping, with him falling asleep, silently glanced at him and then withdrew.

Vincent, who remained until the end, watched Adelia Bavaria comfortably lay the Crown Prince against his cushions, then he too slipped away.

‘Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!’

Even taking great care, he could not prevent his armor from clanging. And this was what woke the prince up.

“Vincent,” the prince called to him in a drowsy voice. “Don’t die by getting your neck chopped off.”

“…”

“Don’t die with your head rolling over the ground…”

Vincent tried to answer such an ominous warning, but instead, he shut his mouth. The prince ended up falling asleep again.

“Well… head… can’t be cut off.”

As the prince fell asleep, he muttered, and Vincent shook his head. So, he’s saying it’s okay for anything but my head to be severed, Vincent mused?

When he went through the door, Adelia, who had arranged the prince’s bed, followed him.

Vincent had something to ask her, so he glanced through the door, then did so.

“When last did you that?”

Adelia’s face quickly darkened.

“That’s the first time since his Highness woke up.”

“He lies down all the time?”

“Yes. He’s been like that all the time. There weren’t many times he got out of bed, he spends most of the day lying down like that.”

Vincent frowned.

“And…”

Looking at him, Adelia hesitated several times before speaking.

“Since waking up, His Highness has not once asked for his sword.”

Vincent stiffened where he stood. An ominous feeling passed through his imagination; he made a terrible assumption that he hoped would never prove true.

“His Highness is still awakening, so don’t be too concerned.”

He struggled to shake off the nasty premonition that floated within his mind.

“Look out for his Highness, don’t take your eyes off him for a moment.”

And he asked again and again: “Call me right away when something happens.”

**

Adelia took a light nap, keeping her ears perked. She had to be attentive for if anything was to go wrong with the prince’s body so that she could act at any time. However, in recent days her body had become more fatigued, a bundle of nerves, and contrary to her will, her mind sank into a deep sleep.

‘Drrooro!’

“Oh.”

She awoke, upset that she had been snoring, and looked over the bed reflexively.

“Uh?”

Adelia hardened, for the prince, who had been sleeping like the dead, had disappeared somewhere. She stood up at once, immediately leaving the room. She opened her mouth to announce the prince’s absence when-

‘Chin!’

Someone closed it. Reflexively, she grabbed the hand over her mouth and twisted it, with her other hand drawing the dagger hidden within her clothes, pointing it at her opponent. However, she did not stab out, for the person reflected in the moonlight was someone she knew well. Gunn, the half-elf serving the prince, stood there. Adelia hurriedly released her grasp on Gunn, seeing that her face was twisted by the pain from her wrenched arm.

The half-elf, once released, quietly touched her lips, then reached out her hand, pointing. Adelia saw the garden and the shadows of people hiding among the bushes. The palace knights, the prince’s knights, and even the only duke in the kingdom were hiding, looking in the same direction. Adelia shifted her eyes and followed their gaze.

There stood the prince in one corner of the deeply shaded garden. He blankly stared at the sky, constantly muttering to himself. Instinctively marshaling her attention, Adelia came to hear his words.

The Crown Prince lamented that the full moon could not light the sky no matter its brightness, and groaned, bemoaning the fact that he could never again witness the white night.

Adelia couldn’t understand any of his words. Nevertheless, she clearly felt the emotions contained within them.

Out of nowhere, her head started hurting, and her eyes filled with tears, guided by unknowable emotions. With sullen eyes, she looked at the prince. Without a word, he started moving, almost staggering, no longer looking at the sky.

‘Tuk tuk!’

As Adelia stared at him, the half-elf tapped her on the shoulder.

(Quickly. To the room.)

Seeing her silent gesture, Adelia hurried to the room. In the middle of her rush, she changed tack and entered the room through the window so that the Crown Prince would not notice that she had left. She then put her head on a pillow and closed her eyes.

‘Dumf dumf!’

She heard footsteps.

‘Shup!’

The noise of the blanket being lifted came to her ears and, after a while, the sound of rhythmic breathing. Adelia quietly opened her eyes, seeing that the prince had fallen asleep, clearly not knowing what had just happened. Adelia looked at him with a gloomy face. While she had desperately tried keeping the Crown Prince from noticing, she had hoped that her efforts would be in vain. Were the Crown Prince in his usual condition, he would’ve noticed. No matter how sneaky she was, she believed that she would be unable to fool the prince’s eyes and ears, even if she brazenly pretended to be asleep. She had been certain of it, yet the Crown Prince didn’t notice anything. Her movement, her shallow breaths, even the presence of those who had poorly hidden themselves in the shade of the garden—he had noticed nothing.

That was never a good sign.

**

The morning was still dark when the guests came with horrified faces; those who had hid in the garden the night before to watch the prince. He smiled and welcomed them. However, even with his show of hospitality, their faces remained consistently stiff.

“What? What is happening?” He asked, frowning, only then noticing their expressions. Their stern faces had now become completely frozen.

“What the hell is it?” The prince repeatedly asked, but they merely looked at one another, and none of them stepped forward with an answer.

In such an uncomfortable silence, the prince reached out his hand and stabbed it into Bernardo Eli’s belly.

“Say it.”

Surprised, Eli shouted, “Ho! Maybe… you cannot use your sword!”

The entire room froze upon so an explicit and direct utterance.

“What else do you have to say? You all rushed here early in the morning, so I thought it was a big deal again,” the prince responded in a shy manner, and the knights all sighed in relief.

“But how did you know?”

So when the Crown Prince again spoke, no one immediately grasped the meaning of his query.

“What do you mean?” Bernardo Eli asked.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean, I can’t use my sword,” the prince replied, as if it was no big deal, and yet he said this in a gloomy tone.