I Became the First Prince

Even in the Winter with the Snowstorm (1)

Adrian and Vincent continued to joke around, the knights and Rangers crowding around them.

“Ah, Vincent my friend, I am tired and dying and yet you stick me in the back like this?” Adrian joked, eliciting laughter from the knights.

“Oooh, a few years ago we wouldn’t even have you here, you’d be stuffing your gob with meal after meal somewhere!”

“Hah, you’re just mad because you have tired of killing Orcs, Vincent!”

Soldiers soon joined in the mockery, and Maximilian was astounded that his brother so freely joked around with their kind. It was generally frowned upon for royalty to cavort with the peasantry like some common farmhands. Still, the scene was not that shocking, for, despite the mocking and booing of the soldiers, they still regarded Adrian with deep respect and utter courtesy.

“You guys who only shoot arrows from the walls, you didn’t win this battle, now did you?” Adrian piped up, eliciting even more booing from the soldiers.

This soon ended, and the Rangers and soldiers went about their duties as they trundled corpse carts onto the battlefield to collect the fallen. The knights also returned to their posts. Maximilian regarded his brother, deep in thought. If the nobles of the royal court saw Adrian now, his armor full of blood while he cavorted with the common soldiery, they would have rebuked him for exhibiting behavior not befitting royalty.

One half of Maximilian agreed with this; the other did not.

“Your Majesty,” Ehrim Kiringer said to him then. “I am glad the battle has turned out well. I am honored to have fought by your side.”

Conventional words for an unconventional situation, and upon hearing them, a new feeling washed over the Second Prince, one that he could name due to being an intelligent person. Boldness.

The Wire Knights before him had the look of fathers praising their sons. He had seen this look of admiration many times before and almost blushed at it. He was fifteen, so being praised for his boldness by men far older than he was a good thing. His brother was a year older than him, yet Adrian was seen in even a better light by the soldiers. This fact brought some shame to Maximilian, for he had just swung his sword around while Adrian had been the true hero.

“Your Majesty?” Came Ehrim’s voice, shaking him from his reverie.

“Do you have something on your mind?” Maximilian asked the knight, unable to meet his eyes. “If Your Majesty would allow it, I wish to go down and greet His Majesty, the First Prince. Maximilian nodded, and the Wire Knights soon surrounded Adrian.

“Oh, now you pretend to be close to me,” the First Prince mocked, though his expression was welcoming. The knights almost giggled at this.

“Did you come here as volunteers?” Adrian asked, curious as to why the knights had not donned their armor and heraldry.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of them answered.

“Why did you volunteer?” Maximilian asked of Ehrim, who had once more joined his side.

“Patience, Your Majesty,” the deputy commander said, smiling.

“It just surprised me.” Even the scene he now saw surprised him.

The kingdom was enjoying a time of peace, yet the threat of Orcs in the north was not to be scoffed at. If left unchecked, they would destroy the kingdom in their hordes. Here, in this war, the heir of Leonberger had rooted and grown into a great tree. People said that a bad reputation was an impossible thing to remedy. Everyone had decided that Adrian’s existence was harmful and that he was to be avoided. Could they have imagined that he would be lauded as a hero in the north?

A question arose in Maximilian’s mind. Why had his brother, now so handsome, pretended to be stupid and allowed himself to be stigmatized? If he had even been a tenth of the man he was now, would the nobles of the royal court not have looked upon him with more respect? Would His Majesty the King still have hated his eldest son as he hated him now?

Maximilian couldn’t figure out why his brother had been as he had been. Maximilian closed his eyes. Only by watching and waiting would he find his answer.

* * *

I relished the chance to war against the Orcs, yet my pathetic body still hindered me. Mana was depleted almost immediately, and my muscles tired so quickly. I maintained a strong face before the soldiers, yet the fact was that my limits were soon reached. Right now, I just wanted to go lie down in my bed, yet there was still work to be done. I beckoned the mercenary leaders over. They had been awaiting this signal and approached me with bowed heads.

“Shall we find a private place to talk?”

“Our barracks are quiet,” the captain of the Silver Foxes said.

I nodded and followed them, arriving at their quarters some time afterward.

“Please, enter,” the captain said as he held his tent flap open for me. Unlike the shabby exterior of the tent, the inside was lavishly decorated and surprisingly spacious. He beckoned to two of his underlings. “Both of you, make sure no one disturbs us in here.”

I had not even instructed him to do it – the fact that he did showed that he was a man with a sharp eye and an organized mind. In short, a man worthy of being a mercenary. “It is my honor to welcome you to my humble abode, Your Majesty. I am named Antoine, the leader of the Silver Foxes.”

“Did you sign a contract with the royal family?” I asked him straight of the bat.

“Yes, a long term contract, for a period of one year. I can renew it if the battle here is prolonged.”

“And your plans after that?”

“Same as always. How can a mercenary truly make plans, if he does not know when he will die? If we are fortunate to survive this, we’ll just move on to the next employer,” he stated with a shrug.

“Are you willing to enter a contract with me, Antoine?”

“Since we have already been hired by the royal line of Leonberger, what difference will a contract with Your Majesty make?”

He knew what I had meant, yet he had feigned ignorance to probe my intent.

“It means entering a contract with me personally, not the royal family.”

“Well, even if we might appear to be a bunch of uncouth gangsters, our rates are not cheap.”

He had confirmed one thing to me at least: They had been hired by my father to support the north. I had expected as much.

I did not have enough funds to hire these men. I received a small stipend toward my upkeep, and this amount was far too little to buy an army.

One did not need just coin to buy things, however. “Your mana is collected and stored in a very crude manner,” I told Antoine then.

“I can improve your techniques, your entire corps’ technique. At times an intangible reward is far greater than a material one. Antoine and his officers had decent amounts of mana, yet their employment of it was crude at best. They would never reach the next level, and I guessed he himself was a sword expert at best. I considered all my mana reserves as well as the power of my poetry. I knew then that I would reward these men with my poetry as the price, and as we burned countless Orcs, I would share more and more of the power that came into my Mana Heart. I demonstrated my gift to the captain of the Silver Foxes, then.

All the furniture in the tent began to shake, and the cutlery began to rattle. A teacup trembled as tea flowed from its side, and the mercenary banner began to flutter despite the lack of wind. I controlled my powers once more, and everything that had been shaking settled down.

“Would such a reward be enough?” I asked Antoine, who regarded me with an unreadable expression. I waited patiently.

Anyone who accumulated mana in Mana Hearts could store tremendous amounts of power within them. This man had seen my prowess in battle, and he knew that he could only emulate my techniques if he and his men employed their mana in a purer manner.

“If words alone won battles, I would have been a sword master long ago,” the mercenary captain finally said. Was he going to reject me? Even if he did, I merely had to find another army. Antoine grabbed my hand.

“I always judge a client by how they speak to me. I have heard Your Majesty’s words oh-so-clearly,” he said while grinning, yet his eyes remained grim. “Can you gift me a title?”

It was too much to demand from a prince, yet his words reminded me that there could be quite a pleasant future planned for both of us. I laughed, for Antoine was an interesting person. Unlike the honest and, at times, dull knights, this man knew how to sell himself and how to use others to reach his own goals.

“How long will you contract with us?” he finally asked.

“Until I become king,” I answered without hesitation.

* * *

We agreed upon a verbal contract there and then. He was studying me all the while, and I could not guess at his thoughts. Nevertheless, I was certain that this sly leader of the Silver Foxes would prove to be of great use to me. “Do you know how to use your Mana Hearts?” I asked of him.

He did not speak; instead, he drew both the sword and the dagger that was sheaved along his waist. I could feel his mana flowing as he twirled the weapons in his hands. “The sword which cleaves the dagger!” he whispered as he clashed his two weapons against one another, the glowing sword seeming to pass through the dagger. “This is the song of the sword.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“We sing the song that the sword itself sings.”

I was stunned by his response. His face shone with pride, and I then recognized the song he had sung. It was “The blade that cuts the knife”, a song written by a well-known mercenary leader. This man clearly knew many poems.

I was becoming madder and madder.