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

Chapter 156

Finally Returned (1)

Arwen Kirgayen went outside after her year-long ring-forming, and she was evident;y not in a pleasant mood.

“Why! Why didn’t you tell me in advance?!”

Arwen’s emotions were rarely shaken, and especially after reaching completion, she showed little anger.

“I had to do it.”

While she was resting in her family’s castle, the first prince had already left for the battlefield. And he was headed right into the middle of the war between the Dotrin Kingdom and Burgundy Empire with only one half-elf and five knights by his side.

“What if I had told you? You would have given up your chance at completion and run off to war.”

Her father said that everything he had done, he had done for her.

“His Highness did not want such a fate for you.”

He also said it was the will of the prince. Arwen could no longer fault his actions, in fact, she knew he was right. It was just a pity, for someone had to be with the first prince. Someone had to stop him from doing reckless things. Someone had to take the burden from his shoulders and stand by his side, so he did not struggle on the battlefield.

“Please tell me all that happened.”

Arwen tried hard to control her heart as she listened to her father’s story.

Her expression remained calm throughout the recounting, yet things were not that way inside of her.

When she heard how the first prince had been found severely wounded after leaving a letter that was almost a will, it felt as if her heart had collapsed.

“The half-elves who followed him as escorts were annihilated. Only Gunn survived, but her wounds were also grave.”

Even if it was over, Arwen felt the sorrow of it all.

The prince must have blamed himself for the deaths of the half-elves, just like the time when he had believed that all the deaths at Winter Castle were his fault. Just like when he was sick inside without shedding a single tear after his uncle’s death.

He must have pretended to be okay, all the while suffering without anyone’s knowledge. Arwen cared little for the wounds that had been inflicted on his body – the true damage came from the emotions that he must have felt in his heart.

“Fortunately, there was no lasting damage to him that you need to be concerned about. His Highness headed straight to the domed kingdom after his terrifyingly swift recovery,” Siorin continued his account.

He told her of the war between Dotrin and the empire and of the battles the young prince fought in, and how they ended. It had all happened in distant lands, so he only had the vague outlines of what had occurred.

The stories that had come to Leonberg did not mention the first prince.

There was only the name of Ian, the commander of the Veil Mercenary Company. Even that name was mentioned in vague terms, basically: “He did a good job, he made a big mess.”

But Arwen knew: The tales of the mercenary were painted so vividly that she knew it was the prince who had fought those battles. He must have been on the frontlines, and he must have pushed himself and hurt himself to a great extent. The prince she knew wasn’t one that took proper care of his body.

Her father’s tales were over, and he stood from his seat.

“I will leave,” said Arwen, and her father’s face became dry in a second.

“Go to Dotrin on your own? To do what?”

“I’m not going to Dotrin,” said Arwen, “I will go to Winter Castle.”

Not long ago, there had been a phenomenon far too ominous to be called an eclipse. The darkness quickly cleared, but the ill portent of it remained in her heart like sediment upon the floor of the ocean.

Something will happen in the world, or it has already happened. And if something is going to happen in Leonberg, it will surely begin at Winter Castle.

Arwen was sure of this, and Siorin didn’t stop her.

“In this year, the atmosphere in the mountains beyond the castle has been unfavorable. It is said that Count Balahard has issued a decree to the northern lords, by his authority as Shield of the North. They are to prepare for war, and you will surely be of great aid to them.”

Siorin said that it would be easier for the first prince to handle the affairs of the north, were his greatest supporter there to remain alive. He went on to say that he would lend Arwen some of the family’s troops.

Arwen, however, wasn’t going to Winter Castle for political reasons. Instead, when the first prince returned, she didn’t want him to see her mourning.

So, Arwen led fifty of her family’s cavalrymen north. And when she reached the north, events at Winter Castle were already in full swing.

‘Bawooowoo!’ the horn constantly rang out.

“Fire! Fire!”

So too came the sounds of archers loosing volleys. Those at Winter Castle were fighting fiercely as if the war against the Warlord was replaying itself.

‘Doof! Doof!’ and there was another, unfamiliar sound that Arwen heard from time to time.

As she arrived, she was immediately guided to Count Balahard. Vincent was on the wall, as always.

“I heard the news. You became a champion, right? It’s a bit late, but congratulations.”

Vincent looked fatigued, yet he still greeted her with bright eyes.

“The situation doesn’t look very good,” observed Arwen.

“Well, is it ever? There are so many monsters, and I’m having a hard time. Quick, cover your ears,” Vincent suddenly said as he stuck his fingers into his ears.

“Cheolpo!” Arwen heard a ranger shout in the next instant.

‘Doof! Doof!,’ and the roar she had heard when approaching the south gate rang out once more. Arwen was dizzied for a moment as the great roar deafened her.

“…!?” Vincent said something to her.

‘Peee eee eee,’ all she heard was the ringing in her ears. Vincent raised his finger and pointed to a spot under the wall. The corpses of monsters were scattered about, with arrows stuck in them. And on the wall itself, she saw a strange cylinder of iron, a thing she had never seen before. It was spewing smoke. The rangers next to it groaned as they pushed a large iron ball into the great hole on the elevated end of the iron.

As soon as Arwen saw this strange device, she remembered how much the prince had praised the weapons of a certain race, so much so that his mouth had begun to hurt from all the talk.

“Dwarves’ iron cannon!”

Yes, that was what it was called. Arwen rotated a single mana ring to relieve herself from the roar of the cannon. Then, she looked over the wall.

The carcasses of monsters had been crushed by the iron balls which had been fired from the cannons. The ensuing explosion had also shredded their bodies. And beyond that, many living monsters were seen. From right under the wall to the other side of the snowfield, the land was so packed with monsters that it was surely hard for the things to take a single step.

Even in that one glance, their numbers seemed to be thousands and thousands.

There was also a the bipedal class, there were orcs, goblins, kobolds, ogres, trolls, and other beings she knew well. The quadrupeds consisted of owlbears and many other types of beasts unknown to Arwen.

“How long has it been?” asked Arwen.

“It’s been about a month now,” came Vincent’s reply.

Arwen frowned. It could not be a coincidence, she decided, for exactly a month ago, the sinister eclipse occurred.

“Since that day, the monsters have been going crazy,” Vincent said, thinking along the same lines as Arwen.

“The big ones don’t eat the little ones, and the little ones aren’t afraid of the big ones. Do you know what that means?” asked Vincent.

“Either fear is dominating them down to their marrow, or someone is controlling them,” Arwen replied in a stern voice. “Or maybe both.”

She again looked below the wall.

An Ogre and a troll stood shoulder-to-shoulder and were madly bashing against the gates.

‘Dwang! Dwang!’ the gates reverberated as the large monsters slammed their fists into them.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be hard for them to break through gates reinforced by the dwarves,” Vincent said in an embarrassed tone.

“Fortunately, our supplies are sufficient. Arrows have been the top priority, and our supplies have been steadily stocked up. The dwarves regularly deliver cannonballs to us.”

It was as Vincent said: The soldiers of Winter Castle were keeping the monsters at bay surprisingly well.

Arwen had thought they would be faring worse after so many veteran soldiers were killed in the last war and after the knights were near-annihilated.

However, despite their successes, the mood in Winter Castle was still grim.

“I think this is only the beginning.”

Vincent went on to say that he could not let go of the belief that even this great number of monsters was merely a sign of something worse yet to come. Arwen sympathized with the idea.

“We must get some rest. I think the time will soon come when you will need our blades,” said Arwen. Once she was done talking with Vincent, she and the Kirgayen cavalry did rest, but not for long.

‘Buwooo wooo wooo!’ an urgent horn sounded, and Arwen headed straight for the wall.

“Harpies!”

“Damn! There are griffons, too!”

She heard the terrified shouts of rangers as she climbed the wall.

“Form up ranks! Notch arrows and stand at the ready!”

“Fire upon my order!”

“What of the climbers?”

“Ignore them! The knights will care of it!”

As the rangers shouted, Arwen looked at the sky.

Hundreds of black dots headed straight for Winter Castle, and as she channeled mana to her eyes, their shapes were revealed.

They were women with the black wings of birds, with their legs ending in talons. There were also dozens of monsters with eagle-like heads and wings and the bodies of lions.

“Can you kill them?” Arwen asked Vincent.

“We must kill them,” he replied, his face stern.

He grasped a northern bow instead of a sword.

“Here they come!”

“Ready- Fire!”

When the winged monsters were almost upon Winter Castle, the ranger commanders shouted their orders, and the next instant, a thousand arrows were fired into the air.

‘Kreea-ee-eek!’ the harpies pierced by arrows plummeted to the earth.

However, not many of them fell. Most of the harpies had acrobatically avoided the arrows. Those harpies who could not dodge hid themselves behind the bulks of the griffons.

The griffons themselves weren’t slain by the arrows.

“Fire without pause!”

After the rangers quickly notched their next arrows, they fired again.

But the results were poor – this was the moment where the rangers’ inexperience showed. Veteran rangers would never have missed targets several times as large as birds.

‘Fsccccka!’ a black trajectory soared through the air with a crackling sound.

‘Keaaaheek!’ a griffon roared as this black thing pierced into it, sending it crashing to the ground.

“What a wonder!”

The rangers cheered, and they all stared at a woman who was wielding an unusually large longbow. Arwen remembered her. When recruitment had been in full swing, a man and woman came to Winter Castle. The first prince suborned the man to the Black Lancers, and the woman went into the mountains with the rangers.

The man’s name was Gallahan, and the woman…

“Sir Boris! Target the griffons first!”

She was called Boris.

“I was lucky! Even with luck in the future, I can only get up to five! The remaining thirty have to be taken care of!” Boris answered sharply, then shot another griffon, dropping it.

In the meantime, the rangers were diligent as they fired arrows at the harpies, but their volleys were still lacking in efficacy. The harpies remained in their hundreds.

“Damn! Prepare for bombardment!”

The harpies, at last, reached the airspace over Winter Castle after flying through the rangers’ volleys. They dropped the stones that they had been carrying in their talons, and even if Arwen was a quad-chain knight, she would never be able to stop all the stones that dropped from the sky.

She guessed that she would be able to block them in a thirty-foot radius, at best. Still, Arwen vowed to give it her all.

Energy gathered upon the edge of her blade, and just when she was about to shatter the falling stones, a strange energy spread over the wall.

‘Dook! Dook!’ A translucent membrane had covered the wall, and the rocks dropped by the harpies bounced off it.

“Hail the wizards of the White Night Tower!” Arwen heard, and she looked to one corner of the wall.

There were dozens of people wearing robes, and that they were the wizards of the new tower was obvious.

Arwen frowned, for she knew that they had not received enough training to be participating in battles.

In fact, she saw that a few of them were so exhausted that they had sunk to the floor after just a single use of their magic.

But their efforts had been adequate.

Still, each harpy had two talons, and therefore two rocks – and they still had to drop their second salvo.

The coming bombardment would be worse than the first.

Just then, Count Balahard ordered, “Knights! Sword auras!”

And in the next moment, the sound of keening blades rang countless times across the wall.

“Ah?” Arwen gasped in surprise.

There were great flashes of light on the wall, and each one was a shining sword aura.

The knights held their blades at the ready, and as the rocks plummeted earthward, they were met by blazing swords. Arwen stared at the scene blankly. The seeds the young prince had sown before leaving have sprouted and already grown this much.

The beauty of it overwhelmed Arwen’s heart.

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