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

The Awl in the Pocket Is Protruding (3)

Maximilian’s discomfort at his brother’s changed appearance was clearly shown on his face. Jeong-in, as Adrian, smiled warmly. He was clearly happier at meeting his brother than he was at the arrival of his army.

“Brother,” Maximilian said again. “My soldiers are tired after having marched through the blizzard.

“Yes, I understand,” said Adrian, a look of arrogance coming to his features as he studied the reinforcements.

“Welcome to Winter Castle!” He said to them. He spoke as if he was the lord of the castle. The Rangers raised their swords, affirming the prince’s welcome as the legendary castle framed their salute. Maximilian marveled at the great fortress, yet his mood was dampened by the corpse-strewn fields surrounding it.

“Follow me, then,” Adrian said as he casually made his way toward Winter Castle, obviously unperturbed by the corpses that were scattered about everywhere. Maximilian hesitated, then followed his brother. The odor became much worse after a while, the tinge of burnt flesh now added to it. The Second Prince endured his nausea as he pressed on. The sound of soldiers vomiting could be heard clearly along the line as his army followed him.

The soldiers, even the veteran Silver Fox mercenaries, were all clearly exhausted, and the death around them did nothing to improve their moods. It was hard for Maximilian to keep up a pretense at being calm.

“There was a great battle here, then?” he asked his older brother.

“Uh, yes, three days ago,” Adrian replied as if it was no big deal. “You will get used to the stench soon enough.”

The manner in which Adrian spoke terrified Maximilian. How long did a man have to wage war to become so unfazed upon seeing hundreds of rotting corpses? Cheong Seong noticed the Second Prince’s anxiety.

“Trust me, Your Majesty, after meeting live Orcs, the dead ones look much prettier,” he said, trying to comfort Maximilian. However, these words did not have te intended effect.

“Yeah, that’s true,” the First Prince added. As they came upon the gates, an elderly man and dozens of knights came out to meet them. The Rangers saluted them and took up position behind their lines.

“I give my tribute to the royal line of Leonberger, keepers of Valehad’s veil,” the Count Balahard said in greeting.

“I laud the honor of the shield that blocks the north wind,” Maximilian replied.

“I express my infinite gratitude for the fact that the royal family has not forgotten the harshness of winter, and that you have marched here through the toughest of weather.”

“My apologies for arriving at such late a time, for I see you have faced many battles.”

After these customary greetings have been exchanged, the First Prince touched Cheon Seong’s shoulder. The Ranger Platoon Commander then took up his horn and blew into it. Countless banners were raised upon the walls in answer to the trumpet’s call. The infantry proudly displayed sword and spear, welcoming the reinforcements as brothers in battle.

“Welcome to the lands of Balahard!” Some of the soldiers shouted.

“Our respect for the unchanging friendship of the royal family,” others called down.

The welcoming ceremony came as a relief to Maximilian, who had at one point during their harsh march thought that they would never reach Winter Castle to receive one. Erhim glanced at the prince, who shouted a response at those gathered upon the walls, reinforcing his voice with mana so that it reverberated throughout the fortress:

“On behalf of the royal family, I express gratitude at your dedication, struggle and sacrifice! I salute the soldiers of Balahard!”

The soldiers answered him with cheers.

“Let us go inside, then,” Adrian said.

* * *

“Your Majesty,” Ehrim Kiringer said as he approached the reclining Maximilian. The deputy commander of the Wire Knights clearly had something on his heart.

“Have you seen that gate?” The knight asked the prince, who nodded.

“The iron plates that had been riveted across it are newly forged, a sign of hasty repairs.”

“You have an observant eye, Your Majesty. I have found out that the entire gate had been breached during the siege.”

Maximilian’s face hardened at hearing this. “Upon seeing the corpses, I had already guessed that Winter Castle had been hard pressed. Hearing that the gate had been breached, though, means that matters have reached a critical point,” he finally said to Ehrim.

“Yes, the situation is direr than even I had expected.”

“Yet, the people of Balahard do not seem to be in bad spirits.”

The battle that had raged three days ago had clearly come at the cost of many human lives; nevertheless, the Rangers and even the Count himself had greeted them warmly, their spirits not broken in the least. It was an incomprehensible state of affairs to Maximilian.

“Let us observe things, for now, we have so little information to act upon.”

Ehrim nodded at these words. “Why did you seem so perplexed upon meeting your brother? Surely it has been some time since both of you have seen one another, I expected more emotion from such a reunion.”

“It.. It is embarrassing to explain,” Maximilian finally answered, clearly caught on the wrong footing by such direct a question. “But I could clearly see that his nature was not as rumor had it to be.”

He had wanted to meet his brother for as long as he had remembered, yet his father had always striven to prevent such a meeting. He had only grown to know Adrian through the rumors that passed through the court. In the brother he had met, bloody upon a field of corpses, there was no sign of the incompetent sadist he had expected to find. The men of the north held Adrian in high esteem, and these men were fierce warriors who held no truck with craven curs.

Sir Ehrim then recounted to Maximilian the visit of the First Prince to Wire Castle and the impressive exhibition of his swordsmanship against veteran knights. Ehrim chuckled as he recalled the way in which Adrian had fought so well. Maximilian was surprised by this tale.

“Why did the rumors of my brother’s changed nature not become common knowledge?”

“He forbade us of recounting his actions, Your Majesty.”

This statement gave Maximilian some pause. Many were the tales of people gradually changing as life threw new challenges into their paths, but someone who changed so quickly and so completely? One’s nature did not alter suddenly from what one was born as. The natural assumption, in this case, was that his brother had hidden the talents he had been born with, only later choosing to bare them to the world.

“It is simpler to hide that which is there than to create it anew,” he mused.

“What was that, your majesty?” Ehrim inquired.

“Oh, nothing,” Maximilian said as he shook his head.

He was still unsure about this state of affairs. Further observation was required. The winter in the north was a long season, and he would be here until spring finally came. This was more than enough time to gain the answers that he sought. Ehrim left him then, and he decided to get some rest before the formal welcoming banquet. He did not wish for the commanders of Winter Castle to see him this exhausted, and therefore as a weakling. His rest was soon disturbed as someone knocked roughly upon the door. He had scarcely moved to open it when it opened itself, with the First Prince striding uninvited into the room and plopping into a chair.

“Hey,” Adrian said. “You don’t say much, do you?”

“No,” Maximilian replied warily, also taking a seat, trying not to appear intimidated by this rough intrusion. The silence stretched between them, and for the Second Prince, it felt like he sat upon a cushion of nails. He even coughed a few times, though his brother did not even notice.

“You really look like him,” Adrian finally said.

“Are you saying I resemble father?” Maximilian had never before been told such a thing. His brother did not answer as his gaze bore into the Second Prince.

“How do you find Winter Castle, Adrian? Is it more inconvenient, living here rather than in the royal palace?”

“Oh, I love it here.”

Maximilian was taken aback by this answer. “Is that so?”

“Yes. There is battle here, a constant tide of monsters to be slain.” Maximilian’s head swam as he struggled to understand the context from which his brother viewed reality. How could he be awkward and uncomfortable now, he, the Second Prince who had dealt and commanded nobles both on and off the field of battle?

“I came here to tell you that the dinner is ready,” the First Prince finally said. Maximilian almost jumped with joy at hearing this, his hunger a ravenous thing. “I see that you are also very hungry.”

Upon entering the banqueting hall, Maximilian was met by Count Balahard and the other commanders of Winter Castle, who stood as they greeted him in turn. The banquet then commenced, course by course. Rice was heaped up before him, and Maximilian made to put something else on his plate. His brother scolded him.

“You have traveled far, and your body is tired. It is best if you stick to rice tonight, to let your stomach rest,” Adrian instructed him. The Second Prince looked around, seeking aid from the nobles whose plates were filled to the brim with sweetmeats and steamed fruit. They all nodded at Adrian’s suggestion, even Count Balahard, who stated that it was for the best.

* * *

The banquet had finally wound down, and Maximilian felt as bloated as a bullfrog after shoving plate after plate of rice into his mouth. Indeed, the First Prince had studied his brother this entire time, sometimes wondering whether the rice entered through the mouth or the nose, the way the Second Prince had stuffed himself. Count Balahard motioned to the large pot of rice.

“Eat what you can, Your Majesty. If battle comes, an empty stomach can be one’s greatest enemy.”

The meal had had many twists and turns, with the conversation conducted in a casual tone. Now that everyone had finished eating, the talk became graver as Maximilian asked a question:

“What is the current situation? Judging by the dead Orcs outside the walls, surely their forces must be crippled.”

Erhim Kiringer, having read the reports, shook his head. “The monsters are attacking every other day. Eight attacks have been fielded against the castle, and out of these, all had consisted of more than five-hundred Orcs.

Maximilian ran the math through his head.

“In that case, about four thousand of the things have died by now. The report talked about a force of sixteen thousand, which means that twelve thousand are left.” Ehrim’s face brightened at hearing these numbers. The humans had six thousand warriors at their disposal after the reinforcements had arrived. They had the advantage of an excellent position, with open fields of fire existing before the walls. Surely the Orcs were doomed.

The world did not always conform to such simple rules, though, and Ehrim’s hopes were soon dashed.

“There has been no decrease in the number of enemies we face,” the First Prince said as he wiped apple sauce from his face by using his sleeve. “In actual fact, their number have been steadily increasing since they had first besieged us.”

Vincent, Count Balahard’s eldest son, stood now to further inform the newcomers as to direness of the threat they faced.

“Our scouts have identified nine distinct Orcish corps that can be fielded. That is, there are eigtheen thousand Orcs seeking our end in the mountains.”

At hearing this figure, Maximilian spat out the wad of rice that he had thoughtfully been chewing on.

* * *

The after-dinner meeting did not last long. The true strategic council was held the following day as the state of affairs was analyzed in greater depth. The name of Warlord was mentioned plenty of times during the council, yet Maximilian and Ehrim still struggled to believe in the concept of an Orcish king. Something surprised the Second Prince even more, though. Every time the commander of Winter Castle wanted someone to mediate a petty dispute or suggest the final course of action, they looked to a single person whose authority they held to be absolute.

It was who this person was that surprised the Second Prince. It was not the Count, nor his elder son. No, they all looked toward the First Prince for guidance. The soldiers might not have guessed it, and even a few of the commanders in the room might have been oblivious. Yet to Maximilian, it was all too clear: His brother was in charge of this meeting, and this fact told him that he needed to be more aware of his sibling’s actions and general nature.

Yet, as Maximilian studied Adrian, so Jeong-in studied Maximilian in turn.

* * *

When I had first seen the Second Prince through the eyes of the First, I had been surprised, for he resembled a friend I had known when I was a child. No, it wasn’t just his appearance, but his character as well: Righteous and gentle, yet with a strong and unbroken will. It was definitely not a reincarnation, though, for there were differences.

Maximilian had been born into a bloodline of iron-blooded monarchs; he had practically been born with a sword in his hand. I now understood better why the king had exiled his son, for compared to such a shining rose of a handsome man, Adrian had surely been nothing more than a thorn in the royal arse. It was an action I understood, but in no way agreed with. There was a difference between an army that merely kept the peace within a country and an army that marched boldly off to war to reclaim that which their people had once lost.

What this kingdom needed right now was a cattle rustler, not a wise old king ruling over the sheep in his pen.

I state this due to the recent rise of the Greenskin King, and that evil fay elf who relentlessly stalked my thoughts. In the future, well, many more unpleasant evil things might choose to crawl from their holes and threaten all that was good within this realm. I guessed one could describe this as the advent of the turbulent world.

I knew that soon the fence of the kraal would be sundered. Wolves wearing the faces of sheep would appear among the flock with open arms and empty promises. The sheep would be ravaged and consumed, their once verdant pastures becoming nothing but barren wastelands.

This era, this turmoil could not be faced through wit and logic alone. No, what the kingdom needed now was a wolf who wore the sheep’s mask, not to butcher the flock, but to turn each and every sheep into a ravening lion in service of justice and righteous war.

I was in Adrian’s body. I was a watcher who observed so many countless wars and horrors that stalked the land.

And Adrian…

Adrian was the harbinger of peace, a man with a blazing sword who went to war in order to end it.

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