Chapter 184

Translator: Willia

Night closed off sight and opened the ears. The distant call of a scops owl sounded as though it were yearning for someone. Someone parted from it whom it would never see again.

Ricardt stood alone in the cold air, letting the chill sober him up. For some reason, the sword at his waist felt heavy.

He unfastened his belt and planted the sword against the ground like a cane. His head felt strangely dizzy, as though he might collapse.

It was not because Ricardt was a lightweight or had eaten something bad, but because of the knot lodged in one corner of his heart.

He had met his father and eldest brother again after a long time and talked about establishing the Master Alliance headquarters and all manner of other things, but something important had been missing from every one of those conversations.

Vilter.

He had not lied, nor was he deliberately trying to hide anything, but was there really any need to volunteer something no one had even asked about? Whether it was conscience or guilt troubling him, Ricardt's thoughts were in turmoil.

After letting out several uneven sighs, Ricardt loosely fastened the belt around his waist again and headed off somewhere. His unsteady steps, so unlike him, seemed to reflect the heaviness and confusion in his heart.

He staggered toward Abelich's tent. Campfires burned nearby, and Knights stood the night watch, but none of them tried to speak to him.

They were all former members of the Order of the Flame Knights, so they knew. The man who had once led them as Commander had not been Ricardt, but Vilter.

He had truly been a man like flame. A man who hid his tender heart and burned himself away to shoulder his responsibilities. Even if his methods had been wrong, those who had followed him could never bring themselves to hate him.

And so the Knights could more or less guess what Ricardt intended to do and how he must be feeling.

Ricardt lingered outside his father's tent for a long time, unable to make up his mind. He tried to force himself to gather his resolve, gave up, desperately rationalized things to himself, then resigned himself again.

In the midst of it all, his father's voice came from inside the tent.

“What are you hesitating for? If it is my head you need, say so openly. Hesitation is not a garment fit for a king.”

Ricardt's heart gave a sharp twinge at those words. Unable to summon the courage until the very end, he finally decided there was no point hesitating any longer and pulled aside the entrance flap.

A single lantern burned on the table. Abelich had removed his armor and sat beside the bed in light clothing.

Whether because of the alcohol or the turmoil in his heart, Ricardt looked somewhat disheveled. He dragged over a nearby chair with a scrape and sat in front of his father.

Then he leaned forward and remained silent. His father did not hurry him.

Something kept surging up inside Ricardt, rising to his throat again and again before sinking back down. At last, he swallowed once and simply let the emotion spill over.

“Father, I...... I killed Billy. Your other son.”

A silence more uncomfortable than any before settled between them. But after a moment, Abelich's answer was unexpected.

“I knew.”

Ricardt, who had been hanging his head, turned to look at his father. His eyes were as forlorn as those of a puppy caught in the rain.

“You were racing across the Empire at the head of the Order of the Flame Knights, yet for some reason I never heard a word about Billy, who had joined that very order. What else was I to think?”

“I see......”

“A Knight who takes the field must always be prepared to die. You and Billy must both have fulfilled your duty, Ricky. I do not blame you.”

“......”

“I, too, fled like a coward in my first battle and caused my elder brother's death, and eventually my father's as well. That regret has remained lodged in my heart all my life. But in the end, swallowing one's tears alone and enduring them is what a man must do. How can a man who knows nothing of pain or sorrow be called a hero? A great hero is always followed by a shadow as great as his achievements. If you killed Billy, then surely there was something you could never yield on. If so, keep walking that path. That is all I can tell you as your father.”

Ricardt did not suddenly burst into uncontrollable sobs. Just as he had once prayed to God in the Holy Land, he simply wept in silence, tears quietly running down his face. They were tears born neither of regret nor sorrow, but only of longing for Vilter.

There was no such thing as a perfect human being. Even the greatest of heroes was no exception. If someone were flawless in everything and possessed no personal feelings at all, he would no longer be human.

Still, when one revealed the weakest part of oneself, it seemed there was no one but family who could simply offer comfort without exploiting it or seizing upon it as a weakness.

“I'm sorry, Father......”

Ricardt rested both elbows on his knees and bent forward, asking forgiveness in a small, faltering voice.

But the Caldebern Family had never been particularly warm or demonstrative. Their deep affection simply showed through their brusqueness.

“It is late. Go to bed.”

“But, you know...... I can't have you come live with me in Adeloron, can I?”

If Ricardt had his own way, he wanted to bring his father to the royal castle in Adeloron and live there with him. But there was no chance his father would want that. Abelich was Stormhertz itself.

“Why ask when you already know?”

“I just wanted to ask once.”

Ricardt wiped away his tears and grinned. Abelich returned the smile faintly, though it was difficult to see in the dark tent.

“I'll go get some sleep. Good night.”

Ricardt rose and left to sleep. Silence settled over Abelich's tent once more.

As Abelich lay back down on the field cot, he suddenly felt lonely. His wife had died long ago, Vilter had gone before him, and Graut had now decided to remain at Caldebern Castle with Aileen. Ricardt, meanwhile, had established his own royal family in Adeloron.

All his children had gone on to live out their own destinies. Did he have any destiny of his own left? Even if he did, it seemed faint.

He could have remarried, but he had not. Everything had been for the family, solely for his children. And because of love.

“It was my failing, Hildi......”

Abelich called the name of his wife, who had died long ago. He did not cry, but just as he had told Ricardt, he swallowed his loneliness and sorrow alone. Like a man. Like a father.

And he had meant it when he said he did not blame Ricardt. If anything, Abelich blamed himself for Vilter's death.

If only he had never told him to learn patience. If only he had never allowed him to join the Knight Order. Those regrets cut so deeply that his heart ached.

Yet he told no one of those feelings, never once revealed them, and silently endured them alone. Unlike Ricardt, Abelich had no one he could lean on.

His only consolation was the cry of the scops owl drifting from afar. It sounded as though it were desperately calling for someone. Someone it would never meet again.

The Second Prince's camp had been restless since first thing in the morning. The disturbance was enough to wake Rotarius, who had been sleeping deeply with his face buried in a young prostitute's breasts.

No one was making a great deal of noise, but the low murmur outside was enough to drag his submerged consciousness back to the surface.

Rotarius opened his eyes with an irritated frown. Just then, someone roughly swept aside the entrance flap of the tent. Who dared?

He sat upright and turned his head to see a dark silhouette standing against the light. He frowned again at the glare, then slowly adjusted to it.

Once he could finally make out the person standing against the light, all traces of sleep vanished from Rotarius at once.

The man at the entrance was neither Baldur nor an adjutant nor a servant.

It was Ricardt.

“Gah!”

Rotarius sprang upright without thinking and hid behind the naked prostitute.

It was easy enough to say this or that when Ricardt was nowhere in sight, but the moment he appeared before him, the terror of the harsh treatment he had suffered in the past came flooding back.

More than anything, he was terrified that he might be killed here and now.

“I-it wasn't me! I didn't do it!”

Rotarius cried out desperately. The prostitute merely stared in confusion, covering herself with the blanket as she looked back and forth between Ricardt and Rotarius.

“I have merely come to return your visit, Prince Rotarius. I mean you no harm, so put on your clothes.”

In stark contrast to the badly startled Rotarius, Ricardt spoke calmly.

Ricardt stepped back outside to give him time to prepare. Once there, he found himself surrounded by the leading figures of the Second Prince's army. Knights and soldiers alike were every bit as startled as their prince.

After all, Ricardt had not sent an envoy. The King himself had come. And with no one accompanying him but a single young attendant. There was boldness, and then there was this. Even seeing it with their own eyes, they could hardly believe it.

In the hierarchy of rank, a King stood directly below the Emperor. Even an Imperial Prince was, so to speak, one rung lower, so a King almost never came in person except under truly exceptional circumstances.

Yet Ricardt stood there confidently, overwhelming everyone around him instead. That confidence came in part from his own strength, but perhaps also from having finally untied the knot in his heart the previous night.

As though he had shed a layer of skin, an aura of calm self-assurance seemed to flow from him.

There had never been a King like this in history, one who personally stepped forward and accepted the danger himself. Then again, when one thought about it, Ricardt had been the one leading from the front in every battle all along.

He was no longer the snot-nosed student from Beringen Academy, nor merely a swordsman who had dominated a single region. He was now a proud and radiant King.

Faced with the bearing of a true young sovereign, the people of the Second Prince's army were nearly struck speechless. After all, the subtle hostility between Ricardt and the Second Prince's forces had not entirely disappeared.

After a short wait, the prostitute eventually emerged from the tent, still disheveled and without even having had time to properly straighten her clothes.

“I-I'm ready. Come in, King. If Duke Brummbar and Baldur are outside, have them come in as well.”

At the prince's voice from within the tent, Ricardt immediately entered. Baldur and Duke Brummbar, who had been watching the situation closely the entire time, followed him inside.

Duke Brummbar was not particularly muscular, but he was enormous, with the typical build of a naturally powerful man. His eyes, on the other hand, drooped slightly, making him look sleepy.

When the three entered the tent, the Second Prince was still hurriedly straightening his clothes.

“P-please sit. Had you sent word ahead, I could have prepared a proper reception.”

“No. Going through unnecessary formalities would only delay matters. If both sides have already reached their decisions, should we not settle the rest as swiftly as possible?”

“Y-yes, of course. Sit.”

At Rotarius's invitation, Ricardt, Baldur, and Duke Brummbar sat before a heavy wooden table. The Second Prince fetched a parchment document and sat down as well.

“I prepared the document in advance.”

Ricardt took the document and read through it carefully. It certified that there was no impediment to Aileen inheriting the title of Count of Caldebern and that both the Second Prince and Duke Brummbar recognized her succession as legitimate.

In return, the Second Prince and Ricardt pledged not to engage in hostilities against each other in the future unless exceptional circumstances arose.

Ricardt signed without a moment's hesitation. The Second Prince was still somewhat dazed by how everything was unfolding, but he signed as well. Duke Brummbar, however, did not pick up the pen.

“Is there some problem? We discussed all of this beforehand.”

The Second Prince asked. Duke Brummbar, who until now had kept his lips sealed as though they had been glued shut, finally spoke.

“A woman is a bit......”

“What about a woman?”

Ricardt shot him a sharp glare, and Duke Brummbar, despite his enormous size, obediently picked up the pen. Once he had signed, the document was finally complete, and peace was formally established between the two factions.

“I trust you will keep your promise, Prince Rotarius.”

Duke Brummbar spoke. He had not sided with the Second Prince for money. He followed him solely because he believed his promise to abolish the title of Duke of Frederia.

In other words, strictly speaking, the peace between the Second Prince and Ricardt had nothing to do with him. Yet here he was, forced to sign a document regarding a matter unrelated to him without being able to do anything about it, so it seemed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. After all, the County of Caldebern was a fief under his authority.

“If we insist on accounting for every complicated issue, we will merely consume provisions without gaining anything. With this, one more restriction on our army's movements has been removed, which also brings Your Grace's wish that much closer.”

The astute Baldur spoke as if soothing the Duke. In short, he was telling the man to make a small concession for the greater cause.

In any case, because Ricardt had come personally as King, the entire matter was concluded without any ceremonial formalities. Things had gone so smoothly that for a moment, even the Second Prince wondered whether it was really all right for it to be this easy.

“S-should we not prepare a banquet?”

At the Second Prince's words, Ricardt tucked a copy of the document into his coat and replied.

“No. That will not be necessary. But before I leave, there is one thing I would like clarified. Once Count Caldebern had been assassinated, who intended to take his fief? Duke Brummbar, or the Second Prince? I was rather curious about that.”

“......I-I told you, it wasn't me. The world is in chaos. Is it really so strange that some madman would appear and do such a thing?”

“The whole world knows that Prince Rotarius used the One-Eye Clan. Do not insult my intelligence.”

“......To be honest, I said, ‘You can deal with him’, not ‘You can kill him.’”

It was a ridiculous excuse. Yet it was also technically true that he had never explicitly told them to kill the man. Ricardt could only let out a small snort of laughter.

“Whose idea was the plan?”

Ricardt looked at Baldur as though he already knew the answer. Baldur shamelessly replied.

“How could I know of something the Prince himself knows nothing about?”

Ricardt considered the evasive and unsatisfying answer for a moment before speaking.

“We may call it peace, but it is probably closer to a truce. Yes. I think this is about the right relationship for you people and me. I shall take my leave.”

Ricardt stood. There was no real need to dig any further into the truth.

Having dealt with precisely what he had come for and nothing more, Ricardt left the tent, mounted his horse again, and leisurely rode out of the camp with Roy.

He rode slowly, and even soldiers who had heard the news late came crowding over. Every one of them had come to see Ricardt, their gazes filled with a mixture of fear and respect.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere inside the Second Prince's tent, where the other three remained, was heavy.

“Well, is it not about time you granted my request?”

Duke Brummbar addressed Baldur, but his words were clearly meant for the Second Prince to hear.

Just as Baldur opened his mouth to answer, the Second Prince cut him off.

“Wait.”

Duke Brummbar and Baldur turned toward him at the same time.

“Ah...... it is nothing else. I normally need to do it once in the morning, but he came so suddenly that I did not get the chance. It is not for any other reason, but if I do not, my head simply does not work properly. I would like to take care of that first. Could you call Rudy back?”

“......”

There were no perfect people in the world. Prince Rotarius was no exception. It was not as though he had nothing but flaws, but whenever he did something like this, it really did make him hard to like.

“As you wish.”

Duke Brummbar, evidently offended, simply rose from his seat and left.

Baldur could no longer stand the Second Prince's disgraceful behavior and spoke up.

“Please learn to keep such things under control yourself. That is Duke Brummbar. A Duke, Your Highness. A Duke. The man accounts for a considerable portion of our military strength. You cannot treat him this way.”

“......I told you, my head does not work properly otherwise. If we are going to discuss important matters, should I not have a clear head?”

“Ah......”

Baldur finally let out a groan and pressed a hand to his forehead.

Some people in this world steadfastly endured pain and sorrow alone, while others could not endure even the slightest discomfort.

Still, looking at it positively, the Second Prince did have a certain human side to him. Perhaps that was the greatest difference between him and the snake-like Fifth Prince.

Baldur rose, left the tent, and called for the prostitute named Rudy.

In any case, with that, Ricardt and the Second Prince Rotarius had made peace. The Master Alliance headquarters was established at Stormhertz, and its first lord to join was Aileen, Countess of Caldebern.

****

For more chapters, you can check out my Patreon here –> https://patreon.com/warriorsballad