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

Chapter 274

Adrian Leonberger (2)

Adrian Leonberger was a hero. Not an episode in his saga was not heroic, and none of his achievements lacked splendor. However, where he was so brilliant now, his past wasn’t. Rather, it was an ugly era heaped with deserved criticism from many people. Due to his inherently violent nature, it was common for many average persons to have faced his ire, and there were many cases of insults or harm done to those who came to him in good faith.

It was natural for countless numbers of those who harbored grudges against him to exist. They never believed the rumors concerning Adrian Leonberger.

The hero, the savior of the country that people spoke of had been regarded as propaganda created by the royal family to calm the populace in times of confusion. People expected that as the world calmed down again, that ugly face of the prince would be revealed to the world.

And at that time, they didn’t doubt that the tower of lies that had been built would collapse and that Adrian’s notoriety would resonate under all the heavens. However, no matter how much time passed, what they expected did not happen at all. Rather, as the years passed by, Adrian Leonberger’s reputation only continued to grow. In all the population centers, people started to actively witness Prince Adrian’s devotion and heroic deeds. By that point, they could no longer regard the rumors as vainglorious fabrications.

They, too, had to admit: Adrian Leonberger, whom they had hated so much, had indeed changed. The irredeemable hedonist no longer existed in this world; all that remained was a devoted knight who had overcome the errors of his childhood to grow into a hero riding to Leonberg’s rescue. When they realized this, the feeling of being broken overcame them.

Their bodies had been left with horrible scars, and the spite and hatred in their hearts still ran deep, but it was directed to the stupid prince who existed only in the past. The terrible things they had suffered were simply regarded as mistakes made by an inexperienced child, and others began to criticize their wailing screams as the insults of narrow-minded, blasphemous folk; they were censured by their own kind.

Thus, they became lost, having been stripped of the last channel down which they could pour their ire and indignation.

It was during this time that people dispatched by the royal family came to them. Through them was heard that Adrian Leonberger was repenting for his past transgressions and that he was taking the time to atone to his victims.

“When this confusing situation is settled, come to the royal palace. His Highness said that that he would always welcome you with open arms.”

With this short statement, the messengers left—leaving a sack of money, so much that a commoner could never hope to see such an amount in their lifetimes. There was even a silver plaque specially made for them. Yet, they could not spend this money even in times of need, not because it was dirty, but because if they did, Adrian Leonberger’s evil deeds would be erased from the world forever. The plaques naming them as royal guests were not used either, for they were afraid that if they met Adrian Leonberger again, he would be exactly as the world said he was.

Time passed, and one day they received news which they believed was good.

“His Highness the Crown Prince is dead.”

They heard the obituary of Adrian Leonberger, whom they hated so much. And so sublime was his death that even the hatred they had been holding onto for ten years passed. It was said that the prince, while facing a mighty enemy that even the champions could not face, burned away his life by plunging a royal sword into his chest. And in so doing, he removed the dark clouds that had settled over the kingdom. It was said that if the prince had wanted to live, he could have done so, yet he gave his life for a greater cause.

When the victims heard this heroic story, their hatred lost its direction, and their wounds were forever healed.

They headed for the royal road like crazed people, holding the plaques that the royal messengers had given them.

The gatekeeper of the royal palace opened the gates for them without a word, as if he had known who they were from the moment he saw them—and they were guided directly to the prince’s palace.

“His Highness has long been waiting for you to come. It’s too late.”

A palace knight in broken armor showed them the way with a grieving face. And finally, they were able to meet the person they came to meet, who they never wanted to meet. In front of a cooling corpse, they were forced to swallow back the words on the tips of their tongues reserved for an enemy. The one they had hated so much was a greedy lecher with a greasy, overlarge body, not a wounded saint who was ravaged at the end of his long, ascetic path.

They looked at Adrian Leonberger’s deadened form, their emotions all having become vain.

There was no spot without scars or cuts on the bare flesh exposed under the pure white shroud. None of the welting scars were shallower than those left on their own bodies. Blankly looking at the wounds, they became locked in their thoughts.

They had heard that the prince had fought and struggled on battlefields when he couldn’t even properly hold his sword. They hadn’t believed even half of such stories; now they had to believe them all. The scars all over his corpse proved the roughness of the road that Prince Adrian had walked. Born as a noble into the royal family, he could have enjoyed all kinds of pleasures—so why had Adrian Leonberger fought on instead of safely fleeing from the harsh battlefield?

Perhaps he had wanted to repent for his own mistakes, living so fiercely that he came to pay the ultimate price. If it was so… then the scars crisscrossing his body were indeed traces of a punishment that they themselves had inflicted upon him.

They came to believe that he had already paid the price, so much so that his repentance was greater than an overflowing lake in thaw.

“Ten years ago, there was a big incident.”

Those who stared at Adrian Leonberger’s corpse as if fascinated by it snapped awake.

“I foolishly thought that the incident was caused by this child, and I just resented and hated him. In fact, from the start, my son had not committed this sin… from the very start.”

There stood the king—they did not know when he had entered; perhaps he had been there from the beginning.

“It must have been unbearable for a child of twelve to face such hatred and resentment when all he needed was the warmth of his parents. The evils committed upon you by this child were caused by my hatred. The true apology you deserve is not from my son—neither is the fault yours, but mine.”

They just stared blankly on as they heard the king’s apology.

“Of course, I know that this does not mean that my son’s sins will disappear. So, I’m going to ask you, beg you…”

The king was asking them as a father, not as monarch of the country.

“Don’t blame this child too much. Just blame and curse his ugly father.”

They could give no answer to the king’s request. They merely looked at Adria Leonberger’s corpse, helpless.

‘Cheolkup!’

Just then, the door opened. And, from beyond the aperture, a man promptly appeared.

“Greetings, your Majesty.”

He had a terrible-looking face, almost as if he was a man deaf to the world.

“You- What do have to say now?”

At this, the king closed his eyes tightly.

“This case of ten years ago… Is it the case I know? Is it really the case I know!” the man yelled before the king. “We knights of the abandoned fortress, we three hundred and twenty-three. Are you correctly speaking about the day when we ourselves broke our rings?”

The king did not rebuke the man for his rudeness; he merely opened his eyes and nodded his head in silence.

The man’s face became distorted.

“Don’t… It’s ridiculous…”

“There was another person who informed them of your existence. My child was just caught up in the wicked tricks of adults.”

Then, through the king’s mouth, details of the disaster of a decade ago flowed out.

“Well, did your Majesty know about it?”

Facing such truth, the man looked even more tired, paler.

“It is my son who first revealed the truth of the incident—no one knew.”

“No! I can’t believe it!”

“The informant himself confessed and confirmed the fact several times through Montpellier. There is no lie to my words.”

The man was shaken to his core, as if he had done something unclean.

“It can’t be that way. His Highness himself admitted it. He admitted his mistake and told us to increase our strength so that we could directly punish him for his sins.”

“My son said that?” the king sighed. “It seems that Balahard’s blood ran thicker than Leonberger’s within him. So, I’m sure that’s why he stuck to such a difficult and destructive path, like his uncle and… like his mother.”

The king looked at the ceiling for a moment, then looked at the man again. The man, facing his monarch with eyes deep with sorrow, shouted as if having a seizure.

“Why! If that’s true! If that’s true! Why didn’t your Majesty reveal the truth!”

“He didn’t want me to. He said that you need a motive to once more sharpen your swords. He wanted you to stand up firmly, to keep such hatred and resentment. It was the best for you and even for the kingdom—he believed this.”

These words made the man stumble.

**

His world had been overturned countless times, and in the end, it collapsed. After that, even as news came and went, his memories gradually became vague.

When he woke up, he was already drunk and slumming it in the alleys of the royal capital.

“If you want to hide, why don’t you hide until the very end…?”

As he sat against the wall, his speech rambled on like a madman’s. Then he suddenly contorted his face into a demonic expression.

“Ggwaain, Gwain—Are you trying to escape reality by blaming someone else? You are really rotten and corrupted.”

The past played itself out in his head. He spat out harsh curses at the deceased prince, and expressed no gratitude for anything the Crown Prince had ever given him… even if, with his full support, Gwain had reached the highest level of Sword Expert… yet still… Gwain had been consistently ignored, even when he had gained such mastery of the martial arts!

At that time, he thought such aid was the price the Crown Prince had to pay—that he deserved to suffer no matter the cost.

In fact, none of those sins were originally his!

Gwain was swearing, and the quality of his vocabulary was perverse.

“Wow!”

He couldn’t help but feel upset.

However, no matter how well he knew that he had been deceived, feelings of self-loathing and disgust entered his body in a torrent of filth that did not abate at all. It was as if it was a decade ago; as if Gwain had returned to those terrible times. It had been better then…

During those years, he had someone else to resent and hate; now, there was only himself.

Gwain struggled with his feelings of self-doubt, disgust, and self-hatred—and he was desperate, so frustrated because there was no way to rectify his wrongdoing; there was no longer anyone to apologize to.

So, he drowned himself in drinks as he traveled through the capital’s alleys. Then, he suddenly heard an incredible outcry.

“The Crown Prince has risen!”

At first, he thought he was hearing bullshit because his drunken mind was confused.

“His Highness is alive!”

However, the shouts he thought he misheard resounded against the walls several times, and the stinky back alleys and shady corners were filled with joy wherever he stumbled. Gwain told himself it was absurd; he had personally confirmed several times that the prince had stopped breathing. So, he slinked back into his alley.

A few days later, Gwain entered a bar to get more liquor and chanced to notice drunk people raising their glasses high.

“Congratulations on the return of his Highness the Crown Prince!”

“Leonberger family, live forever!”

There were too many people yelling for Gwain to consider the statement false; the faces of the celebrants were too bright.

So, he headed for the palace—and he met the prince.

The Crown Prince was alive, and though he was not a cold corpse with closed eyes, he was far from his former energetic appearance, being a haggard figure that reclined on his bed with a pale face.

‘Shh’

As if possessed, Gwain approached the Crown Prince. Duke Balahard and the prince’s knights stood before him.

“Okay,” the prince snapped at his knights.

“Your Highness’s body is uncomfortable. Even if it is a small act, I will not permit anything that might disturb your health,” Duke Balahard warned in a cold, almost frozen voice.

“Let go of me. Stop this fuss and go out.”

“Your Highness, know that I am a man with an uncomfortable heart when it comes to your Highness’s wellbeing. Please tell me if I overstep my position.”

“It’s okay. Just go out.”

“In case-”

“I said it’s really okay.”

“Then I’ll be outside the door, so if anything happens, send me a message right away.”

“I’m not a child. Adelia is also next to me, so what is there to worry about? Stop nagging and get out.”

Duke Balahard begged the prince a few more times before stepping back.

“Don’t be foolish,” he said. “If you do anything useless—in the first place, I’ll bet you’ll regret being reborn.”

When the knights and the duke left, with the latter leaving such a sharp warning, Gwain Gust came to stand in front of the prince. His gaze moved over the prince, stopping on his hand, which held a carving knife. The hand trembled as if gripping something heavy, yet it was definitely a small and light carving knife that could not be compared to the sword the prince had used to handle.

“My hands are completely stunted. My mana heart is completely broken.”

When the prince said this, Gwain stiffened.

“But I believe it is good to start over—I see the profit in it. Is it not so?” the prince asked with a laugh when he saw Gwain harden like a stone statue. Gwain was dazed by such words, his head was a mess. He struggled to understand what he had heard. Now he couldn’t even remember what he had been thinking of when coming here.

So he stood up and looked at the prince, then asked him in a constricted voice, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” The prince asked with a clear expression.

“Why did you shoulder sins you did not commit?”

“Ah…” The prince’s smiling face hardened.

“You thought I would be grateful if you did that! You thought it beneficial for me to sharpen and polish my sword using such hate! You thought I would shed tears because of your noble sacrifice!”

Gwain tried to stop, but his mouth was out of control; it moved with a will of its own.

“What did you think was going to happen! What the hell are you doing now! A man who lived for the good of the realm! How can you be lying in bed like a sick chicken?”

‘Schoop!’

The woman guarding the prince approached in a blur, drawing her sword and aiming it at Gwain’s neck. She spoke in warning, saying that if he raised his voice again, she would slit his jugular.

“I ask myself if I’m feeling relieved! I should be relieved! I would die, now! At that time you mocked us and rebuked us for weakness! I will do it too!”

‘Bwak!’ The door slammed open, and knights poured into the room.

“Don’t be weak, you said! Unscrupulous bastard! So your mana heart is broken? It’s your duty to build up your mana again!”

Regardless of the blade aiming at his throat, Gwain kept shouting.

“Start over! If your heart is broken, make a ring!”

Grim-faced knights drew their swords and approached, yet Gwain did not stop his mouth from moving.

“Why, you talked so easily before, but you can’t do it now? It wasn’t your hurt, back then—is that why you talked so easily?”

The woman’s eyes had been gleaming with horror as she held her blade at the ready. Now, all emotion disappeared from her.

‘Dwak!’

A crushing shock of energy battered into Gwain, making his knees buckle.

‘Quazzik!’

At the same time, the cold kiss of metal touched his neck.

“Who are you to dare say such things…”

The woman’s voice, dripping with cold malice, reached Gwain’s ears. The blade pierced flesh, and a trickle of blood ran down Gwain’s neck.

“Stop.”

It was then that the prince spoke. The woman met Gwain’s eyes, then withdrew her sword and stepped back.

“Adelia, why are you so violent?”

“Anyone who commits the sin of mocking their lord definitely deserves death.”

“All the Rangers have to die, then.”

“If your Highness wishes-”

“Are you crazy? Why are you so brutal? Killing is not all your life. I like the Adelia who loves life—my heart is aching.”

“Wow, is Your Highness all right?!”

The woman ran into the Crown Prince’s embrace, and it seemed as if she would cry right away.

“Your Highness, is everything well?” Duke Balahard asked, his face filled with more concern than before.

“I’m okay now. But if everyone continues to scream like this, then I don’t think I’ll get better.”

Hearing this, Vincent and the other knights all shut their mouths.

“I’ll live in peace now.”

Only then did the Crown Prince’s face become one of satisfaction.

“Hmm.”

His gaze turned to Gwain Gust, who was kneeling.

“Well, I forgive you for not hearing the latest news. It’s not important.”

The prince’s tone was extremely calm.

“You’re starting over?” Gwain provocatively snapped at the prince. He wasn’t asking whether the prince was doing so, but rather if he was at all able. The prince laughed as he met that challenging gaze.

“You don’t have to be so childishly provocative,” he said, adding, “If you’re talking about a new beginning, I’ve been doing that since I woke up.”

Crown Prince Adrian had said that he had already started anew—all the while showing off his carving knives and crooked statues.