30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue
chapter-147

As I recall, if Maximilian is the typical JRPG-style hero, Jill Ber is like the protagonist of a historical warrior epic.

His mixed heritage and rise to prominence, embodying the ideals of chivalry, were significant, but the crucial point lay elsewhere.

He married a princess. It was as if the glory bestowed upon a knight who defeated a dragon.

“Strictly speaking, she’s not a princess.” (Jill Ber)

“Hmm?” (Einar)

“She’s the niece of His Majesty the King’s brother, not His Majesty’s daughter.” (Jill Ber)

Jill Ber chuckled wistfully for a moment before cheerfully downing his drink. Carefully, as if confessing a flaw, but with an air of indifference.

He had always been such a diplomatic man.

“They can’t just hand over the royal lineage to a nobody like me. They had to make a gesture to the man who will behead the demon king, and there happens to be a suitable commodity.” (Jill Ber)

“A commodity?” (Einar)

“Yeah, those nobles treated her like a commodity and handed her over.” (Jill Ber)

A grunt was heard. A wine glass made of crystal trembled. With a smug smile, Jill Ber scattered the shards on the floor.

“There’s almost no inheritance issue, so there’s no problem in having offspring. But since it’s royal blood, it can’t be opposed to the royal family. If I kill the demon king and come back, even if I claim to be the strongest warrior of Tylesse…”

“But Maximilian will be there.”

“Hmm. He’s not a ‘typical’ Tylesse person. And he wasn’t loyal to the Tylesse royal family either.”

From the perspective of the Tylesse royal family, they needed a pawn they could hold and manipulate. Since they couldn’t control the hero, this was the alternative.

A traditional knight loyal to the royal family, but one who returns after killing the demon king with even more powerful authority.

So it means to put a collar on him. To ‘bestow’ the princess as a consort. If he refuses, it’s an insult, and if he accepts, it’s a political asset for the royal family.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just become the king?”

“…What?”

“Why not? I plan to become king as I please. Isn’t it cool? Declare to all those mongrels to follow only someone stronger than me.” (Einar)

“So that’s what they call ‘Drovian.’”

Jill Ber chuckled and shook his head.

“A country should exist not by force but by legitimacy. The rules of society persist on the basis of justice. A country without legitimacy ceases to function the moment authority collapses.” (Jill Ber)

“Just because you use difficult words doesn’t make you look smart.” (Einar)

“Oh, was my wording difficult?” (Jill Ber)

“Raise your sword. Kill me.” (Einar)

Ivan, who was listening to the conversation between the two lunatics, suddenly asked Jill Ber. (Since their fighting was a common occurrence, there was no reason to intervene.)

“From just listening, it seems like you have no loyalty at all. Don’t you trust your own country?” (Ivan)

“Of course not. What do you think I went through to get to this position?” (Jill Ber)

“Then why? After going so far as to kill the demon king, why put shackles on yourself?” (Ivan)

“Haha, well…”

Jill Ber replied with a very unlucky expression.

“Of course, it’s love.”

If the woman of royal blood, who married a humble knight from the countryside, even loses her political value to the extent of being presented as a ‘commodity,’ what kind of situation would they face?

And even if all those conditions were ignored. Even if she didn’t inherit royal blood, even if she wasn’t offered as a commodity. Even if she was just a maid.

He would still have loved her. At first sight. That rose-like woman.

While Ivan was listening to such talk, he suddenly spoke up next to Einar, who had a look of wanting to die.

“Rose-like… It felt a bit sharper than that…” (Ivan)

“There are thorns on roses, Ivan. You’ll understand once you meet more women.” (Jill Ber)

“He married his first love. Brother. Don’t listen. You’re talking like you know something.” (Einar)

“Raise the axe. Kill me.” (Jill Ber)

“Can you?”

“Show me?”

Ignoring the growling sounds of the two lunatics, Ivan thought quietly.

Rose-like.

The Odellia de Tylesse he remembers was more sharp-edged. But still.

Well, she was slapping Jill Ber’s cheek at their first meeting.

Chapter 147./: Waiting for Winter.

It was quiet at Mathieu Etoile, the largest train station in St. Mathilde. Isabelle and her companions looked around with bitter expressions.

It had only been a few days since they left this place. In just those few days, the main trade route symbolizing the city had completely come to a halt.

Soldiers were bustling around. In the distance, a procession of refugees continued.

“Even if we assume responsibility, it’s still a problem. We can’t feed all those people.”

“I know. But…”

Isabelle bit her lip at Elpheira’s words. It was a sensible response. There was no way to feed all those people, and honestly, it couldn’t be known if the royal family would stand up to fight.

No, it wasn’t the royal family’s perspective. It was the perspective of the nobles. Would they really risk their lives to protect the capital of this country?

“I’ll go first.”

“Oscar? Where are you going?”

“To Mother. Is Miss Isabelle also going to visit her mother?”

“Not right now. She’s not going to take refuge. It’s not the right time, and…”

If even the family of a knight abandons the capital of this country, what would the soldiers of this city think? Isabelle bit her lip and lowered her head.

And her mother, she was certainly not the type to prioritize safety in such a situation.

It’s inevitable. Even if she received such a home education, what could she do? Isabelle sighed deeply and straightened her back confidently.

“A knight must do what a knight must do! Alright. We should also pay our respects to Lady Etarique.”

“Then let’s go. Mother will be pleased too.”

Oscar turned with a bitter smile.

*

The noble residential area was located in a beautiful downtown area called Montpolier Street. It was called the ‘Street of Light’ because it was lavishly adorned with marble.

The refugee processions of the citizens and the frequent occurrences of crimes couldn’t even touch this street. The street was quiet and still displayed its elegant appearance.

Paradoxically, Isabelle felt a chill at the sight. Even if they were defeated in the civil war, it seemed like the nobles in this place believed they wouldn’t suffer at the hands of the marquises.

Or, there might be other ‘reasons’ to prove such belief.

“Isn’t it a bit eerie?”

“It feels like everyone’s watching us, don’t you think?”

“Probably.”

No one dared to stop Oscar as he walked ahead. They simply muttered and dispersed, or quietly called for someone to give instructions.

A well-dressed lady whispered to a maid and glanced in their direction. The servant soon retreated and disappeared.

The nobles are not allies, even though they are within the same city walls.

Oscar silently moved forward and stood in front of a massive wall. A gate adorned with rose vines came into view. The emblem of the Etarique family, a pattern of crossed deer horns, spears, and shields, looked down upon them.

“Young master!? W-What are you doing here?!”

“Martin. Where’s Mother?”

“Madam is at the clinic… Oh, no, why are you here of all places?! Y-You should leave right now! Saint Mathilde is dangerous!!”

“I know. And, thank you.”

Oscar patted the old butler’s shoulder and smiled.

“I appreciate you staying by Mother’s side even though you know it’s dangerous.”

“…Where else would I go? With this old body.”

The butler chuckled and opened the door. He scanned the group and politely bowed.

“Welcome, distinguished guests. Please forgive the insufficient hospitality due to the current situation.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Martin.”

“Yes, Miss Isabelle. Your presence is reassuring.”

Isabelle greeted the warm-hearted old butler and crossed the threshold. The mansion of the Etarique Duke, known as the Rose House, soon came into view.

“Wow, Oscar. You’re really a young master from a wealthy family, huh?” (Eugene)

“If you knew how much the bounty on the demon king’s head was, this would seem trivial, wouldn’t it?” (Isabelle)

“But why on earth is Miss Isabelle…” (Eugene)

“What about me? Am I not wealthy too?” (Isabelle)

“I suddenly realize how modest you are. Truly remarkable. Big brother should see this too.” (Eugene)

“You explain it. I am good at cleaning and household chores, and I am even a wealthy girl with a proper sense of economy.”

At Isabelle’s words, Ecdysis trembled and cautiously expressed her opinion.

“I-I do too. I only spend money on food? Just lots of food… I’m not… I’m not that kind of person who eats a lot, am I…?” (Ecdysis)

“Ecdysis, you eat like a pig.” (Elpheira)

“Is your ear a lying pouch or the truth? Does having big ears mean you’re good at lying? Can you be honest for once?” (Ecdysis)

“Oh my, how barbaric. Can something like a barbaric pouch hang from your body?” (Elpheira)

“I’m ashamed of you all.”

At Eugene’s words, the group fell silent again. After exchanging glances and walking in silence, Oscar finally stopped in the center of the reception hall.

Under the noon sunlight, a woman in a red dress was sipping tea.

Eugene involuntarily fell silent. Isabelle’s mother was a woman whose appearance made it hard to believe she had a grown daughter like Isabelle, but by now, she was just seen as Oscar’s sister with a bit of depth.

Truly, is this a fantasy world? How does a woman with a twenty-year-old son have such looks?

In Eugene’s awed silence, the woman’s gaze fell on Oscar. Her sharp green eyes hesitated for a moment.

“Mother.”

Oscar slowly approached and knelt beside her, courteously lowering one knee. The lady was silently gazing down at her son.

Meanwhile, Eugene noticed her trembling hand. The lady’s gloved hand was gently shaking. However, her expression remained cold and firm.

After confirming where her gaze landed, Eugene sighed softly. The lady was looking at the sword at Oscar’s waist.

It was the sword of the Etarique Duke. Its implications were too clear, causing the lady to subtly lower her head.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“Son…? Where is your father?”

“He’s still fighting.”

She bit her lip.

“Fool….”

“Mother, you need to leave the city.”

“But your father hasn’t returned yet.”

The tears dried quickly. The lady regained her sharp expression and spoke confidently.

“We must keep the place for your father’s return. I am the Duchess.”

“Mother.”

“Your father will return safely. He always has… He always will. That fool, he must.”

“Yes, Mother. Father will return safely.”

“That’s why I must fulfill my duties as the Duchess of Etarique. I will protect this lineage, this house.”

“…Mother. But…”

“Enough.”

The lady clasped her trembling hands tightly together. She lifted her head toward her son with sharp eyes.

“You must do what is required of a Duke’s son. Take the sword and go as a nobleman of our family.”

“This city is not safe.”

“Are you going to run away then?”

“No.”

“Then I have no reason to leave my son and husband behind and flee this city.”

The lady laughed brightly.

She stroked Oscar’s head and firmly grasped his hand as she spoke.

“Your will is your father’s will, and your father’s will is the will of the homeland. Go. As the last adult of this household, respect your every intention.”

“Yes, Mother.”

After bowing deeply once, Oscar stepped back. The lady’s gaze fell upon the group.

Under inexplicable pressure, the group stood still, stiffening their bodies.

“Isabelle, and the heroes of our time….”

Perhaps even she found it amusing, the lady said with a joking smile.

“I entrust my son to you.”

She had no informants. The Duke of Etarique couldn’t hold any political assets. The Tylesse Duchess, who could be called the king’s sister, was just a nominal royal bloodline. She even had to offer her daughter as a product for sale to a past hero party.

Even that no longer exists in this era. The lady was just a potted plant in the greenhouse, and no power would respect her will.

Nevertheless, separate from political assets, there was weight in the lady’s words. She was the mother who had raised her son in a country where she had no support, even if it meant leaving her husband to assassinate the demon king.

She had been a caregiver all her life, and also a shackle to her husband for a lifetime. But she never let go of her pride.

So, how harsh this situation was for her, the lady who could not know. She was simply pleading with her son’s peers to do everything she could.

“Yes, Duchess of Etarique. I swear.”

Isabel knelt with one knee and bowed her head with the sword pinned to the ground. In the familiar yet unfamiliar aspect of this lady, unknowingly.

As a hero.

“I will do my best.”

They left the street in that direction. Their destination was the Royal Palace. The heart of this country.

It was just after the news arrived that the Granmartel Viscount’s army had reached the outskirts of Saint Mathilde.