I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song
chapter-190-30041322

Chapter 190

True Soul Song for Her (3)

As Malcoy followed in the prince’s footsteps, he recalled a conversation he had with Percival some time ago.

“This may hurt your pride,” Percival had said, “but if we fight, we lose. Even if there were two of me, I am not confident that we would win.”

“Is he that strong?”

“It’s just a guess, but I think only the Emperor could deal with such a monster.”

Percival had vomited blood into a bowl after his clash of energy against the prince; his face had looked exhausted when he had called the Crown Prince a monster. He then went on to say that to properly deal with the prince, no less than the emperor’s personal guards would have to be deployed.

If Percival’s statement was not an exaggeration, then the Crown Prince was a rare genius, a true genius unique to his age whose talent has already blossomed. Malcoy was not sure, but the prince must have practiced with the sword night and day and likely also possessed practical experience on par with his skill.

And this prince had now arrogantly said that he would show Malcoy the reality of war. Even if Malcoy did acknowledge the prince’s amazing genius and might, he could not find it in himself to respect the prince’s experience. The man had only recently passed the age of twenty, after all!

And in that life, he spent only a few years at war in the north, and a few months warring against the Empire. He was over-eager to talk about ‘real war’ with such scant experience.

Malcoy had seen far more than him, gone through numerous battles, and witnessed the fall of his motherland. He had even participated in the invasion of the Dotrin Kingdom while following the now-deceased second princeps.

Malcoy didn’t have to wish to see a real war: It was a haunted pit, and he knew it. Still, his current reality was no different from that of a prisoner. Were it not so; he would have laughed at the young prince.

Malcoy knew he couldn’t, as the treatment of the other prisoners depended on the whims of the Crown Prince. There was no need for Malcoy to make things more troublesome for his soldiers by being arrogant. So he hid his emotions as he followed the prince, making sure his face was constantly without expression.

“If you don’t want to die an accidental death by being mistaken for the enemy, change your clothes,” the prince said as he handed Malcoy a Royal Leonberg Army uniform and then continued to walk along the wall. Malcoy noted how, despite the light emotion the prince showed on his face, that face was truly dark.

Reluctantly, Malcoy looked around, pretending to be interested.

Soldiers gripped their swords and spears as they stared out across the walls, and the archers lined up along the battlements were awaiting orders, their bows hanging slack. Behind Malcoy, those who appeared to be commanders kicked the soldiers’ asses as they shouted out orders.

“…!”

“…!”

The language of the Leonberg Kingdom was unfamiliar to Malcoy, but it was not difficult to roughly guess what the commanders were saying.

“Stand up straight, you idiots! Step up!”

The soldiers stepped up, following the order raptly. Those few who didn’t get it right were singled out by the commander, forced to do it again and again. Malcoy had judged the meaning of the order correctly, and a sigh escaped from his lips.

He hadn’t expected much – the sights revealed to him were more disappointing than his expectations. When it came to showing what real war was, the prince only seemed to want to boast about the high morale of his soldiers. Malcoy sighed again as he looked at the prince, knowing that no matter his own thoughts, the prince was busy doing his job. The Crown Prince called a one-eyed knight and a few men dressed as mountain infantry to him, and the men looked somewhat frivolous as they were given instructions. After receiving their orders, the knight and the infantry glanced at Malcoy.

And that first glance they gave him was quite remarkable. One of the slender-looking mountain infantrymen even clucked his tongue as he looked at Malcoy. It was by no means a pleasant experience, though Malcoy did not openly express this. His blood was not warm enough for him to be upset by such a trivial matter. Even if their scorn was unpleasant, Malcoy wasn’t so indiscreet as to forget his situation and express his displeasure.

He thought so and knew it to be true. The fact that Leonberg’s troops looked down on him did not affect Malcoy. However, it was difficult for Malcoy to stand the gaze of the casual-looking mountain infantryman and the twisted manner in which he looked at him.

The man had an annoyed expression as if he had been asked to carry some heavy luggage, as if he had been asked to play the role of babysitter for a child who couldn’t properly pee.

Malcoy turned his head away, no longer wanting the infantryman’s attitude to affect him. After some time, the one-eyed knight led other knights away as they left. The mountain infantry soon began chatting with each other. Malcoy gave a sigh once he confirmed that their interest was no longer on him.

The prince then came up to him and said, “From here to there. That is where you are to stay until the battle is over.”

Malcoy frowned.

“As your guest, you said that a few words of advice are sufficient. Are you thinking of breaking our agreement now?” he demanded. Malcoy had followed the prince to be shown the reality of war; he didn’t climb the wall to fight for Leonberg’s army.

The prince laughed.

“You’re real stubborn,” he said. “Good. This time I’ll match your beat. You need motivation? If you defend this position until the battle’s end, we will release five prisoners. If you’re lucky, I can reward you accordingly.”

Malcoy eventually decided to accept the prince’s proposal, pretending to be won over. He knew he could not continue to refuse in his current situation, and the favor being the release of five more people made it an irresistible proposal.

“The rewards will go to those serving under you,” the prince said politely, his face arrogant, “so do whatever you want. Oh, and don’t think about getting any help from your lieutenant in this battle. I sent him to the other side of the wall. Maybe you two can meet up when the battle’s done.”

“Why is Percival-”

“I told him that for each imperial knight he kills, I will release two prisoners. He ran to the wall, excited.”

Malcoy sighed.

From the start, the lieutenant had understood him, and he was there when Malcoy had begun to feel worse in recent years. It was uncomfortable to be away from Percival, but Malcoy only felt like this for a while. He soon started to count the number of imperial troops who were gradually narrowing their distance from the walls.

Approximately 1,500 soldiers were in his line of sight. Knowing that the same number of troops was located in each cardinal direction, the total number of imperials was 6,000, three legions.

The troops of Leonberg arrayed against them numbered approximately one legion. Malcoy had counted them over time after his release from prison and knew his numbers were not in error.

The imperial troops outnumbered Leonberg’s three-to-one, but Malcoy knew that the difference could be overcome if full advantage was taken of the defensive position.

Moreover, if the morale of the defenders was great, the citadel could be held without difficulty.

“What the hell is the emperor thinking?”

What were the aims of the Imperial Army? Malcoy did not know why they kept repeating such ineffectual attacks, but he could not think on it for long.

‘Dum~ Dum~ Dum~’

The imperial army’s drummers got closer.

‘Dumtumtum~ Dumtumtum~’

Little by little, the interval between successive drumbeats shortened, and the imperial army’s pace accelerated.

‘Buuwooo!’

A horn was sounded from the citadel in response, and the battle began.

* * *

Malcoy’s mind was calm – until the first assault began.

He was in the position of a knight rather than a legion commander, and he had thought that there was no problem with that.

There was: Battle seen through a commander’s eyes was not the same as that experienced by a single knight. His eyes were dizzied by blades flashing from all sides and by the arrows flying from under the wall. He was deafened by the roar of the sergeant’s orders and the soldiers’ aggression. The smell of feces and blood spilled from the desperate and dying, paralyzing his nose.

It was uncomfortable to breathe due to the haggard breath and heat coming from allies and foes alike. In that chaos, Malcoy fought without cease.

He constantly watched his back and protected himself from anything that might dull or disturb his senses. And as he battled on, the sun set, and the enemy retreated.

Malcoy was utterly exhausted.

In all honesty, he never even noticed the enemies retreating; he had just fought – and then the was battle was over. The assaults continued the next day, and the next.

Malcoy could recover his stamina quicker than after the first battle, but it didn’t last long. His mana ring had been abused through successive battles, and it felt the strain; his reserves were insufficient, and there was no time to fill the depleted ring. The enemies were endlessly rushing in, and he had no time to ponder his situation.

With Malcoy’s mana depleted, he had to fight with only his sword. And when that battle was over, his arms and legs were continuously cramping. The next day was even more terrible.

His physical condition was worse with his mana depleted, and he was forced to endure it, his taut muscles barely able to move. Another day passed another desperate fight. Malcoy sat on the wall, unheeding of his pride as he breathed heavily.

It was a burdensome thought for him, knowing that the next day would come. It was unjust; he resented the hardship and the prospect of dying in a fort that held no meaning to him. As he sat there, he wanted to descend from the wall and be done with the crown prince’s challenge.

He suppressed that desire, however. If he held on a bit more, he would be able to free more of his men from the cold prison. Then, Malcoy suddenly looked around himself and noticed the state of Leonberg’s army. The warriors had bloody faces, but they were quietly going over their equipment, checking the condition of the walls, and preparing for the next day’s battle.

The mountain infantry kept giving Malcoy nasty looks, and they even chatted about whether there was any energy left in him. Malcoy clenched his teeth, vowing not to show weakness in front of knights or even such scruffy soldiers; he pledged this to himself.

But Malcoy didn’t know that the people he thought of as common soldiers were in truth elite rangers; that they have been forged in battle against fierce orcs who had rushed at them year after year; that if these men protect a wall, they form the strong backbone of the defense, which would survive for a month, not five days.

Also, there was one thing Malcoy couldn’t even imagine: These elite rangers skillfully drove and herded the foe to Malcoy’s section of the wall throughout every battle with well-placed shots.

And, of course, it was Prince Adrian who had given them such instructions.

* * *

“Roll as many as you can his way. All you have to do is make sure he survives.”

Jordan and his rangers performed my orders very well, and ten days from the day the siege had begun, Malcoy was already ragged.

“If we lure more enemies to our section, you might as well shove a knife into the bugger and throw him from the wall,” quipped Jordan. “So how about it? Shall we continue?”

I nodded without hesitation. Malcoy’s progress remained lacking.

He was still an unripe strategist who believed that he alone had been through the horrors of war. That only he knew its ugliness. Malcoy had not yet pushed himself far enough to realize the reality.

“It looks like he doesn’t like it very much,” Jordan observed as he stuck his tongue out. It seemed that the ranger was misinterpreting my intentions, thinking that I wished to cure the habits of a cheeky prisoner. Jordan’s view was completely different from my own.

I wasn’t trying to mess with Malcoy.

No, I was merely angry. Malcoy was very similar to my past self. He trembled with his arrogance, believing that his will had transcended death. It was only after I lost my uncle that I knew what it meant to suffer for the death of others. The same held true for Malcoy.

He says he had witnessed the horrors of war as he watched the destruction of his country. It is known that he participated in war while serving an imperial princeps. Malcoy was confident that he knew war better than anyone else.

One of those wars wasn’t his own – I had heard many stories of him from his lieutenant.

How Malcoy lives and how Malcoy thinks. And if everything I heard about him was true, then all the wars Malcoy went through were not his own. The ruin of his motherland that the prince suffered was nothing more than watching others fight while safe in the rear. Even though his family was annihilated in the span of events, and he himself became a prisoner of the Empire, he was only a spectator in that war.

He did not mourn the deaths of the soldiers who had died fighting against the Empire, and he never thought for what and in what mindset the men might have fought. He just took their service for granted while resenting those who had forsaken and betrayed him.

Malcoy hadn’t even drawn a knife in that war; he just clung to his father’s trousers as the king pushed his soldiers into enemy lines.

The same was true for the war Malcoy fought for the princeps. As legion commander, he had given his orders from the safety of the rear. And even then, Malcoy’s advice was not accepted. He could watch on as the princeps died.

Even if he had merely been following along with the Empire’s cause, he did not admit his lack of command. He gave up all responsibility, saying it happened because the princeps did not listen to him. It is very inappropriate for Malcoy to act as if he knew all about war.

It is no different from the foolish sword that had flaunted its arrogance as if it knew the entire world. That is why I could see it: How such a rare talent was being wasted, consumed by arrogance and ignorance.

I was thinking of putting the man at my side; Malcoy’s ability as a commander was essential to the kingdom. But for now, it was impossible. My first priority was to fix Malcoy’s temper, distorted after his betrayal by his country’s people. The most urgent need was for Malcoy’s worldview to be broken, an ideology that had been hardened by years of unripe insights.

And to do that, Malcoy had to suffer.

He had to vomit until he could no more; he had to start thinking that it would be better to die. His useless thoughts and worries had to be pushed aside, far away. If someone is hit so hard, their false beliefs and values, borne from immature insights, would also disappear.

I awaited that moment and gave my orders in the meantime.

“Make sure they roll against him, wave after wave. Until I tell you to stop.”

Jordan said he was sick of being a nanny, but he still faithfully fulfilled my orders.

I always had Malcoy in sight, even though I was cutting through the imperial besiegers without pause. To be honest, to watch him suffer so much did make me feel very regretful.

Still… I am the witness of countless battles and turbulences.

I am the harbinger who has ended endless wars and turmoil.

And this kid, who dared proclaim himself a master of war in front of me, needed to suffer a little more.