WeTried Translations x Flame Comics
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 147: Waiting for Winter (1)
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As Ivan had once reflected, if Maximilian was a typical JRPG-style Hero, Gilles Ver was more like the protagonist of an old-fashioned heroic tale.
His humble origins, meteoric rise, and embodiment of old-fashioned chivalric values all fit. But the crucial point lay elsewhere.
He had married a princess, like the honor bestowed upon a knight who slew a dragon.
“Strictly speaking, she wasn’t a princess.”
“Hmm?”
“She was His Majesty’s brother’s daughter, so she was his niece.”
Gilles Ver gave a bitter smile. After hesitating for a moment, he took a hearty swig of liquor, careful as though confessing something shameful while pretending not to care in the slightest.
He had always been that sort of contradictory man.
“They couldn’t just hand a royal relative to an insignificant man like me. They had to make some gesture toward the man who would bring back the Demon King’s head, and they happened to have a suitable commodity.”
“A commodity?”
“Yes. Those people saw her as a commodity when they handed her over.”
Crunch.
His pewter wine cup crumpled in his hand. With an awkward smile, Gilles Ver shook the metal fragments onto the floor.
“They said her claim to succession was practically nonexistent, so there’d be no issue even if she had children. But she was of the royal bloodline, so she couldn’t turn against the royal family. And if I returned after killing the Demon King, I’d have every right to call myself the strongest warrior in Tilles...”
“Maximilian would still be there.”
“Mm. He wasn’t a ‘typical’ Tilles man. Nor was he loyal to the Tilles royal family.”
From the royal family’s perspective, they needed a trump card they could keep in hand. They couldn’t control the Hero, so they needed an alternative.
A traditional knight loyal to the royal family, yet one who returned after slaying the Demon King with authority beyond compare.
In other words, they meant to put a leash on him by “granting” him a princess as his wife. Refusing would be an insult, while accepting would make him a royal lapdog.
“Why not just become king instead?”
“...What?”
“Why? I’m planning to become king as soon as I get home. Sounds great, doesn’t it? Cut down every last one of those dogshit Jarls, then declare that only someone stronger than me can step forward.”
“This is why you Droans are like this.”
Gilles Ver snorted and shook his head.
“A nation must rest on legitimacy, not strength. The rules of society endure through justice. A state without legitimacy ceases to function the moment its authority collapses.”
“I heard using difficult words doesn’t make you look smart.”
“Oh? Was that difficult?”
“Pick up a sword. I’m going to kill you.”
Ivan, who had been listening to the two madmen talk, suddenly asked Gilles Ver a question. Fighting was an everyday occurrence for them, so there was no reason to interrupt.
“From what you’re saying, you have no loyalty at all. So you don’t trust your country?”
“Of course not. What do you think I lived through to get where I am?”
“Then why? Why put shackles on yourself after going so far as to kill the Demon King?”
“Ha ha, well...”
Gilles Ver had answered with an incredibly smug look on his face.
“Love, obviously.”
What would happen to a royal woman who married a country knight of low birth, a woman whose political footing was so weak that she had been put forward as a “commodity,” if she lost even that value?
And even if all those circumstances were ignored, even if she had not carried the royal bloodline, even if she had not been offered up as a commodity, even if she had been no more than a maidservant.
He still would have loved her. He had fallen at first sight for that rose-like woman.
As Ivan listened beside Einar, who looked like he wanted to die, he casually spoke up.
“Like a rose... She struck me as a little sharper than that...”
“Roses have thorns, Ivan. You’ll understand once you meet more women.”
“He married his first love, little brother. Don’t listen to him. He’s talking as if he knows something.”
“Pick up an axe. I’m going to kill you.”
“You can?”
“Want me to show you?”
Ignoring the two madmen growling at each other, Ivan quietly considered it.
Like a rose.
The Odelia de Tilles he remembered had seemed much sharper than that.
Then again, when he first met her, she had been slapping Gilles Ver across the face.
EP23. Waiting for Winter.
Matil Etoile Station, Saint Matilene’s largest railway station, was quiet.
Isabelle and the others looked around with bitter expressions. They had left only a few days ago, yet in that short time, the trade route that symbolized the city had come to a complete halt.
Soldiers hurried about everywhere. Far down the streets, lines of refugees stretched onward.
“Even if we defend the city, it’s still a problem. We can’t feed all those people.”
“I know. I know, but...”
At Elphihara’s words, Isabelle bit down hard on her lip. It was a sensible response. There was no way to feed all those people, and there was no telling whether the royal family would even choose to fight.
No, it was not the royal family’s position. It was the position of the House of Nobles. Would they truly risk their lives to defend this country’s capital?
“I’ll go on ahead.”
“Oscar? Where are you going?”
“To see my mother. Are you going to bring your mother as well, Miss Isabelle?”
“Not right away. She isn’t someone who would evacuate. She’s not in a position to do so, either...”
What would the city’s soldiers think if even the Hero’s family abandoned the capital? Isabelle pressed her lips together and shook her head.
Besides, her mother would never put her own safety first in a situation like this.
It couldn’t be helped. That was how she had been raised.
Isabelle let out a long sigh, then straightened her back with confidence.
“We should do what Heroes have to do! Good. I need to greet the Duchess of Etakrikh as well.”
“Then let’s go. Mother will be pleased too.”
Oscar turned around with a bitter smile.
* * *
The nobles’ residential district lay in a beautiful central area called Montpellier Street. Marble had been used lavishly throughout, earning it the name Street of Light.
The lines of evacuating citizens and crimes breaking out across the city had not dared reach this street. It was quiet and as neat as ever.
The sight made Isabelle shudder. It was as if the nobles here believed the Grand Counts would not harm them, even if they lost the civil war.
Or perhaps they had another reason to believe it.
“Isn’t this a little scary?”
“Doesn’t it feel like everyone’s watching us?”
“They probably are.”
No one directly stopped Oscar as he led the way. They only whispered among themselves and scattered, or quietly summoned attendants to give orders.
A noblewoman in an immaculate gown whispered to her maid and glanced in their direction. The maid soon hurried away.
The nobles were not allies, even though they stood within the same city walls.
Oscar walked on in silence and stopped before an enormous wall. A rose-covered gate stood before him, with the crest of House Etakrikh, a design of crossed antlers, spear, and shield, looking down at them.
“Young master!? H-How are you here?!”
“Martin. Where is Mother?”
“Madam is in the inner garden... No, what on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d be in Krasilov. Please leave at once! Saint Matilene is dangerous!!”
“I know. And thank you.”
Oscar smiled and patted the old butler’s shoulder.
“Thank you for staying by Mother’s side even though you know it’s dangerous.”
“...Where would I go at my age?”
The butler gave a faint snort and opened the gate. He looked over the group, then bowed politely.
“Welcome, honored guests from every nation. Please forgive any shortcomings in our hospitality during these uncertain times.”
“Thank you for the welcome, Martin.”
“Yes, Miss Isabelle. It’s a relief to see you looking so well.”
Isabelle greeted the warmly smiling old butler and passed through the gate. The estate of the Duke of Etakrikh, called the Rose House, came into view.
“Wow, Oscar. You really are the young master of a rich family.”
“If you knew how much the bounty on the Demon King’s head was, this would hardly seem like much.”
“But why is Miss Isabelle...?”
“What about me? I have plenty of money too, you know?”
“I’m once again reminded of how thrifty you are. Truly impressive. My brother should know this side of you.”
“You should tell him. Tell him I’m sweet, good at housework, a wealthy young lady, and sensible with money.”
At Isabelle’s words, Aesidis flinched and carefully added her opinion.
“M-Me too. I only spend money on food... And it’s not like I eat that much? I don’t eat that much, right...?”
“Aesidis, you eat like a pig at a trough.”
“Are your ears stuffed with lies or something? Do big ears make you better at lying? Want me to show you some real honesty?”
“My, how barbaric. Is that thing attached to your body a barbarian pouch, then?”
“I am ashamed of all of you.”
At Eugene’s words, the group fell silent again. After walking on with their heads turned away from one another, Oscar finally stopped in the center of the inner garden.
A woman in a red dress sat drinking tea in the noon sunlight.
Eugene fell silent without realizing it. Isabelle’s mother was also a woman whose appearance made it hard to believe she had such a grown daughter, but this woman could easily have been mistaken for Oscar’s older sister.
Was this really a fantasy world? How could a woman with a twenty-year-old son look like that?
In Eugene’s awed silence, the woman’s gaze settled on Oscar. Her sharp, upturned green eyes froze for an instant.
“Mother.”
Oscar slowly approached, then respectfully knelt on one knee at her side. The woman looked down at her son without a word.
Eugene noticed her trembling hand. Her gloved hand shook faintly, yet her expression remained cold and rigid.
Following her gaze, Eugene let out a quiet sigh. She was looking at the sword hanging at Oscar’s waist.
It was the sword of the Duke of Etakrikh. Its meaning was too clear, and the woman slightly lowered her head.
Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.
“Ver...? Your father?”
“He is fighting.”
She bit her lip.
“Idiot...”
“Mother. You need to leave the city.”
“Your father hasn’t returned yet.”
Her tears quickly dried. With the same sharp expression as before, she spoke firmly.
“I have to preserve the place your father will return to. I am a duchess.”
“Mother.”
“Your father will return safely. He always has... He always has. That fool will, without question.”
“Yes, Mother. Father will return safely.”
“So I will do what I must as the Grand Duke’s wife. I will protect this family, this house.”
“...Mother. But...”
“Enough.”
The woman folded her trembling hands together and pressed them down. She raised her head toward her son, her eyes sharp.
“You must do what you have to as the Grand Duke’s son. Carry that sword and go to the House of Nobles as the representative of this family.”
“This city is not safe.”
“Will you run away because of that?”
“No.”
“Then there is no reason for me to leave this city and abandon my son and husband.”
The woman smiled brilliantly.
She stroked Oscar’s hair, tightly clasped his hand, and continued.
“Your will is your father’s will, and your father’s will is the will of this country’s Defender Duke. Go. As the last adult in this household, I will respect every decision you make.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Oscar gave her a deep bow, then stepped back. The woman’s gaze fell upon the group.
They stood stiffly under an inexplicable pressure.
“Isabelle, and the Heroes of this generation...”
Perhaps she found the words amusing herself. The woman smiled as though making a joke.
“Please take care of my son.”
She had no informants. The Defender Duke could not possess political assets. House Etakrikh had to remain absolutely neutral in political matters.
Her maternal relative, the Duke of Tilles, who could be called the king’s brother, belonged to the royal bloodline in name only. In the past, he had been forced to offer his own daughter as a commodity to the Hero Party.
Even he no longer remained in this age. That woman was a flower raised in a greenhouse, and no person in power would respect her wishes.
Yet regardless of political assets, her words carried weight. She had faced the Hero Party herself, survived that era, and married one of its members.
It was the strength of a mother who had raised her son in a homeland where no ally remained on her side throughout the long years her husband had left the country to assassinate the Demon King.
She had been a hostage her entire life, and her husband’s shackle her entire life as well. Yet she was a noblewoman who had never abandoned her pride.
So this woman, who had no way of knowing how dire the situation truly was, was simply making the best plea she could to her son’s friends.
“Yes, Duchess of Etakrikh. I swear it.”
Isabelle knelt on one knee, planted her sword in the ground, and bowed her head. Faced with this unfamiliar side of a woman she thought she knew, she did so without even realizing it.
As a Hero.
“I will do everything I can.”
They left the district immediately afterward. Their destination was the Palais de Royale, the royal palace of this country.
It was just after word arrived that Count Grandmartel’s legion had reached the borderlands of Saint Matilene.
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Footnotes:
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