novelraw Chapter 343: Playhouse - The Royal Guards
Chapter 343: Playhouse - The Royal Guards
342. Playhouse - The Royal Guards
“Your servant shall return in good health.”
A few days later, Prince Eric de Yeriel set out on his journey.
His farewell lacked the assurance of “I’ll return,” and the modest procession departed Lutetia.
Consort Nedostia personally rode in the carriage to see her son off.
Prince Eric was on his way to meet Princess Ellica de Isadora in the capital of the Aisel Kingdom. Reve hoped it would be a pleasant journey, but for various reasons, it wasn’t turning out that way.
“They’ve requested to dine inside.”
“...Understood. Inform the cooks to prepare and serve the meal.”
Eric’s gloomy demeanor was largely to blame. At first, it had seemed resolute, but he barely emerged from the carriage, and the atmosphere of the procession grew heavier by the day.
“Yes, Captain.”Even though the entourage was modest, it still included seventy-five people—hardly surprising for the prince of a nation. Rev, as the captain of the escort, was responsible for overseeing them all.
The group consisted of eight coachmen, five personal maids for the prince, the chief chamberlain, two attendants, and forty-five guards.
Naturally, there were knights among them. Rev wasn’t the only escort knight.
There were four royal guards, two knights of the kingdom seconded from the order, and six squires assisting them.
Counting everyone, the total came to seventy-three. Including Rev and Lena brought the count to seventy-five.
Managing this many people was no small task.
As a result, Rev was too swamped to enjoy even a semblance of camaraderie. Lean’s words echoed in his mind:
“You need that level of position to meet a king. Keep at it.”
Even without Lean’s persuasion and recommendation, Rev would have had to find some way to solve this problem.
Rev was a commoner, and for a commoner to be granted an audience with a king required extraordinary means. Lean had provided that means.
With reluctant gratitude, Rev hurried to ensure the soldiers’ meals were prepared. While the prince could eat inside the carriage, the soldiers could not.
“Knights, it’s time for your meal as well.”
“Let’s eat, then. Joen, thanks for the effort.”
“Rev, here’s yours.”
“Thanks. You sit down too.”
“I already ate, but... sure.”
The soldiers grabbed their rations and sat wherever they could on the ground. The knights, meanwhile, gathered around a wooden table.
The squires busied themselves bringing meals to the knights they served, while Lena handed Rev a tray.
On a thin porcelain plate lay white bread, soaked in a thick soybean soup. White bread—quite a luxurious meal.
The royal guards also ate white bread soaked in soup. Even if they had to sit on the ground, serving this level of food was a matter of pride for those associated with the royal family.
This white bread was the pride of the royal guards and the envy of Lutetia’s defenders. Of course, the knights were also served a few side dishes meant for the prince.
Clatter, munch.
A gust of wind swept through. Rev paused his meal to survey the lined carriages, the harvested and empty fields, and the scattered soldiers eating.
The wind came from the southwest—a common trade wind in Conrad Kingdom, pushing them toward the Aisel Kingdom.
Not that it sped up the carriages.
Rev’s gaze shifted to Lena, who wasn’t a maid but shared a carriage with them. Having likely eaten earlier to match the maids’ schedule, she now stood, gazing westward. Her hair fluttered in the southwestern breeze, framing her serene cheeks. Beautiful, he thought—though it felt out of place to notice.
“Lena.”
“Yes?”
“...It’s nothing.”
“You’re hopeless.”
Lena smiled as always, her expression as lush as the forest undergrowth. Feeling a rare surge of courage, Rev was about to call her “beautiful” when Jenia Zachary interrupted.
“I heard you’re from the Orun Kingdom, Sir Rev. Could I ask where exactly?”
“I’m from a village at the foot of the Lognum Mountains, near the border with our Conrad Kingdom. Are you familiar with the Orun Kingdom, Jenia?”
“I’ve visited before. If it’s near the border, would that be in the Guidan March?”
“That’s correct. I heard you worked as a mercenary before. Was that when you visited?”
Jenia habitually flicked her wrist with a smile. Knowing a little about her, Rev skillfully steered the conversation away from potentially risky topics.
It wasn’t a particularly notable chat, but it was the first time Jenia had initiated a conversation with Rev, which was significant.
After all, this unknown, young man had been appointed captain of the escort.
And not through any formal process—Lean de Yeriel’s recommendation alone had secured him the position. As such, Rev had endured skeptical looks from the group.
But over the past few days, he had led the procession well, and Jenia’s conversation marked a breakthrough. Other knights joined in eagerly.
“The Lognum Mountains, huh... I heard there are many barbarians there. Were you one of them, by any chance?”
“Nill!! Sorry, Captain. He tends to speak without thinking.”
“Oh, come on. What’s wrong with saying barbarian? Now it sounds worse. I don’t discriminate against barbarians.”
Nill and Wendy were a married pair of royal guards.
Though older, Nill had a mischievous air about him, while Wendy retained her elegance as a warrior.
Another guard, Barin, laughed at their banter but stopped when Nill shot him a look. A silver ring gleamed on Nill’s left hand.
“Haha, it’s fine. My father was a barbarian, actually, but he naturalized a long time ago.”
“Oh, really? Was he a great warrior, then? I heard from Sir Bart that he was incredibly strong.”
“Ah... how is Sir Bart doing?”
Rev had struck him hard enough to feel the force travel from his weight, through his legs, and into Bart’s neck. He couldn’t be in great shape.
Nill burst out laughing.
“Bart’s fine. Honestly, he deserved it. He’s been slacking off lately, enjoying his grandkids too muChapter Jenia, you must know—he and Alvin got disciplined together. Is that right?”
“...He’s infamous, but he’s not from our order. He’s with the Third Order.”
Jenia subtly distanced herself, and the knights roared with laughter. If anyone from the Third Order were here, they’d be insulted, but luckily, they weren’t.
“Shh, don’t laugh too loudly.”
“Oops. But still, I wonder what’s going on with the prince—ow!”
Wendy’s arm bulged with veins as she pinched her husband’s side, deftly changing the topic.
“So, what’s the relationship between you and this young lady, Sir Rev? I know she’s officially listed as your attendant, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“We’re...”
“Childhood friends. And we’re getting married.”
Lena cut in boldly. Her concise, audacious response made the middle-aged knight chuckle warmly.
“Of course! I could tell from the way the Captain looks at you—it’s no ordinary gaze. Are you engaged yet? My husband thought it was pointless to get engaged since we were getting married anyway~.”
“Why say something so unnecessary... And besides, isn’t that logical? If you’re getting married anyway, what’s the point? Barin, don’t you agree?”
“I was engaged before I got married.”
“See? And wasn’t it different when you were engaged? Didn’t it feel special, even if you were going to marry anyway?”
“It did.”
Barin’s curt reply ended the conversation. Ever the exemplary knight, he began gathering dishes, spurring the squires to follow suit.
Had the squires left anything on the table, the conversation might have continued. But the cleaned-up table was soon stowed back onto the carriage. Nill made one last suggestion to spar with Reve someday, and with that, the knights began to rise, sensing the end of their rest period.
“When the prince finishes eating, we’ll depart. And you, cook—stop slacking. Even if you’re a cook, you still need to pull your weight as a soldier.”
The cook wasn’t a professional but a royal guard who knew his way around the kitchen—hastily recruited for the journey, given the limited food options.
After reprimanding the cook, Reve organized the procession and had the standard-bearer raise the flag.
Clink, clink. The caravan resumed its steady pace. It would take months to reach Ophrontis, the capital of the Magical Kingdom.
Along the way, they would stop at villages to resupply, occasionally visiting a lord’s manor. The days blurred together, with little to distinguish one from the next, until something notable happened when the wind shifted.
Winter had arrived. The Breeze teased their left ears.
***
“Your Highness, we’ve reached the gate.”
Gate towns often had a village nearby.
Even if not a trade hub, a gate town was typically bustling with merchants, boasting rows of warehouses and inns to accommodate travelers. These towns liked to call themselves “last” villages—proudly marking the border.
The prince’s entourage arrived at one such village, where they were, as expected, warmly welcomed. They paused to finalize plans, as crossing into another country required meticulous preparation.
The host nation needed to be notified in advance, hospitality arranged, and the passage of seven knights and dozens of guards coordinated.
This was no matter to leave to chance or relay through the gatekeepers. The gatekeeper, an official known as the Porter of the Gate, was summoned to the prince’s carriage.
But while the porter knelt in front of the carriage, Prince Eric seemed lost in thought. The silence stretched so long that Rev began to worry.
“Surely he’s not thinking of turning back?”
Fortunately, the prince’s eventual words did not carry such intentions.
“I’ll delay our crossing. We’ll move in exactly four days. Ensure no complications arise, Porter.”
“As you command.”
It seemed the prince wanted to give them ample time for preparations. But four days? Not two or three? Rev found the delay excessive.
It was the start of Eric’s peculiar behavior.
***
“Bring me a sword.”
In the backyard of their rented lodging, Prince Eric began wielding a sword.
As far as Rev knew, the prince wasn’t trained in swordsmanship and had never displayed such skills. His strength as an apostle of Oriax had manifested in other ways.
Was it different this time? Curious, Rev observed, but...
“Two days now. Shouldn’t we stop him?”
“Who knows...”
It was as poor as expected. His wild, aimless swings were dangerously erratic.
This wasn’t practice—it was futile exertion. Eric’s meaningless movements risked injury, so Rev kept Lena nearby just in case. Jenia Zachary, standing close by, offered her thoughts.
“I can’t understand what he’s doing.”
“...”
Rev didn’t answer.
He didn’t know why Eric was acting this way, but he recognized the behavior. In a past cycle, Rev himself had vented his frustration in much the same manner.
“Damn it! What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to—argh!!”
It had been a time when the heavens felt cruel and the future impenetrably dark.
Remembering that agony, Rev took up his sword and approached Eric. The prince turned bloodshot eyes toward him.
“If you wish.”
“...Thank you.”
What followed wasn’t a sparring match.
Eric’s clumsy strikes came at Rev relentlessly, and Rev met them head-on with resounding clangs, letting the blows land with a forceful crash.
[Leo, you have engaged in an intense battle with a Swordmaster. As a result, you have gained the skill: {Swordsmanship Lv. 4: Jacob Style}.]
Though Eric’s strikes lacked power, the clash of blades produced strange reverberations. Finally, with a sharp crack, his sword shattered.
Eric paused, startled, then smiled faintly as if relieved.
***
Two days later, Prince Eric crossed the border.
Rev didn’t fully understand the prince’s actions, but he had a hunch.
Displaced by the births of Lean and Lerialia, Eric and Consort Nedostia had been relegated to the shadows. With Oriax gone, unresolved feelings of loss seemed to have surfaced.
As winter set in, the swamps of the eastern Aisel Kingdom welcomed the prince and his entourage.