Chapter 175

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: The Sorrow of the Powerless
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All the important matters had been discussed at the negotiation table.

The conversation that flowed between Philip IV and the Grand Duke of Uldenburg at dinner consisted of idle chatter and pleasantries.

However, it couldn't mask the sour mood left over from the negotiations.

“Is not a monarch's greatest virtue, according to the teachings of Gon of Yesak, to be strict with oneself while generous to those around them?”

The Grand Duke of Uldenburg offered this pointed remark.

His ascetic gray eyes simultaneously took in the glass of strong liquor in Philip IV's hand, Princess Auguste nestled far too closely beside him, and the massive emerald ring glittering on her finger.

It was as if to condemn him with his eyes, asking, ‘Do you know how many soldiers could be armed if you sold that one emerald ring?’

But Philip IV, without batting an eye, replied shamelessly.

“You are correct. Frugality and thrift are indeed the greatest virtues of a Yesap monarch.”

Princess Auguste added with a smile.

“Frugality and thrift must be second nature, always and everywhere. The same applies to preparing for battle or war. If a monarch is competent and meticulous, can they not achieve the best results even with little money?”

It was a sharp rebuke, telling him not to expect a large war fund, but to manage well with what he had—and if he couldn’t, it was due to his own incompetence.

As the Grand Duke of Uldenburg's expression contorted, Prince Alfonso, who had been sitting in silence like a forgotten scarecrow, came to the rescue.

“I believe war has its special circumstances. It is because we compel our subordinates to risk their very lives for their country and monarch. If we do not treat our sacrificed people with unstinting generosity, who would step forward for the monarch, the country, and the people?”

Princess Auguste shot a fierce glare at Prince Alfonso.

It was an attitude that could not, or rather, did not hide her resentment.

While she had been sarcastic with the Grand Duke, she had not been so rude as this.

Prince Alfonso, already irked by her use of Ratan gore, found his mood worsening.

Amidst this, the Grand Duke of Uldenburg smiled and chimed in with Prince Alfonso.

“Once morale is broken, it becomes uncontrollable, and once faith is shattered, it costs a great price to restore it. It may even be impossible. If you are to bestow your grace, doing so magnanimously will ensure your fame resounds throughout the Central Continent—no, the entire Yesap world.”

Philip replied with a smooth expression.

“Wise words. I will consider them.”

Just then, Alfonso casually interjected a remark.

His tone was nonchalant, but given the timing, his words were anything but.

“A monarch also has a duty to protect their subordinates.”

Philip replied with the same mask-like smile.

“A great monarch should indeed, my young cousin.”

*Young cousin, young prince.* He was dying to belittle him.

Though Alfonso felt a strong urge to protest Philip’s condescending words, he showed no sign of it outwardly and moved on without hesitation.

“Your Majesty, Philip IV, will you help your kinsman become a great monarch?”

Crow's feet formed at the corners of Philip IV's eyes. He was smiling with his eyes.

Auguste frowned. She detested any action that might burden her brother.

But they were in the presence of the Grand Duke of Uldenburg. Auguste held her tongue for the moment.

Philip IV was just as conscious of the Grand Duke's eyes. He answered amiably.

“Let’s hear it. We’ll see if it’s something I can do.”

“I heard my knight is under Your Majesty’s wing.”

“Was there such a person?”

Philip feigned a frown. Alfonso stated clearly.

“He is a knight who was sent from Etruscan upon the return of Grand Duchess Lariesa de Valois. His name is Elko. He is twenty-three years old. Ash-gray hair…”

Seeing that Alfonso would not be so easily dismissed, Philip IV waved his hand in annoyance and dropped the pretense.

“Ah, ah. I remember. The sinner who was brought here on suspicion of murdering Duke Mireille.”

“Has his guilt been proven?”

Alfonso knew from Grand Duchess Lariesa.

Sir Elko had never confessed, and there had been no formal trial or final verdict from the Kingdom of Gallico since.

“Was he not sent from the Kingdom of Etruscan because he was guilty?”

Philip tried to slip away smoothly. But Alfonso latched on, refusing to let him go.

“No. The Kingdom of Etruscan had no time to determine Sir Elko’s guilt. We entrusted the investigation and trial procedures to the Kingdom of Gallico only because you demanded it. The Kingdom of Etruscan confirmed nothing.”

“And?”

“So Gallico has not been able to prove his guilt either.”

Philip opened his long, slender eyes and glared at Alfonso. It was the gaze of a snake.

Alfonso met Philip's stare without flinching. Auguste showed a hint of restlessness.

She knew her brother's temper. He shouldn't be provoked like this.

He had no patience and was a relentless man.

He was the type to pursue a grudge for three generations if necessary to get his revenge.

Princess Auguste worried that King Philip might overturn the whole affair, but he did the exact opposite, bursting into loud laughter.

“Hahaha, hahaha! Hahahahaha!”

The Grand Duke of Uldenburg's gaze swept over Philip IV.

And King Philip was, of course, aware of it.

The Grand Duke was highly respected among Yesap monarchs for his piety.

It was uncertain whether Pope Ludovico, a fox who had lived in his den for a hundred years, truly valued a devout man, but even the Pope treated him with deference. He was a man who lived his life according to the duties of a Yesap monarch.

His own reputation would largely be determined by what the Grand Duke said.

“My cousin’s devotion to his subordinate is truly moving. You will make a fine monarch.”

“He is a man who gave me his complete loyalty and a friend with whom I grew up. …If his guilt has still not been proven, I would like you to return him to me.”

“That is out of the question—!”

Philip raised his left hand to silence the flaring Auguste.

“Auguste.”

The imperious Princess Auguste fell silent at once, becoming as meek as a lamb at Philip IV's single word.

“...Yes, I am a generous monarch.”

Considering what Alfonso would soon be delivering to him, giving up one knight was of little consequence.

Releasing a man brought in as the murderer of Duke Mireille was expected to cause backlash from the Duke’s faction, but since the Duke's death, that faction had failed to rally its forces and had become a disorderly mob.

His uncle, Grand Duke Eudes, had also been on a tight leash ever since he had gone to the extreme of extracting his daughter Lariesa from Etruscan.

Philip was at ease right now.

“The suspicion that he is a heinous criminal who murdered a high-ranking noble of another country has not been cleared. But I hold in high regard my cousin’s concern for his subordinate.”

Prince Alfonso silently waited for Philip IV’s remaining words.

“I will return him to you. I will have him sent to your quarters.”

Prince Alfonso’s face brightened. But Princess Auguste’s sharp voice cut in.

“Does the Etruscan royal court not teach manners? My brother is bestowing the grace of releasing a sinner!”

Alfonso wanted to argue that ‘Sir Elko is not a sinner,’ but he was in the heart of an enemy nation.

Moreover, he had just received the promise of Sir Elko’s return.

If he pushed his luck, Sir Elko might rot forever in a Gallican dungeon.

The prince, taken as a hostage, clenched his teeth and slowly uttered each sentence.

“Philip IV, for Your Majesty’s grace, I thank you.”

Philip smiled with satisfaction and replied.

“Not at all. I am truly proud to be of help to my young cousin’s first step as a monarch. Be a good Yesap ruler.”

“...Yes.”

And so, the Grand Duke of Uldenburg from Sternheim watched with a detached gaze as Philip IV and Princess Auguste, in collusion, carried out their humiliation of the Etruscan prince.

* * *

Sir Elko was handed over to Prince Alfonso late that evening, as soon as the banquet had ended.

Sir Manfredi, having been told that Sir Elko would be returning, waited with Prince Alfonso in his room.

Alfonso thought he would embrace Sir Elko the moment he saw him.

Elko was like the older brother Alfonso never had.

The knight, six years his senior, had always waited patiently for the young Alfonso and silently took care of the trivial matters Alfonso overlooked.

Alfonso resolved to embrace this brother-like friend, praise him for his hardships, and celebrate his return.

But upon seeing Sir Elko enter his chambers, Alfonso could not utter a single word of celebration, or any word at all.

He walked with a limp, his steps uneven, clearly having suffered great hardship.

But that was not the first thing that caught the eye.

“Elko… Your arm…”

His pride as a swordsman had come from his swift and precise arm movements.

Sir Elko’s right arm—naturally long, giving him a good reach, and packed with muscle, giving him great strength—was… severed below the shoulder, and there was nothing left.

“Don’t tell me… your eye, too?”

Behind them, Sir Manfredi muttered in shock, noticing Sir Elko’s unnaturally closed left eye.

The place where fatty tissue and an eyeball should have been was sunken in.

Sir Elko slowly raised his head to look at Prince Alfonso and blinked once.

The socket beneath his withered left eyelid was empty.

Alfonso could not hold back and raised his voice.

“Did those bastards… did they torture you!”

“My right arm was from the torture.”

His voice was deep and raspy. It sounded as if phlegm was caught in his throat.

“The Gallican fiends carved it away, bit by bit, starting from my fingertips. I will not forget their faces until the day I die.”

Sir Elko’s voice was low enough to startle a child and so quiet it seemed drained of life, yet it held a strange power.

“As for my left eye, it wasn’t entirely their fault. I was being beaten with a club when a splinter flew into my eye. It got infected, and I lost it after a long illness.”

Elko had always been a calm person. But now, it seemed something inside him had died.

“Philip, that bastard son of a whore—!!!”

Prince Alfonso let out a furious cry, heedless of any Gallican guards who might be listening.

The reality that he could do nothing but scream fueled his rage.

“Damn them! Those butchers! Vile enemies I cannot suffer to live under the same sky!”

Sir Manfredi stood silently, at a loss for words, merely blinking.

He knew that no words could comfort Sir Elko.

There were knights who successfully returned to battle after losing an eye.

There were also rare knights who lost their right hand and learned to wield a weapon with their left.

But a knight who returned to the battlefield after suffering both disabilities was unheard of. Elko’s life as a swordsman was over.

“Your Highness.”

Sir Elko called to Alfonso in a subdued voice. Alfonso looked at Sir Elko with bloodshot eyes.

“I am content.”

He continued slowly.

“I am content simply to have survived.”

Moisture welled in Sir Elko’s remaining eye.

“I can no longer hold a sword, but since I have escaped with my life, I will use any other means at my disposal to teach those Gallican bastards a lesson.”

The moisture soon became a tear, rolling down his cheek.

“And for the fact that you did not forget me and sought me out, Your Highness… I am moved to tears. I will never forget this grace as long as I live.”

At this, Alfonso finally broke.

“Elko…!”

He practically crawled across the floor on his knees to Sir Elko and threw his arms around his torso.

“This happened to you because of me.”

Hot tears streamed from his own eyes.

“Thanking me… it’s absurd. I should be thanking you for the rest of my life.”

Sir Elko shook his head.

Despite his gaunt neck and sunken cheeks, his gesture had a strange, feverish strength.

“It is not your fault, Your Highness. It was a choice you made to protect that woman.”

His choice of words was subtly different from before. From ‘her’ to ‘that woman.’

“I know all too well how many lords cast aside their subordinates like worn-out shoes. My loyalty to you, Prince Alfonso, will never waver.”