Chapter 104

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 104

Chapter Title: The Crown I'll Take from You

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His sword wasn't bloody either, was it?

The Young Duke might have assassinated the princess and now, fearing the consequences, was pretending to have passed out.

The crowd murmured among themselves.

"Your Majesty, please compose yourself. You mustn't get so worked up. We can't be certain of anything just yet."

As the Queen Dowager nearly collapsed backward in her fury and grief, Marchioness Pinatelli grabbed her arm and whispered softly.

"In this situation, you're the only one who can stay calm and find Princess Medea, Your Majesty."

The Queen Dowager's eyes finally regained a flicker of reason.

That's right. I can't afford to crumble like this. I have to find Medea.

"Imprison Samon. Don't release him until the truth comes out."

"Mother, how can you treat my son like a criminal? Samon is your grandson too—this is too much!"

Despite the Regent Duke's protests, the Queen Dowager issued her orders with icy resolve.

The Regent Duke bit his lip amid the angry mood of the crowd.

'Damn it, what the hell happened? Why was Samon found unconscious like that? Where did Medea go?'

"If we don't find Medea, we'll be branded as murderers. Find her, no matter what it takes!"

Meanwhile, Jason glared at Samon. Medea's disappearance had robbed him of his chance to shine.

No—not disappeared. She might have lost her life at that man's hands.

An inexplicable rage surged within him.

How dare he lay a finger on her. A nobody who wouldn't even be worth noticing without the Claudio name.

'The advisor clearly said the Fourth Princess brought in the hounds. So why is Samon being pegged as the culprit now?'

It meant the two of them had joined forces.

Samon Claudio had schemed darkly to catch both him and the Fourth Princess in his trap—just as he had tried to do.

Jason felt deeply offended.

"G-Grand Duke Castulo, Your Highness. Please, help us out here. If you could just give a brief word that my son had no reason to target the princess..."

"Why didn't you consult me on something this serious?"

"Y-Your Highness?"

"What I need are those who carry out my orders without question—not traitors trying to set up their own palace within mine!"

"Please, calm yourself, Your Highness. It was a shortcoming on my part."

But Jason ignored the Regent Duke and walked right past him.

He quietly gave orders to his subordinates.

"You lot, search for the princess too. We have to be the ones to find her first."

If the princess was alive, he would be the hero who rescued her from peril.

He absolutely could not let this opportunity slip away.

Campane Great Plains.

Though dusk had settled darkly over the land, the campsite blazed with torchlight.

"Did you see the Rasai bastards' faces? They went pale as ghosts, scrambling in panic when they spotted us."

"Those sneaky rats who only ever stabbed us in the back—finally getting some payback feels so damn good!"

A massive wild boar roast skewered on a long spit turned over the bonfire, while a huge pot bubbled with stew.

It was a night of celebration for Baldina's victorious soldiers.

But inside the command tent, a heavy silence prevailed, far removed from the raucous cheers outside.

The man gazed down at the wooden doll.

Silver hair falling to his shoulders and clear blue eyes gleamed coldly even in the dim lantern light of the tent.

His refined, ascetic features clashed with the ferocious greatsword propped nearby, nearly as tall as a child.

He exuded the aura of a priest more than a warrior.

A faint scar marked one cheek of his handsome face.

This barely noticeable trace, paired with his dazzling silver hair, almost resembled a holy stigmata.

Holy Slaughterer.

It was another moniker for Peleus de Baldina—the current King of Baldina, the man waging a decade-long war against the nomadic tribes here on the plains.

"Your Majesty."

Dianzel, leader of the Agema—His Majesty's personal guard—entered the tent with a sigh.

"It's a rare night of celebration. Surely even Your Majesty could afford to relax a little tonight."

"……."

Peleus offered no reply, instead snapping shut the pendant and tucking it into his pocket.

Wherever he went on the battlefield, he always carried that pendant close. Inside was a portrait of a young girl with hair the same silver as his own.

"It's too soon to get complacent when the credit isn't even mine."

His cool response hung in the air. Before Peleus lay a map of the plains.

Flags marking the staff's strategies dotted the map densely.

The Rasai territory had long since fallen under Baldina's banners.

"Yes. This victory is undoubtedly thanks to Her Highness the Princess. Without their supplies burning and them thrown into chaos, we never could have launched that surprise attack."

As Dianzel nodded, a sudden question flew from Peleus, who had seemed lost in tactical contemplation.

"Do you think so too? That it was really Medea's doing?"

"Sise—that blunt fool who speaks his mind even with a blade to his throat—wouldn't lie about it."

"……."

"Her Highness has always been exceptionally clever, Your Majesty. Isn't it a good thing that your young sister has grown and is now lending a hand? I can't understand why you look so troubled."

Peleus's blue eyes darkened intensely.

"……She's not usually that bold. This is the first time she's ever sent me a letter like this. Something must have happened to Dea."

The change in his sister filled him with worry.

People didn't grow abruptly without some painful, harrowing trial as the trigger.

What concerned him most was leaving his little sister alone in the Baldina palace.

"Your Majesty can't shield Her Highness from every danger. You left her your seal—you've done all you could."

Peleus had ignored criticisms that he was a failure of a king for entrusting state affairs to his child sister just to protect her.

Even though it was mere months after his ascension, when solidifying royal authority was more crucial than ever.

"……."

Was it, though? Was that truly his best?

"……Her face is already starting to blur in my memory. I wonder how much she's grown."

Peleus murmured softly.

"……On the day I left, I couldn't even say a proper goodbye to her."

He should have turned back at least once to see that face streaming silent tears.

He should have grasped those tiny, trembling fingertips at least once.

Those round eyes gazing at him with resentment as he departed were still vivid in his mind.

"I was afraid she'd wait. Afraid I might not keep my promise to return alive."

Not a single word had he dared to say.

After his father's death, Peleus had rushed off to steady the faltering army.

He had been little more than a boy himself back then.

He hadn't trusted himself to make his kingdom's abandoned little princess understand why he had to leave her alone for a battlefield where survival wasn't guaranteed.

"……Why not send her a letter? She'll understand now."

"……."

"Or at least one of those wooden dolls you've carved yourself."

Dianzel nodded toward the wooden dolls lining one wall of the tent.

Each of the ten dolls depicted a small girl, infused with Peleus's longing, growing slightly taller with each passing year.

His imaginings of what she must look like now added to them.

"……."

Yet no matter how he tried to recall, Medea's face wouldn't come into clear focus.

Her once-bright smile and sun-like vitality faded more with every year.

Dianzel encouraged the young king.

"With this victory over the Rasai, the war's end is in sight. Your Majesty, you'll be home soon."

"……I have to be."

Peleus peered at the pendant once more instead of replying.

His finger gently traced the portrait of the girl's lovely smile.