I Became the First Prince

ontinued to criticize the behavior of the northerners.

“Since their ancient forefathers had no pretense, being plain men, they would never have made such demands as these lords do now.
They are deceivers, these lords, wicked men, and I have known of their darkness and vanity well before now.”

At some point in the king’s ramblings, the blame naturally fell on the first prince.

“Because of his vanity, the citizens of my capital are trembling in fear, but these northern soldiers worry little about the hardships they inflict.
And of course, because of his petty vanity, all the soldiers of the north have come here and yet are unable to sleep in warm beds.
But I don’t even concern myself with such things.”

“Sire!” Maximilian shouted, no longer able to bear hearing the king’s ramblings.
“Now is not the time to curse their nobles, no, it is time to realize the true state of circumstances and embrace them, to mollify the hearts of these people whose territories have been devastated by war.”

Certainly, the king’s face hardened when his second son, who had always agreed with his father’s opinions, expressed his disapproval.

“Father, they don’t ask for great boons or treasure, nor do they ask for anything else.
They just want a victory ceremony.
Theirs is not a difficult request, and we do no stand to lose anything great by it.
It is just a triumph.”

Maximilian could not stop himself, now that he had begun pouring out his heart.

“It is only a half day’s march along the highway of the capital.”

It broke Maximilian’s heart as a son to see his father’s face like that, but someone had to step up and convince the king.
Adrian had clearly stated that if his army were not received as a victorious force of the kingdom, he would leave things as they were and march back north.
Maximilian knew that one could not take lightly the actions of a prince who had so brutally killed twelve lords of the north.

If things went too far, the north and the royal family might not get a chance to fix the bad blood and mistrust that had sprouted from the war.

“Your Majesty, a single command is all that’s needed.
I will open the gates and greet them, just a word from you, and I will do everything after that word.”

Maximilian asked again and again.

“You are…” A strange emotion appeared on the king’s face as he looked at his son.

“Your Majesty, please, mend their bleeding hearts with just a single word.”

The king looked silently at Maximilian for a while and then turned around.

“Go there.”

“Sire?”

“I have granted your request.”

The king had finally allowed the victory ceremony.
Still, it had not been the request from the northerners that the king had heeded, but rather the pleas from the second son that he so cherished.

Maximilian understood the portents of his father’s choice and motivations all too well, and he was very concerned by what had occurred.

The first prince, who had left the capital as if exiled, was no longer just a political gimmick or an immature son who could be held prisoner by his father at a word.
Adrian was a war hero who had ended the threat that had ravaged the north and was publicly supported by the seventeen lords who had their holdings north of the Rhinethes River.

His existence was no longer inconsequential enough for the king to treat him carelessly and without the dignity due to being a prince.

Maximilian only hoped that his father fully realized this.
His brother wouldn’t be as patient as before.

“They shall be thrilled by Your Majesty’s benevolent thoughtfulness,” Maximilian said as he gave mouth-praise, concealing the complicated nature of events from his face.
Maximilian left the king’s offices and immediately tracked down an officer of the Royal Guard.

“Prepare everything for the victory ceremony.”

The faces of the palace knights and the guard captain, who had been in grim moods, visibly brightened upon the command.

* * *

It was not so difficult to turn the panic of the crowd into an atmosphere of jubilation.

The citizens were informed of the great ordeal that the north had overcome, and this news was enough to ease their spirits.

They had locked their doors and barred their windows, but now all such portals were thrown open, and the populace ran out to get a glimpse of the victorious warriors.

They stared with great anticipation at the gates of the capital, but they did not give voice to the cheer that existed in their throats.
That was because the first soldiers to appear were the defenders of the capital.
The cavalry of the capital dressed neatly, rode out before the northern army.

“Aaagh! Booo!”

“Aaah! Aaaghh!”

The citizens lined up along the central boulevard screamed as the soldiers of their own city passed, while the Royal Guard cursed and shouted as they struggled to control the crowd.

The northern army began to pass through the gates.
Seventeen banners of the seventeen lords were held, yet one of these banners had sent the onlookers into a panic, causing them to scream in terror.

It was not a flag: Where one would expect the family’s embroidered symbol, there was piked a huge head.

It was a great dark green head, with a long tongue lolling from it.

Many of the citizens fainted as they looked into those red eyes, so wide open even after death had come to them.

The capital’s highway quickly became a mess as the guards struggled, making every effort to calm the crowds.

Maximilian watched the tumult from afar and brought his hand to his forehead.

“I was told that they would keep that thing in Winter Castle.”

The head that the Black Lancers paraded with as if it was but a banner was indeed the head of the Warlord.
The head of the king of the orcs who had turned the north into a field of bones.
It was natural for the citizens of the capital to panic, for they had never seen a single monster in their lives.

Maximilian could only sigh, for he had couldn’t figure out why the Northmen had not chosen a parade full of joyous cheer, with rose petals raining down on their heads.
Instead, they preferred to march down a causeway filled with terrified screams.

He didn’t worry much, though, because by now, he knew how difficult it was to understand his brother’s thoughts.
As always, he guessed that it would not be long before he understood what it all meant.

His belief only lasted for a while.

As his brother finally passed through all the crowds to reach the gates of the royal palace, he tilted the head of the Warlord and held it near to the nobles who had come out to greet him.

“Aahah, get it away from me!”

“Woah now, that’s dirty!”

When Adrian saw the nobles falling to their asses or running to hide behind walls, he smirked.

Upon seeing that, Maximilian pondered some more about his brother’s actions.
At first, he had thought them to have some deeper symbolic meaning, but now he wondered whether Adrian simply wanted to pick on the nobles and show off his spoils of battle.

‘Hooof weeeshik, hooof weeeshik.’

The pole was continually swung around, and the Warlord’s head swiveled upon it until some of the nobles fainted.

“Brother,” Maximilian faintly said as he stepped forward, his face trembling.

Only

“Maximilian.”

“You must have had a hard journey, coming all this way.”

“I did tell you, I wouldn’t be away for long.”

Maximilian could not help but laugh as he heard his brother’s same old arrogant and confident tone.

“You are indeed back, brother.”

The first prince smiled at his brother’s hospitality and raised his head, studying the palace.

Above those great outer walls, in a high spire, there sat a king with a stern face.

Though the day was hazy, the first prince somehow saw that cold gaze and smiled.