Chapter 147

Chapter 147

As I recall, if Maximilian is the typical JRPG-style hero, Jill Ber is like the protagonist of a historical warrior epic.

His mixed heritage and rise to prominence, embodying the ideals of chivalry, were significant, but the crucial point lay elsewhere.

He married a princess. It was as if the glory bestowed upon a knight who defeated a dragon.

Strictly speaking, shes not a princess. (Jill Ber)

Hmm? (Einar)

Shes the niece of His Majesty the Kings brother, not His Majestys daughter. (Jill Ber)

Jill Ber chuckled wistfully for a moment before cheerfully downing his drink. Carefully, as if confessing a flaw, but with an air of indifference.

He had always been such a diplomatic man.

They cant just hand over the royal lineage to a nobody like me. They had to make a gesture to the man who will behead the demon king, and there happens to be a suitable commodity. (Jill Ber)

A commodity? (Einar)

Yeah, those nobles treated her like a commodity and handed her over. (Jill Ber)

A grunt was heard. A wine glass made of crystal trembled. With a smug smile, Jill Ber scattered the shards on the floor.

Theres almost no inheritance issue, so theres no problem in having offspring. But since its royal blood, it cant be opposed to the royal family. If I kill the demon king and come back, even if I claim to be the strongest warrior of Tylesse

But Maximilian will be there.

Hmm. Hes not a typical Tylesse person. And he wasnt loyal to the Tylesse royal family either.

From the perspective of the Tylesse royal family, they needed a pawn they could hold and manipulate. Since they couldnt control the hero, this was the alternative.

A traditional knight loyal to the royal family, but one who returns after killing the demon king with even more powerful authority.

So it means to put a collar on him. To bestow the princess as a consort. If he refuses, its an insult, and if he accepts, its a political asset for the royal family.

Wouldnt it be better to just become the king?

What?

Why not? I plan to become king as I please. Isnt it cool? Declare to all those mongrels to follow only someone stronger than me. (Einar)

So thats what they call Drovian.'

Jill Ber chuckled and shook his head.

A country should exist not by force but by legitimacy. The rules of society persist on the basis of justice. A country without legitimacy ceases to function the moment authority collapses. (Jill Ber)

Just because you use difficult words doesnt make you look smart. (Einar)

Oh, was my wording difficult? (Jill Ber)

Raise your sword. Kill me. (Einar)

Ivan, who was listening to the conversation between the two lunatics, suddenly asked Jill Ber. (Since their fighting was a common occurrence, there was no reason to intervene.)

From just listening, it seems like you have no loyalty at all. Dont you trust your own country? (Ivan)

Of course not. What do you think I went through to get to this position? (Jill Ber)

Then why? After going so far as to kill the demon king, why put shackles on yourself? (Ivan)

Haha, well

Jill Ber replied with a very unlucky expression.

Of course, its love.

If the woman of royal blood, who married a humble knight from the countryside, even loses her political value to the extent of being presented as a commodity, what kind of situation would they face?

And even if all those conditions were ignored. Even if she didnt inherit royal blood, even if she wasnt offered as a commodity. Even if she was just a maid.

He would still have loved her. At first sight. That rose-like woman.

While Ivan was listening to such talk, he suddenly spoke up next to Einar, who had a look of wanting to die.

Rose-like It felt a bit sharper than that (Ivan)

There are thorns on roses, Ivan. Youll understand once you meet more women. (Jill Ber)

He married his first love. Brother. Dont listen. Youre talking like you know something. (Einar)

Raise the axe. Kill me. (Jill Ber)

Can you?

Show me?

Ignoring the growling sounds of the two lunatics, Ivan thought quietly.

Rose-like.

The Odellia de Tylesse he remembers was more sharp-edged. But still.

Well, she was slapping Jill Bers cheek at their first meeting.

It was quiet at Mathieu Etoile, the largest train station in St. Mathilde. Isabelle and her companions looked around with bitter expressions.

It had only been a few days since they left this place. In just those few days, the main trade route symbolizing the city had completely come to a halt.

Soldiers were bustling around. In the distance, a procession of refugees continued.

Under the noon sunlight, a woman in a red dress was sipping tea.

Eugene involuntarily fell silent. Isabelles mother was a woman whose appearance made it hard to believe she had a grown daughter like Isabelle, but by now, she was just seen as Oscars sister with a bit of depth.

Truly, is this a fantasy world? How does a woman with a twenty-year-old son have such looks?

In Eugenes awed silence, the womans gaze fell on Oscar. Her sharp green eyes hesitated for a moment.

Mother.

Oscar slowly approached and knelt beside her, courteously lowering one knee. The lady was silently gazing down at her son.

Meanwhile, Eugene noticed her trembling hand. The ladys gloved hand was gently shaking. However, her expression remained cold and firm.

After confirming where her gaze landed, Eugene sighed softly. The lady was looking at the sword at Oscars waist.

It was the sword of the Etarique Duke. Its implications were too clear, causing the lady to subtly lower her head.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

Son? Where is your father?

Hes still fighting.

She bit her lip.

Fool.

Mother, you need to leave the city.

But your father hasnt returned yet.

The tears dried quickly. The lady regained her sharp expression and spoke confidently.

We must keep the place for your fathers return. I am the Duchess.

Mother.

Your father will return safely. He always has He always will. That fool, he must.

Yes, Mother. Father will return safely.

Thats why I must fulfill my duties as the Duchess of Etarique. I will protect this lineage, this house.

Mother. But

Enough.

The lady clasped her trembling hands tightly together. She lifted her head toward her son with sharp eyes.

You must do what is required of a Dukes son. Take the sword and go as a nobleman of our family.

This city is not safe.

Are you going to run away then?

No.

Then I have no reason to leave my son and husband behind and flee this city.

The lady laughed brightly.

She stroked Oscars head and firmly grasped his hand as she spoke.

Your will is your fathers will, and your fathers will is the will of the homeland. Go. As the last adult of this household, respect your every intention.

Yes, Mother.

After bowing deeply once, Oscar stepped back. The ladys gaze fell upon the group.

Under inexplicable pressure, the group stood still, stiffening their bodies.

Isabelle, and the heroes of our time.

Perhaps even she found it amusing, the lady said with a joking smile.

I entrust my son to you.

She had no informants. The Duke of Etarique couldnt hold any political assets. The Tylesse Duchess, who could be called the kings sister, was just a nominal royal bloodline. She even had to offer her daughter as a product for sale to a past hero party.

Even that no longer exists in this era. The lady was just a potted plant in the greenhouse, and no power would respect her will.

Nevertheless, separate from political assets, there was weight in the ladys words. She was the mother who had raised her son in a country where she had no support, even if it meant leaving her husband to assassinate the demon king.

She had been a caregiver all her life, and also a shackle to her husband for a lifetime. But she never let go of her pride.

So, how harsh this situation was for her, the lady who could not know. She was simply pleading with her sons peers to do everything she could.

Yes, Duchess of Etarique. I swear.

Isabel knelt with one knee and bowed her head with the sword pinned to the ground. In the familiar yet unfamiliar aspect of this lady, unknowingly.

As a hero.

I will do my best.

They left the street in that direction. Their destination was the Royal Palace. The heart of this country.

It was just after the news arrived that the Granmartel Viscounts army had reached the outskirts of Saint Mathilde.

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