I Became the First Prince

k eyepatch and threw it to the ground.

“Even if I lose the one eye that remains to me, I will not cower and beg just so that I can live an impassioned life.”

That was the beginning.

“Even if the lance is shattered and the body torn, the unbending soul must remain the same.”

“We are not a burden for our lord to carry, but the swords and spears that he will wield!” the Black Lancers beat upon their chests with their spears, all at once.

“I don’t want the son of brave Bale Balahard to have to break his heart because of us!”

“If I have to fight for a hundred years, I will fight! And if I must fight for a thousand, I shall fight even if I die and become naught but a drifting soul!”

The knights stamped their feet.

“Don’t hesitate in front of victory!”

“What we want is victory at the end of struggle, not the peace achieved by compromising with a coward!”

The rangers on the walls shouted, adding their voices.
There was no one who wished to compromise their values for the sake of peace.

“I don’t think that iron which bends easily can be mended with ease.
The word of a beast who surrendered his own people for the sake of his own life is unreliable.”

“I think it would be better to ensure that the events of today are not repeated by removing the agent who have caused them.”

“I am Count Ghern, and I think as the others do.”

The lords of the Allied Northern Forces had been thrown into chaos when the orcs erupted into their ranks, and those of them who had survived now gave voice to their opinions as if they had been awaiting the moment to do so.

“We men of the north are different from the southerners with their hot and lazy summer months!” an impassioned northern lord cried out, and Nogisa coughed.

“I cannot agree with those words, for even if the summer is sunny, the rains showers and typhoons are not warm or pleasurable,” Nogisa said.
The northern lord wanted to say something, but the old knight added, “But I agree with the general consensus: I have not forgotten the fact that the Knights of the Palace and the Royal Infantry have come here to fight.”

Vincent’s expression was distorted, conflicted, and he seemed to be smiling and frowning at once.

“If I close my eyes and save him, we can end this heinous war,” said Vincent, and the knights and soldiers answered with protests as they heard this.
“I will open my eyes and fight the enemy instead of becoming blind for the sake of peace,” said Vincent, and his face was now easy to read.

“I don’t know how many are going to die for us to end this battle today.”

“If someone has to die, it will be me.”

The men’s answers remained unchanged.

Vincent looked at me, and I shrugged – it was all up to the will of the count.
He then nodded as he saw my silent assent, and hesitation was no longer to be seen upon his face.

“Now, wait a minute!” came the urgent exclamation of the Overlord as he read the change in atmosphere.

“I will not accept the surrender of an unscrupulous beast sans honor!” Vincent declared.

“Death to the orcs!”

“To these invaders: Only death!”

The knights shouted, and the rangers and Allied Northern Forces clashed their weapons and shouted war cries.

That was when someone started singing Winter Castle’s song of war.

“Silent are the snowy peaks and the blood-drenched walls”

“Only our horns of war are heard, for a new day dawns into which we advance!”

One song quickly became the song of thousands.

“At the blizzard’s end, I wander, seeking warmth”

“And only warmed can I be by a dark green fire”

“In front of it, I stand and wait for burning spring to come”

“And the village through harshest winter waits for spring to come”

And at that moment, a message broke into my head.

[-] We sing of the spring that will come after the harshest season, after storm and blizzard [-]

[-] New [Poetry of War] has been created [-]

[-] During the war, [Poetry of War – Four Seasons: Poem of Spring] was created]

As soon as I grasped this message, I knew – I knew what [Poetry of War] was.

It was different from Muhunshi, for it was not a simple song that resonated with mana hearts and rings.

It was one song, yet many, a song expressed as aspirations that flowed from multiple mouths.

And it wasn’t me who created the words, but the men of winter; I just wove them together, and a song started echoing in my mind.

‘The birds who’ve flown back along the road the wind passed by return’

‘The fortress once exposed to cold and snow now wakes and stretches’

My mouth moved of its own accord.

“The birds who’ve flown back along the road the wind passed by return”

“The fortress once exposed to cold and snow now wakes and stretches”

Thousands of aspiring wills borrowed my mouth and sang of spring.

In the middle of the song, my heart started beating like mad, and a transfer took place.

A strange wave erupted to all sides, and no song was alike, and no song was new.

It was the sound of new [Poems of Night].
This was the moment that the seeds I had sown in the north, those once-broken knights who now gathered mana in the heart, have finally started their story.

‘Pwoo~’ a faint light began to flow from Vincent’s body, a weak but unmistakable sign of awakening.

Not knowing what was happening to his body, Count Balahard raised his sword and pointed it at the enemy.

“All troops! Ready for battle!”

“Ha!” thousands of troops answered his command as one.

“Attack!”

The knights roared as they rushed toward the war legion, and the Allied Northern Forces followed the charge.
The palace and the royal infantry broke rank and struck at the flanks of the orcish war legion.

“You are foolish!” roared the old orc, still on his knees, as he snapped awake.

He opened his mouth, and I drew my sword.

Before that ugly roar erupted from his maw; before he could once more sully this war with his false dignity, the flames of my true spirit fell upon his body.

Blue flames raged as they clung to a bloody body half-melted by the breath of the fire dragon.

‘Aaahhhhh!’ it screamed and wildly waved its hands.
The earth burst apart as fervor flowed from Urdu, and a man rushed toward the old orc who was thrashing in fear.
A green flash erupted from the man’s sword as it cleaved through the Overlord’s fervor.

There he was: The reincarnation of an ill-fated avenger who had been unable to claim his vengeance against the Overlord who had robbed him of everything.

And now, the man has finally reached completion and become the ninth champion of the kingdom.

“For Balahard!” Vincent Balahard exclaimed with ferocity.

“For Balahard!” knights and soldiers roared as one.