Chapter 66: Prince Alphonse’s Struggle

A section of the royal castle in the capital, Londinium.
Prince Alphonse, who had been placed under house arrest, had shut himself inside his chamber.
From outside the window, he could faintly hear the distant cheers of the people celebrating the overwhelming victory at the Silva Plains.
But those cheers never reached his heart.
His mind was sinking deep, deep into an ocean of turmoil.

“The Cold-Blooded Zenon.”

That epithet had of course reached his ears as well.
A demonic commander who rained iron from the heavens and slaughtered the enemy unilaterally.
His methods of war were far too removed from the chivalry Alphonse believed in.
Cowardly, cruel, devoid of even a trace of honor—nothing but killing.

(…But he won.)

Alphonse bit down on his lip.

(And he won with minimal sacrifice—an overwhelming victory. …If I had been the one commanding. If I had fought with the fair and upright chivalry I believe in… the Silva Plains might now be dyed red with the blood of our own soldiers.)

That truth—one he did not want to admit—tightened around his heart.
His ideals were beautiful.
But perhaps those ideals were hopelessly powerless before the reality of war.
What is true justice?
To protect the nation and its people, is it beautiful ideals that are needed?
Or the cold rationality of someone like him?

Knock knock.
A gentle tapping sounded at the door.

“…Who is it?”

“…It’s me, Brother.”

Alphonse’s eyes widened.
The voice belonged to his younger sister—Princess Isabella, the second princess.

“…Come in.”

With permission, Isabella entered, and her heart ached at the exhausted sight of her brother.
Unlike Alphonse, she knew little of politics or warfare.
But she could clearly see that her brother was facing the greatest trial of his life.

“…Brother. Father is calling for you.”

“Father?”

“Yes. He said: ‘Alphonse, your house arrest ends today. Starting tomorrow, you are to head to the Silva Plains frontline and serve under Zenon-sama.’”

Alphonse was struck speechless.
Serve under Zenon?
Under the very man who had crushed him utterly, shredding his pride into pieces?
Could there be a humiliation worse than this?

“…Has Father lost his mind!?”

Alphonse erupted in anger.

“He wants me to serve under that dishonorable fiend!? I will never do such a thing!”

“…Brother!”

Isabella cried out, stopping him.

“Father also said this: ‘Alphonse, if you truly care for this country, then you must cast aside your pride and learn what needs to be learned. Learn from that man the means to win. Learn what you lack.’”

Those words pierced Alphonse deeply.
What I lack…
What could that be?
Cold judgment?
Merciless decisiveness?
Or something else entirely…?

Alphonse said nothing for a long while, staring out the window.
The cheers continued.
The people praised Zenon’s victory.
They cared nothing for the means—only for the peace and stability the victory would bring.
They sought a hero who would secure that peace.

(…A hero, huh.)
Alphonse laughed weakly at himself.
He was supposed to be that hero.
The shining hero loved by the people, the one who would protect the nation.
But reality was cruel.
He had brought the nation to the brink of disaster.
And the one being hailed as a hero was the very man he despised as a cold-blooded monster.

“…Very well.”

After a long silence, Alphonse finally spoke quietly.

“I will obey Father’s order. …I will go to the front.”

There was no anger left in his voice, nor despair.
Only a calm determination—as if something inside him had finally snapped into place.

Amid the ruins of the world he once believed in, he was trying to find something new.
Something he lacked.
And the true nature of Zenon von Arkwright.
He couldn’t move forward until he witnessed that with his own eyes.

His new battle was about to begin.
Not a battle of swords—
but a battle deep within himself, questioning his own values.

The next morning, Prince Alphonse left the capital quietly, accompanied only by a few close attendants.
There was no one to see him off.
His destination: the Silva Plains.
To the battlefield where the man he despised the most—and now wished to understand the most—was waiting.
The fates of the two young lions were about to cross once more.