Chapter Fifteen: Rude Guy
The chatting time with the First Prince was not long, just a few cups of tea, and the two reached a consensus.
Alman and the First Prince Solor were both cautious by nature, so they wouldn’t act until everything was clear. They preferred a counterattack, similar to a “parry,” taking advantage of opportunities to crush the enemy, ideally in a direct manner, leaving them no chance of recovery.
Just like after a war, there would often be troops for clearing the battlefield; their job was to confirm the life or death of the enemy, ensuring that all foes were eliminated without granting any half-dead, desperate individuals a chance to fight back.
Although it sounded a bit cruel, every time Alman went into battle, whether quelling invasions from other nations or dealing with monstrous beasts, he and his knights were required to dissect every hostile living thing on the battlefield, only leaving once they confirmed that there were no vital signs left in those corpses.
Many knights admired and respected their leader but didn’t want to be in the same squad as him, mainly because he personally led most of the clearing operations.
While slicing through those bloody remains with his sword, he would mumble things like, “This feels just like the steak I’ll have tonight,” or “Look, this organ resembles that burnt pastry you had the other day.”
It was unclear whether he did this on purpose or accidentally, but after grossing out his fellow knights with such remarks, he would continue, “You all eat more when the time comes; my stomach can’t handle the greasier stuff,” as if he were distancing himself from the disgust he caused.
Sometimes he would take this opportunity to eat some stomach medicine, leading to a bizarre scene of “a person nonchalantly chewing something while fully covered in blood, dissecting human organs.”
The lack of decorations on his sword was also due to needing to perform this task; if there were too many designs or protruding gems, it would be difficult to clean the residual biological matter. If any flesh got stuck in the crevices, the sword would soon carry a strange odor. Although Alman was not particular, he didn’t want to be associated with the stench of decay from something he carried around.
As for whether it would always retain a bloody smell, that depended on the Old Butler Lug. His excellent cleaning methods always kept Alman’s clothes and equipment looking fresh. After all, both armor and sword were vital for survival on the battlefield; frequently replacing them only served to refresh one’s familiarity with the gear. If unfamiliar with his equipment, it could cost Alman his life on the battlefield, so he preferred the hassle of washing rather than replacing unless it was unusable.
“Your Highness, the Second Prince has arrived.”
Just when the conversation between Alman and the First Prince was wrapping up and he was about to put on his cloak to go out, the announcement from the guard outside came. Almost as soon as the guard finished speaking, a young man with the same short golden hair as the First Prince walked in behind him.
“I see my royal brother is busy; I’ve come at a bad time.”
Following that familiar voice, Alman turned to see the Second Prince Eric Claya had already approached him, extending his hand as if to greet him.
“Hello, Mr. Captain Alman, it’s been a while since we last met.”
Alman glanced at the Second Prince’s white-gloved hand and smiled as he shook it.
“Yes, thanks to you.”
As for what favor he was referring to, the Second Prince naturally knew well.
Although the First Prince had tightly sealed off the details of Alman’s remaining ailments from toxins, the Second Prince, being a prince himself, had ways to learn about it. Even if he didn’t know all the details, he was aware that Alman’s health was not great.
Moreover, he knew that the poison in Alman’s body reacted poorly to heat but thrived in cold. While Alman’s strong physique kept the poison suppressed, the Second Prince had sent him to the frigid extremes two winters ago, under the pretense that “no one else could hold the line,” eagerly wishing he would freeze to death in that temporary fortress.
Fortunately, Alman’s army was strong, and the First Prince provided considerable assistance along with diplomatic avenues that the opposing side could not refuse. What should have been a three-year war ended in just over a year.
In the following six months, Alman was focused on nursing back the injuries caused by his recurring illness, and only after he felt that they wouldn’t impact his daily life did he move into that manor and reappear in public.
Due to the royal physician secretly arranged by the First Prince, Alman didn’t suffer any fatal harm. Politically, this victory commanded by the First Prince also significantly increased his support, suppressing the Second Prince’s influence.
Had it not been for this success, the Royal City would have been easily manipulated by the Second Prince’s opinion campaigns, and there were even discussions of establishing a “regent system.” The Second Prince had certainly put significant effort into such matters, but now, even with support far below what it once was, he still skillfully controlled the narrative.
The Saint Floris Church was a wildcard; it was hard not to be loved by the people as a prince who used wealth for charity. Nobles viewed the First Prince’s strategies as sufficient, but the common people wanted more than just a leader frequently going to war. Even if war had not touched them directly, they feared that someday enemies would rise again.
“Mr. Captain seems to be in good spirits; moving to a new home has indeed brightened your mood.”
When the Second Prince said this, he still hadn’t let go of Alman’s hand.
“Yes, the feeling of having a home is indeed better than staying in temporary places.”
In response to the Second Prince, Alman slightly tightened his grip.
In the Royal Courtyard, apart from the First Prince being able to be a bit less courteous toward the Second Prince due to their brotherly relationship, the most impolite was this guy, Alman.
They said that Alman was just a rough guy who only knew how to fight and didn’t understand essential etiquette. Alman replied that those formalities couldn’t fill bellies, and he didn’t hesitate to openly clash with opposing ministers, solidifying his image as a rude and self-absorbed person.
Generally, nobles wouldn’t stoop down to his level since he held no title. Although he was the captain of the Royal Knight Order, which sounded commendable, this high-risk job could cost lives at any moment; perhaps he would wake up one day to find someone else in his position. Thus, they didn’t regard him worthy of debate or flattery.
The Second Prince’s faction scoffed at him, using public opinion to portray him as a man who was useless except for his good looks and ability to fight.
But this suited Alman just fine; since he was already a rude guy, no one would ever stand up to criticize him for whatever he did, allowing him to pursue his goal of living freely as he wished.
After exchanging warm smiles for a while, the First Prince poured himself a cup of tea as he watched the scene unfold. The Second Prince, hearing the clink of cups and saucers, finally released Alman’s hand.
…Just put up with this arrogant and rude guy for a little longer; anyway, it won’t be long before the “Scarlet Crow” accomplishes its mission…
With this thought, the Second Prince continued smiling as he withdrew his hand.
“Mr. Captain, it seems you are about to leave? My brother and I have matters to discuss.”
As the Second Prince spoke, he picked up a document marked with the seal of “Saint Floris.”
It seemed he was going to make a fuss at the monastery again.
Alman smirked, sitting back down on the sofa after having risen, pouring himself another cup of tea.
“How unfortunate, Your Highness, I still have matters to discuss with your brother. Please wait a moment.”
Like toasting, Alman lifted the cup of red tea towards the Second Prince, then raised it to his lips and drank in one go.
The Second Prince seemed to squeeze out a string of ellipses from his mouth, forcing a calm smile despite his trembling brows. He couldn’t even kick this rude guy out—it’s not because he lacked the power, but because he couldn’t afford to completely sever ties with the First Prince and his people, nor could he reason with such an impolite person.
“So, when will you finish talking with my brother?”
“I’m an old friend of your brother; since I rarely come, catching up will surely take a while. Your Highness, if you can wait, please wait by the door for us.”
——How can I, the Second Prince, go to a place meant for a servant to wait?!
…Forget it, this kid won’t live long anyway…
One day, I will scoop out your intestines and feed them to the dogs…!
The Second Prince took a deep breath and responded, “Then my brother can continue to be busy. I’ll come again tomorrow.”
He didn’t want to waste words with a guy like Alman, turning around and leaving.
As for Alman and the First Prince, the two exchanged smiles after watching the Second Prince depart, as if saying: “It’s still you, isn’t it?”
To deal with civilization, one must use thugs.
