I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song

And it came to pass after three days, that those who waited were ready before me.

Now the Knights of the Handsome Knights, the wizards of the White Yard Tower, who turned into dust and pressed the Robe, and countless other soldiers.

Few, many, many times at a time, lived together on the battlefield.

"Good work getting here."

"Welcome."

I have spent a long time between them and have given up my willingness to volunteer in the face of the terrible monsters that devastated the southern part of the continent.

"Hmm?"

Then I felt a sense of disguise.

I turned my head.

There was a line of Central Army soldiers under the golden lions who had just passed, and they pressed the Seekerman cloak to the top of their heads.

I took a step towards you.

As I approached them, they began to blur noticeably.

Looks like you're caught.

No, there are so many soldiers.

Then why are you here?

I don't know about that.

Other than me, I would have killed a single voice, but in my ear I heard a clear voice, as if speaking right beside me.

Peck.

I stopped making scary noises before I stopped walking.

"Three counts."

In front of him I said small.

"One……."

Those who were flipping their capes before even counting the two of them revealed their faces.

"How have you been?"

The man of the eye smiled gladly and greeted me.

"I was thoroughly disguised, and I can't believe you found us among all these soldiers. The snowflake...."

His forearm trembled as he pretended to be his thumb.

"Why are there people here who should be training recruits in the back?"

Or else I frowned and asked them.

"Being a babysitter doesn't suit you."

"I'm trying to see if my bones are old...?"

"The Lord's nagging is getting worse, so I can't stay....."

"Now the mountain range is not the same as before, and it's not fun to bear it."

They made excuses before I finished talking.

"Haah."

I sighed without even knowing my excuses.

"No, honestly, it's not where we're not coming from, but why are you doing it to us?"

Then they spoke to me in the voice of Volmen.

"We were really depressed this time."

"That's right. That's right."

"You brought all the old, useless Jordans."

"That's right!"

"Actually, we and Jordan don't have a difference of age."

"But it's true that we're a few years younger, so it's more useful."

"But how old was Jordan?"

"Uh, I don't know."

The troublemakers of the Winter Castle, as old as their squadron commander, began to roar loudly.

I thought.

What the hell is wrong with that?

The Ancient Soldiers of Winter Castle are less than thirty at the moment when I come to burn my body while shooting the whole battlefield.

All I wanted was to make old age comfortable for the few who were left.

So I just sent him to Winter Castle as an instructor.

"Anyway! We're not going back!"

"What couldn't we have done better than Jordan! We can do one person's share!"

"That's right!"

The longtime Rangers said they didn't know my speed and were cold. If they were going to send it back, Jordania would send it back with them.

My head hurts.

Until now, even if they forcibly return their actions, they will hide in the ranks again.

"Let's talk about it later."

I parted with a reluctance to give them up.

Look! I told you there's nothing to worry about.

I was worried about when. You can kick him out, but you can't hide.

Ignoring the dull mockery coming from the back, I again slept among the soldiers.

But there was another one.

Someone I didn't think I'd see here.

A soldier who was holding a spear with wrinkled hands in armor that didn't fit his body.

"Nicholo."

The old man took off his helmet and revealed his face only after I called out my name.

"Hmmm."

Nicolo coughed with a disgruntled face and avoided the gaze.

Seeing that, I put my head on it.

The battle with the Flower Dragon is no joke to the children.

The retired rangers are all old, even the old man who works tomorrow.

There was no such thing as chaos.

* * *

After all, the ancient rangers and Nicholo remained on the expedition.

The former gave me immeasurable hardship to hide when I sent it back, and the latter I gave permission to do.

At first I was going to send back as much as an old man.

The old man will not stand the battle against the terrible monsters that will stop the hearts of the weak just by confronting them.

But I remembered what only the literate could do.

So instead of sending it back, I ordered the old man to do it.

"Write down what you have seen and heard from now on as it is."

Record everything from the beginning to the end of the battle and tell them to leave it.

"Record the names of everyone who lived here without a single missing person, so that everyone knows they were here."

So that the history of forgetfulness is not repeated again.

"Even if everyone who has gathered here over time no longer exists, people will not be burdened with what they have not done today."

Let everyone remember today, even if time passes.

"Write down the details and make them widely known."

I called a few times.

If you do that, I will be happy to protect the spirit of the flower dragon from invading the flesh of the frail old man.

Obviously, the old man didn't reject my offer, and I went to the barracks with God.

Then I visited my barracks at night.

I told that to the old man.

"A thousand years ago, when humans were just being raised like cattle. There are beings who have united and led scattered human beings and played a crucial role in the eventual victory of humans after the Great War."

Forgotten history of the continent, a story that someone deliberately erased. I told her and told her that the night was over.

"Do you know where you heard that story? This is not to doubt His Majesty's words, but to leave the source with him."

The old man listened quietly to my story for a few days and carefully asked the source.

And I said,

"There was a very long time ago. I couldn't reveal myself in front of other people, but he was watching the world all the time."

I have watched everything, and the story he knew was told to me.

"What is the name of that being?"

"…… just write it as a sword and it will suffice."

The old man didn't seriously doubt my words.

"Sword, it's just a sword. It's a self-inflicted person....."

I noticed that I regarded the title of sword as a simple nickname.

In fact, it just means what you're saying.

Since then, I've told you everything I remember.

The old man took my story and wrote it all down.

"For a coin, a knight who fought against a greedy king for a thousand days..... Do you know the name of the great knight?"

"…… Isaac. Stupid Isaac."

"Yes? What did you say?"

"Nothing. Just write Isaac."

Sometimes you ask me questions. The results were also recorded together.

And finally, my story is over.

But it was nothing more than filling some of the gaps in his forgotten history, so the stories he had to write were still endless.

For now, it was time to start talking to the monster that ate the flower dragon and the unbeatable heroes.

A sunny summer day.

The golden lion roars all over the plain.

"Today, the myth of the flower dragon will tell the end!"

Each one held a sword, a spear, or a bow, and those who stood by looked at me.

"And you will be a new myth!"

I drew the sword before them, and cried out.

"Forward! Forward!"

And moved on.

One of the oldest myths in the world,

To end the myth of the flower dragon,

* * *

The old man was feeling it.

I know I haven't much time left for myself.

My eyes are dizzy. I can't even walk long in front of my desk.

I had to let go of the pen for a while, even though I had never dropped it from my hand in my entire life.

I didn't even accomplish my last mission, but only the old man was starved to death.

It reminded me of a day a decade ago when I was in the head of an old man.

When I first met the Queen and was asked to become a master of the prince of ruin, the old man considered it a small entertainment at the end of the year.

I was surprised that the troublemaker of the Leonberger family I met was a fairly narrative opponent, unlike what was known in the world.

But when seeds that did not germinate in contempt and hatred finally sprouted and rooted in the middle of the harshest winter, entertainment became no longer just entertainment.

Even now, when I close my eyes, I think of a boy who was badly injured and unconscious and didn't have to hold a trumpet in his hand, just like yesterday's sheep.

Puck, it was amazing.

Clearly, the boy was far from the ideal monarch the old man was looking for for his whole life.

The boy was neither rational nor political.

Rather emotional, impulsive. Sometimes it seemed too promising.

The action of the boy was far from that, given that he was still a young man with no political insight.

Nevertheless, the old man was convinced that the boy was the one he was looking for.

From then on.

I started to wander around the boy, observe his life, and record everything.

Until now, even my body was hard to cover, so I waited for the day to close my eyes, but the day's aspirations did not cool down a bit.

The old man wished again.

I hope that the old body will endure, even until he fulfills his last mission.

The old man picked up the pen again.

* * *

For Nicholo Marchiadec, the memory of that day was as intense as the memory of the harsh and harsh days of winter.

'The myriad golden flags that embroidered the sky,

The swords and spears that were filling the plains, the rock-hard soldiers who grabbed them,

Knights who climbed on horses and breathed hot as flames. '

Even now, a few years later, the things of that day are rarely erased, so if you just eat your heart, you can draw the sheep in front of your eyes...

Severe…….

Above all, what remained in his head was the image of Idrian Leonberger, who stood in front of a monster who was like the incarnation of the end.

Even now, when I close my eyes, I hear the voice of the great knight in my ear like a hallucination.

"The old breath blowing from the southern sky burns the whole world red."

"I don't even know if the iron heart soaks in the rain from the far north.

Immediately after the sound of the little horse singing that summer rang across the battlefield, the hardened knights and soldiers began to move forward again with spears and swords....

Excerpt from "The Great Knight and Monarch of History, the Dawn Emperor, Idrian Leonberger, one of the innumerable footprints he left in the world, the Day of the Fall of the Red Sky."

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