TGD CH 2

This was how his infamous reputation began.

Einar Fjellrot was the First Prince of the House of Fjellrot.

The next thing that had to be said about Einar was that he was astonishingly handsome. Of course, the world was filled with countless people, each with their own standards of beauty. Even so, it would not be an exaggeration to say that no one in the kingdom could sincerely insult the First Prince’s appearance.

He was a striking beauty with radiant golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. Whenever he walked through the palace corridors, people inevitably looked back at him a second time, and some of the more timid souls were so flustered that they ended up walking straight into walls or pillars.

Nor did his perfection end there. His fair, smooth skin was completely flawless, without so much as a single blemish. He was tall and slender, with a waist as slim as a willow branch and broad shoulders. Above them rose a long, graceful neck, while his arms and legs were equally long and elegant.

In short, Einar, the young prince who had turned twenty that year, appeared to be everything one could hope for in a prince. He looked as though he had stepped straight out of a fairy tale or an ancient legend.

…Of course, that was only at first glance.

The Kingdom of Debia, where Prince Einar resided, was a prosperous nation. Though it could not quite be called a great power, it possessed valuable trade routes and abundant resources coveted by neighboring countries. Its wealthy and ancient royal house had successfully safeguarded the kingdom throughout the years.

King Manus, the ruler of the kingdom and Einar’s father, was a stern and dignified man. His second son, Bayron, while not nearly as breathtakingly handsome as Einar, was still considered quite good-looking and possessed a wit of his own.

Judging by appearances alone, the kingdom’s future seemed bright indeed.

Yet Einar, the eldest son of King Manus and the kingdom’s beautiful First Prince, embodied everything shameful and embarrassing about a nation that otherwise seemed to lack for nothing.

There was only one reason.

Despite his flawless appearance, Prince Einar was widely believed to be an idiot.

An idiot.

Wherever Einar’s name was mentioned, admiration for his beauty was almost inevitably followed by that very word. And not without reason. To those around him, Einar was far more than merely slow-witted.

From childhood, despite his dreamlike appearance, Prince Einar had been so quiet that no one could ever guess what he was thinking. Unlike ordinary boys—his younger half-brother, Prince Bayron, being the perfect example—he never made a fuss over a fine pony or proudly rushed to his father to recite the history lessons he had memorized that day.

Even at an age when he should still have been called a little boy, Einar would simply stare blankly into empty space with an expression of utter boredom.

As a result, people began whispering from an early age that, despite his dazzling appearance, he was empty inside. Like a beautiful porcelain doll with nothing within.

Naturally, the proud king and the prince himself loathed those rumors.

He clearly takes after his mother.

Whenever King Manus looked at Einar’s golden hair, he ground his teeth.

Others praised it as hair spun from gold, but to Manus it was nothing more than an irritating reminder of a woman from his past.

Although both Prince Einar and Prince Bayron were born to queens, they did not share the same mother. Bayron was the son of the Second Queen.

Einar’s mother, the late Queen Daybel, from whom he had inherited his golden hair, had never enjoyed what anyone could call a harmonious marriage with King Manus. Their relationship had not merely been unhappy—it had been catastrophic.

Queen Daybel’s family had attempted a rebellion against the crown, and every member of her house had been beheaded. The queen herself was accused of aiding her family’s treason and was sentenced to death by hanging.

Daybel maintained her innocence until the very end, but King Manus—who had long sought an opportunity to rid himself of her—refused to believe her. To be fair, hardly anyone else believed she was innocent either. Their marriage had deteriorated to such an extent.

Had Einar been older than fifteen at the time, King Manus would likely have had him executed alongside Queen Daybel without hesitation. But Einar was only ten years old then. No matter how much the king disliked the late queen’s son, executing a child prince of that age would have brought down fierce condemnation upon the crown.

But on the day Queen Daybel was hanged, Einar did not cry. Instead, he merely gazed up at the sky with an expression of utter boredom. Though he had been only ten years old, most children of the royal family learned to understand the world far earlier than ordinary children.

Any other prince would have wept and begged for his mother’s life—or, at the very least, begun cautiously navigating the palace now that his mother was gone. Einar, however, shed not a single tear. There was no vow of revenge, no fear in his eyes—only a strange, unwavering calm.

Ironically, it was King Manus himself who had ordered his wife’s execution, yet whenever he recalled that day, he would shudder and remark on how unsettling Einar had been.

Even now, the sight before him was no different.

Holding a single daisy in his hand, Einar stood with his long golden hair cascading over his shoulders. Throughout it all, he wore the same absent-minded expression, his blue eyes clouded with a distant, dreamy haze. Looking at him made the king want to clutch his head and weep.

Fortunately, his younger half-brother Bayron was perfectly healthy and of sound mind, so there was little concern over the succession. But as for Einar, the eldest prince…

To put it bluntly, he was hopeless.

Whether it was politics, philosophy, mathematics, or even poetry and painting, Einar had never shown the slightest interest in learning. Worse still, he lacked even the desire to try. During lessons, he would suddenly stand up and wander off without explanation, or simply lay his head on the desk and fall asleep. Such incidents were far from uncommon.

Given the circumstances, it was hardly surprising that the king had eventually banished Einar to a secluded palace residence and all but ignored his existence. Not only King Manus and Prince Bayron, but even the palace maids and servants openly mocked and looked down on him.

The only saving grace was that Einar himself never seemed particularly unhappy or miserable.

It was the indifference of a man completely detached from the world.

Even when servants laughed at him to his face, Einar’s only response was to yawn, regarding them with the same vacant, emotionless eyes.

Yet Einar was, beyond any doubt, a prince of the royal bloodline. No matter how much the king disliked him, there were occasions—once or twice a year at the very least—when he had no choice but to see him.

Today was one of those occasions.

“Einar.”

That evening, King Manus looked at his eldest son with a troubled expression before speaking in a cold, measured voice.

“War has broken out.”

It was news that would have shocked anyone.

Einar merely blinked blankly.

Even though it concerned his own homeland, his expression did not change in the slightest. It was a reaction utterly unbecoming of a prince.

The sight made anger surge through the king once again, but he forced himself to suppress it and fixed Einar with a hard glare.

“You are a prince. Despite the traitor’s blood that runs through your veins, despite your stupidity and utter uselessness, I have raised you all these years. If you possess even a shred of humanity, then repay that debt!”

Even in the face of the king’s thunderous rebuke, Einar’s only thought was that the conversation was rather troublesome.

So he simply nodded in silence.

Seeing that, the king’s expression softened ever so slightly.

“You will go to Kiberos. There, you will raise the morale of our soldiers who are fighting for the kingdom.”

“Y-Your Majesty!”

The attendants standing nearby gasped in shock.

The king had just ordered a prince to the battlefield—and not merely any battlefield, but the fiercest front of the war.

Their enemy was none other than the armies of the Lakenian Empire, the nation that had become the talk of the continent with the rise of its new conquering monarch.

To send a prince who had only just turned twenty—a young man who had never even learned swordsmanship, let alone military strategy—into such a place merely to boost the troops’ morale…

The attendants looked at Prince Einar with eyes full of pity, appalled by King Manus’s ruthless decision.

“Hm.”

But the foolish Prince Einar neither looked surprised nor afraid.

Instead, he simply looked at King Manus with an expression so empty that it seemed as though nothing at all was going through his mind.

The moment their eyes met, King Manus felt goosebumps rise along his arms.

This time, however, it was not disgust.

A chill ran down his spine. It was the same sensation of fear he had experienced as a child when, while hunting alone, he had unexpectedly come face to face with a wild beast.

…No. That’s impossible.

Watching Einar quietly nod, King Manus convinced himself that it had merely been his imagination.