Epilogue: The Reincarnated Prince and the Hero of Light

The sun shone brilliantly in the summer sky. About two months had passed since the battle at the border fort, and over one month since Barbosse’s passing.

“Okay, I’m going now,” Herscherik said as he shouldered the bag containing the canteen Kuro had prepared, put on his hat to prevent heat stroke, and walked up to the back gate. Beyond the gate lay the vast, luscious lands that only the king and those given his explicit permission could enter.

“Right. Be careful out there. Take frequent rests and make sure to drink lots of water.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Herscherik nodded to Oran, who had come to see him off; then he waved, turned his back on them, and stepped through the gate.

The wind from the nearby mountains offset the summer heat, and Herscherik walked while enjoying the scenery around him. Taking the occasional break in the shadow of a tree to rehydrate himself, he observed the sky, the trees, the flowers, plants, insects, and even larger animals from a distance as he strolled along.

Today was Herscherik’s first day off in a while, and he had left by himself to go on a picnic. He’d wanted to take a horse for a longer excursion, but mounting and dismounting a horse was difficult due to his small size, so his request had been rejected. Instead, he made the journey on foot. His men of service would be joining him later at noon to bring his lunch.

After about an hour of walking, he arrived at a grassy hill with a lovely view of the castle and the town. The view was just the same as when his father had brought him there four years ago.

“I’m finally here...” Herscherik muttered, exhausted, as he wiped the sweat from his cheeks, put down his bag in the shadow of a tree, and started strolling around the hill.

That day, when he had learned the truth of his country, he had been unable to do anything but cry.

“It’s finally over, Klaus.” Herscherik clasped the pocket watch to his chest as he spoke to the long-dead count.

After the death of the minister, the country was thrown into confusion—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Herscherik had thrown it into confusion. With all the evidence Herscherik had gathered, along with the testimony of Roy, who had been sheltered by the Aldis family, Barbosse’s misdeeds were brought to light along with the crimes of the many nobles who had supported him. Over the course of a month, with the aid of Herscherik’s stubbornness that bordered on obsession, the nobles were sentenced in rapid succession. Some attempted to flee the country, but Herscherik had captured them all with the help of Heath, who had returned from the expedition.

“You know, at this rate, I’ll die from overwork. It wouldn’t hurt to get some time off. Spare a thought for my old age,” the man in his thirties pleaded with puppy dog eyes, which Herscherik answered with an angelic smile and similar puppy dog eyes.

“You’ll be fine! You’re still young, and I’ll be sure to give you time off when this is over. So get back to work already, would you?”

Incidentally, while Herscherik had assumed that the credit for driving away the imperial forces would go entirely to Heath and General Barthold, before he knew it he was the one who ended up with all the accolades. When Herscherik had tried to explain that the achievement really did belong to them instead, Heath had put on a radiant smile and spoken with the most humble tone he could muster.

“No, no, Your Highness, it is all thanks to the incredible feats performed by you and your men of service. If not for your strategizing, we would never have been able to defeat the empire. Besides, being in the spotlight like this is actually kind of annoy—ahem.”

Heath’s last word had not escaped Herscherik. General Barthold was one thing, being stationed so far away, but Heath here was attempting to shove everything he couldn’t be bothered with onto Herscherik’s shoulders. Herscherik, who had inadvertently found himself in the spotlight, had responded by working Heath so hard it had bordered on harassment—though he did, of course, give him his promised time off later.

Everyone who had been arrested was fairly judged by the Judicial department. As there was plenty of evidence to go around, they were sentenced one after another as if on a conveyor belt. However, not everyone received capital punishment. Depending on the extent of the crime, punishments included revocation of titles or government positions and confiscation of assets. Anyone who had bettered themselves during Herscherik’s travels throughout the country received lighter sentences.

Among those who had turned a new leaf, Count Grim in particular—the very man who had framed Count Ruseria—did something Herscherik had never even imagined. After the death of Barbosse, a written petition was sent to Grim, who had voluntarily turned himself over.

“I did explain everything to them in advance, you know...” Grim spoke as he rubbed his bald head and smiled, tears in his eyes, upon being informed of his sentence.

As a result of the petition, Grim’s punishment was lightened, and while some of his assets were confiscated, he was allowed to retain his territory. Grim, however, had objected. In light of his crimes, he had explained, he was not fit to govern. But his subjects had wished for him to remain their lord.

Thus, the following arrangement had been made: the state would take ownership of the land, but Grim would manage it as their agent. Further, the arrangement would only be valid while Grim remained in office. He had, for all practical purposes, been allowed to remain a lord.

“Do I really deserve something like this?” a baffled Grim asked Herscherik upon hearing the ruling.

“Count Grim, I don’t think losing everything is the only way to make amends.” Herscherik was sure that Klaus would have felt the same. “Over these past two years, you have worked tremendously hard to make up for your past misdeeds. The proof of that lies in the fact that even after confessing to your sins, your people still claim to need you.”

Grim, who had turned pale and trembled when his crimes had first come to light, was now trembling from a completely different set of emotions.

“Seeing what you’ve made of yourself makes me happy from the bottom of my heart,” Herscherik explained.

“Thank you, Your Highness... Thank you...”

As Grim kneeled on the floor, tears pouring from his eyes, Herscherik gently patted him on the shoulder.

And so, Count Ruseria was exonerated and his name cleared. A large number of nobles and officials were dismissed, and with the lack of personnel, the situation in the castle became quite hectic. The people who worked there, however, were more cheerful than ever. They could all feel the country changing for the better.

From the neighboring Principality of Parche, a letter arrived formally apologizing for having allowed the Atrad army to pass through their territory despite being on friendly terms with Gracis. Those who knew the truth understood that this was only for show; however, diplomacy is complicated, and when one nation formally apologizes to another, the other party can’t exactly just say, “Don’t worry about it.” At Parche’s suggestion, they agreed to lessen the tariffs that would otherwise have been paid to Parche for a period of five years.

Herscherik also received a private letter from Grand Duke Parche containing an invitation to visit the principality. The end of the letter said, “My granddaughter must be smiling in the Garden Above,” which prompted Herscherik to finally realize that as the father of the First Queen, the grand duke was also the grandfather of the late princess.

Maybe Grand Duke Parche had been hoping things would turn out this way. Herscherik decided to be sure to see him whenever he happened to stop by Parche.

The night after one of the busy days at the castle, the royal siblings were all gathered in their father’s private room.

Solye had always had a habit of working into the night, but lately he had been working even harder than before. While part of this was likely an attempt to atone for his previous failures, he now wore a bright expression as he worked, as if something had changed deep inside him. However, as a result he was getting even less rest than usual, so Rook had requested his family to gather together regularly to give Solye the opportunity to relax.

Having completely recovered from the poison, King Solye, Marx and William were all flooded with work, and the triplets were also balancing their studies with their royal duties. Eutel, who had been affected the worst out of all of them, had also recovered, though it had taken some time.

Solye sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace as he spoke to his youngest son, who was receiving a smack to his head from each of his siblings in turn.

“Hersch, do you have any requests?”

“Requests?” Herscherik replied with his hand on his head.

“Yes... After all, you are the one who saved both me and this country.”

“I just did what I wanted to do...” Herscherik said with an embarrassed smile, but after a moment his expression turned serious. “But I do have two requests.”

His first request was to let him move about freely just as before. His second request was to be allowed into the land that could only be entered by the king himself and those with the king’s permission.

“Is that really all you want?”

For the occasion, they were rather mundane requests.

“Very well,” Solye replied without hesitation. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful.”

Solye spoke as Herscherik’s father, not as king. Herscherik’s siblings all nodded in agreement with their father, and upon seeing this, Herscherik too nodded to reassure them.

“Is there anything else?”

Herscherik clenched his fist tight before replying to his father’s question.

A sudden gust blew his hat away. His light golden hair swayed together with the grass in the wind.

“Jeanne...”

Still holding the pocket watch to his chest with his left hand, he touched his copper-colored earring with his right, as he spoke the name of the one he loved. Upon realizing a single tear was flowing down his cheek, he became unable to hold back as he started crying uncontrollably, his face becoming streaked with tears. A wind, much gentler than before, caressed his cheeks, as if trying to comfort him.

“Just today... Just for today...” Herscherik whispered, crouching down as if collapsing onto the ground.

He had finally fulfilled the promise he made that day—he had avenged Klaus and Jeanne. Yet the sorrow that weighed him down still remained.

He had gained so much. With Barbosse gone, his family was now safe. If this was this a game, a comic book, or a novel, this would have been the happy ending.

But at the same time, he had also lost so much. What he had lost would never return, and the people could never be replaced. This profound sense of loss refused to let Herscherik’s tears stop flowing.

Ever since the bells had tolled that day, he had sworn not to cry. But if only for today, he wanted to be able to weep for those he had lost.

The sound of horses galloping could be heard from far away. Herscherik sat up on the grass and wiped his face as he turned his gaze in the direction of the sound.

“Hersch!”

Herscherik searched for the source of the voice to find Oran in the lead, with Kuro behind and finally Shiro following him, all mounted on horses.

“Oh, is it noon already?”

He stood up, brushed the grass off his clothes, and started walking in the direction of his men.

“I made your favorite, Hersch.”

“Ooh!”

Herscherik threw up both hands in joy at the sight of the wooden basket in Kuro’s hand, and at the same time his stomach let out a loud growl. While his men laughed at him, they all dug in. Kuro had brought with him sandwiches. Not only were there ham and egg sandwiches, but he had also brought ones with meat dipped in a sauce reminiscent of teriyaki, as well as sandwiches with fruit and cream. There were scones and salad, too. As he dug into his lunch, Herscherik enjoyed a moment of pure bliss.

After his post-lunch tea and a short rest, Herscherik stood up and looked down upon the capital. The sky was clear, the wind was pleasant, and he felt peaceful.

“Thank you for everything.”

The words came out of his mouth spontaneously. His men all grew suspicious in their own distinct ways at his sudden statement.

“But... we’ve only just begun,” Herscherik said as he turned around.

This was not the end to all the troubles that the country would face. Just as Barbosse had said, his power was great, and without him to helm the country, there was no predicting what might become of it. But Herscherik had no intention of backing down. This was not the end—it was the beginning.

“Schwarz, Oránge, Weiss. I need you by my side. I need you to walk the same path I walk. I need your help.”

Upon hearing their names called, his men stood up and walked to their master.

“My life already belongs to you,” Kuro replied with a wry smile as he kneeled down before Herscherik.

“My duty is to stop you if you ever stray from your path. I can’t very well leave you, can I?” Oran said as he followed the butler’s example.

“What are you on about? I’m not exactly planning on going anywhere,” Shiro grouchily replied in a matter-of-fact tone as he knelt alongside the other two.

Herscherik smiled at the sight.

“Thank you, everyone.”

“Your wish is our command.”

The three men gave their young master a deep bow.

Herscherik Gracis.

The Seventh Prince of the 23rd King of Gracis, born to the king’s favorite queen. Known as the Prince of Light, he seemed to have appeared suddenly in the troubled Kingdom of Woe. It is said that his bright, golden hair shone upon all, illuminating both himself and the world.

He possessed neither the valor to strike down his enemies, nor immense quantities of Magic. At a glance he might have seemed inferior to the many heroes of other legends. However, his heroic tales have captivated the hearts of many, moved many more to tears, and been loved by almost all.

Though he might not have possessed strength, he had clear convictions, believed in his men, and forged ahead tirelessly, with his distinguished servants in tow.

People call him the “Hero of Light,” as they pass on his tales with reverence and awe.

That, however, is a story for later. This is still only the prologue of his tale.

The Reincarnated Prince and the Hero of Light — Fin.