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No One in this World Does Not Dream (1)
Princess Hestia Tudor was humming a song. It was a rare thing to hear, even for the maid who had served her for a long time.
“Since your Highness has been to the banquet, you have been in a good mood,” the maid said carefully.
“So you noticed?” the princess asked and looked in the mirror. Then, she gently patted her upper lip. “You’re right. I feel good.”
She smiled brightly and took her eyes from the mirror again.
“Because my princess’s behavior has been more modest and withdrawn recently. Now that I see your Highness happy, I feel relieved.”
The maid had always known that royal people were good at hiding their feelings, but now she saw that the princess, who had always been rather withdrawn, seemed very happy.
“If I had known from the beginning that a banquet like this would come,” said Hestia, “I wouldn’t have gossiped so much in front of him, bearing my heart.”
“Do you care about him?” asked the maid.
“Of course. I have to.”
The maid couldn’t help but laugh as she heard the answer, and after her brief laugh, she smirked. She fought that spring had come into the heart of her mistress. She thought that the princess was also a bit anxious because she had a man in mind and hoped that that man had her in his heart. But it wasn’t so.
“I must care about the prince so that Teuton can act as an intermediary between the western kingdoms and Leonberg. In the meantime, everyone will believe that a stupid young princess has fallen for their prince.”
The princess’s satisfaction did not spring from a young girl’s innocent desires but rather from her realistic judgment of the situation as a cool politician.
“Looking at the situation, it is unlikely that the wrong person will become the Crown Princess of Leonberg. If it turns out like that, it won’t be a big problem for us to return as soon as their schedule is over. Is it not like that?”
The maid laughed awkwardly without being able to regain the joyful smile she had worn moments ago.
Hestia Neumann Tudor did not care about the inner workings of the maid’s heart.
She was only thinking about how to wield the sword the prince had placed in her hand. Even the mighty Duke Seymour had become a sword that Hestia could wield like an obedient dog. She was already looking forward to seeing how Teuton’s men, who believed they are the best in the world, would struggle to resist her newfound power.
“When I go back, I have to start right away…”
Hestia’s face relaxed, and she again began her continuous humming as her imagination dwelt upon such pleasantries.
‘Druldruldrul!’ The teacup on the table began trembling. The windowpane that looked down onto a well-tended garden also began shaking. Hestia’s mood became sour. The presence of something great being roused from afar filled her head with white noise. Even breathing became difficult.
Had it not been for the break in the energy wave that followed, she would have run out of breath.
“Aah,” Hestia gasped, catching her breath, and suddenly looked out the window.
She saw the brightly lit building, Leonberg’s royal palace hall, where the Crown Prince’s banquet was being held.
“What the hell?”
The presence which had pressed down on Hestia’s soul had disappeared, but her fear remained unchanged, confusing her mind. She chewed her lips, afraid.
‘Pwap!’ Hestia slapped her own cheek, forcing herself to regain her breath.
“Ah? Princess?”
“I think something has happened outside. Go find out-”
‘Bang!’
Just as Hestia began ordering her maid to go and find out the circumstances, Duke Seymour barged into the room.
“My princess! Leonberg’s royal palace is under attack!”
Hestia frowned.
“A raid? Who the hell?”
“Now is not the time to think about that. You have to find a safe place right now and hide yourself.”
Hestia asked where she would escape to, seeing as she was in a foreign country with geography unfamiliar to her, but the duke repeatedly said that she had to hide herself away.
“It would be better to get out of this castle at once.”
“My uncle is with me, a man who is called the best knight in the west. There are also a hundred Rosethorn Knights. If we flee now, and the turmoil soon subsides, then today’s event will become a disgrace for us.”
Hestia tried to persuade the duke, asking why worry when the west’s greatest knights surrounded her? But then she saw his expression and stiffened where she was.
“Uncle?”
Duncan pretended to be calm, but he couldn’t hide the anxiety that fluttered in his eyes.
No, to be precise, it was more of a fear than anxiety. Recently, he had been defeated terribly, but he was still the strongest knight in Teuton.
“Princess, your words are only true if Leonberg’s knights can deal with the situation.”
“That means-”
“Leonberg’s knights could never calm this uproar,” the duke stated and turned away from Hestia to look at the far-off banqueting hall — as if there was something terrible there that sickened him to the core.
“Is this because of the strange energy that surged from there a little while ago?”
The duke nodded, his face firm.
“It was only for an instant, but I’m sure I’ve never encountered such a great energy.”
“There is no possibility that it belongs to the Crown Prince?”
“The energy I felt is completely different from that of the mana heart of the prince. It was similar-” the duke’s voice became constricted, “It was a Penta Knight or a greater power.”
Hestia’s expression hardened as well.
She was ignorant of the ways of the sword, but she had heard how great Penta Knights were.
“The only thing that can deal with a Penta Knight is a Penta Knight. There is no Penta Knight in Leonberg.”
Hestia’s heart tightened, and she tried to fight her anxiety as she looked at the duke.
“I agree that the status of the prince is an amazing thing that doesn’t fit his age. But even so, I don’t think he can deal with a Penta knight,” the duke said, guessing Hestia’s thoughts.
“Maybe the Leonberger family will come to an end here today. It’s best to hurry up and save yourself before getting caught up in this and dying for nothing.”
Hestia’s face now hardened like a stone, and the duke suddenly grabbed her hand.
‘Chin!’
Knowing that he wanted to drag her away, Hestia shook off his hand and started to walk away with long strides. She was heading in the direction of the banqueting hall.
“What are you doing?”
“Duke Seymour,” Hestia paused and looked back at the Duke, “we are going to the hall.”
She said that with an unwavering gaze, even if her face was pale with fright.
“My princess!”
“I won’t force you. However, duke, you will be fully responsible for the outcome if you abandon me.”
“I will prevent you by force.”
The duke blocked off Hestia’s front.
“If you use your strength to stop me, duke, I will hate you and regard you as my enemy for the rest of my life.”
Even though what Hestia was doing was an idiotic thing, she knew she looked serious enough that the duke could not know whether she was sincere in her threat. Hestia had to do this. Everything she was planning was only possible while her agreement with the prince was in effect. If something happened to the prince’s person, everything would be in vain.
Hestia would rather risk her own life instead of giving up. Once the fire that had faded within her had come back to life, it was out of control. She could never go back to the past again.
Hestia decided that she would rather die than become a flower trapped in the garden again.
The duke no longer dared to stop her and took the lead. Rosethorn knights followed after them, and the sound of shouting began to be faintly heard. The fishy smell of blood penetrated Hestia’s nose.
“It’s not too late, even now.”
Hearing the duke’s words, Hestia’s pace, which had slowed, picked up again. They walked like that for a while until Hestia stopped.
‘Go-oh-oh-oh!’
A courageous spirit erupted and spread all throughout the palace.
“Those are Leonberg’s Quad Knights. They- They are heading to the banquet hall.”
“Ah!” Hestia exclaimed as she heard the duke’s words. It was a wonderful experience: powerful knights running as they revealed their existence without holding anything back.
Even without seeing them, Hestia felt that there was no hesitation in the steps that they took. Even without hearing a sound, she could feel that their roar was as courageous as a lion’s.
It was a roar that went well with their spirit; Hestia couldn’t help but think.
Her heart was beating rapidly, and at the same time, she grinned widely.
The duke, who had known as the number one in the west, already had a defeatist attitude before even reaching the hall. Meanwhile, knights whose names were unknown to her were running toward the enemy without fear.
It didn’t matter what country they belonged to; all that mattered was the fundamental difference in temperament. Hestia did not know whether Duke Seymour’s nature had always been so weak or whether it had become so after his terrible defeat. All that mattered was that Teuton’s knights were far weaker than she had expected. The energy became stronger the moment that Hestia entered a wide corridor leading to the banqueting hall.
“My princess, look away.”
As Hestia frowned at the sudden smell of blood piercing into her nose, Duke Seymour blocked off her front. Hestia did not close her eyes or hide behind the duke; instead, she kept them open and looked straight ahead. There were traces of fierce battle and many corpses.
Some knights were armored in black armor, while other corpses wore the brilliant golden armor of Leonberg’s palace knights. Not one knight had not suffered a terrible death: some had hollow gaps torn into their breastplates, others had crushed helmets, and out of all the dead knights, not one had died without a sword in hand.
Hestia immediately understood how fiercely they had fought. Even while they had been seriously injured, they surely had fought their enemy until the end.
“Here is one who survived!” one of the Rosethorn knights who had gone ahead shouted.
Hestia saw a palace knight of Leonberg turn his head toward her. He was trying to get up.
Without a thought, Hestia stepped toward him.
‘Chin!’ The duke reached out his hand and stopped her. He shook his head and said, “He is already done with. There is no hope.”
Hestia looked at the duke, then turned back to the palace knight. She bowed down and covered his wound with her hands. The gushing blood quickly stained Hestia’s hands and dress.
“Well, the enemy’s power was stronger than expected… I must go and let his Majesty know…” The palace knight repeated the same words over and over again.
“The paladins are headed to the banquet hall. So don’t worry,” Hestia reassured the knight.
“Oh, the champions have come! I’m glad they are…”
Only then did the palace knight stopped struggling as he gave a great sigh of relief. Then he smiled a little and died where he lay.
“Ah…” Hestia alternately looked at the red blood on her hands, and at the palace knight’s corpse, then she arose. She looked behind her. The Rosethorn Knights were very tense, and Duke Seymour could not hide his anxiety this close to the banqueting hall.
Hestia mentally lamented as she saw this. Where was the west’s greatest knight? Where were the continent’s strongest knights? That these men were not even as brave as unknown knights from an isolated country…
‘Cheolkeok, cheolkeok, cheolkeok!’
While Hestia groaned, she heard heavy footsteps from behind her. The tense Rosethorn Knights surrounded her. Shortly afterward, knights with blood all over their bodies turned the corner and appeared in the corridor. These knights looked at the corpses of the palace knights; their gazes nailed upon them.
“Damn. Even if we knew and were prepared, it was impossible to completely prevent the damage,” one man lamented briefly and then looked at Hestia and the group. “Are you Teutons?”
“Yes, we are. And you are Leonberg’s knights?”
Unlike the palace knights in their golden armor, these knights wore armor of a slightly dull coloration, yet their chests had the clearly-engraved symbol of a lion.
“Erhim Kiringer of the Templar Knights greets the Princess of Teuton. I honor the Tudor family.”
The man who had such polite manners immediately explained the situation. He said that when the enemy invaded and headed for the palace, he was sent to protect Teuton’s envoys. From now on, Erhim said, he would guide them to a safe place.
“Teuton is not blind enough to pretend to be unaware of a situation wherein our allies are in danger,” Hestia stated firmly.
“Are you going to head to the banquet hall?”
“Yes. Duke Seymour and the Rosethorn Knights will help you overcome the difficulties there.”
“Then we will take the lead,” said Erhim. To Hestia, who knew how to sway the hearts of men, his answer was refreshing to the point of being novel.
“You don’t disagree?” Hestia asked, curious.
“As you know, the kingdom’s champions went to the banqueting hall. If I have to choose the safest place in the palace right now, it will definitely be there.”
It was then that the silent Duke Seymour spoke up.
“Is it Sir Erhim? You don’t seem to know how powerful your enemies are. I bet the place you say is the safest is probably the most dangerous.”
Erhim Kiringer’s face remained expressionless as he watched the duke speak in a firm tone and with a stiff face.
“What would you have me do? Would you like to head to the banqueting hall? Would you like to turn around right now? Either way, we knights will serve you.”
His gaze was precisely directed at Hestia.
“I will go to the banquet hall.”
“Then I will serve you. Dunham, you’ll wait here for the palace knights. Follow them when the palace guards also arrive.”
Erhim looked sadly at the palace knights’ bodies for a moment, then stood facing Teuton’s knights.
“Follow me,” Erhim said and strode onward. Hestia immediately followed.
On the way there, they encountered the traces of battle several times, but there was no encounter with a living enemy. There were only fragments of black armor that had been crushed terribly — the traces of a too one-sided battle.
“It looks like one of the champions has passed this way,” Erhim Kiringer muttered and sped up.
After a while, they reached a corridor from which the banqueting hall was visible.
‘Chuck!’
Hestia and the Teutonic Knights, who had been walking along with the Templars, paused at once.
There was an old swordsman with stark white hair in front of them. With a sword that shone like the sun in his hands, his foot rested on the corpse of a black-armored knight. And across from him stood a black knight, his armor seeming to be covered in the pitch-black darkness of midnight.
He stood still like a ghost, and Hestia knew right away: this black knight was the entity that had made the best knight of the west lose his composure by only releasing energy, without them having faced each other.
Just then, the energy of the black knight began to rise slowly. Leonberg’s knights raised their energy without losing a beat. The situation immediately became even tenser.
“A knight who prides himself on being the corrupter of dreams.”
Someone’s words broke into the middle of that tension.
“I’m not sure, but you expected you would have entered another person’s dream tonight to give him a nightmare?”
The man who spoke was the prince of Leonberg.
“But there is no one in this world who does not dream,” the crown prince said with a wide smile as he looked at the black knight. “It won’t be surprising that after you wake up, you will realize that tonight’s nightmare was no one else’s but yours.”
The prince spoke in a light tone, almost as if he was having fun. Then he said one more thing: that his sword was named the Twilight of Dawn, so it was the perfect instrument to wake someone up.
‘Ssheeng!’ Prince Adrian drew his sword and raised it up high — then slashed down.