Translator: Cinder Translations
...
On November 6, 1991, in the Holy Calendar, the entire imperial capital of Gabella was adorned with lights and decorations. The road leading from the eastern city gate to the central square was particularly extravagant, with colorful flags waving and entertainers performing music and songs. The streets were crowded with residents, buzzing with chatter, and everyone kept glancing eastward toward the city gate. Not only inside the city walls, but even outside, the road was lined with long queues of people.
Today, everyone gathered on the streets to welcome the soldiers returning from the expedition. In the empire, military achievements are highly valued, and the people never shy away from showing their enthusiasm for the victorious army.
To maintain order, the city guards set up posts at intervals on both sides of the street to prevent the crowd from flooding into the center of the road.
Around eleven in the morning, someone shouted, "They're here! They're here!" The voice quickly spread from outside the eastern city gate into the streets within the city and then all the way to the central square.
A large viewing platform had already been set up on the west side of the square. Emperor Bartley Griffin of Gabella, accompanied by members of the royal family and court ministers, sat atop the platform. Among them were his brother, Prince Felton Griffin, his eldest son, Crown Prince Oliver Griffin, and his third son, Prince Dickey Griffin, who was also born to the Empress. However, the Empress herself was not by the Emperor's side. The ministers, led by Prime Minister Duke D'Arshi and Royal Advisor David Aldridge, sat on either side of the royal family.
The area around the viewing platform was heavily guarded, and commoners were forbidden from approaching. Only the capital's noble families were allowed to occupy spots near the platform. Thanks to the connections of his mentor Mond, Kevin was seated near the platform, benefiting from the prestige of the Scholar's Tower.
As the cheers from the east grew louder, Emperor Bartley stroked his beard and laughed heartily, eager to see his long-absent second son.
After about ten minutes, the sound of horns grew closer, and the cheers of the crowd intensified, crashing against the viewing platform like waves.
Everyone, both on and off the platform, focused their attention on the eastern street. Finally, a group of horsemen appeared in view.
Kevin craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the legendary second prince. His mentor Mond was so excited he could barely sit still. However, since no one around them was standing, they refrained from being too conspicuous.
The procession gradually approached the square, and Kevin finally identified the person he was looking for—Antonio Griffin.
It was hard not to recognize him; he stood out so much—golden hair that gave off a radiant glow, an oval face, and a noble, handsome figure. His build was perfect, neither too tall nor too short. Although he was still some distance away, Kevin was convinced that his eyes must be as proud and sharp as those of an eagle—no creator would leave flaws in their finest creation.
It seemed that Antonio existed to prove the saying, "Some people are born noble." Riding a white steed at the front of the procession, with the rest of the group following in two lines behind him, he exuded a distinct leadership aura.
The residents of the imperial capital were deeply impressed by the second prince of the Gabella Empire. Although he had appeared in public many times before, it was usually as part of the Emperor's entourage during major events, surrounded by royal guards. Commoners could only vaguely perceive that he was a good-looking young man. Those from the upper class who had met the prince spread rumors of his extraordinary looks and demeanor, but in an era without photography, ordinary people could only imagine what he might look like.
When high-ranking nobles ventured into areas populated by commoners, they often disguised themselves, and Antonio was no exception. As a result, most of the capital's residents did not know his true appearance.
But today, the prince walked openly along the entire street after entering through the eastern gate, allowing the commoners to finally get a good look at this legendary "son of the witch."
Because of his stunning appearance, the title "son of the witch" no longer evoked fear as it once did; instead, it added an air of mystery to the prince, making people want to know more about him.
Of course, the main reason for this change was Antonio's great military achievements. History is always kind to those who excel on the battlefield and achieve victory. Even if someone is cruel or has committed disgraceful acts, people tend to overlook the negative aspects when evaluating them.
Antonio dismounted in front of the viewing platform and, under the gaze of the crowd, slowly ascended the steps. Kneeling on one knee before Emperor Bartley, he spoke: "Father, I have returned."
The ministers beside the Emperor and the nobles below the platform all rose to their feet. Scholar Aldridge looked pleased, Prince Felton smiled slightly, and Prime Minister Duke D'Arshi stroked his beard, lost in thought. Crown Prince Oliver also smiled, though his expression was somewhat stiff. Third Prince Dickey, on the other hand, looked at his half-brother with admiration, showing no negative feelings toward him.
Seated at the center of the platform, the Emperor seemed dazed for a moment, then slowly stood up, placing his slightly trembling hand on Antonio's shoulder. In a slightly choked voice, he said, "My child, with your achievements today, your mother would be proud."
Antonio's shoulders shook as a surge of inexplicable emotion welled up within him. He responded to the Emperor, "Thank you, Father."
"Rise, my child." Bartley helped Antonio to his feet, and the Emperor's authority quickly replaced the affectionate fatherly image. In a deep voice, he asked, "How is Duke McDonald? Did he give you any last instructions before you left?"
"The Duke is doing well. After concluding negotiations with the Nestans, he will lead the remaining troops back. The old Duke said that this battle will secure the eastern border for at least ten years."
"Haha, good!" Although he tried to maintain his authority, the Emperor was overjoyed. Who would dare speak ill of the 'son of the witch' now?
He walked past Antonio to the edge of the platform and loudly addressed the crowd in the square: "Citizens of the Empire! We have finally crushed the Nestan forces completely, and this victory will keep them in check for at least ten years!"
The crowd responded with thunderous cheers, shouting long live the Emperor.
The Emperor continued, "The reason we achieved this victory is entirely due to the cooperation and unity of the brilliant leaders in our imperial army. The empire has never been stingy with its rewards for those who have made great contributions!"
His gaze turned to the group below. The generals who had returned with Antonio stood solemnly at the base of the platform, most of them young.
The Emperor sighed inwardly, "These are the pillars of the empire's future!"
"Gentlemen, please step forward. Today, you are the true heroes."
At the Emperor's call, the generals saluted from a distance and ascended the steps. Some of the younger ones seemed quite nervous.
The first to meet Bartley was a red-haired young general.
"Ah, the son of the Ephesus family!" Bartley had known Siegfried for a long time as a friend of Antonio. Shaking the young man's hand, he said, "I saw in Duke McDonald's report that you performed admirably this time as well."
Siegfried humbly replied, "All thanks to the prince's brilliant strategy and the Duke's excellent command."
"Haha!" Bartley happily patted him on the shoulder, saying, "I hope you will continue to support Antonio in the future."
Siegfried nodded, "I will not disappoint your expectations, Your Majesty."
"Good!" Bartley gave him a satisfied pat and turned to the next general.
...
As the welcoming ceremony for the expeditionary force continued, the atmosphere in the square grew more and more festive. People began to sing, dance, drink, and celebrate. The bards, while performing, were already composing new poems to commemorate this victory.
As for the subject of their poems, naturally, it would be the prince, as radiant as the sun.
(End of the Chapter)
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