While the kingdom's army was locked in fierce fighting against the Imperial Army at the border, Maximilian spent his days and nights outside the palace, tirelessly working to soothe the unsettled populace.

He visited villages large and small to comfort the families of soldiers at the front, doing everything he could to address their hardships. With so many men gone to the border and labor in short supply, he rolled up his own sleeves to help, never balking at getting covered in dirt.

Whenever he was not working, he stayed among the people and listened to their stories. He met even the lowliest on equal terms and took an interest in each person's circumstances. Sometimes their heartrending accounts moved him so deeply that his eyes filled with tears.

At first, some believed it was merely for show. Others sneered at his hypocrisy, asking how a highborn royal could possibly understand the lives of the lowly. A few radicals even stirred up resentment, claiming the war had come because the Royal Family had presumptuously clamored for independence.

Then something happened.

"What's so important about your damned independence? If it weren't for the Royal Family, my child's father would still be alive!"

A shrill shout rang out, followed by a stone flying through the air. Karl Ulrich swiftly stepped in front of Maximilian.

CLANG!

The stone struck his plate armor with a loud ring and tumbled to the ground. Royal Knights instantly surrounded the prince, while the royal soldiers and cavalry encircled the people gathered in the clearing.

"Who did that?" Karl Ulrich demanded in an icy voice.

No answer came. The malcontent who had dared throw a stone at the prince had already disappeared into the crowd. Only innocent people remained, trembling in terror at the sudden turn of events.

The Royal Knights swept the crowd with gazes sharper than ever, looking ready to cut down anyone who seemed the least bit suspicious.

"Stand down."

The prince intervened.

"Your Highness, please stay where you are. Should anything happen to you, we could never answer for it."

Maximilian shook his head at Karl Ulrich's words.

"Can a stone thrown by a powerless commoner harm me?"

"This time it was a stone, but there is no telling what might follow."

"Whatever it may be, it will not reach me so long as you are here."

The knight repeatedly urged caution, but the prince would not yield.

"Stand down. I did not come here to frighten the people."

"Your Highness."

"I will not repeat myself."

At that stern command, Karl Ulrich withdrew, his face rigid. The soldiers and knights surrounding the people lowered their weapons as well.

Maximilian took a firm step forward. His deep, thoughtful eyes swept over the people. Unable to meet his gaze, they hastily prostrated themselves.

"I am sorry."

Looking at them, Maximilian apologized.

"I am painfully aware that the Royal Family's failings have made your lives difficult. As a member of that family, I can only offer you my deepest regret and apologies."

"Your Highness!"

Karl Ulrich was aghast at the unexpected apology. Even finding and punishing the offender would not fully spare the Royal Family's dignity, yet the prince was apologizing instead!

Maximilian raised a hand, stopping the rigidly dutiful Royal Knight from intervening again. Then he said,

"We only wanted to make this kingdom a true kingdom. We only wished for what belonged to it to remain wholly its own. We only wished to have nothing more taken from us."

He explained that this war was being fought to protect a kingdom growing poorer by the day under imperial exploitation.

"We wished for the Royal Family and the nobles to live solely for the kingdom and its people. We only wished for the kingdom's precious wealth to be spent not on the Empire, but on the kingdom. On you."

The prince looked at the people.

"You said you lost a member of your family. The Royal Family, too, has lost someone dear."

There was no one in the kingdom who did not know that the queen had fought to the death to protect the citizens of the capital.

"I, too, know that pain."

The prince said he was terrified that his father and brother, who were even now risking their lives for the kingdom at the front, might share the queen's fate.

"Even so, the Royal Family will fight to the end."

His voice grew stronger.

"Because we do not wish to see the kingdom stripped bare again and again, left naked and starving! Because we want the king to live for the kingdom, the nobles to devote themselves to it, and its people to live as its citizens!"

The voice ringing through the clearing quieted again.

"You may resent the Royal Family. But please understand this one thing. We did not declare independence for personal gain, nor did we defy the Empire for empty honor. I ask only that you understand that."

Having spoken, the prince looked at the people. They offered no response, merely remaining flat on the ground in silence as before.

Maximilian sighed.

"It seems today is not the day. I should return."

The emotions he had spent in that brief span left his face visibly exhausted. He turned and left the people behind.

Not long after he departed, the prostrate people cautiously raised their heads. One by one, they began to speak.

"Now that I think about it, those imperial bastards really are the ones to blame."

"It was the Empire that barged into our country and caused all that trouble. They started the war, too. When you look at it that way, the Royal Family are victims as well."

"Even lowly folk like us get sick to our stomachs watching those imperial bastards swagger around whenever they pass through. How must the royals have felt? They're a king and his family, after all."

"Let's be honest. Have you all forgotten how those rotten bastards who sided with the Empire squeezed us dry to curry favor? At least the officials sent by the Royal Family don't make our lives miserable like they did."

They soon recalled how badly they had suffered under nobles whose allegiances were so muddled that one could not tell whether they belonged to the kingdom or the Empire. And they remembered who had brought those nobles to justice.

"They say those imperial bastards hung the queen's body from the walls. What sort of rotten scum treats the mother of a nation that way?"

The murmuring soon turned to anger. Only now did they remember the queen, who had rejected a chance to live and sacrificed herself for the capital's citizens.

"Hmm."

As the people cursed the Empire and expressed sympathy for the Royal Family's plight, one woman remained silent to the very end. She was the wife of a conscripted soldier who had been killed by the Imperial Army in a battle at the border.

She stood rooted to the spot, listening blankly as the others talked. Indescribably tangled emotions passed across her face: resentment and anger that remained even after losing their target, emptiness and self-reproach. And profound grief.

"Mom..."

The child who had been watching her reached out a tiny hand and tugged at her sleeve. Belatedly coming to her senses, she bent down and gathered the child into her arms. Then she quietly slipped away.

Some watched her from a distance: Karl Ulrich and the Royal Knights. The knights glanced at Karl, asking with their eyes what they should do.

"With so many people here, there's simply no telling who threw the stone."

His delivery was somewhat awkward, but no one remarked on it.

Maximilian continued visiting villages large and small throughout the kingdom, comforting its war-weary people. No one called him a hypocrite anymore. His conduct was far too consistent for that.

By then, even the resentment toward the Royal Family that had lingered despite the queen's sacrifice had all but vanished. The rumors that spread as several unfortunate incidents arose and were resolved had seen to that.

Of course, a few words could not erase the loss and resentment of those who had lost their families and livelihoods. But those few words could at least help them realize where their anger and resentment truly belonged.

As the once-fractured public sentiment drew together, praise for the Second Prince began to fill the kingdom. The people lauded his kind, merciful nature and his good deeds. They also voiced concern that his punishing schedule might damage his health.

In truth, Maximilian was utterly exhausted from traveling ceaselessly across the kingdom. His body was as thin as a fasting monk's, his cheeks and eyes as sunken as an ascetic's.

Yet even then, he never lost his smile. And his eyes were so gentle, so kind, that even his weary, wasted appearance seemed solemn and noble. Some began calling him a saint.

But Maximilian paid no attention whatsoever to what people called him. He devoted himself solely to traveling far and wide, restoring calm behind the lines and tending to the people's livelihoods, heedless of how the bitter winds and punishing schedule were wearing down his body.

"Your Highness, please return to the palace now."

Unable to watch any longer, Karl Ulrich earnestly pleaded with him to return. He would not listen.

"Countless soldiers and knights are fighting for the kingdom at the front. My brother and His Majesty are risking their lives against the vile Imperial Army without a thought for themselves. Compared to that, what I do is nothing."

He merely blamed himself because this was all he could do. Karl Ulrich could only sigh in sympathy. He knew all too well where the prince's self-reproach came from.

Disgust with himself for escaping the capital and leaving the queen behind. Doubts about his own worth as he remained in the rear while his brother and father fought at the front.

Karl understood the prince's feelings completely. He, too, had been forced to leave the capital without the queen, and to remain in the rear while the man he served fought for his life at the front. He was not free of guilt either.

That only made his heart ache more, and made it impossible to leave the Second Prince alone. The members of the Royal House of Leonberk never seemed to take care of themselves.

Karl Ulrich began making discreet adjustments to their schedule. He shortened the distance they traveled at a stretch and increased their rest stops. When the prince questioned him, he blamed the soldiers' fatigue.

When necessary, he even deliberately damaged the wheels of carts carrying relief supplies to delay their journey. Even so, the prince's schedule remained grueling. Crossing the wilderness in winter, with bitter winds cutting into their flesh, was no easy task.

Had the war not ended so abruptly, the Second Prince would almost certainly have collapsed along the way.

"All imperial forces have withdrawn from the border!"

Indeed, by the time news of the war's end arrived from the border, the Second Prince was nearly at his limit.

"The Empire has signed a humiliating peace treaty and agreed to pay enormous war reparations! They have also ceded more than a dozen fortresses and strongholds near the border to the kingdom and relinquished all claims to the surrounding territory!"

The messenger cried out, his voice charged with excitement.

"The kingdom has won the war against the Empire!"

The Second Prince staggered.

"Your Highness!"

The Royal Knights hurried forward to support him. Once they had helped him stand upright, he questioned the messenger.

"Are His Majesty and my brother safe?"

"Both are unharmed!"

"Ah..."

Only then did the Second Prince sigh with relief.

"His Majesty is currently returning with the fleet, and His Highness the Crown Prince has said he will return to the palace as soon as affairs at the front are settled!"

The Second Prince let out another long breath.

"I commend you for riding day and night to bring us this news. Well done."

"I was so happy that I never even noticed the journey's hardships."

The messenger smiled as he answered, then rose, saying he still had many places to carry the news.

"The kingdom has won!"

"I knew His Highness the Crown Prince could do it!"

Belatedly, the knights and soldiers burst into cheers. Their faces were brighter than ever. Karl Ulrich, too, beamed as he celebrated the kingdom's victory.

But he soon remembered his duty and addressed the Second Prince.

"Let us return to the palace now."

This time, the Second Prince did not refuse.

"Someone must be there to welcome my brother home."

Their return was decided on the spot.

"Begin preparations for my brother's triumphal celebration as soon as we return."

For the first time in a long while, the Second Prince's face was bright as he gave the order.

The palace gates, which had long remained firmly shut, opened again. The Second Prince summoned his brothers and sisters back to the capital from their refuge in Ballorhard. Nor did he neglect preparations for the Crown Prince's imminent triumphal celebration.

He intended to make it as magnificent as possible, befitting the chief architect of the kingdom's great victory. The capital's citizens eagerly helped with the preparations.

They scoured the hills and fields for flower petals to use in the celebration and gladly donated barrels of liquor they had set aside to mature. It was a meaningful occasion, prepared by the Royal Family and the citizens with a single shared purpose. Its scale and splendor, too, were unprecedented in the kingdom's history.

All that remained was for the celebration's guest of honor, the kingdom's war hero, to return.

"His Highness the Crown Prince is now a day's journey from the capital!"

And at last he returned: the great hero who had annihilated countless imperial legions and finally forced the Empire to sign a humiliating peace treaty, together with his army.

Proudly flying the banner of the crouching golden lion, the Crown Prince stood before the capital's gates.

"Brother!"

The Second Prince greeted his brother in a tearful voice.

"... I'm so glad you've come home safe. So glad."

He seemed to have forgotten every word of welcome he had prepared.

The Crown Prince gazed at his younger brother with a gentle smile, then spoke.

"...ther home."

His voice was so quiet that the beginning was inaudible.

When the Second Prince asked what he had said, he silently pointed behind him instead of answering. There stood a bier draped in a golden lion banner.

The citizens and soldiers who had been about to cheer the Crown Prince's return fell silent as one. They knew all too well who lay on that bier beneath the royal banner. Only one member of the royal house had died in this war: the queen, who had chosen death for the sake of the capital's citizens.

The triumphal celebration they had worked so hard to prepare suddenly seemed out of place. Then the Crown Prince addressed the people gathered on the walls and in the clearing.

"The victory we dedicate to them is remembrance and mourning enough."

His voice was low, but loud enough for the capital's citizens to hear.

For a moment, silence hung over the walls and gates. But it was soon broken.

"For Queen Margarita."

A knight drew his sword and raised it at an angle as he spoke. That was the beginning.

In one crisp movement, the capital's soldiers and knights raised their spears and swords in salute.

"For our brave and merciful queen."

A moment later, understanding dawned on the citizens, and they cried out.

"For our queen, wiser and more devoted than anyone!"

"Glory to Queen Margarita!"

Soon, cheers erupted with enough force to shake the walls. Watching them, the Crown Prince began to walk again, his lips moving faintly.

"All glory to..."