The Kingdom’s Greatest Fool? No, I’m the Ruler From the Darkness ~The Hidden Face of the Fat Prince~ - Chapter 42: The Bond of Ice and Flame ☆

Chapter 42: The Bond of Ice and Flame ☆

(Leia POV)

Parting with Alexander, I walk on alone.

His words linger in my ears.

“Tomorrow morning, meet at my estate. We’ll calm down and plan her rescue.”

Calm down—those words echo repeatedly in my mind.

They feel like the furthest thing from my nature.

The Braveheart family has been called the “hot-blooded” lineage for generations.

My grandfather and father were warriors who drew their swords without hesitation in a crisis.

And I, too, carry that blood.

“Tomorrow… I can’t wait that long.”

Muttering to myself, I return to my room at the inn.

The night view of the capital from the window is beautiful, but my heart is in turmoil.

Eleanor’s tear-streaked face flashes in my mind over and over.

For her, the “Ice Flower,” to show tears in public.

That alone tells me something terrible is happening.

What was Prince Victor doing to her in that carriage?

My hand naturally reaches for the sword sheath leaning in the corner of the room.

The moment I touch it, vivid memories from childhood flood back.

*

The three of us—Eleanor, Alexander, and I.

We were childhood friends who knew each other from a young age.

As the eldest daughter of the Braveheart Border Count family, the eldest daughter of the Frostheart Earl family, and the eldest son of the Granblue Duchy, we met every summer at the noble villas near the capital, open only during that season.

Our first meeting was when I was six.

That day, I found a girl my age standing alone by the lakeside.

Her silvery-blonde hair swayed in the breeze, her ice-clear blue eyes gazing at the water.

She was like a beautiful figure stepped out of a painting.

“Hello.”

I called out, and she slowly turned to me.

“Hello. Who are you?”

“Leia Braveheart.”

“I’m Eleanor Frostheart.”

Her voice was cool and clear, yet somehow, I felt an instant connection.

That was our first encounter.

She was quiet, rarely showing emotion, but she had a wealth of knowledge about the lake’s creatures.

I listened, captivated, as she spoke softly.

The next day, we met Alexander.

Two years older than us, with black hair and blue eyes, he was already, at eight, a polite and gentle boy.

“Are you two fishing too?”

He smiled kindly, showing us the fish he’d caught.

When Eleanor said, “What a beautiful fish,” he blushed slightly.

In that moment, I vaguely sensed a special bond forming between them.

From that summer on, the three of us reunited each year, spending time together.

We climbed trees, fished, explored castles, and built secret hideouts.

Amid grand balls and strict etiquette, we had our own special time, just the three of us.

But as we passed ten years old, Eleanor’s demeanor began to change.

Her innocent smiles became rare, her posture always straight, her words more formal.

One day, seeing her sigh, I asked.

“What’s wrong, Eleanor? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“My mother says, ‘A Frostheart lady must always be perfect.’”

A faint sadness lingered in her blue eyes.

“With my social debut approaching, I can’t play childish games anymore.”

Even as she spoke, her gaze followed the fish in the lake.

I knew it.

The child in her heart was still alive.

“That doesn’t matter.”

I took her hand.

“When you’re here, you can just be Eleanor. I give you permission.”

At those words, she smiled for the first time in a while.

A warm flame within her icy coolness—that was her true self, I knew.

As we grew, we each followed our own paths.

Influenced by my father, I immersed myself in swordsmanship; Alexander excelled in politics and diplomacy; Eleanor shone as the star of high society.

Yet every summer, we gathered, reaffirming our unchanging friendship.

At twelve, during one summer, I was consumed with training for a swordsmanship tournament.

As a border count’s daughter, I wanted to be recognized not just for my status but for my skill.

During a break, tying back my sweat-soaked red hair, Eleanor appeared quietly.

“Leia, your swordsmanship has improved.”

Her words carried pure praise.

Coming from the renowned “Ice Flower,” they were my greatest encouragement.

“Are you coming to watch?”

“Of course.”

She smiled.

“Alexander’s looking forward to it too.”

Her words caused a slight pang in my heart.

At some point, I’d developed special feelings for Alexander.

But I also saw the growing bond between him and Eleanor.

On the tournament day, competing against adult knights, I advanced to the semifinals.

But my opponent was a seasoned knight, a favorite to win.

Outmatched by experience, I was on the verge of defeat, kneeling.

“Leia! Don’t give up!”

Eleanor’s voice rang from the stands.

I looked back to see her standing, hands cupped around her mouth, shouting.

The “Ice Flower,” forgetting social decorum to cheer for me.

Her voice gave me courage.

I didn’t achieve a miraculous comeback, but I earned an honorable defeat.

After the match, Eleanor ran to me and took my hand.

“That was amazing, Leia.”

“But I lost.”

“Lost? You fought beautifully to the end. That’s what matters.”

Her words held not just comfort but the weight of truth.

In that moment, I glimpsed the pressure and loneliness she always carried.

Eleanor was constantly expected to be perfect.

As the Frostheart heir, the “Ice Flower,” she had no freedom to fail or show weakness.

No matter how hard it was, she had to smile and stand tall.

That night, the three of us sat in a garden, gazing at the stars.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m in a cage.”

Eleanor confessed quietly.

Her profile, lit by moonlight, was beautiful yet lonely.

“Everyone expects me to be the ‘Ice Flower.’ But sometimes, I don’t know if that’s really me.”

Alexander took her hand, smiling gently.

“Eleanor, you’re enough as you are. Before you’re the ‘Ice Flower,’ you’re Eleanor Frostheart.”

“Exactly. To me, you’ll always be the girl from that lakeside summer.”

“Thank you… both of you.”

She looked at us.

“Being with you lets me be myself. That’s more precious than you know.”

Our bond deepened with each passing year.

But Alexander and Eleanor’s relationship grew beyond childhood friendship.

My feelings for him were gradually buried beneath my desire for their happiness.

Yet our bond was truly tested in【17歳の冬】.

That day, walking through the capital’s commercial district, I had a place I wanted to visit.

A small restaurant called “The Blue Rose.”

I’d stumbled upon this hidden gem about six months ago.

Thinking back, finding that place felt like fate.

That day, driven by a whim, I took a shortcut through an alley.

A nostalgic aroma from my borderlands hometown stopped me in my tracks.

Drawn in, I entered the shop with a small sign.

“Welcome!”

Carmilla greeted me with a radiant smile.

Her golden curls neatly tied, wearing a simple white apron dress, she shone like a light in the shop.

“Lady Leia of the Braveheart family!?”

Surprised but warm, she welcomed me.

Later, I learned her mother, Elissa, hailed from Braveheart territory, which explained why she recognized me.

“A noble in a back-alley shop like this!”

“The scent drew me in… it’s nostalgic.”

“That’s my mother’s special stew. A borderlands recipe.”

The dish she brought was the very taste of my childhood.

With one bite, memories of those days flooded back.

Meals shared during battle lulls.

Even my stern father smiling at family gatherings.

“Delicious… truly delicious.”

Tears ran down my cheeks, and Carmilla hurried over, concerned.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did something upset you?”

“No, the opposite.”

I wiped my face.

“It’s been so long since I tasted home.”

From that day, I became a regular at The Blue Rose.

Rumors of a border count’s daughter frequenting a back-alley eatery spread, but I didn’t care.

Carmilla’s cooking and her family’s warmth became my small joy in the capital.

Occasionally, I brought Eleanor and Alexander along.

Initially hesitant, they were charmed by Carmilla’s personality and the food’s flavor.

Eleanor, especially, called it “a place free from social constraints” and grew fond of it.

Carmilla’s popularity was remarkable.

Despite its back-alley location, the shop was always packed.

The abundance of male customers was obvious.

“Carmilla, the special stew today, please.”

A young merchant, Yost, I think.

He visited multiple times a week, always finding excuses to talk to her.

Between business deals, his eyes followed her, showing jealousy when she spoke to other men.

“Professor Milton, reading again today?”

A Royal Academy professor, an older noble, was another regular.

Always with a thick book, he claimed a corner spot.

But his gaze rarely left Carmilla.

He often gifted her books, “for a young lady’s education,” though it was clearly a pretext.

“Carmilla, please accept these flowers.”

Philip, a young knight, blushing, offered a small bouquet.

Timid but dedicated, he’d cut sword practice short to rush to the shop.

Once, his friend teased his crush, but he shyly vowed to confess his feelings someday.

Carmilla accepted their affections kindly but showed no favoritism.

Her charm lay not just in her beauty but in her impartial heart.

“Everyone’s the same customer here.”

Her words struck me as so like her.

That fairness was refreshing for Eleanor and me.

Especially for Eleanor, burdened by the “Ice Flower” role, the shop was a place to relax.

“It’s where I can be myself,” Eleanor murmured once.

Carmilla smiled brightly. “That’s this shop’s greatest honor,” she said.

Once, a famed jeweler visited, offering Carmilla a ruby necklace.

“It matches your hair,” he said.

“A beautiful gem for a beautiful girl.”

Carmilla politely declined.

“It wouldn’t suit me. Your orders and frequent visits are gift enough. Come back anytime.”

Her resolve surprised the jeweler.

But her integrity only deepened his admiration.

Even Alexander, used to beauties as a duke’s son, seemed nervous around her.

Her smile left him tongue-tied, which I found amusing.

“She’s like a star,” he once said.

“Shining equally for everyone.”

His words were spot-on.

Carmilla was the bright star illuminating this back-alley shop.

One day, I saw her arguing with a stranger outside.

Her face was tense, frightened.

As I approached, the man fled, but Carmilla was pale.

“Are you okay? Who was that?”

“A messenger from Baron Underwood…”

Her voice trembled.

“He ordered me to serve at a party at his mansion…”

Baron Underwood—the name sent a chill down my spine.

A notorious noble, rumored to “invite” beautiful girls who vanished.

No proof, so no prosecution, but it was an open secret.

“Did you refuse?”

“Yes… but he’s a noble…”

Fear clouded her eyes.

“It might be hard to keep refusing.”

“I’ll handle it.”

At my words, Carmilla shook her head in surprise.

“No… I can’t drag you into this, Lady Leia…”

“Carmilla, your shop is precious to me. You’re a dear friend.”

Her eyes welled with tears at my words.

A friendship transcending status existed between us.

For a while after, no more messengers came from the baron.

Perhaps my use of the Braveheart name made him back off temporarily.

Carmilla’s shop remained lively, and the three of us—Eleanor, Alexander, and I—occasionally visited, escaping the chaos of daily life.

But the peace didn’t last long.

I was heading to Carmilla’s shop to meet Eleanor as promised.

“Lady Leia! Lady Leia!”

A middle-aged man—Greck, Carmilla’s father—came running from the shop, out of breath.

His usually cheerful, kind face was now twisted with fear and despair.

“Greck? What’s wrong, why the rush?”

He fell to his knees before me, his voice trembling as he pleaded.

“Carmilla… Carmilla’s been taken!”

“What?”

Tension shot through my body.

“By whom?”

“Baron Underwood’s men…”

Greck explained through tears.

“This afternoon, a black carriage stopped outside the shop, and several men…”

“I ran to the guards, but they dismissed it because he’s a noble…”

His voice was thick with despair.

Rage boiled within me.

Carmilla wasn’t just a server to us.

To Eleanor, Alexander, and me, she was a rare friend who treated us without regard for status, in one of the few places we could relax.

“Where was she taken?”

“Rumor has it… to the baron’s detached palace in the southern outskirts…”

I grabbed my sword and began donning light combat gear.

Greck stared at me, shocked.

“Lady Leia, no… it’s dangerous! They say the baron hires mercenaries…”

“It’s fine, Greck.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll bring Carmilla back.”

“But… a Braveheart lady going alone…”

“That’s exactly why.”

I smiled.

“I’ll show them the swordsmanship of the Braveheart family.”

I should have informed Alexander or Eleanor.

But I couldn’t involve them.

Eleanor had her social standing, and Alexander, as the duke’s heir, faced many constraints.

“I’ll be fine. This sword will protect me.”

Mounting my fastest black horse, Shadow, I rode to the southern outskirts.

Under cover of night, I approached the baron’s palace.

The lavish mansion was surrounded by high walls, but for someone raised in the borderlands, such obstacles were nothing.

Scaling the wall, I infiltrated the garden.

The palace was larger than I’d imagined, and I had no clue where Carmilla was held.

Observing the guards’ positions, I moved closer to the building.

Eventually, I found an entrance to the basement.

A woman’s cries echoed from within. Without hesitation, I headed for it, finding two guards at the door.

Silently, I slipped behind them and knocked them out with my sword’s hilt.

Entering the basement, I moved through a dim stone corridor lit only by torches.

The cries grew louder, my heartbeat quickening.

When I reached the source, I froze for a moment.

What lay before me was a scene from hell.

In a vast stone hall, iron cages lined the walls, each holding young, beautiful women, naked.

Their expressions were hollow, hair disheveled, bodies marked with bruises and scars.

Armed mercenaries filled the room, touching, toying with, and forcibly violating the women.

The women’s screams and sobs mixed with the men’s vulgar laughter.

My heart nearly broke at the sight, then my eyes fell on a luxurious bed at the back.

There was Carmilla.

Her hands and feet bound to posts, spread-eagled, her face wet with tears, her golden hair in disarray.

Her naked body glistened wetly.

Above her loomed a fat, middle-aged man—unmistakably Baron Underwood.

Even in this moment, he didn’t stop, thrusting violently into Carmilla.

His erect member forced open her slit, thrusting repeatedly.

“What…”

Slosh, squelch, slosh, squelch, slosh.

The obscene sounds echoed as I stood stunned.

“Don’t look… ngh… no… no… ahh ahh ahh ahh!”

Carmilla’s weak voice reached me.

She noticed me, turning her face away in shame and sorrow.

A moment of silence.

Then, something exploded within me.

“You bastards—!!”

With a scream, I drew my sword.

The sound made every man in the room turn.

My sudden intrusion caused a moment of confusion.

“What? A lone woman?”

“Idiot, how’d she get in?”

“No matter! Grab her!”

Over a dozen mercenaries drew their swords and charged.

But no one could stop me, fueled by this rage.

In an instant, I slit the first man’s throat and pierced the second’s chest.

Blood splattered, staining the floor red.

My speed was too much; they couldn’t even react.

“I’ll kill every last one of you!”

Guided by fury, my sword cut down enemies as if it had a will of its own.

But their numbers were overwhelming.

More mercenaries emerged from the back, blocking my escape.

“A border count’s daughter, huh?”

The baron mocked.

“What can you do alone?”

Looking around, nearly thirty armed mercenaries surrounded me, radiating killing intent.

“Lady Leia, escape!”

Carmilla cried out.

“Not you too… because of me… you don’t need to be defiled by these scum… run!!”

“No way I’m escaping.”

I smiled.

“You’re a dear friend. And I’m not losing to these scum! I’m saving you now!”

“Good! Grab her!! Look at those bouncing breasts!! Let’s enjoy the show!”

The baron ordered.

“What a lewd body! She’ll fetch a high price too!”

The mercenaries charged as one.

Sword and shield ready, I lowered my stance.

“Come on.”

Hot blood coursed through me.

Unleashing Braveheart family sword techniques, I cut down enemies one after another.

My strikes were perfect, each blow infused with soul.

I slashed through armed men relentlessly.

Those not fatally wounded recovered with potions, rejoining the fight.

Gradually, my sword dulled with their blood and fat.

The sheer numbers were insurmountable, and I was slowly cornered.

Wounds multiplied on my back, arms, and legs, then a deep cut struck my sword arm.

Blood dripped, pooling on the floor.

Pain shot through me with every move, but I couldn’t give up.

“Ngh…”

Kneeling, I used my bloodied sword as a crutch to stand.

Outnumbered, was this the end…?

Then, the door exploded open with a freezing gust, and silvery light filled the room.

“Leia! Get back!”

I turned to see an unbelievable sight.

Eleanor stood there.

Still clad in her lavish ball gown.

“Eleanor!? Why are you here?”

“No time to explain.”

Her voice was cold and sharp as ice.

The mercenaries charged at her.

Dozens of swords and axes bore down on a delicate noble lady, a nightmarish scene.

“Eleanor! Run!”

Ignoring my cry, she spread her arms.

In the next moment, a freezing wind swept through the room.

“In the name of the Queen of Winter—”

With her whisper, the room’s temperature plummeted, and ice crystals crawled up from the floor.

The mercenaries’ feet froze, immobilizing them.

“Damn it! Magic!?”

The mercenaries’ terrified cries were in vain as a vortex of ice filled the room.

Around Eleanor, pale blue particles of light danced, her silvery-blonde hair swaying as if caught in a windless breeze.

Ice magic itself wasn’t rare.

Many nobles possessed some magical aptitude, and the Frostheart family was renowned for their mastery of ice magic across generations.

But this power was extraordinary.

“Absolute Zero.”

With those brief words, the mercenaries froze completely.

Their faces, twisted in terror, became ice statues.

“Eleanor, are you trying to freeze me too!?”

The ice crept toward my feet.

Then it stopped, and silence returned to the room.

Eleanor lowered her arms and turned to me.

Her face was pale, lips tinged blue, hands trembling slightly.

She tried to stay composed, but her eyes held fear and regret.

She had killed.

It was her first time taking lives with magic.

“Eleanor…”

I walked toward her.

Passing through the frozen soldiers, the unnatural silence chilled me to the bone.

The soldiers were no longer alive.

Completely frozen, they were like ice sculptures.

Eleanor stood motionless, staring at her hands.

“I… killed them…”

Her voice trembled.

“Using magic to… kill people…”

“Eleanor, you saved me.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder.

“And think about what they were doing. The women in those cages… Carmilla…”

“I know.”

She took a deep breath, regaining some composure.

“But I’ve used magic in combat before, never to kill.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and I was at a loss for words.

The haughty “Ice Flower” showing such vulnerability was rare.

The women freed from the cages approached Eleanor cautiously.

“Leia, Eleanor… th-thank you… truly…”

Carmilla took her hand, tearfully expressing gratitude, and Eleanor finally gave a gentle smile.

“No need for thanks. If you’re Leia’s friend, you’re my friend too. Now, put some clothes on. We won’t tell anyone about this… you can all live as before. You were just captured and nearly sold as slaves. Understood?”

“Exactly. Nothing happened. It’s hard, but forget these scum and move on.”

I said to them, then looked at Eleanor.

“But how are you here, Eleanor?”

I asked.

“You, of all people, being here…”

“Greck came to the shop and said you’d gone here alone.”

She answered.

“He sought help from me and Alexander, and I came ahead.”

“Where’s Alexander?”

“He’s likely gathering the Royal Knights. But knowing you, I figured you’d charge in before they arrived… so I hurried alone.”

She gave a small laugh.

“You’re always so reckless.”

I smiled back.

“So are you. The belle of high society, coming to a place like this alone?”

Eleanor’s expression darkened.

She glanced at the frozen soldiers.

“This… some people will find out.”

“Are you worried?”

“My father… what will he say?”

She shrugged.

“Killing with Frostheart magic could cause quite a stir.”

“But you saved me. And those women in the cages.”

“Still… this will ripple through high society.”

She gave a wry smile.

“But I’m more worried about your wounds.”

She touched my injured arm, frowning.

“A healing potion can help for now, but you need proper treatment.”

The potion she brought eased my pain slightly.

Soon after, Alexander arrived with the Royal Knights.

He rushed to us, confirming our safety, then stared in shock at the frozen mercenaries.

“Eleanor… you did this?”

She nodded quietly.

Alexander was speechless for a moment, then took her trembling hand and smiled gently.

“It’s okay. This was self-defense. You did nothing wrong.”

That night, the three of us returned to my lodging in the capital. Eleanor checked my wounds again and treated them. She sat quietly, letting out a deep sigh.

“Leia, you throw yourself into danger too much for others.”

“That’s the Braveheart way.”

I smiled.

“But today, you saved me.”

Her expression clouded.

Standing by the window, gazing at the night sky, she continued.

“I killed people. I’ve hurt others before, but never taken lives.”

“You defeated enemies. If you hadn’t, Carmilla, those women, and I would’ve suffered horribly.”

“I know… in my head.”

She turned back.

“But my heart can’t keep up. Their frozen faces are burned into my mind.”

Eleanor’s voice held a fragility I’d never heard before.

It was her true self, unseen in high society.

“That feeling makes you wonderful.”

I stood and joined her.

“If you were numb to killing, that’d be frightening.”

“Leia…”

“Next time, I’ll protect you.”

I took her hand.

“Just like you did for me.”

She looked surprised but soon smiled.

“You’re a strange one, Leia.”

She laughed softly.

“After I risked everything to save you with magic, you’re the one encouraging me.”

“That’s how it works.”

We looked at each other and laughed, the tension easing.

Joking helped free us from the terror of that moment.

That heroic tale became a memory we often recalled in conversations with Eleanor.

“I still think about it sometimes.”

When this came up, Eleanor would say nostalgically.

“Your pale face, shouting, ‘Eleanor, are you trying to freeze me too!?’”

“The ice was closing in, and I was about to become a statue!”

“Sorry.”

She laughed as she apologized.

“Controlling the power… it was tricky.”

“Now it’s a good memory.”

I laughed too.

“The moment you transformed into the Ice Queen.”

“Keep that a secret, please.”

She pressed a finger to her lips.

“Carmilla wants to forget that past too. It’s our little secret.”

“I promise.”

That night was a special time filled with laughter, tears, and a deepening bond.

“You saved me, Leia.”

Eleanor said quietly.

“Seeing you live so honestly makes me feel stronger.”

Her words still resonate in my heart.

That night’s events made my bond with Eleanor even stronger.

That’s why, seeing Eleanor cry in that carriage, my resolve hardened.

“Now it’s my turn to save you, Eleanor.”