Argantir Gardarik Hervor.
The people say he’s the lucky one who managed to secure the throne by sheer fortune.
That short phrase perfectly encapsulates Argantir’s standing and reputation.
Argantir is the second son of the Hervor royal family. Originally, there was no way he could become the crown prince, pushing aside the firstborn.
Had the first prince Heid not awakened the warrior’s seal, there would have been no chance of Argantir taking the throne instead of him.
However, Prince Heid suddenly awakened the warrior’s seal one day, and not long after, he was stripped of his succession rights.
This was due to the customary law that forbids warriors from ascending to the throne.
The job of the king is to sit on the throne and govern the country, while the warrior’s job is to head to the battlefield and fight against foes.
It’s no small task to juggle those two very different roles, so the throne had to be passed on to someone else for the warrior to focus solely on their duties, right?
In today’s world, where the meaning of “warrior” has significantly lessened, it seems a bit unnecessary, but it was absolutely vital in the past.
Back then, warriors were often killed while breaking through deep dungeons.
It’s fine for warriors to die. Sure, in the short run, there would be a considerable loss of national power, but eventually, a new warrior would emerge.
But what if that warrior were the king of the country?
Then things get a bit different. If a young king entered a dungeon and poof—died, who would take care of the country’s affairs?
In a situation where chaos arose from the power vacuum left by a warrior, the very leader responsible for managing that chaos would be the dead warrior.
There’s no way things could run smoothly. One wrong move and the royal family or the country itself could collapse.
For this reason, the four human kingdoms have strictly separated the throne from the warrior’s position by customary law.
If one party suffers a sudden death, the other party can manage the ensuing chaos.
Anyway, that’s why Argantir is called a lucky guy.
Thanks to the goddess bestowing the warrior’s seal upon his brother, he managed to snag a position that was originally beyond his wildest dreams.
◆◆
“Prince Argantir… I’ve heard of him. Though I’ve never met him in person,”
“Oh really? What have you heard?”
“Well…”
Friede tilted her head, placing her index finger on her cheek as if recalling old memories.
“Not incompetent, but not particularly capable either? He’s described as rather average, you know.”
While he probably won’t become a tyrant or a shadow ruler, it seems he won’t become a capable monarch either.
Compared to the multi-talented Heid, he would barely stand out as the second-in-command.
That’s pretty much the word-for-word reputation everyone knows.
“However, I’ve heard he has a bit of an awkward and weak personality… though I’m not sure if that’s really a flaw,”
Friede went on to share various anecdotes about Argantir.
Like the story of his childhood when he embraced orphans during a national tour and wept uncontrollably, or when as a teenager, he fell for a scammer claiming to have a great investment opportunity, losing a fortune.
Apparently, in recent years, he’s been pouring his personal wealth into supporting orphanages all over the country?
In short, he’s a kind-hearted character, unable to suspect others at all.
He was so innocent that after being scammed, he still firmly believed those people wouldn’t have done such a thing to him.
Of course, they were scammers, and boldly faced execution at the hands of royal knights for cheating the prince.
But alas, it was far too late to recover Argantir’s lost wealth.
“If he were a priest, it wouldn’t be a flaw. But he isn’t; he’s the heir to a kingdom that must someday take responsibility,”
“Is that so…?”
His endlessly pure and kind-hearted nature.
If he were a priest, he’d be seen as a paragon of virtue, but the problem is that he isn’t a priest; he’s the crown prince.
The one who sits on the throne will often need to make cold and merciless decisions for the national interest.
There’s no way a king who is a naive optimist can run a country properly.
That’s why Argantir’s personality and reputation are not so favorable.
He might seem likely to be a good king, but there’s a huge gap between being a good king and a competent one.
“Still, if he’s that kind of person, he might be a big help to us, right?”
“Hmm… I doubt it.”
I turned away with an awkward expression, fiddling with my hair.
Friede seemed to hold high hopes for Argantir’s reputation, but I couldn’t really share that sentiment.
If Argantir really were as virtuous as the rumors say, he might actually help us as Friede hopes…
‘But that’s impossible.’
The Argantir I know… well, the one from the novel wasn’t exactly naive.
Should I tell her or not?
It was a tough decision. Explaining what I knew might douse Friede’s inflated expectations with reality.
But then again, she has the right to know the truth since we’re in this together.
Lying to her is only limited to situations where I can’t handle the backlash from revealing the truth.
In this case, there was no need to hide the truth or spin a lie.
I still have some conscience left, you know? Even if it’s worn out like an old man’s joints.
“Hey, Friede. The thing is, Argantir is…”
In the end, after a lot of contemplation, I laid out every bit of information about Argantir without holding back.
I added that I stumbled upon this insight during a secret mission as a royal knight.
I couldn’t exactly say I read it in a novel if she asked how I found out, after all.
It was ironic that even after deciding to share the truth, I still had to mix in a little lie.
Dozens of minutes flowed by.
Explaining the truth about Argantir took around five minutes, while convincing Friede not to turn back immediately upon hearing it took over forty.
…Maybe I should have kept quiet.
I was beginning to regret spilling the truth after such a long and exhausting time.
◆◆
After that day, we made our way to Hervor via land.
Though it took a bit of a detour, it was safer. If we’d retraced our steps, we might have run into those chasing me or come across the Abyss Priest.
Of course, with the former virgin’s helmet on me, it’s likely I wouldn’t be recognized, even if we did meet…
Still, there was no need to purposefully invite danger, right?
Just like a character from some game with a 90% repair success rate—who turns out to fail six out of ten repairs—there’s no such thing as absolute reliability in any venture.
Since I couldn’t predict how the Abyss Priests would react, taking risks was just reckless self-confidence.
So, instead of retracing our steps, we took the road and simultaneously tested out the capabilities of the helmet I acquired.
The results were that the helmet’s performance perfectly met my expectations.
How good was it?
Well, I was wearing armor that revealed my décolletage and still, not a single passerby could recognize me.
In fact, there was someone worried about Friede wandering the roads all alone, remarking that it wasn’t safe—even though I was standing right beside her!
I had practically become invisible.
Until I spoke to someone or touched them, people seemed completely oblivious to my existence. That wasn’t the case in the original work.
Perhaps it was because I acquired the helmet much earlier than in the original?
I couldn’t pin down the exact reason, but it was certainly a lucky turn of events. Thanks to that, I could pass through towns along the path without any hindrance.
I had escaped the barbaric life of camping out and surviving on rations and returned to a civilized life with soft beds and delicious food waiting for me.
“Ahhhh…”
After lying on a cave floor with just a cloak, sinking into a hotel mattress made me unconsciously gasp in satisfaction.
Eisenstein forever, and long live the ancestors of Brunhilde!
Who cares about that evil magic organization engaged in human experimentation? Eisenstein is a god, a savior, a hero—like Dr. Carrier who invented air conditioning.
If you have any objections, try living a wild life away from civilization for months and come back. If you can still disagree after that, I’ll give you credit.
A roof over my head. A warm bath to ease my tiredness. Clean clothes. A fluffy bed. Steaming stew and succulent roasted pork!
The former virgin’s helmet provided me all these benefits. Or rather, it returned me to the civilization I had lost?
It was so overwhelmingly satisfying that I started to feel guilty for teasing the grandmother trapped in the amethyst.
