Noah's voice was calm and gentle, but the corners of his mouth were turned up as if he was mocking his pitiful opponent.
"You should have just left them behind. How could you have escaped with so many soldiers? It wasn't even a mass migration."
Sebastian, gaunt from imprisonment, ran a hand through his unkempt blond hair. From a practical standpoint, it was true. But he knew they had families and people waiting for them, and he couldn't let them die for his sake. His voice cracked.
"At least I can save my life. As the Crown Prince, I'm worth negotiating with as a prisoner."
Noah said, smiling affectionately as he handed him a meat bun.
"Worth it? I've asked for a peace treaty several times, but Mayer III has refused. I guess you weren't worth it to him."
Sebastian, who accepted the bread, remained silent. Would his cold-hearted father, who had always reprimanded his affectionate yet vulnerable son, and who had driven him off to battle, citing his qualifications and exemplary conduct as the heir to the imperial throne, truly spare his son?
From the Emperor's perspective, he had no value worth exchanging for peace. He bit into the bread. A lonesome hunger filled his stomach, leaving him with no more words to utter.
Noah, who had been observing Sebastian's empty expression, patted his back as if to reassure him.
"Don't worry, Sebastian. Those above probably valued you as a great hostage for the cause of peace, but you'll soon realize your place and value in Frogen. Couldn't you just lower your demands significantly and exchange a high-ranking officer for a prisoner to get back to us?"
Sebastian bit into a meat bun, stuffing it tightly in his mouth, and munched on it without swallowing. It was as if he were accepting Noah's words as established truth, yet unable to fully swallow them.
What if we refuse to exchange prisoners?
It was a word that lingered in his mouth, like the unswallowed bread. He couldn't swallow it, nor spit it out. All he could do was remain silent. Ultimately, the question he finally managed to utter was a pointless one.
“Noah. Do you consider me a friend?”
“Yeah. That bread is only for high-ranking officers to eat.”
It was Noah's monotonous reply as he turned to leave. His handsome face was expressionless. After Noah left, Sebastian became lost in his memories.
“Brother, look at this.”
He remembered Noah's gestures as a child, his little finger pointing.
A horrific scene unfolded in the corner of the garden: the corpse of the bird he and his now Crown Princess, young Penelope, had been caring for and treating, lying there. Clumps of plucked feathers lay scattered here and there, imagining the struggles it must have endured before its death. Torn to shreds and covered in blood, it was no longer a bird. This was twelve-year-old Sebastian's first encounter with death. His face frozen, he asked.
“Noah, do you know who did it?”
“That ugly cat that woman raised must have done it. Cats play with their prey and then kill it.”
It was Noah's calm answer.
Sebastian immediately knew that 'the woman' referred to the Emperor's mistress, Baroness Margarita Argentino.
Noah, who was staring at Sebastian, who was shedding tears without saying a word, said with calm eyes.
"It's the law of nature. You eat and are eaten."
"But why? That cat eats much better food than the common people. It never goes hungry."
"Because they're weaker than you. Once you fill your stomach, you start to want to fill it with something else."
It was an unbecoming response for his age. Twelve-year-old Sebastian, immersed in the grief of the government's cat killing a bird, failed to grasp the message eleven-year-old Noah was trying to convey.
At the age of thirteen, Sebastian was enjoying the usual adventures of other boys, like exploring the mountains with Noah. One autumn, when the leaves were ablaze with color, the two climbed the mountain to hide a treasure.
Where Noah followed, he found the corpses of the poor, rolling around among the nettles. They were hideous and horrific, covered in maggots and bitten by wild beasts and crows. Sebastian vomited on the spot, shocked by the sight of the human corpse, but Noah muttered nonchalantly.
“I guess he was beaten to death for stealing bread.”
The guards and attendants who had accompanied them hurriedly blocked the young Crown Prince and Noah's sight. Sebastian, supported by his attendants, slumped forward, groaning as he managed to ask.
“Why is he stealing bread? There’s a workhouse.”
"The workhouse provides rations in exchange for labor. They are too lazy to work, so they starve, Your Highness."
It was the attendant who answered. Sebastian braced himself and let out a voice of disbelief.
"You're going to kill someone so horribly just because they stole something? Instead of sending them to prison or forced labor?"
"I think the magistrates' court ruled that way because he was a poor person of no use to the country. If you're weak, you're useless, and that's why you die."
If they're weak, they die? Instead of protecting them and finding ways to live together? Rather than the idea that they must become strong to avoid becoming weak, or the judgment that they must die to survive, what took precedence was compassion and sympathy for them. After all, Sebastian's kind mother, the Empress, always said so while she was alive.
But everyone here simply dismissed the weak as inferior beings who should be excluded, and insisted on their worthlessness, suggesting death would be more beneficial. Furthermore, they tried to thoroughly correct Sebastian's "weak thinking." The more they tried, the more the absurdities surfaced, weakening him.
"Noah, why did my mother die? Strangely, someone so healthy would suddenly pass away."
Noah, who was a year younger than him but still looked mature and mature, felt like an older brother to him, tilted his head, and smiled.
“This is a secret, but my brother's father was beaten to death. The government framed him with lies.”
"You should have just left them behind. How could you have escaped with so many soldiers? It wasn't even a mass migration."
Sebastian, gaunt from imprisonment, ran a hand through his unkempt blond hair. From a practical standpoint, it was true. But he knew they had families and people waiting for them, and he couldn't let them die for his sake. His voice cracked.
"At least I can save my life. As the Crown Prince, I'm worth negotiating with as a prisoner."
Noah said, smiling affectionately as he handed him a meat bun.
"Worth it? I've asked for a peace treaty several times, but Mayer III has refused. I guess you weren't worth it to him."
Sebastian, who accepted the bread, remained silent. Would his cold-hearted father, who had always reprimanded his affectionate yet vulnerable son, and who had driven him off to battle, citing his qualifications and exemplary conduct as the heir to the imperial throne, truly spare his son?
From the Emperor's perspective, he had no value worth exchanging for peace. He bit into the bread. A lonesome hunger filled his stomach, leaving him with no more words to utter.
Noah, who had been observing Sebastian's empty expression, patted his back as if to reassure him.
"Don't worry, Sebastian. Those above probably valued you as a great hostage for the cause of peace, but you'll soon realize your place and value in Frogen. Couldn't you just lower your demands significantly and exchange a high-ranking officer for a prisoner to get back to us?"
Sebastian bit into a meat bun, stuffing it tightly in his mouth, and munched on it without swallowing. It was as if he were accepting Noah's words as established truth, yet unable to fully swallow them.
What if we refuse to exchange prisoners?
It was a word that lingered in his mouth, like the unswallowed bread. He couldn't swallow it, nor spit it out. All he could do was remain silent. Ultimately, the question he finally managed to utter was a pointless one.
“Noah. Do you consider me a friend?”
“Yeah. That bread is only for high-ranking officers to eat.”
It was Noah's monotonous reply as he turned to leave. His handsome face was expressionless. After Noah left, Sebastian became lost in his memories.
“Brother, look at this.”
He remembered Noah's gestures as a child, his little finger pointing.
A horrific scene unfolded in the corner of the garden: the corpse of the bird he and his now Crown Princess, young Penelope, had been caring for and treating, lying there. Clumps of plucked feathers lay scattered here and there, imagining the struggles it must have endured before its death. Torn to shreds and covered in blood, it was no longer a bird. This was twelve-year-old Sebastian's first encounter with death. His face frozen, he asked.
“Noah, do you know who did it?”
“That ugly cat that woman raised must have done it. Cats play with their prey and then kill it.”
It was Noah's calm answer.
Sebastian immediately knew that 'the woman' referred to the Emperor's mistress, Baroness Margarita Argentino.
Noah, who was staring at Sebastian, who was shedding tears without saying a word, said with calm eyes.
"It's the law of nature. You eat and are eaten."
"But why? That cat eats much better food than the common people. It never goes hungry."
"Because they're weaker than you. Once you fill your stomach, you start to want to fill it with something else."
It was an unbecoming response for his age. Twelve-year-old Sebastian, immersed in the grief of the government's cat killing a bird, failed to grasp the message eleven-year-old Noah was trying to convey.
At the age of thirteen, Sebastian was enjoying the usual adventures of other boys, like exploring the mountains with Noah. One autumn, when the leaves were ablaze with color, the two climbed the mountain to hide a treasure.
Where Noah followed, he found the corpses of the poor, rolling around among the nettles. They were hideous and horrific, covered in maggots and bitten by wild beasts and crows. Sebastian vomited on the spot, shocked by the sight of the human corpse, but Noah muttered nonchalantly.
“I guess he was beaten to death for stealing bread.”
The guards and attendants who had accompanied them hurriedly blocked the young Crown Prince and Noah's sight. Sebastian, supported by his attendants, slumped forward, groaning as he managed to ask.
“Why is he stealing bread? There’s a workhouse.”
"The workhouse provides rations in exchange for labor. They are too lazy to work, so they starve, Your Highness."
It was the attendant who answered. Sebastian braced himself and let out a voice of disbelief.
"You're going to kill someone so horribly just because they stole something? Instead of sending them to prison or forced labor?"
"I think the magistrates' court ruled that way because he was a poor person of no use to the country. If you're weak, you're useless, and that's why you die."
If they're weak, they die? Instead of protecting them and finding ways to live together? Rather than the idea that they must become strong to avoid becoming weak, or the judgment that they must die to survive, what took precedence was compassion and sympathy for them. After all, Sebastian's kind mother, the Empress, always said so while she was alive.
But everyone here simply dismissed the weak as inferior beings who should be excluded, and insisted on their worthlessness, suggesting death would be more beneficial. Furthermore, they tried to thoroughly correct Sebastian's "weak thinking." The more they tried, the more the absurdities surfaced, weakening him.
"Noah, why did my mother die? Strangely, someone so healthy would suddenly pass away."
Noah, who was a year younger than him but still looked mature and mature, felt like an older brother to him, tilted his head, and smiled.
“This is a secret, but my brother's father was beaten to death. The government framed him with lies.”
“What? My mother is a Princess of the Holy Empire. How can...?”
“He was beaten to death under false charges, but the empire believes he died in battle. If you're powerless and weak, you die regardless of rank. Only the method differs based on status.”
“Are you saying that no one was there to protect me?”
"Yeah. You couldn't build your own power or influence. You just lived obediently and kindly."
It means that it doesn't matter if I die.
In the eyes of young Sebastian, Noah seemed like an adult who had been subjected to an unfair providence.
Sebastian suffered from emotional trauma and shock for several days. The scene of death became a trauma, leaving him with a deep fear of the death of others and struggling to form new relationships. His ministers and the Emperor dismissed him as a source of inferiority.
“My death won’t matter to you either.”
The current Sebastian, the Crown Prince, who had been forced into a battlefield where he had to kill people to prove his worth after becoming an adult, muttered in vain.
***
It was already early December. On the Francia Linzino Line, a massive fortified area, during the retreat following the Allied defeat at the Battle of Miniata, one of the commanders of Medea's field army headquarters was captured by the Frogen forces.
Noah entered the cell where Sebastian was imprisoned and delivered the news to him along with some strong vodka.
“Medea attempted to negotiate a prisoner exchange between you and the commander.”
Sebastian accepted the bottle of vodka and gulped it down. He felt a sense of relief, but his shoulders trembled, worried about the humiliation he would face upon his return. The contempt and verbal abuse of his father, the Emperor, were already as bitter as the alcohol. Despite his military training as Crown Prince, he was also prone to compassion and empathy, effectively disqualifying him from being a monarch or commander, who should be considered cool-headed.
Noah, wearing an officer's winter coat draped over his shoulders, sat on an iron chair, legs crossed. The toes of his shin-length combat boots clicked a couple of times. With a face devoid of all emotion, he announced the Emperor's decision.
“Meyer III said he couldn’t trade ‘a mere Captain of Frogen’ for Medea’s field commander.”
The worthless are simply disposed of. Sebastian's face turned pale as he recalled the beliefs of his father, Meyer III. His blue eyes seemed to be gradually turning rusty. He didn't cry or get angry. He maintained an outwardly composed demeanor, but he couldn't hide his despair.
“That’s so fatherly.”
“So the Queen ordered your death.”
Sebastian could only smile sadly, faced with yet another emptiness.
“I see you ordered me to do it with my own hands.”
“Yeah. If you don’t follow me, you won’t believe me.”
“Yes, your wife is the only Crown Princess of the Spencer family.”
Even though he's first in line to the throne, Sebastian is useless and worthless. In a world where even heads of state are treated like that.
Sebastian's expression seemed understanding, but it was closer to acceptance and resignation than understanding. He put his handcuffed hands into his coat pocket and pulled out the will. A black-and-white photograph fluttered and fell to the floor. It showed the Crown Princess smiling, holding a baby in a lace bonnet.
Noah slowly raised his eyes, which had been lowered towards the photo.
“Is that your daughter? I’m glad she looks like Nero and not you.”
He bent down and picked up the photo, then nodded.
"You still remember her nickname. Yes, she looks a lot like my wife. Her name is Natalie."
"Yeah. I gave her that nickname. I guess she was born on Christmas, too. I see you gave her a name that means Christmas."
“If I had to be specific, it was three days later, but I guess that’s just how it is. Do you have children, too?”
"No."
"Yes, this war needs to end quickly, if only for the sake of the child we'll have someday. This is so frustrating. Noah, if you get the chance, tell my wife, Penelope, I'm sorry."
He handed over the will he'd pulled out and asked. Noah lowered his eyes, staring at what was nothing more than a handful of scraps of paper. A chance to deliver it? What other chance would there be besides killing your wife and daughter? Without answering, Noah disengaged the safety of his military pistol. Amid the silence, metal clashed with metal. Noah showed no sympathy or hesitation in shooting and killing the Crown Prince, his childhood friend. He simply said goodbye with a blank expression.
“This is the best I can do. Goodbye, Sebastian.”
Before he could hear the answer to his farewell, a heavy gunshot rang out, slicing through the momentary silence.
He pulled the trigger without hesitation, killing the Crown Prince, and then nodded lightly at the waiting medics.
“Collect the body and return it to Frogen.”
"Noah, a friend is someone who protects you. Even though you're stronger than me, I'll protect you someday."
Noah turned around, setting the safety on his pistol. He suddenly remembered the introverted and timid Crown Prince of his youth, then quickly forgot about it. His slightly dislocated lips relaxed and settled back into place.
***
As mid-December approached, the weather became terribly bleak and unusually cold. Winter during wartime is a harsh season for soldiers, and the flurries of snow felt like nothing more than trash.
"Captain Rotsilt, orders have come down to return to the capital. You'll be granted additional leave, so get some rest."
These were the words of the commander who summoned him to the command barracks. Noah slowly lowered his gaze and looked at his boots, caked in thick mud. His slightly furrowed brow clearly showed a desire to wipe them clean.
“I will do that.”
"You'd love to see the Princess while you're at it. Captain, I have someone just as precious to me as you. Someone I'd risk my life for. Fighting to protect is the sole reason I'm holding on in this battlefield."
The old commander, who had been through a long war, had compassion in his eyes. He knew well why Noah had been banished to the battlefield. He felt pity for the young man, whose ability in his native country had been condemned as a sin, and who, having joined the opposing side, was forced to commit yet another sin, a sin to atone for. This was the perspective of a soldier who had lived through a deadly battlefield where the will to live took precedence over military pride.
Despite the Allied forces' disadvantages, the operations and battles in which he was involved always yielded positive results. His brilliant tactical strategies, utilizing terrain, weather, and geography, consistently created favorable situations, and troop losses were significantly lower than in other battles.
Had he remained in Frogen, he wouldn't have been treated like this. By now, he would have been a recognized high-ranking officer in his own country, possessing power and prestige, and would have been hailed as a true national hero. The commander, recognizing his abilities, influence, and contributions to the operation, promoted him to captain and granted him a special leave.
"You've been recognized for your merits and achievements, so shouldn't you be summoned back to the capital? Especially since you captured the Crown Prince."
The commander smiled kindly. Noah vaguely anticipated the reason for the order to return to the capital. He was summoned to personally sign divorce papers, claiming that the parties had agreed to the divorce.
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