I Start with a Bad Hand!

‘It’s my fault.’

People who wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t been so inexperienced. The only reason we survived the first battlefield was thanks to the knights who covered me. Guilt as heavy as death enveloped me. When sorting through the list of the deceased, my hands trembled so much I couldn’t write. Although we weren’t particularly close, those knights I had once sparred with now only existed as names on a list.

‘They died because I was incompetent.’

Their lives were too valuable to be sacrificed for someone like me. The Empire’s “cleaners” had tenaciously endured at the bottom ranks with almost no support. They wouldn’t have died so pointlessly if not for a foolish prince who couldn’t even take care of himself dragging them down.

‘If only I weren’t here….’

I always made things difficult and unhappy for everyone around me. The Imperial Family was right. The prophecy was right, and the legends were true. The only thing that was wrong was me.

Since that day, I had the same dream every night. Though the details changed, it was always the same dream. In it, I took other people’s lives. Whether pushing them off a cliff, turning into a monster and biting them, or attacking them with a sword, the one causing harm was always me.

Even waking up didn’t make much of a difference. Different in form, but the truth remained that I was the one who had caused their deaths.

‘How do you ask forgiveness from those who are already dead?’

An old torment from some distant fiefdom resurfaced within me. At some point, I found myself staring down from high walls. If not a wall, then below a window, or under a grand bridge, or the steps of a tall tower.

Had Elius not roughly grabbed me each time, pulling me back, I might have succeeded at least once—taking that step forward.

“Why are you like this these days?” Elius asked one day, clearly frustrated. Though I remained silent, he persistently questioned me. Finally, I spoke, almost vomiting the words, and Elius was speechless for a long time. Then, with a gentle tone and a warm voice, he tried to comfort me.

“Icarus, there are lives more valuable than others in this world.”

You’re part of the Imperial Family, so you need to accept that. You’ll bear more responsibilities, but I never thought you’d worry about such trivial things.

“You’re hurting yourself over the knights who died in your place. Your heart is too soft.”

Confusion overwhelmed me. His words were in line with the brief education I had received from the Imperial Family. Both my family and my upbringing were telling me that my feelings were wrong.

‘But is that really true?’

Even though I’m such a pathetic and insufficient human being, am I supposed to step over others’ lives just because I’m from the Imperial Family?

Held in Elius’s arms, I couldn’t breathe properly. A new wave of shame washed over me, making it hard even to breathe normally. It was because, once again, I was wrong—unable to control even my emotions or hold myself together.

Time passed slowly, and the moment came for me to return to the knights. Up until the day before, I had spent hours staring out the open window, looking down. With a weary heart, I slowly made my way back.

“Commander, hello.”

“Did you have a good rest?”

The 9th Knights were largely unchanged. Except for a few familiar faces being gone and replaced by new ones, nothing significant had altered. The remaining knights acted as if they didn’t care about the missing comrades, but I could tell they did. It was all because they were watching my reaction.

Realizing this made it impossible for me to stay there.

Wandering into the forest, I eventually sat down on a hill, staring blankly at the tree tops below. As I sat there for a while, someone approached, making their presence known.

“Prince, you’re here? I’ve been looking for you.”

It was the same knight who had once brought me the mushroom tea. His slick face was unchanged.

“…Tristan.”

“You know my name?”

Despite not answering his question, Tristan continued to speak with his usual ease.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I brought some bread.”

When Icarus continued to ignore him, Tristan scratched his head and fell silent. Or so I thought. Instead, Tristan quietly sat beside me and started eating the bread himself.

The quiet hill was filled with the sound of Tristan munching on the bread. Just as Icarus was about to stand up, having had enough, Tristan spoke again.

“The people here are mostly satisfied with their positions as knights.”

They probably can’t transfer to another unit within the Imperial Guard. Well, except for Maria—she’s truly exceptional.

At that, Icarus relaxed his tensed body. Instead of standing up, he silently plucked at the grass.

“We may be called the Imperial Guard, but we aren’t directly affiliated with the Royal Family. We rarely get to see anyone of high status. Did you know our nickname is ‘the Empire’s Cleaners’?”

Seeing Icarus tearing at the grass, Tristan offered a sheepish smile.

“Before that, we were known as the ‘Shadow Knights.’ A knight order without glory or honor. To be honest, many people within the Empire don’t even know we exist. Some knights don’t even know we’re part of the order. But then you came, Prince.”

The warm sunset bathed Icarus’s back. Tristan’s voice seemed to caress him.

“So, now we’ve become a glorious knight order in the eyes of the Empire.”

“What’s the use of glory when lives are lost?”

“That kind of honor is something people like us could never achieve, even if we risk our lives.”

Icarus still thought it was a foolish notion. Foolish reasons spoken with a foolish tone. If he listened any longer, he might start believing in that foolishness. As Icarus stood up slowly, Tristan didn’t stop him and just looked up at him.

“We might not be the most prestigious knights to you, but…”

“That’s not true.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve never thought of you that way.”

Tristan’s lips curled into a small smile. He rummaged through his bag, continuing to talk.

“So, Prince, please don’t cry alone here.”

Tristan handed Icarus a cup of mushroom tea from his canteen.

“Neither I nor any of the other knights blame you. Sacrificing oneself for their lord is a knight’s duty. It’s something that wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t come here.”

“What kind of foolishness is that? It’s stupid and pathetic.”

“We may be ignorant, but—”

A voice interrupted. Turning, Icarus saw Maria standing there, holding a blanket.

“The deputy commander asked me to find the commander and Tristan.” Maria briefly explained the reason for her presence and then wrapped the blanket around Icarus. Although he shrugged it off, Maria remained unfazed and sat next to Tristan, who was busily spreading out a handkerchief.

“We don’t understand the thoughts of the high-ranking officials. We just thought that if the prince earned merits, it would be a good thing, and we ended up causing trouble for you, Commander.”

Maria took the handkerchief Tristan had spread out and put it back in his bag, making him look crestfallen.

“We just wanted everyone to look up to our distinguished guest. It seems our foolishness has caused you more trouble.”

Only then did Icarus understand the knights’ strange behavior. He hadn’t realized it before because it was so unfamiliar. They had nothing to gain by trying to impress him; perhaps they knew this better than anyone. The reason they covered for a young boy who couldn’t even swing a sword properly was…

“We know there are a lot of rumors outside. It must have been hard for you, being placed with us. We’re sorry you have to hear things you shouldn’t because of our reputation. But with our thick heads, we can’t think beyond the rock walls we build for ourselves…”

Maria’s softly muttered words made Tristan burst into laughter. Hearing his clear, spreading laughter, Icarus sniffled a bit. At the sound, Tristan’s laughter slowly died down. Maria continued in the same monotone voice as before.

“So, Commander. That day’s events weren’t your fault. A knight is supposed to dedicate his life to his lord and country. And having the opportunity to do so—”

“I’ve heard enough. Don’t say it again.”

Icarus responded with a nasal voice. Beside him, Tristan struggled to suppress his laughter.

“…I’ll take care of my own life, so you all take care of yours. Protect your lives for your own honor.”

“Emphasizing dishonor to a knight! But if it’s our lord’s command, we must follow it.”

If it means protecting the commander’s honor, we’ll do it.

If Icarus had become more resilient after that, it was thanks to them. The hard edge he had unknowingly developed softened through their interactions. Somewhere within him, a part that had failed to grow properly began to flourish bit by bit.

The knights accepted Icarus’s cautious approach without making a fuss. Over time, he learned their ways of life. He learned to twirl a book with his fingers, nap without getting caught during strategy meetings, and hang from trees using just two fingers. He even learned to laugh off the ridiculous nicknames like “Bloodthirsty” and “Madman” that had once made him cringe.

Their ways didn’t stop him from having nightmares every night. However, they did help him endure those moments. They made waking life somewhat bearable. Though not joyful, it was tolerable. It was still a shameful existence, but he learned to compromise with himself.

Each knight left a piece of their life with Icarus, but none more so than Maria and Tristan.

Maria was always at the front of the ranks, and Tristan was always at the back, half-heartedly yelling commands. On particularly tiring days, he’d only mouth the words. One day, when Icarus brought this up, Tristan laughed and said,

“Maria’s skilled, and I’m lucky.”

If I stick by Maria, she’ll be invincible, won’t she? Tristan, who had joined the Imperial Guard solely to be near Maria, proved remarkably tenacious. His claim of luck seemed credible.

These two, with their different ways of life, taught Icarus various survival skills. Tristan, the only knight who never skipped shaving even when tools were scarce, showed Icarus how to get a smooth shave. He took Icarus through the forest, teaching him about edible mushrooms and a secret chicken soup recipe.

Maria’s teachings were different. As the 9th Knights’ hope, pride, and dream, she taught Icarus how to fight, not just live. She taught him how to properly hold, swing, and strike with a sword. Maria’s training helped Icarus protect himself and others, transforming his swordsmanship. Maria was the true architect of his skills.

Tristan followed Maria like a loyal puppy, and when they finally became a couple in the middle of the camp, no one was surprised.

“One day, Prince, you’ll meet someone you like too.”

Hearing about their dramatic confession made Icarus curious but also embarrassed to ask for details. Tristan, beaming all day, finally sat by the campfire with Icarus in the evening and spoke up.

“Just do what I did, Your Highness.”

“Why would someone as esteemed as the prince confess first?”

When someone teased him lightly, Tristan uncharacteristically responded seriously.

“Because someone esteemed should know how to convey their precious feelings well.”

“Don’t call me esteemed.”

Icarus’s curt response drew everyone’s attention momentarily before they returned to their activities, but Icarus knew they wouldn’t bring it up again.

With a serious face, Tristan held up one finger and said,

“First, you need to play music.”

“…Music?”

From the beginning, it seemed anything but ordinary. Was this truly an effective method for confessing one’s feelings?

“Yes, you need to make the moment feel like a scene from a play! It should be so beautiful that the person feels like they’re in a musical because of the love they feel for you!”

“Tristan took so long to confess that I thought his lungs would burst from playing the harmonica,” someone nearby chuckled, but Tristan continued undeterred.

“And the key is the drum. The drumbeat can mix with the heartbeat, causing confusion. So you have to play it subtly. Not like, ‘Boom! Boom!’ but more like, ‘Boom… boom?’ As if you’re asking a question. That way, the person will think, ‘Oh, my heart is beating because I like this person. I’m realizing my feelings through this confession.'”

“Exactly,” Maria, who had witnessed Tristan’s successful confession, watched the scene with a cool expression.

“And what else? Ah, flowers. You need flowers.”

“A bouquet?”

“A bouquet is basic. You need to shower them with flowers. Because it’s important to make that moment special. Think about it, Prince. There aren’t many times in life when petals rain down on you. So prepare about a hundred, no, three hundred flowers! Throw them! So the person thinks, ‘Ah! I’m in a very special moment in my life!'”

“That’s amazing, Tristan!”

Cheers erupted, accompanied by applause for Tristan’s passionate speech. Maria, watching the commotion, quietly whispered to Icarus.

“Prince, just be natural. Be yourself.”

With a slightly exasperated look, Maria glanced at her colleague and fiancé, who was elaborating on his proposal philosophy.

“Don’t do anything as extravagant as that.”

Her fiancé’s crestfallen expression prompted Tristan to object vehemently.

“Extravagant? A proposal is a declaration of the heart. You have to show the size of your heart.”

Big heart, big gesture; small heart, small gesture. Tristan animatedly demonstrated with his hands. Maria, watching him, responded quietly.

“I accepted your proposal not because of the way you did it, but because I liked you.”

Amidst a moment of stunned silence, the surrounding knights erupted into cheers and playful jeers. Ignoring the outcries to take their affection elsewhere, the couple gracefully walked away, hand in hand.

Icarus often reflected on that moment. Maria and Tristan frequently debated, and while Maria was usually right, in matters of confession, it seemed Tristan had the upper hand.

‘Tristan is right. Making a special moment even more special makes perfect sense.’

The notion that a confession should be as grand as the heart behind it seemed entirely reasonable. Someday, if he met someone he liked, he resolved to follow Tristan’s advice. Though Icarus never did confess in such a grand manner, the story stayed with him, a cherished memory.

Yet, beyond the lessons on shaving, drawing, and proposing, the most significant teachings from Maria and Tristan came from their wedding preparations.