The courtyard was deathly silent.
All the nobles stared with wide eyes, mouths agape, as if they had seen a dragon tap-dancing in the skies above the royal capital.
The princess kneeling?
To a noble’s second son without a title?
This was no longer just an “apology”—this was an act that trampled the royal family’s dignity underfoot, nearly self-humiliating!
Abel’s brain completely crashed.
He had imagined Prim would continue to pester him, would fly into a rage and threaten him, or even come with a royal decree to forcibly conscript him—but the one thing he hadn’t expected was that this woman, proud as a peacock, would kneel before him in front of a large crowd.
Had she gone mad?!
The nobles’ discussions started from suppressed whispers and gradually became noisy:
“Th-the princess is…”
“Where is the royal family’s face in this!”
“But in the end, if not for the princess’s obstruction, many fewer people would have died…”
“Even so, this posture is too…”
Prim, however, seemed unable to hear the surrounding discussions.
She knelt on one knee, her back straight as a rod, her light purple palace skirt spread out on the polished marble floor.
She raised her head, her water-blue eyes staring straight at Abel.
In them, there was no humiliation, no grievance—only a calm that bordered on resolute determination.
“Sir Abel,” her voice was clear and steady, spreading to every corner of the hall, “yesterday at the arena entrance, due to my arrogance and ignorance, I ignored your warning and insisted on continuing the Goddess Festival.
For that, countless lives that could have been saved were lost.
This is a sin I can never wash away in my lifetime.”
She paused, then continued:
“The royal family has already passed a resolution to provide full compensation and pensions to the families of all the victims in this incident.
All treatment costs for those injured in this disaster will be borne by the royal family.
In addition, Father has ordered a monument to be erected in the royal capital’s square, inscribed with the names of all the deceased, and the kingdom will hold annual memorial ceremonies.”
“As for me personally,” she took a deep breath, “I will relinquish all royal duties and, in my personal capacity, go to a border monastery for three years—to pray for the departed and to repent for my own mistakes.”
Whoa—
The hall thoroughly exploded in an uproar.
Compensation, pensions, a monument—
These, though costly, were still within the royal family’s capacity.
But the princess voluntarily requesting to go to a border monastery for three years?
That was practically self-exile!
Border monasteries had harsh conditions, far from the royal capital’s prosperity—three years were enough to make a once highly sought-after princess completely lose her political influence!
This was a true retreat to advance.
No, this was already “staking her life” on it.
Abel finally recovered from his shock.
He subconsciously looked toward Julius, only to see his brother frowning tightly, a grave look flashing in his eyes as he slightly shook his head at him.
This woman has an expert advising her from behind.
Abel understood instantly.
Kneeling in apology, taking responsibility proactively, self-punishment—this combo punch not only shut all mouths accusing her but even forcibly twisted the image of a “spoiled and willful princess” into one of “knowing her mistakes and bravely taking responsibility.”
What was deadlier was that she had completely switched her and Abel’s positions.
Now it wasn’t “the princess forcing the hero to pledge loyalty,” but “a sinner begging the hero to forgive and save the nation.”
The initiative was completely in Prim’s hands.
Sure enough, the next second, Prim’s voice rang out again:
“Sir Abel, I know you detest me.
My actions do not deserve your forgiveness.
But please remember—”
Her voice suddenly rose, carrying a force that bordered on tragic heroism:
“You were born on this land, grew up in this country.
You are a subject of the kingdom, a child of Beint! Now, our nation is facing an unprecedented crisis—those ‘heretics’—or rather, those terrifying existences we have yet to understand—are threatening every person’s life!”
She looked around, her gaze sweeping over every noble:
“The disaster that happened at the arena yesterday could happen anywhere tomorrow! It could be in the mansions of those present, it could be your estates, it could be where your families are!”
The nobles’ expressions changed.
Watching the fun was one thing, but when it involved their personal interests, it was another.
Prim looked back at Abel, her voice earnest:
“So, I beg you—not as a princess, but as an ordinary person who deeply loves this country yet has committed a grave mistake—please lend your power to the homeland that birthed and raised you! Not for the royal family, not for the nobles, but for the millions of innocent ordinary people like those who perished yesterday!”
Beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Abel couldn’t help but want to applaud in his heart.
Elevating personal grudges to national righteousness, using national sentiment and collective safety to coerce his choice.
This move was more effective than any threat or inducement.
Sure enough, the nobles’ discussions began to shift:
“Her Highness the Princess is right…”
“In times of national crisis, personal grudges should indeed be set aside.”
“After all, Young Master Abel is a subject of the kingdom; serving the country is only right.”
“Moreover, the princess has already gone this far…”
The direction of public opinion completely reversed in just a few short minutes.
Abel felt a wave of suffocation.
He opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak.
Refuse? Then he would become a petty man who disregarded the nation’s safety, narrow-minded.
Accept? Then he would be jumping into the royal family’s cage, never to roam freely again.
Stuck in a dilemma.
Just then, a warm hand gently pressed on his shoulder.
Julius had walked to his side at some point.
The golden-haired marquis had a gentle yet unquestionable smile on his face.
He stepped forward, slightly bowed before Prim, then extended both hands and steadily helped the princess to her feet.
“Your Highness, why go to such lengths?”
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it clearly suppressed all discussions:
“Abel has never been angry with you.
His anger yesterday, his silence today, is not because of personal humiliation, but because—he aches for those lost lives, blames himself for not saving everyone.”
Julius turned to Abel, a guiding light flashing in his eyes:
“My little brother has been like this since childhood.
He can’t stand any injustice, can’t bear to see any suffering.
He wandered the continent, exterminating thieves, not for fame, not for rewards, but simply because—he believes it’s the right thing to do.”
He looked back at Prim, and at all the nobles:
“So, Your Highness, you needn’t do this at all.
Abel’s sword has never been swung for a certain person, a certain family, or even a certain country.”
Julius’s voice suddenly became solemn and powerful:
“His sword is swung for all who cherish life.
For those ordinary people who want to live in peace, for those families yearning for a tranquil life, for this imperfect yet worthy-of-protection world we all share!”
Abel shuddered all over.
He instantly understood his brother’s meaning.
—Jump out of the “kingdom” framework, in the name of the “people”! Since she uses great righteousness, then use an even greater righteousness to counter!
He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Julius.
His green eyes swept over the entire scene, finally landing on Prim’s face:
“Big Brother is right.”
His voice was calm, yet carried a power that penetrated the heart:
“I exterminated thieves not because they threatened a certain noble, but because they harmed innocent travelers.
Yesterday, I fought that flame giant not because it attacked the kingdom’s festival, but because it wanted to destroy this city, destroy the lives of hundreds of thousands within.”