WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
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◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 100
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In the biting cold wind, everyone had much the same thought. Why had they left home to do this?
It was rather absurd for that to be the shared sentiment of a group of more than a hundred armed men, but it was undeniable.
Cold water ran beneath the thin ice covering a narrow stream. The soldiers broke the ice and filled their waterskins.
Nearby, several bodies lay neatly arranged on the ground.
They had recovered the bodies of those killed by Valerie. The corpse of the soldier split in half from shoulder to opposite hip was especially horrifying. The strange thing was that the cut surface looked burned.
Count Gareth sat on a rock and looked at the bodies. Perhaps even the stench had frozen in the winter cold, because they did not yet smell terribly foul.
One of the bodies had not yet been stripped of its armor. There was a sword wound in its chest. Its pale face had its eyes closed, calm and expressionless.
Count Gareth had not washed properly in days, so they looked rather unkempt. Unable to shave, they had grown a beard like some wildman. Their eyes were full of despair.
“What a ridiculous sight...”
The self-mocking words slipped from their mouth on their own.
The death of the knight who had guarded them left them more defeated than angry. They regretted not treating the knight better and blamed themself for failing to recognize the knight’s worth sooner. Realizing it only after the knight had died filled them with self-loathing.
Their close attendants stood nearby, but none could console them.
They knew the dragon-slayer was impossibly strong, but had not been able to accept withdrawing an army because of one person. Now, though, they were beginning to understand.
What was all this for? Count Gareth found themself asking that fundamental question.
When they thought about it carefully, this had all been to bring back the Third Prince. But what had they been doing with the Third Prince all this time?
Making him king, becoming Kingmakers, and turning the houses, including Gareth’s own, into powers that ruled the kingdom. The goal had been clear, but now they wondered what use any of it was.
Had their resolve weakened? Or were they simply incapable? Even if they thought about it, they could hardly expect great change at their age.
They raised their head and looked at the soldiers gathered around the stream. Some were young, only fifteen, or perhaps approximately two years younger.
Most were new recruits, running about busily as they attended to the senior soldiers even now.
Watching them, Count Gareth spoke as if reciting something.
“Let’s go...”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s go home. At least through the winter, we should rest. Make sure the homes of the fallen receive food and firewood. If we delay any longer, we will not even be able to do that. And Lexley had sons, correct? Two, or was it three?”
Lexley was the name of the knight who had saved them to the end.
“Three.”
“I will take all three as my pages. I will raise them into fine knights, so they need never worry about their futures. Arrange a suitable position for Lexley’s wife, and give the rest of Lexley’s family work enough to live on.”
“...Understood.”
“If I return like this, the Duke and the rest of the Five-Man Council will think me ridiculous, will they not?”
“Whatever they think, it is an excellent decision. We know that.”
Whether Count Gareth was lucky, or had always been a decent person at heart, their subordinates were generally good people.
Unfortunately, the count themself did not seem especially capable. Or perhaps their opponent was simply too formidable.
“Have any of you ever heard of an army being disbanded because of one person?”
“...The timing was poor. It is winter, after all...”
“Either way, I will bear all the disgrace. Only now do I understand that the title of count is not handed out freely.”
“Anyone who faced the dragon-slayer would have met the same result. No one will think you ridiculous.”
“Well, who knows? In any case, let’s go. I cannot keep doing this...”
The count rose. One of the subordinates gestured somewhere, and the undertakers approached.
They set up a screen and prepared the fallen. They removed the armor and clothing, washed the bodies, and wrapped them in linen.
The good thing about winter was that decay came slowly.
Though Count Gareth’s will to fight had broken, they had done one thing well. They swiftly dispatched a messenger to report Valerie’s location.
The messenger was devoted to their duty, and swift delivery was their battle.
They rode without rest, even changing horses, and arrived by the far side of Giant Bridge at Hayden Crossroads in half a day.
No army was stationed there, but a small force watched the other side every day. When the messenger arrived and urgently delivered their news, they looked bewildered.
“What are you talking about? The dragon-slayer is right there.”
A sentry pointed across the bridge. There was someone on a black horse, wearing a helmet and unmistakably extraordinary red scale armor.
At first, the messenger also looked dumbfounded, wondering what this meant. But after a brief moment of cognitive dissonance, they reached the logical conclusion.
“No. I saw him. I clearly saw him at Burningstone. Not just me, but the count, the knights, and all the soldiers saw him. The warrior who sent thunder from his blade and burned all over. If he is not the dragon-slayer, then who is?”
The sentries frowned and looked back and forth between the figure across the bridge and the messenger.
“...Then is that one a fake?”
“The dragon-slayer must have used a trick.”
While everyone stood bewildered, someone cut in. The soldiers turned to see people dressed in heavy clothes and hoods.
Their only visible weapons were poles with slightly split ends. They might have had other weapons beneath their thick clothes, but that was all anyone could see.
“I am the Tiger Hunter hired by His Grace the Duke. That person across the bridge appears to be a fake, so this seems like our chance. We must quickly bring back the prince before the dragon-slayer returns.”
Whether Tiger Hunter was a nickname or they truly hunted tigers, their appearance was rather beggarly.
“Are you from Tusk Village?”
Tusk Village was where Valerie had met Ölvir. It was famous as a place where skilled people from across the kingdom gathered to be hired by the Third Prince’s faction.
As a result, people did not think highly of those from there. Most were swindlers or worthless drifters.
Of course, there might have been a few genuine ones among them.
“I was not born there, but I was hired there.”
“...”
“Will you let the opportunity granted by the dead gods pass you by? We will lead the way, so soldiers, go bring back the prince.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When are we doing it?”
“Right now, of course. There are no troops over there.”
“Will we cross by the bridge?”
“No. Let us go down through the gorge, then climb back up.”
The troops here were only enough to watch the far side of the bridge, so there were around fifteen soldiers in all. The Tiger Hunter and companions numbered five people in all.
The soldiers frowned, wondering whether this was really right. Soldiers had a tendency not to want to do anything voluntarily unless ordered to do it.
There was someone like a squad leader among them, but naturally, they lacked the tactical knowledge and ability to plan and carry out an operation.
Of course, victory and defeat did not always require grand knowledge. Decisiveness and action were most important.
And so the soldiers hesitated, torn between whether to do it or not.
Those hired from outside, however, were somewhat freer of such concerns. They had to prove their worth if they wanted to rise in the world.
“What are you hesitating for? Every moment counts. Once the dragon-slayer returns, there will be no way. We must succeed before then. Think about it. Bring back the prince? You might even be granted titles. At the very least, you will receive an estate. You will be rich. Rich enough never to worry about making a living again.”
Though the Tiger Hunter had nothing to give them, they piled on every promise imaginable to urge the soldiers on. Whether they were naïve or truly thought it possible, the soldiers were tempted.
“Fine. Let’s try it. If it fails, we can just run.”
“A wise decision. As I said, we will lead the way. If it does not seem right, simply flee. Do not worry. That fellow across the bridge is a fake. I have thought something was strange about him for a while.”
The Tiger Hunter immediately led the group to a place where the gorge’s slope was somewhat gentler. Without caring whether their trousers got dirty, they sat down and slid gently down as if riding a slide.
The soldiers only watched from above as they descended. Annoyed by this, the Tiger Hunter frowned and gestured for them to hurry down.
The problem was climbing back up. The slope felt nearly vertical. Still, they somehow made it up, clawing their way along the cliff.
Some climbed at astonishing speed, while others could not manage it no matter how hard they tried. Not all soldiers had the same strength and stamina.
In the end, only around ten reached the far side of the bridge.
“Listen carefully. There is no need to hide yourselves. Walk proudly instead. When hunting a tiger, you catch it through momentum and endurance. If someone looks at you, do not avert your gaze. Look right back at them. Understood?”
The soldiers nodded at the Tiger Hunter’s words. Then the Tiger Hunter and companions headed straight toward where Wilfred was pretending to be Valerie.
Rather than immediately raiding where the Third Prince was, the soldiers watched from afar to see what would happen. They needed to see something happen there before they could find their own courage.
Wilfred had been riding in armor in the cold when he belatedly noticed the people approaching him.
When he turned toward them, they strode forward boldly and suddenly thrust out their poles.
“Eh!? What is this!?”
They handled the poles with such skill that they immediately tried to force Wilfred from his horse by pinning his armpit and neck. At that moment, Snow reared high.
Neigh!
Wilfred was thrown from the horse. His back struck the ground, but the armor kept him from being hurt.
“Just as I thought! A fake!”
The Tiger Hunter shouted as they turned toward the soldiers. Startled, the soldiers nevertheless became certain that this could work. They drew swords and weapons and rushed toward the Lokir Merchant Company branch.
What they had not considered was Snow. Snow immediately abandoned Wilfred and burst into a run, trying to ram the enemy soldiers.
The startled soldiers threw themselves aside and barely avoided the horse. Snow ran straight to the branch, beat on its door with front hooves, and neighed loudly to warn them of danger. It seemed a spiritual beast truly was a spiritual beast.
“What is wrong with it!?”
Those who did not know what was happening could only panic as Snow suddenly ran wild. Unless one was skilled in handling horses, an ordinary person could not deal with a large warhorse on a rampage.
Neigh!
“Snow!”
Ivy hurried outside the branch to calm Snow. Then she saw enemies approaching with weapons drawn.
“Enemies!”
Only then did everyone’s eyes widen.
“Protect the prince!”
Wilfred shouted as he ran toward them from afar. His armor had apparently been taken, leaving him unprotected.
With Snow rampaging at the entrance, neither enemy nor ally could approach.
“Damn it! You damned foal!”
As though Snow understood human speech, the word foal seemed to enrage the horse. Snow suddenly lunged at the enemy who had said it and viciously bit into their face.
“Argh!”
The enemies did not dare subdue Snow, but they barely kept Snow from approaching by pointing their weapons at the horse. At last, the entrance was clear, and they tried to rush inside.
“Now! Get in!”
But then.
“Who are you people!”
The Third Prince, Ivar, came outside and shouted sharply. Even the startled enemies froze for a moment.
“I came here of my own will. Who dares try to take me away?”
“Y-your Highness, you must come with us...”
“Where? Why should I?”
“You have to come with us...”
They were not educated enough to offer any logical persuasion, and merely repeated themselves.
“What a frustrating bunch! Move!”
The Tiger Hunter appeared again. Rather than wearing the fire dragon scale armor properly, they merely had it draped over their body.
“Your Highness! Why refuse when we are trying to make you king!?”
“Who said I wanted to be king!?”
“Ah, fuck it. You only say that because you have never suffered. Hey! Just carry him off!”
“Do not come any closer, you bastards!”
Eldwin drew her sword and shouted as she protected Ivar.
But the Tiger Hunters were no ordinary opponents. With astonishing coordination, they tried to restrain Eldwin with their poles.
Eldwin was not unskilled, but the five poles moved like a single body, leaving her no way to respond.
Ivy hurriedly grabbed the prince and tried to lead him back into the building. Then a heavy sound came from afar, rapidly drawing closer.
Whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr!
Thud!
No one knew what had happened, but the head of the Tiger Hunter wearing the fire dragon scale armor was smashed open. They collapsed sideways.
What had shattered their head was a hammer. A short-handled carpenter’s hammer.
Everyone instinctively turned toward the direction from which it had flown. There stood someone with long white hair tied tightly behind their head and a white beard reaching down over their neck. The person was old, but their build was more than enough to overwhelm a young person.
And that was not all.
Large people in Viking helmets and chainmail, carrying axes or swords and shields, were slowly approaching.
They were the carpenters of Thunder Forest.
“Ivy!”
Yorick’s cry rose from among those enormous people. Startled, Ivy ran into his arms without thinking.
“Yorick!”
They had only been apart for about a week, yet they hugged tightly like family reunited after a lifetime apart.
Thorvald looked at them, then slowly walked toward the enemies. A pole was thrust at him, but he simply seized it with his bare hand and gave it a sharp pull.
The opponent was yanked toward him. When the old man punched them, their lower jaw shattered. Teeth scattered everywhere.
Crack!
Afterward, the old man merely stood there, as though his broad shoulders and chest alone overwhelmed the enemies.
As the armed Vikings drew ever closer, the enemies could no longer hold their ground and fled.
They could instinctively tell from the enormous frames, the indifferent eyes visible beneath the helmets, that these were dangerous people.
The old man picked up his hammer from the ground and turned to ask the others in a deep voice.
“Where is Valerie?”
“...At, at Burningstone...”
Wilfred answered with difficulty, eyes wide, unable even to approach.
“Who, who are you?”
Eldwin asked somewhat rudely, without even sheathing her sword. The old man did not seem bothered at all and answered casually.
“Thorvald. Thorvald of the Elding clan. I came at Valerie’s summons. If he is absent, I will wait.”
In truth, even without drinking dragon’s blood, Thorvald’s martial skill alone made it difficult for him to find an equal. Perhaps that was why he radiated such an extraordinary presence even while standing still.
His companions were the same. They were warriors of pure Norsemen stock, unmingled with others.
“He is kind. You do not have to be afraid.”
Yorick said this as he soothed the startled Ivy.
“I am Prince Ivar. If you came at Valerie’s summons, then you are my guests as well. Come inside.”
Thorvald turned to Ivar. Complex feelings crossed his mind. He had once been on the losing side in the War of Succession.
“Was that true?”
“What do you mean?”
“That Valerie intends to become king himself.”
“It is true. That is why I am still alive.”
Thorvald seemed to think for a moment, then looked around. Seeing the blocked bridge and the far side, he said, “It seems some cleaning up is needed. I will see you again shortly.”
Then he and his companions headed for the bridge. They removed the barricade, beat to death or drove away the enemies on the far side, then returned.
For them, it looked less like a fight and more like literal cleanup.
Thorvald had been the farthest away, yet he arrived so quickly despite the winter because experience had taught him that swift reinforcements decided victory and defeat.
Of course, it had not needed to go this far, but they had arrived at the right time. Something serious might have happened.
Unlike the enemies, they had not answered Valerie’s summons in pursuit of advancement.
It was entirely because of personal loyalty and trust.
They had received kindness and repaid it. Before that, it was a summons and an answer born from knowing they could trust one another. Just as it was with Ivar and everyone connected to Valerie.
With such trust together, perhaps winter would not feel quite so cold.
Chapter 21: Trust. End.
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