WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 16
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Dawn arrived like a long-awaited guest.
As usual, Valerie rose, began by making his bedding, went through his routine, and left the annex. The world was a deep blue, as though submerged in water.
The cool air seemed to cleanse his lungs, and a dark silhouette stood near the barracks. When he walked over, sure enough, Arne was there.
“Were you waiting for me?”
“No. I just came out too.”
Arne tossed him a heavy training vest. Valerie caught it against his whole body and nearly fell over from the weight.
They put on the vests and began running. A pleasant sense of competition rose between them, and they took turns pulling ahead.
By the time they had completed five laps, they truly wanted to throw everything aside and lie down. By then, morning had properly arrived.
The two went to the training ground to spar, then agreed to meet again after washing up. Arne was off duty that day and had promised to show Valerie around the city.
On his way back to the annex, Valerie looked behind him. Knut, the third young lord, was still trapped in the iron cage.
He was no longer looking at Valerie, but hung limp as if he were dead.
Unlike the barracks, the annex came with servants to assist him. Every morning, they filled the bath with heated water, and Valerie washed there.
He dressed again, put on a short cloak, belted on his sword, and went outside. Once again, Arne had come out first and was waiting.
“Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s start at the square. I’ll explain things roughly there, then we can look around.”
True to his word, Arne began at the square and showed him the gambling dens, slums, brothels, sawmill, public cemetery, docks, and even water-supply and drainage systems and reservoir facilities whose construction dates were unknown.
He also taught him things worth knowing, or things to watch out for, if he wanted to live in the city.
There were various brotherhoods and gangs of thugs, all sorts of guilds, influential merchant companies that even the duke could not ignore, and people connected to Viking clans.
They included various technical groups and private armed organizations. People who could become a source of strength in an emergency, or enemies.
Everyone had a role within the community, and because the balance of power was maintained to some degree, peace seemed to hold. The duke served as the central axis of that power in the city.
After noon, the two bought stewed herring, grilled vegetables, and the like from street vendors for a quick meal.
They sat to eat in what looked like crumbling ruins overgrown with bushes. Surprisingly, even from there, they could see the iron cage on the watchtower.
When Valerie narrowed his eyes and looked closely, the third young lord, who had hung limp as if dead that morning, had risen and sunk into a seated position.
“You can see that from here too.”
Valerie spoke.
“It’s meant to shame him.”
“So when will the third young lord be released?”
“How would I know? That depends on His Grace the Duke.”
“I suppose causing trouble is nothing new for him?”
“When he was young, he cut open a servant’s belly while looking for someone who had stolen a watermelon. I wasn’t here then, so I only know because I heard it from someone else.”
“That’s something else.”
“But in one way, he’s a little pitiful too.”
“What do you mean?”
Though nobody was nearby, Arne looked around before leaning in to whisper.
“The third young lord has a different mother from the first and second young lords. That mother was beheaded. Right in front of the third young lord. His Grace the Duke had it done.”
The third young lord was not a concubine-born child. Duke Sven had originally had a lawful wife, but she died young. He remarried, and his second lawful wife was the third young lord’s mother.
When the third young lord was six years old, she was beheaded. The duke had not had a wife since then.
“...Why?”
“I don’t know either. Some say she tried to poison the first and second young lords. Others say she had an affair. Only those involved would know the truth. Don’t tell anyone.”
“...”
Valerie looked toward the iron cage again. The third young lord looked like a kitten wasting away on the roadside.
Mother. It was a word that felt unfamiliar to Valerie, something he could never reach.
Perhaps that was why a corner of his heart ached for no reason.
But what could he do? He forced the feeling away and continued eating.
As they finished their meal, Valerie smiled faintly and said to Arne,
“You’re too innocent, Arne. I’m actually a spy. A spy for Winslow. And you just keep telling me all this secret information. So innocent, so innocent.”
“...What?”
“Haha, I’m joking.”
“Hey, you’re not, right? You’re really not?”
“I said I’m not. Hmm, though maybe I am?”
Valerie toyed with Arne by saying contradictory things. Arne’s hopelessly twisted expression was quite a sight.
“You shouldn’t do that to people, Wid. There are things you can joke about and things you can’t. But you really aren’t, right?”
“Hahaha!”
Valerie threw back his head and laughed.
After roughly touring the whole city, the two returned to the fortress.
It was around the time twilight gave way to evening.
“See you tomorrow.”
Valerie said his goodbye for the day, and Arne raised a hand in reply as he headed toward the barracks.
Valerie returned to the annex, ate, washed, and prepared for bed. Then someone knocked on the door.
Knock, knock.
Valerie discreetly moved a hand toward the sword standing beside the chest of drawers.
“Who is it?”
At Valerie’s words, someone carrying a lantern cautiously opened the door.
“Lord Wid, His Grace the Duke summons you.”
Valerie had expected they would have a private meeting eventually, so he rose and followed.
However, the guide was not leading him toward the castle on the hill, but toward the watchtower.
They crossed the quiet courtyard, where the servants and employees had all gone to bed.
When they reached the watchtower and entered, cobwebs and a desolate atmosphere filled the corners, as though it had not been properly maintained.
The staircase wound upward in a spiral, and perhaps because it was evening, its end could not be seen. Only a black abyss seemed to lurk above.
Each floor had a wooden platform where sentries could keep watch through the windows.
Yet there were no signs that anyone had stayed there, nor were there any belongings. The watchtower was for emergencies, but it had not been needed for many years.
After Valerie and the guide had climbed for some time and neared the top, they found Duke Sven standing with his hands behind his back, looking out at the night view through a window.
Because they were so high up, wind rushed into the tower. Three or four guards stood near the duke.
“I have brought him.”
“Mm.”
The guide hung up the lantern, then leaned against the wall at the stairway entrance, as if blocking an escape route.
Duke Sven stood in the wind. He glanced at Valerie, then turned his gaze back to the night view.
“Are you settling in?”
“Yes, thanks to you, I am doing well.”
“That is good to hear. Come here.”
Duke Sven beckoned him over. As Valerie approached, he saw Knut, the third young lord, imprisoned in the iron cage just beyond the window.
Unable to lean anywhere because of the inward-pointing spikes, he crouched and watched them.
“Does this one look as though he is settling in?”
Duke Sven asked.
Valerie did not answer immediately and looked at Knut. Knut stared directly back at him.
His eyes gave him a catlike impression, so even when he merely looked at someone, it seemed as though he were glaring. But he did not seem to be looking at Valerie with genuine resentment or malice.
Perhaps that made him even harder. He had spent two days high above the ground, starving without food or water while exposed to fierce winds, yet he did not seem to bear any particular grudge.
Valerie thought he knew why. Someone whose heart had died once knew how to recognize a person with a dead heart.
At a glance, Valerie knew that Knut, the third young lord of House Viding, was similar to himself.
His anger was cold rather than hot, calm rather than violent, dry and desolate. Its source was emptiness, unlike the blazing desire for revenge.
Valerie knew that better than anyone.
“Well, he may survive for three days, but if it goes beyond that, I think he will die.”
When Valerie answered coldly, Duke Sven turned toward him as though slightly surprised.
Even if Knut was Sven’s own son, it should have been difficult to answer such a question. Yet Valerie showed no sign of discomfort or embarrassment.
Duke Sven liked that about him.
“Then how long must I keep him imprisoned before he comes to his senses? When will those wild eyes become gentle?”
“To me, they already look gentle enough.”
“Mm?”
“That is simply how they look to me.”
“Mm...”
Duke Sven was lost in thought for a moment. Then he came to the point.
“I have a concern. Will you help me with it?”
“I will help you.”
“Without even hearing what it is?”
“Whether I succeed or fail, it is proper that I answer with the result.”
Duke Sven threw back his head and laughed, sounding pleased and even more taken with Valerie.
“Good, good... I will not speak in circles. I have a rotten tooth. It has been there quite a long time. His name is Creed, though he is called Groin-Ripper. Filthy enough that I hate even saying it. In any case, there is a city called Gringen not far from Torvik. Kill him there. There is no deadline.”
Anyone could see that the duke intended to test Valerie. It was not some scheme. Since Valerie had come to the ducal house, it was simply the natural order of things.
However, it was a fairly difficult mission. Though Gringen was close, it was not a city within the Duchy of Eldeira, but a city in the neighboring Margraviate of Dunbria.
As with most neighbors, the Duke of Eldeira and the Margrave of Dunbria were not on good terms. Therefore, Duke Sven could not send troops to Gringen.
Furthermore, Gringen was known as the End of Despair. It was a city in the marshlands, difficult to subjugate, so criminals from all over the world often fled there as a final refuge after being chased from everywhere else.
Duke Sven had hired contract killers several times, but under such circumstances, all had failed.
The problem was that Creed caused Duke Sven financial losses related to trade. As the duke had said, he was like an old rotten tooth.
Still, whether Valerie succeeded or failed, Duke Sven had little to lose. Either way, he could gauge Valerie’s abilities.
But there was one thing Duke Sven could never have known. Valerie knew Gringen very well.
It was where he had hidden for around three years after the king’s death, before his regression.
“Will you help this old man?”
“I will.”
Valerie answered without hesitation.
At first glance, the decisiveness seemed admirable. Yet Duke Sven thought Valerie had not been here long enough to understand the situation and had answered confidently out of ignorance. Since he was exceptionally skilled, he must have been brimming with confidence.
Catching a man called Creed the Groin-Ripper was not something that could be done through martial skill alone. Watching Valerie answer without knowing that, Duke Sven thought Valerie certainly was young.
Valerie had courage, judging from how he had not simply fled when Ketilmund was murdered but defeated the enemies. He also seemed to have good judgment, considering he had brought back evidence. But Sven’s current assessment of Valerie was that he was hasty.
Of course, he did not show that judgment outwardly. He praised him first.
“I like your decisiveness.”
“In return, please allow me to choose the people I need.”
“Of course. I will provide any equipment and funds you need without limit. But understand that I will be greatly disappointed if you fail.”
“I understand. First, I will tell you whom I want to take with me immediately.”
“Already? Shouldn’t you first learn their abilities? Knights have different skills and specialties. Some excel in field combat, others fight well in cities. Their uses differ.”
“That is not it. First, I would like to go with the young lord.”
“...Who?”
Duke Sven asked as though he had misheard.
“I mean Young Lord Knut.”
Valerie pointed to Knut, trapped in the iron cage beyond the window. Knut was still staring directly at him as before.
Though Duke Sven was usually as seasoned as a serpent in every matter, this was apparently beyond his expectations. He looked back and forth between Valerie and Knut several times.
“What is the reason?”
“It seems there are misunderstandings between us in many ways, and I would like to clear them up.”
It was a lie. In truth, Valerie judged that the third young lord would be the strongest weapon if he decided to kill Duke Sven.
That possibility had not occurred to Duke Sven. He believed Valerie’s words at face value.
He found it a little absurd and, in another way, amusing. He let out a hollow laugh as he spoke, apparently unconcerned that his third son might be in danger.
“Hah! Fine, have it your way. You there, release Knut.”
And so the kitten was released.
Perhaps because he had starved for two days while exposed to fierce winds high above, he silently looked at Valerie after being freed, then collapsed and lost consciousness.
Valerie closed the window against the harsh wind rushing in.
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