WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 18

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Anyone who wanted to start a business needed outside investment unless they had capital of their own.

That was why starting a business was nearly impossible unless it had been inherited from one's predecessors.

Few people had the means to invest. Fewer still understood the importance of business, and there was practically no one willing to invest in someone they could trust.

Most people with means were nobles. Born with capital already in hand, they knew how to spend it, but rarely considered growing it.

All they cared about was protecting what they already had.

Most commoners could not even accumulate wealth, much less understand the concept. They were too busy earning enough each day to eat that day. What wealth could they possibly have?

Of course, lacking the concept of accumulating wealth did not mean they lacked human desires.

Those desires erupted like a volcano during war or riots. Situations where people were permitted to plunder and take without mercy.

But such occasions were rare, so a farmer's son lived as a farmer, a woodcutter's son as a woodcutter, and a merchant's son as a merchant.

And even if someone somehow managed to start a business, protecting it was even harder.

Aside from business failures, nobles might seize their property like bandits overnight, or a riot might break out and a mob might rob them of what generations had built.

That was why merchants were obsessed with acquiring armed force. A sizable merchant company was a kind of private armed group, and some had no land but possessed military strength nearly equal to that of a lord.

Even peddlers had to know how to fight, and many famed swordsmen came from among them.

Long ago, the Norsemen themselves had been traders, raiders, and warriors.

Those three things had originally been one. They only appeared divided after the kingdom was established, but the boundary between them was still blurred.

Simply put, if the other party was not to be taken lightly, one traded with money. If they were weak, one killed them and took what they had. That was accepted as natural.

At the heart of it all was survival. The irresistible command of instinct that said to do anything to stay alive. And unbearable desire.

Valerie understood the core of all this very well. From the very bottom to the very peak, every moment had been a process of survival.

Ironically, the purpose of surviving had been to kill himself.

Though perhaps this time would be different.

For better or worse, Valerie had a definite investor. Duke Sven. He borrowed ten gold coins from him.

Ten gold coins was an enormous sum. Copper coins were mainly used in daily life, silver coins in commerce, and gold coins were high-value currency used only in truly large transactions.

In rural areas where barter was still the norm, there were people who lived their whole lives without ever seeing a gold coin.

And now, not one, not two, not three or four, but eight gold coins lay on the table.

The salt merchant blinked at the eight gold coins, looking as though he could not understand what he was seeing.

Then he looked up at the person who had placed the money on the table. It was Valerie, with a face so handsome it would be hard to encounter even in dreams.

“...Are you planning to make an ocean?”

“No. So, do you have the quantity or not?”

“I don't have that much on hand right away. More importantly, buying this much iron and salt requires His Grace the Duke's permission.”

Iron was one of the strategic materials, while salt was essential to daily life. To trade such goods in large quantities, one needed permission from the lord of the territory.

At the salt merchant's troubled words, Valerie looked behind him. Knut was wandering around the shop with his hands behind his back, looking about.

Arne stood beside Valerie like a guard. He wore fine clothes instead of a guard's uniform, with a sword at his waist. Perhaps because he was unaccustomed to such clothes, he kept twisting his body.

Receiving Valerie's look, Knut addressed the salt merchant.

“I really want to buy it.”

“...”

At those words, the salt merchant's heart dropped, and he closed his mouth.

Knut's infamy was known not just inside the fortress, but throughout the city. The tale of him cutting open a servant's belly, and more recently, assassinating his half-brother.

Everyone also knew he had been locked in the watchtower's iron cage and thoroughly scolded by Duke Sven. It had been visible from anywhere in the city.

As a mere salt merchant, he found it difficult to refuse Knut. There was no knowing what Knut might do to him.

“When the goods are ready, leave them at the western pier. Deduct two days' storage fees from the payment.”

Valerie spoke as if the deal had already been settled.

“The western pier? Not the eastern one?”

Perhaps because of Knut's intimidating presence, the salt merchant had become polite without realizing it.

“Yes. I'm taking them to Gringen to sell.”

“...Pardon!?”

At first, the salt merchant stared blankly, wondering if he had heard wrong. Then he suddenly cried out.

Saying they would sell in Gringen was the same as saying they would smuggle goods there. If Duke Sven caught the salt merchant, losing a hand might not be the worst of it.

“Money is money, isn't it? It's not as though money has eyes.”

“Th-that...”

“Just prepare the goods. Don't worry. No harm will come to you.”

Leaving only those words behind, Valerie walked out of the shop. The other two followed.

“Did you really have to say that?”

Arne asked.

“Say what?”

“That you were selling them in Gringen.”

“It's better to spread the story. It should look like some inexperienced young noble, a little too gullible, is recklessly trying to do business. That'll make them interested.”

Naturally, because business was not something just anyone could do, Knut was presented as the figurehead and apparent owner of the enterprise.

Those who knew anything also knew there had been conflict between Duke Sven and Knut, which made the business seem more plausible.

A thoughtless, troublemaking, vicious young lord trying to make money without relying on his father.

“But why salt?”

“Gringen is surrounded by marshland. Its specialties are jewels and peat, but since it is surrounded by marshes, it lacks necessities like lumber, food, and salt. They have no choice but to bring everything in from outside. You know the Duke imposed an embargo on Gringen long ago, right? Salt must be almost as valuable as gold there. It's also relatively easy to transport.”

“Then shouldn't they avoid getting on His Grace's bad side?”

“Whether ordinary people suffer or not, as long as they make money, that's all that matters to them. That Creed fellow, I mean.”

It was all obvious with a little thought, but Arne had never experienced or learned any of it. Everything felt strange and fascinating.

And amid that strangeness and fascination, he also felt a revulsion strong enough to make him shudder.

“...What a rotten bastard.”

“There are plenty of people like that in the world.”

“Anyway, don't we need a boat to smuggle goods?”

“We need to find one now. Nobody will probably lend us one. Selling salt can be brushed off as simply selling goods, but lending out a boat means taking part in smuggling.”

Of course, Valerie's group did not care whether it counted as smuggling. Duke Sven himself had ordered them to kill Gringen's Groin-Ripper.

But it was a secret mission, so they could not reveal it publicly.

“What if nobody lends us one?”

“That'll spread rumors in its own way, so it doesn't matter. The rumors might even reach Gringen, and someone who smells money may approach us. They might say they can make an introduction. Or smugglers within the city might approach us. Every city has smugglers.”

Every city had some gang called a brotherhood or a crew. It made no sense for there not to be smugglers too. In the first place, criminal organizations were usually the ones running smuggling operations.

Arne nodded as though he understood, then suddenly looked at Valerie as if wondering what kind of person he was.

Valerie seemed to know everything, as though he could see straight through what was coming. Could someone really be this smart? Beyond admiration, Arne found it almost unreal. He seemed like a hero who had been through every hardship imaginable.

And he was only fourteen.

Just as Valerie had said, every merchant company with a boat wore troubled expressions and refused.

“Looks like only the gangs are left. Hmm...”

Arne spoke while standing beside Knut, who seemed uninterested in worldly matters as he crunched on honey-soaked dried fruit.

Valerie simply stood looking out at the river. They had gone all over the city since morning, and the sun was setting. The shimmering reflection on the river glowed orange.

With a sword at his waist, standing with his weight on one leg in the river breeze, he almost looked as though he were waiting for someone.

And surprisingly, someone really did come toward Valerie's group, trampling through the grass.

It was Skard, whom Valerie had thoroughly beaten not long ago.

Arne flinched in surprise when he saw Skard.

Ignoring him, Skard dipped his head to Knut, who showed no interest, then spoke directly to Valerie.

“I heard you're looking for a boat.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get you one.”

“What do you want in return?”

“Let me join this.”

“Is there a reason?”

“I can't keep guarding the floodgates and shaking people down forever. I want to make a big score too.”

Valerie turned his gaze from the river and looked at Skard. He did not look determined or resentful. He looked somehow sorrowful.

“That isn't all, is it?”

Valerie said.

Skard looked out at the river as well, lost in thought. Then, like the flowing water, he let his true feelings spill out.

“My father really did die begging.”

Valerie felt a stab of guilt, but maintained a calm expression through remarkable concentration. He had insulted Skard's parents before.

“He was originally a really impressive man, but one day he got hooked on gambling and drinking. Every day, he beat my mother. Demanding money. He beat my brothers, my sisters, and me too. My eldest brother couldn't take it anymore. One day, he beat Father nearly to death and threw him out of the house. But he still didn't come to his senses. Whenever he got a little money from begging, he gambled and drank... Then he died in the street.”

Skard looked at Valerie again.

“When you think about it, shaking people down is no different from begging. No matter how much you collect, it's only pocket change. I want to do something, something proper. Whether it's bad or right. I don't want to live like my father. Does that answer you?”

Valerie felt guilty for no reason. He decided he should watch his insults from now on.

“Fine. And about what I said...”

“Forget it. Follow me.”

As Valerie tried to apologize, Skard cut him off and started walking. Before they knew it, Valerie's group was following him.

Skard led them to ancient sewers. They had apparently not been used properly for a long time, and only groundwater flowed through them, so the water was surprisingly clear.

But the sewers were full of their distinctive stale, moldy smell. There were people who lived wrapped in that smell as though it were clothing.

Valerie did not know whether anyone lived deeper in the sewers, but near the entrance, groups of people gathered here and there.

Skard approached three people sitting around a bonfire.

They recognized Skard, but did not acknowledge him. They only watched silently.

Without even a customary greeting, Skard immediately got to the point.

“I need a boat.”

One of the people around the fire glanced at Valerie's group and spoke.

“My stomach turns when there's a noble nearby.”

He meant Knut. Valerie signaled to Arne, who led Knut away for the moment.

Only after Knut was out of sight did the person speak again.

“What do you need it for?”

“You heard the rumors too, Yorick.”

Valerie had practically shouted it all over town that day, so there was no way Torvik's Thieves' Guild did not know. Knut was trying to smuggle salt.

At Skard's words, Yorick grinned. One of his front teeth was gold, glinting in the firelight.

He seemed to habitually polish that gold tooth with his tongue, always keeping it shining.

“Besides the fee for renting the boat, we need a deposit.”

“What kind of deposit?”

“If the Duke catches us, we're the ones who are fucked, right? That young lord can spend a day or two in an iron cage, but we'll die. We need a deposit. A security deposit.”

Since this was his first time dealing with anything like it, Skard turned to Valerie. Valerie spoke to Yorick across the bonfire, which lit his face from below.

“How much?”

“One gold coin.”

It sounded like Yorick was throwing out the most outrageous nonsense he could, intending to bargain.

“I can give you five silver coins.”

Valerie said.

“Oh, come on. With that face, you could earn one gold coin from selling your body for one night.”

Yorick's companions snickered. Valerie lowered his head.

Skard looked troubled, but Valerie lifted his head again and spoke.

“Fine. Will one gold coin do?”

“Oh? Really?”

Valerie walked around the bonfire and stood before Yorick. Still seated, Yorick tilted his head and looked up at Valerie, grinning.

Then a flash like lightning flickered before Yorick's eyes.

Valerie had suddenly driven a front kick into his face.

Thwack!

“Urk!”

Yorick squeezed his eyes shut and fell flat on his back. He rolled once before striking the wall and stopping. The pain in his face quickly turned to rage.

“You bastard!”

Yorick shouted as he sprang to his feet.

But at that moment, an overwhelming sense of wrongness swept over him.

For one thing, it was far too quiet. And Valerie, who entered his sight, was shaking something from his sword before sliding it into the scabbard at his waist.

Shhk. Click.

Then Yorick saw something he could not understand. Skard sat on the ground with his eyes wide, staring up at Valerie, while Yorick's companions lay sprawled across the floor.

Were they sleeping at a time like this?

It was already dark around them, so Yorick had not noticed at first. But the two companions lying there had no heads.

The heads that should have been on their bodies were rolling down the slope.

Only when he realized it did Yorick's entire body break out in goosebumps. His legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the ground.

Other Guild members had been sitting around nearby bonfires. They had rushed over, but now they were slowly backing away. Their faces were filled with terror.

Valerie, who had caused all this, picked something up from the ground and approached Yorick.

It was Yorick's gold tooth.

Holding it up for Yorick to see, Valerie said,

“One gold coin. That's enough, right?”

Yorick nodded so quickly that it was hard to tell whether he was trembling or nodding.

Valerie casually tossed him the gold tooth, then turned away.

“Let's go, Skard.”

It was Skard's first time seeing Valerie wield a real sword rather than a practice sword. He looked not merely terrified, but as though he had seen a ghost.

He hurriedly came to his senses and followed Valerie. Without realizing it, he kept looking back.

In the bonfire's light, the gold tooth resting on Yorick's chest shone like a star in the sky.

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