WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 19

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There was a place in the courtyard of Torvik Fortress that people rarely visited. It was near the garden, and Valerie, Knut, Arne, and Skard had gathered there.

They were sitting or standing wherever they pleased, all looking at Valerie. They were literally receiving a special crash course in actual combat for actual combat.

“For a while, we won't do endurance training. We're training for real combat, so training can't interfere with the real thing. Agreed?”

Arne, who was practically a training addict, nodded as though he understood.

“Arne and Skard, stay close to Knut and guard him. If I need something done occasionally, I'll have Skard do it. He knows how the back alleys work better. I'll handle what price and quantity to sell the salt for, who to sell it to, gathering information, negotiations, planning operations, carrying them out, getting out, and overall management. Any objections?”

There was no way anyone would object. From the beginning, they had all regarded Valerie as their leader and captain.

They merely found it strange, wondering where he had learned all this. Some of the words Valerie used were unfamiliar to the other three as well.

“And if something unexpected happens or a fight breaks out, don't clumsily try to use what you've learned so far. Understand? That comes after you're used to real combat. If there are several opponents, put up your shields and just push through. Before they can even brace themselves, push with all your strength at once. That way, they'll all go down in a heap. And when you fight indoors, always use a dagger. Don't stab anywhere else. Stab them in the stomach. Understood?”

“......”

No one said anything. It did not seem they had failed to understand, so Valerie continued.

“The point is to think as simply as possible. Forget all that stuff about how far apart your feet should be, what to do with your upper body, backhand strikes, all of it. Remember only two things. Push with your shield. Stab their stomach with a dagger. Still, keep your swords at your waists. They're useful for intimidation. Understand?”

Again, nobody answered.

“Answer me.”

“Got it.”

“......”

Arne answered, while Knut and Skard remained silent.

Skard in particular looked at Valerie with a crooked gaze before speaking.

“What sort of place is Winslow, anyway?”

Skard asked because he could not believe Valerie possessed such professional, practical knowledge, on top of the swordsmanship he had displayed before.

Valerie merely laughed it off.

“Go visit sometime. And I'll say this in advance. You don't need to be too afraid, but don't let your guard down either. It might turn out to be nothing much. If things start getting too dangerous, we'll simply withdraw. Be prepared to die, but don't die on purpose. Whether we succeed or fail, nobody here will die. I promise. I'll make sure of it.”

There was power in Valerie's words. It was not merely the persuasiveness of someone who knew how to speak. It was something inborn, almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It gave listeners more than the feeling that it might truly happen. It brought them close to certainty.

Simply put, his charisma was extraordinary. The three listening to Valerie felt that unconsciously.

Valerie then taught them how to use daggers. The type was called a Knightly Dagger, a dagger commonly used by knights, just as its name suggested.

There was no fixed form, since many people modified them to suit their preferences. The one Valerie planned to use was lighter, and its shape was clearly specialized for thrusting.

Its blade was shaped like a pointed triangle, designed so that once it pierced flesh, the wound would spread open.

Driven hard, it could pierce chainmail and was useful for exploiting openings.

Valerie taught them how many daggers to carry on their bodies, where to carry them, how to draw them in different situations, and how to hold them.

Having lived as an assassin for several years before his regression, Valerie was highly skilled with daggers. He spun one around his hand as though passing the time, and everyone stared wide-eyed.

“You don't have to practice this specifically, but it has to become this familiar. Like a sixth finger. So that no matter the situation or position, you can inflict a fatal wound in an instant.”

Then, after hearing Valerie, Knut flicked the dagger around over his hand in exactly the same way. Valerie's eyes widened, apparently not expecting it.

“What about things I've already practiced?”

Knut asked.

“Um... Good job.”

Valerie had nothing else to say. Thinking about how Knut had gathered people to assassinate Ketilmund, he had never been ordinary to begin with. There was also the time he had cut open a servant's stomach as a child.

In any case, Valerie's group spent around three days learning their plan and roles, as well as how to use daggers and shields.

After three days, the salt merchant contacted them.

The goods were ready.

“Hehehe, my lords, nobody stepped forward, so I think you'll each have to take an oar...”

Yorick said with a servile smile at the reed-field dock shrouded in fog. Somehow, one of his two front teeth was now gold.

The boat was somewhat larger than an ordinary ferryboat. It had no sail and had to be rowed.

“That's fine. Let's load the salt first.”

There were twenty large sacks full of salt. They were all trained, so lifting them onto the boat was not difficult. The problem was whether the boat could bear the load.

They balanced the sacks between front and back, and the water nearly reached the gunwales.

There were five of them in total. Knut sat in the middle, with two people seated at the front and two at the back.

The water was then nearly level with the gunwales, and whenever the boat shifted slightly, water flowed inside.

“This doesn't seem right...”

Arne muttered quietly, clearly uneasy. It was a separate matter from whether he was brave or cowardly.

“We'll arrive in half a day. It'll be fine if we're careful.”

Valerie was uneasy himself, but he reassured Arne anyway.

No matter how thoroughly one made plans, unexpected variables were bound to arise once real action began.

When that happened, sometimes one simply pushed forward, while at other times one changed the plan. Judging wisely and deciding boldly were virtues of those who led.

Valerie's judgment for now was to continue.

“Knut, bail out the water.”

“Me?”

“Then I'll bail it out, and you row.”

“I'll bail.”

Thus, all five of them had their own task.

The four holding oars, including Valerie, shoved off from the dock with all their strength. The boat tipped once, and a large amount of water spilled in. Everyone's hearts dropped.

Knut immediately began bailing water with a scoop.

Still, with the boat so heavily laden, it did not seem likely to capsize easily.

The group began rowing anxiously. At first, it barely seemed to move forward at all, but gradually, very gradually, it picked up speed.

The boat pushed through the fog toward the northwest.

There were no rough waves, and after rowing for about three hours, the boat had become stable. As a result, so had their nerves.

Just when they began to think they could reach their destination without trouble, a light appeared beyond the fog.

They looked closer, and a group in a boat emerged through the mist from the opposite direction. Someone at the front held up a lantern. That was the light they had seen.

There were four or five people aboard. If they had ill intentions, it could become quite troublesome.

However, they only observed Valerie's group as they slowly passed by.

Several gazes crossed midway. Only the sound of the boats moving, Creak, creak., and the water parting could be heard. No one spoke.

At last, the boats passed each other. The boat from the other side turned toward the marshes and disappeared behind the reeds.

“They knew we were coming.”

Valerie said.

“Then what do we do?”

Arne asked uneasily, as though voicing everyone's feelings.

“It's a good thing. We don't need to advertise.”

“Is that how it works?”

“No matter how reckless they are, they can't casually lay hands on the third son of Duke Eldeira. For now, they only observed us. Think of them like wild beasts. They don't just rush in to bite. They study their opponent thoroughly and wait until they see an opening.”

“...Then are we fighting wild beasts?”

“You're a wild beast too, Arne. Observe your opponents. As though you'll bite them the instant you see an opportunity.”

Come to think of it, that was reassuring. I am a wild beast too...

“Understood, my lord. From now on, I'm a wild beast too.”

Yorick replied with determined eyes, apparently moved by the words. Valerie ignored him.

After another hour, the fog lifted and they reached a dock. Boats were moored there, but few people could be seen.

That was because Duke Sven's ban had forced most traffic to use the docks on the northern side of the city.

At any rate, half the people at the dock looked like beggars, while the other half seemed to be warehouse keepers or laborers. Anyone who looked decent was probably affiliated with some organization.

The beggars wore only rags. They were gaunt, with no life in their eyes. Their ages were hard to guess, and they seemed to be waiting for death.

When Valerie's group tied up the boat and stepped onto the dock, everyone's eyes turned toward them.

Then Yorick suddenly shouted loudly.

“Hey!”

Even the group who had come with him flinched in surprise. What was wrong with this man?

Regardless of their reaction, Yorick strode up to the nearest person and said,

“We need a warehouse to store our goods.”

“......”

As Valerie's group unloaded the heavy salt sacks from the boat, they could only watch Yorick's behavior in disbelief. Naturally, they had to find a warehouse, but they had not intended to do it like that.

“Are you deaf? Why aren't you answering!?”

“...Ask over there.”

One of the dockworkers pointed somewhere. Yorick immediately walked in that direction and spoke to the person there.

“We need to use a warehouse here.”

“......”

“Look at these bastards. Not answering again? You! Do my lords look like dog's dicks to you!?”

“Dog's dicks” seemed like a rather excessive expression, but things were certainly proceeding quickly.

The warehouse keeper did not seem frightened, but he was clearly overwhelmed by Yorick's momentum.

“...Wait a moment.”

He went off somewhere, perhaps to report to his superior. A little later, he returned and said,

“One silver coin per day for storage.”

“You trying to die, bastard? I know the rates here. Go bring your boss right now, or take five copper coins.”

Yorick raised his hand as though he were about to hit him, and the warehouse keeper headed to his superior once more. Soon, his superior, the warehouse manager, emerged.

He looked at Yorick, then at Valerie's group, who had just finished unloading the salt sacks.

Then he looked back at Yorick and said,

“Five copper coins only pays for storing the goods. Whether the goods disappear or whatever else happens, we won't concern ourselves with that. If you're staying in the warehouse too, it'll be one copper coin per person, so one silver coin in total.”

Ten copper coins equaled one silver coin, and twenty silver coins equaled one gold coin.

At the manager's words, Yorick scowled deeply. Just as he was about to shout again, Valerie stepped forward.

“Fine. We'll stay here with the goods. One silver coin per day. Five days' worth for now.”

Of the ten gold coins Duke Sven had given him, Valerie had spent eight buying salt and kept two for incidental costs. He handed five silver coins exchanged in Torvik to the warehouse manager.

The warehouse manager snatched the money away in an instant, as though stealing it. He then opened the warehouse door at once.

“I'll come see you again in five days, my lord.”

The large double doors made a Rrrk. sound, revealing the inside of the warehouse. There were not many other goods stored within.

There was plenty of space, but several people were present. They were all guarding their own goods, or goods belonging to the organizations they served.

After moving the salt sacks inside, Valerie spoke to Yorick.

“You did well. This is for renting the boat and for your trouble. It includes the safety deposit you mentioned too.”

Valerie handed Yorick five silver coins. Yorick's eyes widened because he had not expected to receive a reward.

Whether their first meeting had been good or bad, Valerie always paid what was due. That was why he gave him money.

Besides, though one gold coin had been an absurd demand, five silver coins was still quite a large sum.

But Yorick's reaction was strange.

“A-Are you abandoning me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You told me to become a wild beast.”

“...You don't have to become one too.”

“Please!”

Yorick suddenly fell to his knees and clasped his hands in plea. Arne, who had been watching, spoke from beside him.

“Didn't we already pay the cost for his share too? If we're taking turns guarding the goods, having one more person would be useful. Let's just keep him with us.”

“Thank you, my lord!”

Valerie had not even agreed, but Yorick thanked him as though he had.

At this point, Valerie had little choice. It would be dangerous for Yorick to return alone now, too. Valerie remembered the boat they had encountered earlier.

“Fine, so be quiet.”

Then he looked at Knut.

“If we stay at an inn, there are guard issues and we'd have to split our people. I think we should stay here. Is that all right?”

“It's far better than living in a birdcage.”

“Okay.”

Valerie then addressed everyone.

“For now, we'll all stay here. But whenever anyone goes out, at least two people must remain to guard the goods. If something dangerous seems likely to happen while only two of you are here, abandon everything and run. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, though they somehow looked ready to protect the goods with their lives.

“I'll look around the city alone for now, so don't go far. Just get familiar with the area nearby.”

“You don't need us to come with you?”

Arne asked. Valerie smiled as he answered.

“Actually, I've been here before.”

“...What does Winslow even do? They sent a child to a place like this?”

Skard shook his head as he spread out bedding and prepared to properly live in the warehouse.

“I'll be back.”

Valerie left the warehouse.

Once he rounded the dock and entered the city proper, it was both familiar and utterly unfamiliar.

After the king died, Valerie had come here when he was twenty. So this was six years before then.

From this point onward, there was nothing he had not done. It had truly been a world where the strong devoured the weak, a world that had driven Valerie inhumanly hard.

To survive in hell, one had no choice but to become a devil. Perhaps that was an excuse.

Count Aethelred, Lady Sybild, Harald, and his friends. Coming here made Valerie realize just how much they had changed him.

The wind blowing in from the marshes had its distinctive scent. Damp earth and smoke. The smoke came from burning peat, which was used here more often than firewood.

Whether he was chasing memories or retracing the future, Valerie unconsciously walked where his feet led him. He could feel eyes on him everywhere, but brushed them off as though they were the wind.

One had to be careful of alleys in a place like this, yet Valerie entered them without hesitation.

Then he found a black handprint on the corner of a stone building. The Black Hand. The symbol of the Thieves' Guild he had once belonged to.

Valerie raised his hand toward the print, as though measuring its size. Or rather, he was about to.

“Hey, you shouldn't touch that carelessly.”

Valerie turned to find the owner of the voice.

He swore there was no one here he longed to see in his dreams. Even the friends he had helped in good faith had betrayed him, and his fingers had been cut off.

When he turned around, there was not one person but several. The one who had called out to him had a long scar splitting one corner of his mouth. It was the very person who had cut off Valerie's fingers.

The man who cut children's fingers off if they failed to meet their tribute quota, whether through pickpocketing, robbery, or begging.

Yet even as he faced him, Valerie felt not the slightest anger in his heart. The man merely seemed utterly insignificant.

“Do you still cut children's fingers off, Pale?”

“...Who are you?”

“Ah, are you more familiar with the nickname Finger Collector?”

“......”

The man called Pale flinched and was visibly unsettled. He was accustomed to violence, but the fact that someone knew about him frightened him more.

The Black Hand, Gringen's Thieves' Guild, valued secrecy more than life itself. To them, secrecy was the most important, solemn, and absolute rule.

Breaking it did not end with losing a few fingers or dying. They tortured the offender until they revealed whom they had told and how far the connection extended.

In reality, they were tortured until every memory in their head had been dragged out.

That was why those with Pale were equally startled and flustered. A complete stranger knew about Pale. Those who thought quickly were afraid they might be implicated too.

“What should I do... This will do. His Grace the Duke knows all about you selling information to Groin-Ripper. You have a hideout behind North Toad Rock, don't you? You move a stone, and there are stairs leading underground. I hear it connects to somewhere...”

Because of the six-year gap, the information Valerie knew might be inaccurate. But it did not matter. Even if only part of it was correct, they would torture Pale until he spilled memories he never had.

“W-What? What are you talking about!? H-How do you know that!? That's impossible! It wasn't me! It really wasn't me!”

Pale, utterly confused, tried to explain himself to his companions.

“If you need something from me, don't come looking for me at night. Come during the day.”

Leaving those words behind, Valerie simply walked away.

Behind him, Pale desperately shouted something. Soon, perhaps because his mouth had been covered, the shouting stopped.

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