WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 2

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The early spring forest was especially rich with fresh scents, perhaps because the previous winter’s snow had melted away. The smell of earth, trees, new shoots, and every other living thing. Even the morning sunlight seemed as though it might have a fragrance.

But there was another smell that did not belong among them. Smoke and the scent of burning wood from a fire.

Somewhere in the hunting grounds of Winslow, the territory ruled by Count Aethelred, stood a hut that looked ready to collapse.

It was not used by rangers or foresters. It was truly ancient, as though it had stood there since long ago, before the Founding War.

The reason it had not fallen apart yet was probably because someone kept making crude repairs.

Children’s hearts naturally found a home in things adults ignored. Perhaps it was still standing because it had served as a place for children through generations.

The source of the burning smell was beside that hut. By the time Valerie, Harald, and Gidwin arrived, five or six children had already built a fire and were preparing rabbits, squirrels, and the like. Skinning them and removing their guts.

Two looked about the same age as Valerie’s group, while the rest were truly little children. They looked no older than ten, if that.

“Huh? It’s the boss.”

One child, wearing a helmet that clearly did not fit, pointed in his direction.

Everyone turned to look at once. At first, they looked at Harald, but when their eyes reached Valerie, their faces filled with surprise.

“What? He really came?”

“Wow...”

Valerie, Harald, Gidwin, and a few others lived in the castle, but the rest of the children lived outside it.

So the children from outside the castle were seeing Valerie for the first time. The sight of his handsome face left them dumbstruck.

The helmeted child scampered over, pressed close to Valerie, and looked up at him. With wide eyes visible beneath the helmet, he murmured,

“An angel. An angel...”

“I told you, Hakon. He’s incredibly handsome.”

Harald smiled with satisfaction and patted Hakon’s head. The helmet tilted crookedly, leaving Hakon unable to see for a moment as he flailed around.

Having arrived, Harald naturally sat on a large tree stump. It looked just right for sitting, but no one else had taken it. That probably meant it was something like a throne among the children, a place only Harald could sit.

In any case, everyone’s eyes remained fixed on Valerie. Though the attention should have been uncomfortable, Valerie paid it no mind and sat on a relatively flat rock.

“You may have heard about him, but some of you are seeing him for the first time, right? This is Wid. Wid, these are my friends. This is Locke, Guido, Tommy...”

Harald introduced them one by one. Whenever Valerie’s gaze rested on one of them, they all looked away.

The last was the child in the helmet.

“And that’s Hakon.”

As if he had been waiting, Hakon suddenly said something rather out of place.

“Do you know what this helmet is? This is the famous Helm of Terror. The one Sigurd the Dragonslayer wore. What do you think? Amazing, right?”

Sigurd the Dragonslayer was none other than the most famous ancestor of the Volsung royal house, a legendary hero respected by all Norsemen. He was Valerie’s great-grandfather.

His grandfather was Sigmund the Avenger, his father was Helgi Berserkbane, and he himself was Valerie the Heartless.

The problem was that Valerie had seen the real Helm of Terror before his return. Unfortunately, the one Hakon wore did not even qualify as a counterfeit.

Still, helmets themselves were difficult to make and therefore expensive. Not everyone could own one. Even among soldiers who took part in actual battles, countless men had no helmet.

In that respect, even if it was not a legendary item, it was something worth showing off.

“He just picked that up in the forest. If you play along, he’ll keep bragging about it, so ignore him.”

Gidwin quietly informed Valerie. But Valerie saw it a little differently.

“Still, someone must have worn it, even if we do not know their name. If he found it here, then they must have died here. Then it probably wasn't from the War of the Beasts. Could it have been from the Founding War? If it has that much meaning, it might be worth boasting about.”

The War of the Beasts referred to the war of succession fought when the current king had still been a prince. It had happened around thirty years ago.

It was famous for pitting the first generation of warriors, who had distinguished themselves during the Founding War, also called the War of Conquest, against the young warriors of the new era.

Put simply, it had been a fight between princes supported by the first generation of warriors and princes supported by younger warriors.

At the time, many fighters wore wolf, tiger, or bear pelts. From a distance, it looked as though beasts were fighting one another, which was why it came to be called the War of the Beasts.

Most battles in that war had been major engagements rather than scattered local skirmishes, and their locations were fairly well known. That was why Valerie had made that deduction.

Winslow was not the site of any major battle.

“...”

But everyone stared blankly at Valerie, as if they did not understand or were wondering what he was talking about. That was because they truly did not understand.

Harald, however, did. He spoke with a satisfied smile.

“As expected of Wid. I thought I’d be able to have a conversation with you. Did you know that there were no noble titles in the old days? Military chieftains like jarls and earls ruled the land, but titles like duke and count were created under the current king.”

“More precisely, the first king intended to implement them, but died before he could. The current king was the one who did it. Military chieftains maintained their own forces and held their own authority without the king’s interference, while titles had to be recognized by the king. The first generation must have felt as though their rights were being taken away. They may even have felt betrayed.”

“So, was it really necessary? Creating noble titles?”

“That depends on your perspective.”

“What is your perspective, Wid?”

“What about yours?”

Their conversation had been somewhat irreverent. After all, this had been the current king’s greatest policy and achievement.

So Valerie answered Harald’s question with another question. Harald kept the same smile on his face.

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

Gidwin asked with the same confused expression as the other children.

The gap in education was simply too great. The other children could not understand them discussing past history, much less its significance.

“So is that really the Helm of Terror or not?”

“Will you shut up already? Let’s cook the meat. Some of them have to leave early.”

Gidwin brought the situation under control at Hakon’s irrelevant question. The children began skewering the meat they had prepared on branches and roasting it.

Gidwin generously sprinkled the herbs he had brought. They were not particularly expensive spices, just things gathered from nature to get rid of the gamey smell. He also added plenty of salt.

Soon, an appetizing aroma rose from the fire, and the children excitedly traded childish stories.

Before long, whether the meat was fully cooked or not, they each took a skewer and started tearing into it. They pulled off legs and gave them to the person beside them, passing around lukewarm ale that they had brought from somewhere.

A feast of meat and alcohol first thing in the morning. It made for a fairly convincing birthday celebration.

As the mood rose, the conversation grew more heated as well. Some of it sounded rather dangerous.

“...So this worthless little shit got cocky, and I beat him so bad I left him half-crippled.”

“Quit bullshitting.”

“I’m not bullshitting. Look, I took this after beating the shit out of him. You could call it spoils of war.”

A boy named Tommy pulled something out from behind a fallen tree. To everyone’s surprise, it was a Viking-style sword.

The chatter stopped the moment the unexpected object appeared.

“Is that real?”

Someone finally broke the brief silence.

Tommy drew the sword. It was a real blade, sharp and gleaming blue. The air that had been warm only moments ago seemed to turn cold in an instant.

“Who did you beat up?”

Gidwin asked Tommy.

“I don’t know. Why would I know his name? He was probably one of the Lecton gang.”

The Lecton gang were thugs from a nearby city. It was unknown whether they had any connection to the Thieves’ Guild.

Thieves’ Guilds existed in every city in the world. Their size and influence varied, but it was best to avoid getting involved with one regardless.

Fortunately or unfortunately, it was not a city Valerie had belonged to before his return.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Gidwin warned him sternly.

“Killed? Me? Even if they all came at me together, I could beat those bastards alone. Now that I have a sword, I could kill them too. Didn’t you hate them as well, Gidwin?”

It seemed Tommy did not understand what he was being told.

Valerie simply watched without much interest. Harald leaned toward him and whispered,

“Tommy is one of the squires. He’s been training for years, but he has far too much confidence.”

Confidence? It was arrogance.

Valerie knew about Tommy. He was an Astrian from a commoner family.

His father was an undertaker. Tommy had been unusually large from a young age, and Count Aethelred had noticed him while patrolling the territory. That was how he came to serve as a squire.

Even Valerie did not know his exact age, but he was only a little smaller than Gidwin.

The problem was that as he grew older, whether from inferiority or ambition, Tommy became increasingly obnoxious.

Whenever he encountered Valerie in the castle, he did not say it directly, but he would deliberately make insulting remarks loudly enough for Valerie to hear. Things like saying that a whore’s son smelled foul. He was worse when women were nearby.

Still, they rarely ran into each other, so ignoring him did not make life particularly inconvenient.

“Doesn’t it make you restless? I wish a war would break out already. Gidwin, you can keep guarding the young lord. I’ll lead the charge and earn glory. Like this. And this!”

Tommy rose to his feet and swung the sword around. At first, it seemed as though he was only swinging it at the bonfire, but then he swung it dangerously, as if at the children around him, or perhaps not.

With the blue blade whistling past before their eyes, some of the children leaned away and raised their arms defensively.

Just when it seemed someone should stop him, Tommy suddenly struck the helmet Hakon was wearing.

Clang!

“Eek!”

Hakon jumped back in fright. His helmet shifted crookedly, blocking his vision, and he fell.

“Hey!”

Gidwin shouted, his eyes widening.

“Hahaha! It’s a joke. Just a joke.”

Though Tommy called it a joke, he showed no sign of stopping. Perhaps he had started enjoying tormenting Hakon. Taking exaggerated poses, he swung his sword at Hakon.

Hakon was too busy dodging to think and unintentionally fled toward Valerie.

Then Tommy’s eyes gleamed. Valerie saw the malicious intent clearly.

The sword slashed diagonally toward Valerie. It did not carry murderous intent, but it was dangerous.

Then, something suddenly flashed past Tommy’s eyes. The hand holding his sword felt empty.

The loss of balance made his body sway slightly, and a chilling sensation ran across his neck. When he came to his senses, the sword point was aimed at his throat.

Amid the confusion, he saw Valerie’s icy gaze. Tommy could not even think of looking away. He froze in place, like prey standing before a predator.

His body remained stiff as he darted his eyes around, but his own hand was empty, while the sword was in Valerie’s hand. It was as if he had been possessed by a ghost or struck by magic, and yet an overwhelming fear swept over him.

Gidwin and Harald, who had hurried over to stop them, were also startled and stopped awkwardly.

Holding the sword close to Tommy’s throat, Valerie quietly watched him and spoke in a low voice.

“Shut your mouth and listen carefully, Tommy.”

The air Valerie gave off was so cold that it felt as if spring had ended in an instant and winter had returned.

“I know that killing something like you will not make me feel better anymore. So I will not kill you. But watching your insolence is a trial in itself.”

He did not even frown. He merely glared a little, yet Valerie’s intense gaze seemed capable of piercing his opponent like the tip of a finely honed spear.

“I cannot stand to watch it, so stop. Do you understand? Nod if you understand.”

As if he had been waiting for those words, Tommy nodded while trembling.

Valerie immediately tossed the sword into the air. He caught it by the blade and held the hilt out to Tommy.

To others, it was an extremely dangerous act. He had just threatened Tommy, yet he was returning the sword. And he was holding the blade himself.

“Do not disappoint me.”

Yet Valerie seemed not to care who the sword point or hilt faced.

In truth, more than any cruel or vulgar words, Valerie’s command not to disappoint him weighed heavily on Tommy.

Trembling, Tommy took the hilt. Then, as though all strength had left him, he let the sword hang limply and lowered his head.

Once it was over, Valerie turned to Harald.

“Thank you for the birthday celebration. I’m leaving.”

He took off his coat, returned it to Gidwin, who was still standing there awkwardly, and walked out of the forest alone.

Harald and the other boys could only stare blankly at Valerie’s retreating back.

A long silence settled in and continued for a while.

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