WeTried Translations

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 20

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Valerie took a quick look around Gringen and noticed a few things.

First, the Black Hand's influence was not as great as it had been when he was here, and numerous groups were competing for power.

Of course, people could not live alone. They had no choice but to form communities, and so every city had organizations of one kind or another.

For example, people in the same trade gathered into guilds, while people from the same region gathered into brotherhoods.

When such organizations were balanced, peace naturally followed. Conversely, when they were not, peace grew distant. Gringen seemed unable to maintain that balance.

There were internal disputes within organizations and turf wars between them. Put simply, the city was a mess.

At the heart of the fracture was Duke Sven's embargo. When necessities and other goods became scarce, goodwill inevitably grew scarce as well.

And that embargo had arisen almost entirely because of a man named Creed, also known as Groin-Ripper.

Creed controlled trade south of the city. He raised prices on everything he could get his hands on, and even engaged in piracy.

Piracy was not easy to crack down on. On land, knights could be dispatched to sweep the offenders away, but dealing with those active on the water was far more troublesome.

Furthermore, Gringen belonged to the Margraviate of Dunbria, so it was difficult for Duke Sven to enforce the law beyond his own borders.

That was why he had simply issued a trade embargo.

In the end, both sides suffered losses, but one could still make a living while the other was suffering terribly.

Gringen endured only because Creed did not care whether others suffered or died.

That was why Valerie now saw so many people slumped along the streets.

“It isn't selling as well as I expected.”

Arne, who had set several sacks of salt outside the warehouse along a street leading into the city, spoke. Looking at the people, it did not seem as though they had any money.

In truth, it was not merely selling poorly. They had not sold anything, even after being here for three days.

“They aren't refusing to buy because they're full. Anyone can see they desperately need it. They don't choose not to buy. They can't buy. Someone is probably cracking down behind the scenes. People are too afraid of retaliation.”

Valerie spoke while following a passing child with his eyes.

“Cracking down? Who? Groin-Ripper?”

“Probably.”

“What a rotten bastard...”

The people of Gringen looked weak because they lacked salt. Food itself was scarce enough that some people were starving to death, yet Groin-Ripper did not care.

“Is he trying to buy the salt cheaply himself?”

Perhaps Arne's eye for such things had improved from staying beside Valerie, because he made a reasonable guess.

“Maybe. Or maybe he's being cautious. It could be both.”

“Should I look into another way?”

Yorick spoke while eating grilled frog sprinkled with salt.

Grilled frog was something of a local specialty in Gringen. That was why there was even a derogatory term for its people: “frog-eaters.”

“No. I have a way.”

As Valerie said that, he beckoned to a child he had been watching for a while. The child was barefoot, with streaks of grime running down their face.

The child seemed wary at first, but approached hesitantly when Valerie continued to beckon.

“Take this and eat it with your mother.”

Valerie placed a handful of pure white salt in the child's hands.

The child looked startled, then spoke as though worried.

“I don't have a mother.”

“Then eat it by yourself.”

Before he had even finished speaking, the child ran off without a word of thanks.

Salt was truly worth its weight in gold in Gringen. It was practically a luxury rather than a necessity, something ordinary people could not afford unless they were wealthy merchants.

So when Valerie gave salt to a random child for free, eyes began turning toward them from every direction. Salt could even be used as currency.

Valerie beckoned to another child. Having seen what happened to the first, the child looked hopeful even before Valerie called.

This one did not hesitate to approach, and Valerie gave them another handful of salt.

“Th-thank! Thank!”

It was not a perfectly formed expression of gratitude, but the child bowed several times before leaving.

“You're just giving it away?”

Arne, who had silently watched, asked.

“Yeah. Let's give away an entire sack.”

“Why?”

“He's the kind of person who only fills his own greed, no matter who suffers. So how great do you think that greed is? People like that feel an intense sense of deprivation even over things that aren't theirs.”

Arne felt as if lightning had flashed through his mind. Was Valerie really a genius?

After he gave free salt to two children, every child in the neighborhood quickly gathered around Valerie.

Valerie put a handful of salt in every one of their hands. In a way, it was no different from scattering money.

Before long, he no longer had enough hands, so Arne and Yorick had to distribute salt to the children as well.

Eventually, adults began coming to Valerie's group too.

“Ah, fuck! The people who already got some, get the hell out of here!”

As the area became packed and chaotic, Yorick shouted angrily. Honestly, he was a great help whenever someone needed to curse.

In any case, one sack of salt began to run out in no time.

Then it happened.

“Hey, you fucking bastards! Aren't you leaving!?”

This time, it was not Yorick who had cursed. Someone shouted from beyond the crowd.

At that one shout, the people fled in terror, like cockroaches scattering into hiding. The street fell silent.

The newcomers were obviously thugs. They looked as though they had lived hard lives, with knife scars across their hands and faces.

One of them tilted his head and slowly approached Valerie's group with a lazy swagger. His face was covered in scars, and his nose was so upturned that his nostrils were visible from the front.

He looked down at the salt, then back at Valerie.

“Who said you could do business here?”

“We weren't doing business. We were just giving it away.”

Valerie answered. The man glared at Valerie, Arne, and Yorick in turn with a vicious expression before speaking to Valerie again.

“I'm Snub-Nose Ged, servant of the Terrifying Creed. You've heard of him, right?”

At the mention of Creed, Valerie and Arne inwardly thought they had found what they wanted. As an aside, Creed hated being called Groin-Ripper, and called himself the Terrifying Creed instead.

Valerie gave no outward sign and answered flatly.

“No.”

“You...”

Snub-Nose Ged narrowed his eyes at Valerie. Valerie showed not the slightest trace of fear or unease.

Besides, the difference in their appearances was so great that seeing them face each other was almost embarrassing for onlookers. If anything, Ged looked pitiful.

When Valerie still showed no sign of being intimidated, Ged spoke.

“This isn't fake, is it? Mind if I check whether it's real?”

Did he think they were giving fake salt to people? It was absurd, but Valerie gestured toward the sack as if telling him to have a taste.

Ged put a little salt on his fingertip, brought it to his nose, and inhaled sharply.

Sssip! Kagh!

Naturally, his face twisted in pain.

At the incomprehensible behavior, Valerie, Arne, and Yorick were all briefly taken aback.

Ged spoke.

“It really is salt...”

“Could you not have tasted it with your mouth?”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Arne asked.

“How would I know whether this is poison? If I tasted it with my mouth and it was poison, would you have me die? Do you take me for an idiot?”

“?”

He had no idea where things had gone wrong, and was left speechless.

“Hmph! Hngh! So, how much per sack?”

His nostrils stinging, Ged forcefully blew air through his nose before asking.

“Ten gold coins. We'll take jewels too. Only the finest quality.”

“You gave it away for free until just now, but you're asking us for ten gold coins? Should I take that to mean you think we're fucking worthless?”

“Sure.”

His mouth twisted in displeasure.

“One day. Wait exactly one day. I'll give you an answer tomorrow. Stop giving it to people.”

“Fine.”

At Valerie's answer, Ged withdrew for the moment. As he left, he gave a warning.

“We know the Duke and the Third Young Master don't get along. Don't get too cocky before you really get fucked. Ptooey.”

It was a threat that they could do something to the Third Young Master, who headed the salt business. Whether he truly meant it, was capable of it, or was simply bluffing did not matter.

After they had completely disappeared from sight, Yorick spoke.

“But... that felt good.”

Valerie and Arne turned to look at him, wondering what was wrong with him this time. He continued.

“When we gave salt to people. It felt strangely good.”

“...I felt the same.”

Arne agreed. Valerie did not respond. He merely closed up business for the day and carried the remaining salt inside the warehouse.

It was better for one's health not to wander through a city at night. More than common sense, it was something one had to do to stay alive.

Among such cities, Gringen was particularly dangerous.

If someone walked the streets at night and was merely robbed, they were fortunate. If they were killed and their corpse thrown into the marsh, they would remain silent forever, with no one to learn their story.

Even if one suffered a crime, where could they complain? Who would find the criminal and deliver justice?

Those living in farming villages might appeal to their lord for justice, but even then, matters rarely proceeded smoothly.

Therefore, people had no choice but to protect themselves. If their own strength was insufficient, they borrowed the strength of family. If that was not enough, they borrowed the strength of an organization to carry out justice.

They sought out those who had harmed or killed their fathers, mothers, nephews, siblings, or fellow members, and repaid them in kind.

Justice meant rightful revenge, and only those capable of carrying it out could achieve justice.

It was a world where power came closer to justice than truth.

There was no wind in Gringen's night. In the silence, people clad in black night like cloaks stood at alley corners, their wary eyes gleaming.

Tap tap tap, the sound of someone running. Someone trying to shout in urgency, only for their mouth to be covered. Crash, bang, and shouting from inside a home.

Instead of wind, only such sounds could be heard, near and far.

Amid all this, a person who belonged to no organization walked the night streets. It was Valerie.

Though alone, he moved naturally without a trace of tension, like a shark swimming through a dark sea.

Valerie had come out at night because he had seen the Black Hand's mark. It was a sign that they wished to make contact.

When he reached an underpass darker than its surroundings, a pitch-black shadow seemed to emerge from the wall beneath it.

Its form was completely concealed in shadow, as though it was a shadow itself in human shape.

“Didn't I say you should come during the day if you had business with me?”

Valerie asked. The black shadow answered. Fortunately or unfortunately, it was not a voice Valerie knew.

“You always have people with you. I wished to meet quietly and separately. Forgive me.”

“So why did you want to see me?”

“First, we have long known that His Grace the Duke is experienced, but we did not expect his intelligence network to be so extensive. It was our oversight.”

They seemed to have believed everything Valerie had casually told Pale. Frankly, they had little choice.

“There are things we know about each other, and things we do not. You spoke first of what you knew about us, so now we will speak of what we know. First, you did not come here to sell salt. You came to remove Creed. Second, you do not want that fact to become known.”

“So what? Are you saying you'll interfere?”

“No, no... I am saying we may be able to cooperate. We, too, have wanted to remove Creed for a long time. We will help you.”

“Put simply, it sounds like you want to use my hand to deal with Creed, then take the profit for yourselves.”

“To be honest, that is correct.”

“I don't know whether you realize this, but we have no problem simply leaving.”

The urgent party was them, not Valerie. It was not a bluff. It was the truth.

The person beneath the underpass tossed something toward him. Though it was night and he could not see what it was, Valerie recognized it in an instant and caught it.

It was a fist-sized leather pouch, and its contents felt like hard little grains. Jewels, most likely.

“The price of twenty sacks of salt. I put in more than the proper value. Realistically, unless you intend to settle here, you cannot take the profits after Creed dies, can you? Someone as clever as you understands that. In addition, I will give you one valuable piece of information.”

Valerie rattled the pouch in his hand.

“What's that?”

“It was the Second Young Master who sent the kidnappers after the heir of Winslow. It was done with the Duke's permission, of course, but the Second Young Master handled it from planning through execution. He has overseen policy toward Winslow for a long time.”

Valerie's expression did not change at all. He knew this was a trick, offering supposedly valuable information to see whether the other party would react emotionally.

It was a subtle Black Hand method for identifying an opponent's weakness. Once they found one, threats and inducements would follow relentlessly.

Valerie knew that, and it was so ridiculous that a genuine sneer escaped him.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“...Perhaps we can cooperate further in the future. We will provide information that may help establish the Third Young Master as heir.”

When Valerie did not waver at all, the other party began to waver instead.

Their voice did not tremble, but they clearly had no idea what Valerie wanted or feared. They were grasping at Knut based on their own assumptions.

“Not that. Where is Creed hiding?”

“...He is hiding in the marsh. He has more than ten hideouts, so even we cannot easily pinpoint his location.”

“So the answer is to draw him out. Then what help can you give me?”

Valerie pushed the conversation as though they were of no use to him.

To negotiate, both sides needed to hold the other's weakness or possess what the other wanted. At present, the Black Hand held no weakness over Valerie, nor did they possess anything he wanted.

Though it did not show beneath the shadow, the person under the underpass felt naked. It was a first.

“...Because you gave salt away for free, Creed is extremely angry right now. Your method has worked. There will be an attack at dawn tomorrow.”

Though Ged had asked for one day earlier that afternoon, it seemed they intended to test them before then.

Valerie had expected an attack to some extent, but he had not known the precise timing. This information was quite helpful.

“Fine. That's enough. We'll make contact again if necessary. Next time we meet, don't act like you know everything while putting on airs. It isn't even funny.”

Valerie shook the pouch of jewels and started walking. It meant he would accept their cooperation, at least in removing Creed.

“...”

Step, step, Valerie's footsteps receded until he turned down an alley and disappeared.

Then several more people emerged from the darkness beneath the underpass.

“What was that? He's no ordinary person.”

“Could he be lying about his age?”

“He's tall, but judging by his face, he could only be off by two or three years. His age isn't the important part.”

“He comes from Winslow, is skilled with a sword, has a sharp eye, can make and carry out plans, and above all, used the bold strategy of giving salt away for free. Is there any way he could have learned all that by himself, without anyone teaching him?”

One person listed everything they knew about Valerie, and they all tried to find its common thread to infer what kind of person he was.

But it was difficult enough to accept a fourteen-year-old possessing even one of those abilities, let alone all of them.

Based on the facts available to them, they made the most logical and rational deduction they could.

“Count Aethelred is no ordinary man.”

“He may be far more frightening than the Duke.”

Count Aethelred was indeed capable, but nearly all their deductions were wrong.

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