WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 24

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Inside Torvik Fortress, the castle on the hill was not as large as expected.

Perhaps because it had been built so long ago. Still, it was made primarily of stone, and in terms of structural engineering and defense, it looked far sturdier than castles built these days.

However, since it had originally been built for defense, it was not very suitable for living in. It was dark even during the day because little sunlight entered. It was hot in summer and cold in winter.

Still, beyond defense, it had one undeniable quality: majesty. From afar, it looked like a crown placed upon the hill.

The first floor of the castle was mainly used as an audience hall, banquet hall, or dining hall. If a grand feast was held in the fortress courtyard, this was where only the duke's close associates and important figures were invited to dine.

A banquet had been prepared tonight as well. Bonfires burned around the edges of the hall, and candlesticks set along the long tables lit the dark interior.

Along the walls were trophies and relics passed down through generations of House Viding.

Necklaces made from orc fangs, troll skulls, tiger pelts, tapestries several meters long, and various arms taken after killing enemies, including helmets, swords, and axes.

All of it proved the house's strength and valor.

And soon, one more would be added.

Valerie and his friends knelt on one knee before Duke Sven and presented Creed's head in a salt box, along with the personal weapon he had used in life.

Duke Sven's smile stretched almost to his ears, as though unexpected sunlight had fallen across his aged face.

“How is this any different from tales of heroes repaying their host's kindness by slaying a monster? Creed has troubled me for a long time. Putting him down is no different from following in the footsteps of heroes from old tales.”

Duke Sven was in such high spirits that he gave the greatest praise he could offer.

“Heroes, raise your heads and stand.”

At Duke Sven's command, Valerie, Arne, Skard, and Yorick rose. Knut was seated right beside Duke Sven.

Perhaps overwhelmed by the hall itself, or perhaps by the situation, Yorick's eyes went wide as he looked around.

“Quite the bearing of heroes... Who is that one?”

Duke Sven looked pleased as his gaze passed from the strikingly handsome Valerie to the gallant Arne and Skard. But when it reached Yorick, he tilted his head.

Yorick looked somewhat crumpled compared to the others. The new clothes he had bought did not suit him at all, and he had the air of someone from the slums.

“Uh? I, well...”

“This is Yorick, a ferryman. He used to operate a boat at the crossing so people could get across the river. We needed a boat for this mission, so he accompanied us.”

Valerie smoothly covered for him. He could hardly say Yorick had once been a Thieves' Guild gutter rat.

“A ferryman. Well, if he was helpful, that is good enough. In any case, heroes who have achieved such a feat ought to be rewarded.”

Duke Sven turned to the members of his advisory council seated nearby.

“Your Grace is entirely correct.”

Everyone nodded with smiles, though one person looked far from pleased. It was the Second Young Master. The First Young Master seemed too foolish to care about anything but food.

The Second Young Master's name was Guttorm. He was extremely fat, with long, narrow eyes.

The Black Hand had previously said that the plot to abduct Harald, along with the policies meant to keep Winslow in check, had originated with the Second Young Master.

For some reason, he kept rubbing one of his nipples. All the while, he kept glancing at Knut and Valerie through those narrow eyes.

“Skard, was it? I hear you serve as a gate guard. Tell me, what do you desire? I shall grant it, as far as my power allows.”

Duke Sven asked. Skard seemed to tremble with excitement.

“A knight... I wish to become a proper knight. I possess the qualifications, but I do not yet have a horse, nor have I been dubbed. If I become a knight, I wish to devote myself even more fully to serving Your Grace.”

Skard was an apprentice knight. That meant he had spent many years as a squire and learned equipment maintenance, horse care, etiquette, and everything else.

However, Skard had not become a knight because he lacked skill, experience, and money.

Duke Sven nodded firmly, as though Skard seemed dependable, and spoke to the captain of his guard.

“Teach this gallant and loyal young man mounted combat. You will take responsibility for raising him into an excellent knight. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“And Arne. What do you desire?”

“I... am lacking in many ways. If Your Grace permits it, I would like to be excused from duty and focus only on training.”

“A humble young man... How could I refuse such a small request? From tomorrow onward, you will be excused from duty. Your wages will still be paid. I guarantee it.”

Looking closely, Duke Sven readily granted only small requests. If a request seemed unsuitable, he cleverly avoided it.

He spoke as if he would readily give Skard a horse and have him knighted at once, but no real action followed.

Of course, a knight cost a great deal of money. He could not simply make someone a knight because they had earned a little merit.

“And Yo, what was it? Yonick? Yorek? In any case, ferryman. What do you desire?”

“Ah, I, I... I want to marry a pretty wife.”

At Yorick's request, Duke Sven let out a puff of breath and laughed as if he found it ridiculous. The members of the advisory council laughed as well, and the mood seemed to lighten somewhat.

“Well, overseeing the marriages of my subjects is one of a lord's duties. Head steward, handle this matter.”

In other words, he was being told to choose a reasonably pretty maid and arrange a marriage somehow.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Duke Sven took a sip of wine, then finally looked at Valerie. His looks were so handsome that they seemed new every time one saw him. And now he had proven his ability as well. It almost seemed unfair for one person to possess so much.

“And... our true hero, I would say. Honestly, I am surprised. I did not know your abilities reached this level. I thought you were merely a young man talented with a sword, but that was not so. Perhaps I am witnessing the beginning of a peerless hero. My power may be modest, but I want to grant whatever you desire, Wid. So, what do you want?”

His manner toward Valerie was clearly different from the way he had spoken to the others. The duke had assigned the mission to Valerie from the beginning, and Valerie had chosen the people himself and completed it.

And when the duke asked what someone wanted, he was also testing the extent of that person's ambition.

To employ, manipulate, or control someone, it was essential to know what they desired and what they feared.

The three before him had answered honestly, but Valerie understood such political matters well.

Valerie swept his gaze over the duke's advisory council, his two sons and their wives, and his close associates.

With the bonfires and candles on the tables, they looked less like living people than figures in a painting.

Valerie looked once at Knut, who seemed bored and sullen, then at Guttorm, the Second Young Master. Finally, he looked back at Duke Sven.

“I do not particularly desire anything. But I still cannot forget the people of Gringen who suffered. Please lift the embargo. The people of Gringen will be able to make a better living, and it will benefit Your Grace as well. That is all I wish for.”

Perhaps it was an unexpected answer. Duke Sven thought for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. With an expression that said, Look at this one, he smiled faintly.

“Is that truly what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Now that the one blocking the waterway is gone, it is only natural for the water to flow again. That will happen whether you ask for it or not. Did you not know that?”

“I know Your Grace is wise, so I knew it would happen. But I worry that if action is not taken quickly, someone else may appear who covets Your Grace's interests. Then they may torment the people again.”

Valerie spoke cleverly, mixing in just enough falsehood.

The falsehood was that he cared much about the people. But it was reasonable to say that just because the Groin-Ripper was dead, it did not mean another person like him would never appear.

In other words, the embargo had to be lifted, but measures concerning trade also had to move quickly. For example, taking control of the southern docks.

Why had Duke Sven wanted the Groin-Ripper eliminated in the first place? It was partly to punish someone who opposed his interests, but it was also because he wanted to monopolize those interests.

Naturally, it was not something the duke could officially involve himself in. Gringen was a city in someone else's territory.

The duke narrowed his eyes at Valerie. He believed Valerie wanted to become the person managing that trade. He is more ambitious than I thought.

Duke Sven had intended to make moderate use of Valerie to keep Winslow in check and allow him to build a moderate amount of power. But he had never intended to let Valerie gain real power. He also thought Valerie might become somewhat dangerous.

Of course, Valerie understood all of the duke's thoughts. Even so, he had deliberately mentioned trade not for the duke's sake, but for the Second Young Master to hear.

If that man became impatient and stepped forward, insisting that he would handle it himself, he would ruin everything.

By now, the Black Hand would already have taken control of the docks. Valerie knew that interfering there would only bring losses. Unless they brought a real army, sending a few people would accomplish nothing.

The answer was negotiation. Negotiation had been impossible with the Groin-Ripper, but the Black Hand could at least be reasoned with.

Guttorm, the Second Young Master, was now practically glaring at Valerie, and the hand rubbing his nipple moved faster and more violently.

“...It was not what I wanted, but I too have felt sorry for the suffering of Gringen's people. Measures will be taken before long, so there is no need to worry. But is that truly all you desire?”

At Duke Sven's repeated question, Valerie pretended to think quietly before answering.

“Life in the city is good, but it can feel stifling at times. If you appoint me as a territorial patrol officer, I will get some fresh air while securing the borders and interior of your territory for Your Grace.”

“A territorial patrol officer?”

Duke Sven had been watching him suspiciously, but now his eyes widened. A territorial patrol officer was a kind of undesirable post. It was dangerous, difficult, and did not pay well.

Knights took turns doing it, and no one wanted to. A single patrol took at least three or four days, sometimes more than a week.

They often had to sleep outdoors. At times, they had to deal with bandits alone or with only a few people. If they were unlucky enough to encounter a monster, they could suffer something terrible before ever setting foot on a battlefield.

Even so, Valerie requested it because he wanted freedom from some of the restrictions on his movements. That alone would allow him to do many things.

No matter how Duke Sven frowned and considered it, he could not understand the reason. Had Valerie not been ambitious? What was this?

“What is your reason?”

“As I said, staying only in the city can feel stifling. But I do not want to leave the city entirely, either. I simply wish to get some fresh air from time to time. Truly, only from time to time.”

“Hmm... Very well. I will give you a certificate and a token. Whenever you enter a gate, city, or village, they will open their doors and welcome you. They will provide food and lodging, and you may requisition supplies if necessary.”

Since it was dangerous and difficult work, it also came with considerable authority. Not just anyone could requisition supplies from cities and villages.

In wartime, the position even had the authority to conscript local troops, form an army, and command it.

It was an important role, but in reality, such things rarely happened. So it was seen as work that only brought hardship.

Even if he ordered conscription, it was not as if people would obediently listen. A few able-bodied men were of no immediate use, and if a real war broke out, the duke himself would conscript troops rather than send a patrol officer.

“Now, now, we have kept our heroes standing too long. The fine food will grow cold. Take your seats, all of you, and raise your cups!”

As if announcing the beginning of the feast, the duke raised his wine cup and spoke loudly.

Unfortunately, Knut received no reward. It was not because the duke was trying to keep him in check, but because he treated Knut like a son he had half abandoned.

With the important event over, the banquet began in earnest. Bards played lutes, and servants busily carried wine and food.

As time passed and people grew drunk, some laughed at the top of their lungs. Others spat on the Groin-Ripper's severed head and cursed him.

“Hang it outside the fortress at once! Show them that no one who defies me will escape unharmed! Hahahaha!”

Duke Sven spoke loudly as well, apparently drunk. What pleased him was not that his subordinates had achieved a great deed, but the fact that Creed, the Groin-Ripper, was dead.

The man who had troubled him for so long was gone. It seemed deeply satisfying to him.

Yorick also grew drunk and flirted with the maids carrying wine and food.

“E-excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“What time were we supposed to meet tomorrow?”

“Excuse me? I do not think it was me. You have mistaken me for someone else.”

“What?”

“Hey, please sit still.”

Arne practically dragged Yorick back into his seat by the collar.

“By the way, where is Wid?”

“I do not know.”

Skard asked, but Arne did not know.

Valerie had watched the banquet for a while, then risen from his seat once people seemed too drunk to know what was happening.

When Valerie deliberately moved in secret, he was difficult to notice. Especially when everyone was drunk.

Valerie was now headed for Knut's room on the second floor. The noisy voices from downstairs came through faintly.

The door was smaller than expected. When he knocked, Knut's voice came from inside.

Knock knock.

“Who is it?”

When Valerie opened the door, he saw a compact room filled with all sorts of strange objects.

There were mobiles, various toys, cheap and expensive accessories, collections of daggers, stuffed dolls, and other costly, useless things. The room was so full that there was barely space to step anywhere besides the bed.

Only a lantern atop the dresser lit the room, making it seem unreal. Various ornaments glittered brightly.

“Oh? Why?”

Knut had been playing with a toy. Seeing Valerie enter, he widened his eyes in surprise.

“You are not drinking?”

“No. I do not drink. It tastes bad.”

Valerie let out a quiet laugh at that.

Wondering what Knut was doing, he stepped closer. Knut was playing with a strange toy.

It looked like a small wooden box. When someone placed a gold coin on top and pressed a button, a hand sprang out and took it.

Then, after winding the key and pressing the button again, a fairy doll holding the gold coin rose out and spun around to beautiful music. It was certainly remarkable, but it did not interest Valerie.

“Is it fun?”

“I just do it without thinking.”

“Hmm. Do you normally stay in your room all the time like this? Playing with toys?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“If I go out, I have to see the faces of people I do not want to see.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“But, you know.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“Do you want to become a duke?”

It was an extremely dangerous thing to say. If he were caught, his head could be cut off immediately.

Yet Knut did not seem surprised. He seemed to feel nothing about it, just as Valerie felt nothing for the toy.

“No. I have not.”

“...Then, would it be all right if I killed your brothers?”

That was even more dangerous.

Knut, who had only been playing with the toy, turned to Valerie.

His eyes were large like a cat's. Green irises gleamed like the finest emeralds. Yet once again, there was not the slightest sign of surprise.

“They are not my brothers.”

“What do you mean?”

“They poisoned the old man's drink and said Mother had done it. I could not protect Mother. I did not know what I was supposed to do. It is still the same now. Even if you ask me that, I have nothing to say. I will not get in your way.”

Knut returned to playing with the toy. He put down a gold coin, pressed the button, and wound the key. He only repeated the same actions.

It seemed he simply wanted to let time pass blankly, without thinking.

Making one's mind numb while alive, as if dead. That was how Knut had chosen to survive.

The sight reminded Valerie of himself when he had worked as a cashier. Work that had felt boring and meaningless, work that constantly drove him to become numb.

It was neither a refuge nor an escape. It was only a prison he had made for himself.

Valerie wanted to pull Knut out of that prison.

“Then, Knut, trust only me and follow me from now on.”

At Valerie's words, Knut took the gold coin held by the doll and waved it as if to say, Look at this.

Then he smiled playfully. There was not a trace of malice in that smile, and he looked utterly gentle.

“I do not accept gifts from just anyone. How do I know they are not poisoned?”

Perhaps he had meant it as a playful joke, but it was not funny.

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