WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 25
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Physical training was always right. To survive in real combat, stamina mattered far more than skill or technique.
But training always tested one’s limits, so it was always difficult and painful. It never became easy.
Therefore, physical training did not only build stamina. It also built a strong will and a steady mind.
What was it all for? In the past, perhaps it had been to run away. But not anymore.
Now, it was to fight and win. Furthermore, to fight and defeat himself, and ultimately, to become a better person.
Thinking that, Arne ran again today. It was not that he felt no sorrow, but he no longer had any lingering attachment to his family. They would have lives of their own.
Unlike before, there were now many people running with him, if not for the same dream, then to dream together.
Valerie, Skard, and the other soldiers.
Some of the soldiers had apparently been impressed and inspired by Valerie’s group’s success, so they simply began running after them.
Some fell behind even without wearing training vests because they were still unaccustomed to it. Some tried to finish even if they had to walk. Others ran all the way to the end.
Yet although nobody had told them to, those ahead helped pull along their comrades who had fallen behind, and those who fell behind did not give up until the end.
In the end, everyone crossed the finish line with pleased smiles.
“Fools. What a bunch of idiots.”
Someone watched them from the castle on the hill. It was the Second Young Master, Guttorm.
“They were all born with their places decided. Do they think this will make them nobles?”
He could think whatever he wanted, but the reason it bothered him was that they possessed something he did not. Lean, healthy bodies.
“Still, weren’t we all warriors as recently as Grandfather’s generation? We weren’t nobles then, either.”
Gunnar, the eldest son, spoke as he dipped bread into wine.
“Are you an idiot? We were a Jarl family even when we lived in the frozen lands. We were nobles from the beginning. Do you think just anyone can become a Duke?”
“Is that so?”
“Ugh, I shouldn’t even bother talking to you...”
As the two spoke, the study door opened. Duke Sven, the study’s rightful owner, entered.
He seemed to have summoned his two sons in advance, and they grew tense as soon as their father entered.
Duke Sven frowned at Gunnar, his eldest son. He had told him not to eat in the study for over twenty years, yet nothing had changed.
As though he no longer even wanted to nag him, Sven sat down and immediately got to the point.
“Who’s doing it?”
“Uh, I will...”
The Second Young Master, Guttorm, cautiously raised his hand and answered.
“How many men do you need?”
“If you assign me just two knights...”
“Do you think that’ll be enough? Do you? Think for once. You have to clean things up properly and on time, or the bugs gather. There are four large warehouses at the dock. Two men won’t be enough to take control of them. Take four knights, with five supporting soldiers assigned to each. Twenty-four men in all.”
“If we take too many, the margrave...”
“The margrave what?”
“Ah, nothing.”
“Do I need to watch that bastard’s mood?”
In truth, he was watching the margrave’s mood. But Duke Sven had his pride, so bringing up the margrave in front of him was not a good choice.
Guttorm resisted the urge to touch his nipples. It was a kind of compulsion. He unconsciously did it to calm himself, but he would be scolded if he did so now.
Fidgeting with his hands, he answered.
“No, Father.”
“Choose the men yourself, and leave early tomorrow morning. Once you have taken control, gradually pull some of the men back. When I send an overseer, you may return.”
“...Yes, I understand, Father. But, what will you do about that illegitimate child?”
“What about him?”
“Isn’t he getting too full of himself?”
Duke Sven had already been frowning, but Guttorm’s words made his expression darken further. He looked at his own son with near disgust.
Startled by that look, Guttorm shrank his bloated body. His hands repeatedly moved toward his nipples, then fell away.
“Are you a child? Are you? Take care of your own work. That’s why Ketil outdid you. What did I tell you? Don’t handle matters according to your emotions. How did I end up with legitimate sons like you? When I think of Ketil, the problem isn’t me. Your mother is the problem. You’re stupid because that woman was stupid. Do you understand?”
Duke Sven verbally abused his two sons so viciously that simple curses might have been better. He compared them to others and even insulted their mother.
Anyone would resent that, but neither son dared show it.
“...”
“Do it without mistakes. There is no easier task than this. Now get out, both of you.”
Though they were fully grown adults, Gunnar and Guttorm left looking as cowed as children who had been scolded.
Still, Ketilmund’s death hurt Duke Sven more than he had expected, and more each time he thought of it. He had truly been useful.
That was why merely thinking of Knut made his blood boil. Naturally, thoughts of his mother twisted his insides as well.
“You would be a man incapable of anything if you were not a Duke.”
Those mocking eyes. The way she spoke and acted as though she found him laughable. And she had even dared try to kill him.
She must have intended to take this family for herself. I will never hand it over. Even if I die, the Third Young Master will never become heir.
“I should throw them out or something. Nothing goes right.”
There was a reed bed near the western dock of Torvik. It was best not to enter carelessly.
No one knew how far it stretched, or when someone might sink into a swamp and die without anyone knowing.
It was likely burying countless stories. The reeds swaying gently in the wind seemed to whisper their secrets.
Within the reed bed, two people stood some distance apart, facing each other. Whenever the reeds shifted, they came into view, then disappeared again.
One wore a mask that exposed only their eyes, while the other had his hood pulled low.
The hooded person’s exposed lower face and jawline alone hinted at extraordinary beauty. It was Valerie. The masked person was from the Black Hand.
“Tomorrow. The Second Young Master will leave tomorrow morning with troops.”
Valerie spoke.
“How many troops?”
“Four knights and twenty soldiers.”
Valerie knew the exact size of the force because he could see everything from inside the fortress. He knew how many soldiers had been chosen from the barracks and how many knights were preparing in the annex.
“And what do you want?”
The Black Hand member asked. They appeared to have a relationship of exchanging information, but Valerie’s answer went far beyond expectations.
“Kill the Second Young Master. Wipe out every knight and soldier as well.”
Swoooosh...
The reeds swayed in the wind. It sounded like crashing waves, as though it were breaking apart the words someone had spoken.
The Black Hand member spoke.
“...I don’t understand. Are you bold, fearless, or simply thoughtless?”
“Half-hearted interference won’t end this easily. If it becomes a long struggle, you’ll eventually be unable to endure it. Duke Sven is persistent, if nothing else. If that’s the case, it’s better to take control of the board.”
“If we kill the Second Young Master, can we take control of the board?”
“Yes. Then only two legitimate sons remain. The First Young Master and the Third Young Master. Duke Sven dislikes the Third Young Master more than he dislikes a stranger, so that effectively leaves only one. He may be persistent, but he isn’t brave. He’s a coward. He has never tested his own courage, so he doesn’t even know that he’s a coward. But if the Second Young Master dies, his true nature will emerge. He’ll either become hasty and ruin his judgment, or shrink back so much that he’ll be unable to do anything even if the world mocks him.”
Before his regression, Valerie had faced Duke Sven in the war of succession. What had been clear then was that Sven was a coward.
Even when Valerie deliberately showed weaknesses while moving or stationing his army, Sven could not make a decision and let every opportunity slip away.
It was a typical trait of someone who only calculated at a desk. Duke Sven was skilled only at turning people against one another and using them. He did not know how to fight a war where he had to risk losing everything.
Leading people while arrows rained down on the battlefield was something a coward could never do, even if he came back from the dead.
Valerie, on the other hand, did everything.
Burning down an entire city and massacring its people might have been cruel, but the attitude of burning a city rather than losing even one soldier drew unconditional loyalty from his troops.
Furthermore, during sieges, he climbed ladders at the very front. He charged with a spear alongside his knights. He stood shoulder to shoulder with infantrymen to hold the battle line.
In other words, he was ruthless and merciless, but he never spared himself when it came to leading by example.
That was why he became king. Sitting still because one knew how to scheme a little would never make one the final victor of that desperate war of succession.
Truly, to become king, one had to be capable of everything. After all, the stated justification for the War of Succession was to establish the king with the greatest strength, courage, and wisdom.
Still, ordering the Second Young Master’s death sounded far too burdensome for the Black Hand as it currently was.
“...The risks are absurd if we act on your word alone. If things don’t go as you say, won’t we bear the Duke’s wrath alone?”
“Weren’t you planning to use me as a pawn as well? Then you should have expected that I’d use you too. If it’s not at least this much, you have no value to me.”
Valerie and the Black Hand were not in a business relationship. It was more like an alliance, and it was fair to say that they were using each other wherever their interests aligned.
Both Valerie and the Black Hand wanted the Groin-Ripper removed. The Black Hand wanted to monopolize the dock, while Valerie wanted to eliminate the Second Young Master. Those were their interests.
“Use the margrave. Dress as regular troops and burn everything down under the pretense of building new warehouses. Once peat catches fire, it doesn’t go out. Lure the Second Young Master into taking a boat, then drown him on his way back. Depending on the perspective, it could be ruled an accidental death. While the Duke and the margrave snarl at each other, you only need to take the profit.”
Valerie even gave them a specific plan.
Upon hearing it, the Black Hand member was speechless for a moment, regardless of whether it was practical.
They looked Valerie up and down once more before speaking.
“Where in the world did you learn such things? Did Count Winslow teach you?”
“I learned them from people like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Does that matter? Decide for yourselves whether you’ll do it. If the Second Young Master remains unharmed, you and I will have no further business with each other. That’s all.”
He was resolute, cold, and merciless. It was not arrogance, nor was it because of wounds from before his regression. Perhaps it was simply his inborn nature. He was simply that kind of person.
It was as if both were sharp swords, each trying to wield the other. Yet one was dancing upon the blade, while the other trembled in fear of cutting their own hand.
The Black Hand had been completely overwhelmed. In force of presence, decisiveness, and judgment alike.
They had known Valerie was no ordinary person when they first met him, but at this second meeting, they even felt that he was truly beyond what they could handle.
Still, why did Valerie want to eliminate the Second Young Master? The Black Hand member judged that Valerie appeared to be supporting Knut, the Third Young Master, as heir.
And if the Third Young Master became Duke, Valerie would gain power as his closest aide. That seemed to be his goal.
“We’ll give you our answer through the result.”
Valerie did not answer or nod. He simply turned to leave. They had said their answer would come through the result.
But before leaving, he stopped, looked back, and spoke again.
“Previously, you said you would give me valuable information. But in the end, it was useless information to me. That thing about the Second Young Master and Winslow.”
“I remember.”
“I’ll give you one valuable piece of information as well. How you will be destroyed.”
“...”
“An organization that treats secrecy as life itself and operates behind closed doors cannot grow beyond a certain size. Then, when an army arrives, there will be nothing you can do. You will be unable to resist as they kill, burn, and take whatever they please. That is your limit.”
To stop an invading army, the entire city had to unite. There were matters such as repairing walls, storing food, gathering supplies, and conducting a defensive siege.
But the Black Hand could not do those things. Of course, their inability to do so had also brought a turning point in Valerie’s life before his regression.
“Will an army ever come? There are mountains to the north, and everything around us is marshland.”
“Who knows? When the king dies, no one knows what will happen to the world. Everyone acts as though the king will live forever. I don’t know why.”
Valerie left those words behind and walked away. For a moment, the crunch, crunch of his footsteps could be heard, then he was quickly hidden by the reeds.
As always, two others who had been hiding nearby emerged after Valerie left.
“I’m in favor. I think using the margrave is a good idea. If we wear ourselves down against the Duke, only we lose. But we can’t yield the dock, either.”
“I’m in favor too, but what if he imposes another trade embargo?”
“Then we smuggle.”
The Groin-Ripper had wanted to torment people, so he had even prevented smuggling. But the Thieves’ Guild existed to make profits.
A trade embargo would naturally hurt them. But losing the dock would hurt them even more.
“What about you? For or against?”
“Wasn’t it a majority vote? We have no choice.”
It was unclear what exactly they were debating, but it was probably the matter of killing the Second Young Master.
“He’s frightening. He has no boundaries. He spoke of the king’s death. Doesn’t he care if he goes to hell?”
People generally believed that the king guided them to heaven, so even thugs did not casually speak disrespectfully of the king.
“He was no ordinary man from the moment he fought the Groin-Ripper one-on-one.”
The Groin-Ripper had spent his time fleeing, and his nickname was somewhat ridiculous, but it had been difficult to believe that anyone in the world could defeat him in a one-on-one fight.
Of course, that was partly because their knowledge was limited, but he had not gained such infamy in the region for nothing.
Furthermore, they could not carelessly attempt to assassinate him, because if they failed, they had no idea what havoc he might cause.
In other words, even the Black Hand feared the Groin-Ripper.
“And he won. He’s only fourteen. Wouldn’t it be better to throw our lot in with him? Should we actively support the Third Young Master, too?”
“Calm down. No. That’s beyond our means.”
“Still, what he said about the limits of our organization bothers me.”
“Because it isn’t wrong.”
Yet even knowing that it was true, there was nothing they could do. To surpass those limits, they would have to change the structure of the organization.
To become something other than the Thieves’ Guild, they would need vision, knowledge, and above all, desperation. It was not something they could do just because they wanted to.
“Let us pray that the king lives a long, long life. Your Majesty, may you live in health for ten thousand years and lead us into heaven.”
It was half a joke and half an attempt to soothe their anxiety. Before long, they too disappeared.
The reed bed swayed in the wind as always, whispering its secrets, but people could not understand them.
Swoooosh...
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