WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 3

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The cashiers working under a lord answered to the treasurer, and during working hours they generally had to wear ridiculous outfits.

They were one-piece robes that wrapped around the head and chin, leaving only the face exposed, and hung all the way to the feet.

The part covering the head had a pointed tail trailing down the wearer’s back, while the robe itself was covered in loud polka dots.

No clear reason had been given for why they had to wear such clothes at work, but it was probably because they handled money.

Simply put, it was a precaution against running off with it. The outfit made them easy to spot from afar and kept them from moving quickly.

Therefore, not wearing it during working hours was grounds for punishment.

After returning from the forest, Valerie held his work clothes and stared at them.

Then he carefully folded them, put them back in the drawer beneath his bed, and left his room still wearing the tunic he had worn that morning.

He passed through the corridor and descended the defensive tower stairs to the first floor. In front of the room where payments were handled, he found Locke sitting in a chair, guarding the place.

Locke had been among the group in the forest that morning. His face was a little red, perhaps from the lingering effects of alcohol, and he seemed to have just taken over the watch.

He was also a knight’s squire. When they were not maintaining equipment or attending their knights, squires were assigned to night watches and various guard duties.

Locke looked confused when he saw Valerie. He was not wearing the flashy outfit required during work hours. Valerie had worn it every day for nearly four years, so even to Locke, this was strange.

“Huh? Your clothes?”

“I’m not wearing them.”

“I can see that. I’m asking why you aren’t wearing them.”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Can you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“...”

Locke only blinked with a dumbfounded expression. Perhaps because of Valerie’s ghostlike movements that morning, he could not bring himself to press the matter.

In truth, he had not really seen anything. He had only seen the result, not a single part of how Valerie had taken the sword away.

More importantly, his duty was to stand guard. It was not his place to tell Valerie what to do.

“Open it.”

Valerie spoke because the workroom was locked, and the guard held the key.

Still bewildered and uneasy, Locke silently unlocked it. As far as he was concerned, he knew nothing.

Leaving the still-dazed Locke behind, Valerie entered the workroom. It was no different from a tiny closet. Or perhaps a prison cell.

There was only a safe and a desk in that cramped space. On the desk were ink, a quill, and neatly arranged documents. The documents included recent contracts and confirmation lists.

Valerie first opened the little window with its wooden shutter. Light filled the room.

He sat down and opened the heavy drawer. Inside were bulging money bags. He placed the bags containing mostly silver and copper coins on the desk, then pulled the top document toward himself.

It listed the people Valerie needed to pay or collect money from that day, along with the goods and amounts.

Camellia oil, fish oil, and olive oil supplied by an oil merchant, along with other daily necessities such as beeswax, cloth, thread, and leather...

If the treasurer’s job was to manage the estate’s overall finances, make various contracts, and maintain good relations with tax collectors and other administrators, Valerie’s job as a cashier was to receive and hand over money directly.

Paying the salaries of knights, soldiers, and other employees, as well as receiving or making payments under various contracts.

It was important work, but in practice, it meant calculating numbers all day long.

In this tiny room.

Valerie remembered when he had first taken on this work. He had been ten then. He had been so happy to finally have a job of his own.

As an illegitimate child, he had spent every day anxious because he had no place to belong. He had been happy to feel useful at last.

More than anything, he had been grateful that he could devote himself, however slightly, to his father, the only tie he had.

It would be a lie to say that looking at numbers all day, every day, for years had not been boring. But whenever he felt that way, he had steadied himself, renewed his resolve, and worked with complete care.

And then he had tried to kill him overnight. Because he was not really a son? For advancement?

Even now, when Valerie thought of that time, anger rose in his chest. But perhaps because something inside him had once died coldly, he did not lose his usual composure.

Count Aethelred’s stated reason for trying to kill Valerie had been to prove his loyalty to Duke Sven. Duke Sven had supported the Third Prince.

But it was now clear that it had not been for that reason alone.

First, the House of Winslow was not Norse. It was Astrian.

Few Astrian noble houses had survived the Founding War, but a rare few had maintained their line. Some had fought bravely enough to earn the Norsemen’s respect, while others had survived through diplomacy.

But survival was not the end of it. They faced the Norsemen’s subtle discrimination and oppression as a matter of course. Sometimes there were even blatant attempts to seize their lands.

In other words, the House of Winslow had spent generations anxiously struggling to protect both its family and its territory.

Ironically, the greatest threat to the current House of Winslow was none other than its liege, Duke Sven. Things may have been somewhat better in the previous generation, but not now.

The duke did not interfere or obstruct them directly. Instead, he let groups of wandering warriors roam through Winslow territory or encouraged other vassals to create conflicts.

He even pressured them, under the guise of advice, to give their son a Norse name. Harald was not an Astrian name. It was a typical Norse name.

Later, the most devastating thing was that he took Harald away as something like a hostage under the pretense of knightly training.

Harald was Aethelred’s only son, with no other children to choose from. There could have been no choice.

Kill the prince, or your son dies.

Valerie suddenly remembered Harald’s innocent smile from that morning.

Why had he killed him so cruelly before Count Aethelred? Because of betrayal? Or had it been jealousy instead? Because Aethelred had chosen Harald, not him?

“...”

Valerie calmly observed the truth within himself, one he had not wanted to face, perhaps one he had known all along but turned away from. Did he regret it? Not particularly. What meaning could it have now?

What had changed was that he now knew he was not an illegitimate child, and that Count Aethelred was not his real father.

He also knew that, as the prince’s guardian, Count Aethelred knew Valerie’s identity and was bound to keep it secret.

If he accidentally revealed the secret, not only he but the entire House of Winslow could be exterminated under the First King’s solemn decree.

Valerie considered these various realities. But one ultimate question remained.

What should I do from now on...?

Dust drifted slowly through the sunlight coming in through the window. Then, while he was thinking, the door opened. The dust that had been moving slowly suddenly swirled in disorder.

Locke had opened the door, and a merchant entered.

Valerie naturally opened the money bags. He spread the coins across the desk, then stacked them in groups of ten. He did not stack them one by one. With a quick movement of his hand, the coins instantly formed ten columns of ten.

The merchant’s eyes widened as if he had seen magic. Unconcerned, Valerie picked up his pen, looked over the document, and spoke.

“Name.”

The sun was slowly descending toward the western mountains. The end of the day glowed gold, and the setting sun seemed to hasten its steps.

Farmers, woodcutters, and the people living in the castle were all finishing their respective work and bringing their days to a close.

For some reason, though, every member of the Winslow household had gathered in the castle courtyard.

Count Aethelred was returning from a week-long tour and patrol of his territory.

The household was not standing around at random. Their positions differed according to status.

Naturally, the Countess stood in the most noticeable place, closest to the castle. Harald stood beside her, along with the maids and female attendants.

Next came the councilors and administrators, the squires and soldiers, and then those who did menial work. The lower their status, the nearer they stood to the castle walls.

Valerie stood behind the people near the walls. It was the lowliest position, not merely because he was an illegitimate child, but because it kept him as far from the Countess’s notice as possible.

She did not particularly torment Valerie, but she did not want to see him. Publicly, he was the child her husband had had with another woman, so that was understandable.

As Valerie stood still, he felt someone’s gaze and turned around. From far away, Harald was poking his head out to the side and looking at him.

When their eyes met, Harald beamed and waved. The Countess quickly caught her son’s hand and lowered it.

Valerie turned away again without expression.

He could still feel a gaze on him, but he deliberately ignored it. Then someone gave him a light tap from behind. He turned to see the round-faced treasurer.

The man looked at Valerie with a worried gaze, as though he were scolding him.

“I heard you didn’t wear the proper outfit today.”

“So?”

“So? Do you not know you can be punished for not wearing it?”

“I know. What do you want me to do about it?”

“H-Hey. You shouldn’t speak that way. This could cause trouble not only for you, but for me as well.”

“I won’t cause you trouble.”

Valerie turned back to face forward. The treasurer seemed at a loss.

There was no specific name for it, but people knew from experience that boys between around twelve and sixteen developed a rebellious streak.

The treasurer thought that was what this was, but he could not solve it immediately. All he could do was worry.

“They are arriving.”

A soldier on the castle wall spoke as he looked over the courtyard. The treasurer hurried back to his place.

Before long, the faint sound of hooves could be heard, growing clearer and clearer.

Then, with the sound of three horses’ hooves pounding the ground, Count Aethelred and two knights rode into the castle like lightning.

Dugudok! Dugudok! Dugudok!

Count Aethelred’s short, blanket-like cloak fluttered as he quickly pulled his horse to a stop. He turned the horse, excited from its hard run, once in place as if calming it down.

Seeing a huge warhorse up close was threatening enough to make one’s heart tremble. During the War of the Beasts, those horses had been the decisive factor in the new generation’s victory. The first-generation warriors had mainly traveled by ship.

Looking at the count atop such a horse, the people felt both fear and awe. Count Aethelred and the two knights were not perfectly neat, perhaps because they had camped outdoors several times during their patrol.

When touring the territory, they could stay in good places if they stopped at a vassal’s residence or a city. But while patrolling the borders, they sometimes had no choice but to sleep outside.

The count looked over the people who had come to greet him, and as always, his eyes reached Valerie first.

The Valerie of the past had felt a reserved affection in that gaze. Not now. If anything happened to the prince, the count himself, his territory, and his entire house would all be destroyed. He was only checking on Valerie first for that reason.

As the horses seemed to have come to a stop, two squires and a stablehand rushed over and took their reins. Count Aethelred dismounted first, followed by the two knights.

An adult man fully armed in chainmail, a surcoat, a cloak, a sword at his waist, and boots had an overpowering presence.

“Welcome back. The sauna and bathwater are ready.”

The Countess approached and spoke. Yet Count Aethelred barely looked at her, aside from a brief glance. He only removed his gloves and practically tossed them to his squire, Gidwin.

Then he patted Harald’s head with one hand, swept his eyes over his household, and spoke to his wife.

“What about dinner? I sent word ahead.”

“Of course. It is ready. Audrey’s cheese is especially delicious this time. We slaughtered a piglet this morning and smoked it with applewood. The aroma is simply...”

The Countess seemed to chirp like a lark as she tried to draw her husband’s attention. But Count Aethelred scarcely paid heed to her words, to the point of seeming cold.

He all but ignored her as he started toward the castle. Perhaps because of his heavy armor, his footsteps sounded especially weighty.

The two knights silently greeted the Countess with due respect, then followed the count. The squires followed after them.

Before the count had even disappeared into the castle, Valerie had hidden himself in the darkness as much as possible and slipped away. He did not want the Countess to notice him.

She believed her husband did not love her because he could not forget Valerie’s mother.

Every time Aethelred returned from a trip, he looked at Valerie first. He seemed unconcerned most of the time, yet quietly looked after Valerie. Above all, Valerie’s face was enough to suggest how beautiful his mother must have been.

Valerie had nothing to feel sorry for, but he was not entirely free of guilt toward her.

She did not torment him. Instead, she endured it all in silence.

It would have been easier on his conscience if she had tormented him. That was what Valerie thought.

Count Aethelred washed away the dust and troubles of the road, then held an evening banquet.

The banquet was not merely for gathering people to eat and enjoy themselves. It was also a kind of report session, where he learned whether anything had happened while he was away, personally observed the state of his people, and told them what he had seen and heard while touring his lands. It was itself an act of governance.

To live as a noble in the present age, one always had to pay attention to people. This was especially true for those who were knights or commanded troops. That was why kings and great lords held feasts constantly.

Count Aethelred was a very diligent man. He attended to everything inside and outside his territory and left no gaps.

But Valerie could clearly see his limits. In the end, Aethelred had not escaped the net Duke Sven had cast around him. To survive, he needed to break the frame, but he was not that kind of man.

In short, he was a man who worked hard at everything yet lived in constant anxiety. On the surface, he acted like someone who could not be shaken. Valerie could see through him now.

The banquet hall had a high table, with people seated along a long dining table. There were family members, knights and squires, the treasurer, priests, lawyers, and other retainers.

Count Aethelred, his wife, and Harald sat at the high table. Candles burned in candlesticks on the table, and lanterns hung on the walls.

The banquet hall was not especially bright. It felt half light and half darkness. Valerie sat quietly in the farthest corner, merely holding his place.

The servants busily carried in food. After several rounds of alcohol, cheer seemed to brighten the hall in place of light.

Harald had not drunk much wine, but he seemed slightly drunk. Excited, he began talking about something that might make the count uncomfortable.

“Did you know? Today was Wid’s birthday. So this morning, I gathered the others and held a banquet to celebrate him. Whenever I gathered my courage and asked him to play with us, he always ignored me. But today, he came out after all. At least, at least, can’t we become friends? I deliberately didn’t give him a present. I thought it would be nice if you gave him one, Father.”

At the mention of Valerie, the Countess’s expression stiffened at once, and the people who had been chatting with smiles suddenly fell silent.

Harald looked confused, as if wondering what he had done wrong. Trying to fix things, he brought Gidwin into it.

“Right? Today was fun. You know, when Tommy...”

“Young master.”

As this was an official gathering, Gidwin addressed Harald formally and quietly stopped him. But the cold water had already been poured over the room.

Everyone watched Count Aethelred’s reaction, glancing sideways at Valerie in the farthest corner.

Count Aethelred was looking at his wine cup. He was expressionless, giving no sign of what he was thinking. Was he angry? Simply displeased? Or remembering the past?

The servants carrying food and wine stood frozen as well. The atmosphere was suffocating.

Then Count Aethelred lifted his eyes and looked at Valerie sitting far away.

“It was your birthday. Is there something you want?”

The ruler of this house and of Winslow land had asked. Whatever it was, Valerie had to answer.

But Valerie remained silent for quite a while. The others became more uncomfortable than he was.

Valerie only looked at the food on the table. Unlike the messy place settings of the others, Valerie’s own place was neat.

He had been thinking about something all day.

What should he do from now on?

But thought could not give him an answer. The answer was inside his heart.

If he lived his life once more, what would he do? Perhaps rather than repeat what he had already done, he would try what he had never been able to do. The things he had failed to do because other people’s gazes, or whatever else, had made him shrink back.

Valerie lifted his eyes and looked at Count Aethelred. The knights and a few others watched without expression, while most looked on with nervous, pounding hearts.

“Who is my mother?”

The moment Valerie finished speaking, small gasps rose from here and there.

As though they had heard something forbidden, the others seemed more startled than the people involved in the conversation. The Countess’s heart pounded as though it would burst.

Even faced with Valerie’s uniquely intense gaze, Count Aethelred’s eyes did not waver. He spoke firmly.

“She is dead.”

The silence in the hall grew heavier.

Valerie immediately knew that the count was lying. But he did not press further here. Looking again at the edge of the table, he spoke.

“From tomorrow, I will stop counting money. Consider that my gift.”

He was not asking whether he could stop. He was not saying he did not want to do it anymore.

It was a one-sided notice.

Then Valerie rose from his seat and left the banquet hall. It was a seriously disrespectful act.

The silence was so heavy that even a falling needle would have sounded loud. Valerie’s footsteps sounded like thunder, passing beyond people’s ears and pounding against their hearts.

Thud. Thud. Thud...

In a noble household, an illegitimate child was an unpleasant and uncomfortable presence. Most were abandoned. It was rare for someone to be brought home and raised like Count Aethelred had done.

But if it was all based on a lie, did he really need to care if people felt uncomfortable?

Valerie walked through the pitch-black corridor. It was so dark that he could see nothing, like the path he had lived until now.

Only now, he hoped that at the end of that abyss, he could find his own light.

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