Prince of Rage - Chapter 31

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 31

──────

What do those who travel alone keep as company through the night? Can a sliver of moonlight and the whispers of the stars soothe their loneliness? If that is enough, then what can soothe a weary life?

At least Valerie had Snow now. Though Snow was currently lying on one side.

Valerie leaned against Snow’s belly, half reclined as he watched the campfire.

Nights in the forest were darker than ordinary nights, so the fire seemed to burn especially brightly.

Crackle. Pop. Crackle...

For some reason, Valerie kept thinking of the people of Belfort embracing one another and weeping. Their expressions looked as if they had lost the whole world, yet somehow, as if they had gained it all.

Did the height of happiness resemble the depth of sorrow? Where did such intense emotions come from, and how? He could not understand it.

He thought of the people he had known. Count Aethelred, Lady Sybild, Harald, Gidwin, Knut, Arne.

Would they cry for him, if they thought he had died and he returned alive?

It might have been childish, but that was exactly where Valerie felt lonely.

No one. There was no one in the world who would cry for him.

They might shed a few tears, but no one would embrace another and wail as the people of Belfort had. Nor did he want to cling to anyone and beg them to cry for him.

The thought of dying suddenly rose within Valerie.

Still, he was better than before. He no longer wanted to hurt others just so he could cut off this cursed bloodline before dying.

He wanted to go somewhere with no one, be forgotten by everyone, and die in secret, where nobody could find his corpse. He wanted to leave not the slightest trace that he had ever existed in this world.

The people around him might have healed some of his wounds, but the hole that had been in his heart from the beginning remained utterly unfilled.

The campfire reflected in Valerie’s pale sky-blue eyes, but his heart was pitch-black, without a single starlight.

He closed his eyes. Better to close them. Better to sleep as though dead. If he never woke again, nothing could be better.

Valerie woke to the feeling of someone licking his face.

Birds sang in the forest, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the cold remains of the campfire.

It was a bright morning. Golden sunlight split through the branches and pierced the ground in several rays, like threads connecting heaven and earth.

If morning had come even to the forest, he must have slept quite late. Snow had licked him awake because he had not risen.

It was strange that he had slept so late in such an uncomfortable spot. Wherever he slept, he always woke at dawn.

He thought he had been careless, but then again, what did it matter?

The gloom of the previous night had lost its strength, like the cold campfire. He did not know who had said sleep was the best medicine, but that person had surely been a sage.

Valerie sat up and drank water first. He tipped his canteen over his face for a quick wash, then ate breakfast: smoked ham, dried fruit, and dried grain meal soaked in honey.

He gave Snow plenty of dried barley stalks and bean vines, followed by a few carrots for dessert, then checked his equipment.

He inspected his sword blade, wiped down the head of his battle axe, tightened his belt once more, and fastened his cloak.

Finally, he fitted Snow with a harness but did not mount. Instead, he walked east along the forest path.

Before long, he came to a fork in the road, where a marker stone stood.

Valerie realized that the right path led into ranger territory. As a territorial patrol officer, he was authorized. So he took the right-hand path.

Birdsong and the sound of woodpeckers tapping trees came from both near and far. With the birds so active, there seemed to be no magical beasts, at least.

After walking for an hour or two, he heard a dog barking. It was barking because it had heard Valerie’s footsteps.

Woof! Woof!

Soon, a cabin nestled in the forest came into view. A stream ran beside it, and it appeared to be a ranger hideout.

The dog was near the cabin and was not tied up. Yet it did not charge at him, so it was probably barking to signal its owner.

Drawn out by his faithful servant’s barking, the owner emerged from the cabin. Whether he had slept in or taken a nap, his hair was sticking up everywhere. It was hard to judge his age beneath his shaggy hair and beard.

The first thing that caught his eye was the enormous warhorse. Then the tall youth? Boy? He tilted his head, but soon noticed the clasp on Valerie’s cloak. A territorial patrol officer.

“Uh... hello. Hey, you. I’m out here. Stop barking.”

The ranger’s words really did make the dog stop barking.

After greeting him, the ranger only fidgeted awkwardly with his hands.

“Um... what should I do? Would you like to come inside?”

Rangers had lonely jobs. They had a few colleagues, but each was responsible for a broad area, so they only met from time to time.

In other words, they were people who did not know much about hosting guests, showing courtesy to superiors, or dealing with others.

“Hmm, I will accept your offer.”

“Ah? But aren’t you going to tie up your horse?”

“It is fine.”

“If you say so...”

Before entering the cabin, Valerie petted the dog. It seemed to like people by nature. It had barked fiercely just moments ago, but now it wagged its tail wildly and rolled onto its back.

It also seemed excited by Snow, as if it had made a new friend.

Seeing that the dog was healthy in both body and mind, Valerie could somewhat infer that its owner was a decent person.

Inside, the cabin did not smell as much like a bachelor’s home as he had expected. It was instead full of the scent of wood, layered with the pleasant fragrance of herbs. Various herbs were actually hanging from the ceiling to dry.

Several unstrung bows lay about, and wood shavings covered the floor, as though arrows were carved whenever there was spare time. One container was full of arrows.

There was also a fireplace, with a pot over a low flame. Its contents were kept warm, not quite bubbling.

“Please sit wherever you are comfortable.”

The ranger spoke while apparently preparing a meal. He ladled some of the pot’s contents into wooden bowls and brought out various things, mostly items found in the forest, such as pine nuts, raspberries, and mushrooms.

He crushed a thoroughly dried herb, sprinkled it over the porridge, and offered it to Valerie.

“As you can see, this is how I live, so I cannot offer anything grand.”

Valerie had eaten enough to ease his hunger that morning, but he was not full. Without refusing, he drank the soup.

Truly, without exaggeration, it was the best thing he had eaten since his regression. What was this nutty, salty flavor, with a faint scent of meat and fragrant herbs spreading through it?

There was meat, whether rabbit or venison he could not tell, as well as mushrooms and many other ingredients, so it was nutritious as well.

Eating raspberries one at a time alongside it was simply incredible.

“This is the most delicious meal I have ever had.”

Valerie meant it sincerely. Only then did the ranger smile faintly.

“They were gathered fresh from the forest. Things spoil during transport when you live in the city.”

Indeed, unless they were wealthy, city dwellers were generally not very well nourished.

The ranger served him another bowl and sat across the table.

Now that he could enjoy the soup at leisure, Valerie asked, “How long have you lived here?”

“Well, I am about twenty or twenty-one, so I suppose about that long?”

“Is this work passed down through generations?”

“Ha ha, passed down? Having a family is about as far from being a ranger as one can get. People just drift in, fate chooses them, or they are abandoned and raised. I fall into the abandoned category. Mills raised me. What to eat and what not to eat, hunting, how to make, maintain, and shoot a bow, what to be careful of, when to retreat, how to live with the seasons. I learned all that. It has been about five or six years, I suppose. Mills is dead now.”

There were horizontal notches cut into a post in one corner of the cabin. They were at different heights, as though someone had measured a growing child.

The notches stopped at some point. Valerie guessed that Mills had died around then.

“Someone that old, raising a child. Thinking about it now, I wonder how they managed it. They must have gone around begging mothers for milk despite being a ranger. I was sick of them always worrying over me and treating me like a child forever...”

The ranger looked at the weakly burning fire, seemingly lost in thought.

“Before that, what is your name? I am Wid.”

“I am Squirrel. A little big for a squirrel, aren’t I?”

“I am a weed, so we are alike.”

“Are we? There are no weeds in the forest. That is a farmer’s notion.”

It was a perspective Valerie had never considered. The name Wid was not even his real name, yet it had made him somewhat uncomfortable. Hearing Squirrel’s words, that feeling seemed to fade.

“What exactly do you do?”

“Well, I suppose I am a sort of forest keeper who works far from home. You know, like a gamekeeper. It is similar, but a little more dangerous. Or perhaps there is nothing dangerous about it. I do not know. I suppose we just keep watch over how things are going? Did you know? People only fear and hate wolves, but goblins do not cross into human lands when wolves are around. We observe such things. Whether wolf populations have increased or decreased, whether stray goblins have been seen, whether there are changes among other plants and animals, whether wildfolk are settling in. If there were a neighboring estate, we would also need to watch for suspicious movements from them, but as you know, no army can pass through this forest. No one has ever ventured that deep.”

“Are there no witches or anything?”

“Ha ha ha, if there were, we rangers would have married them long ago and had ten children.”

“Then what about the carpenters of Thunder Forest? Is there not a group of carpenters nearby?”

“A group of carpenters? Ah... I think it would be best not to provoke those people...”

There were wandering trade groups in the world, such as groups of blacksmiths or stonemasons. Carpenter collectives were one of them.

While Belfort had formed a village around an outpost, trade groups were communities that lived on the move. They found work, earned money, and made their living that way.

Squirrel watched Valerie’s expression before speaking again.

“I only heard this from Old Mills. The carpenters of Thunder Forest were all brave Viking warriors once. There were two great wars long ago, and they were said to be the ones who survived them. Perhaps they supported another prince and lost? Of course, I do not know the details. What matters is that they are not people to take lightly. I understand even the Duke does not interfere with them.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I did not ask because I viewed them poorly or wished to pick a fight for no reason.”

“Um... Your Lordship seems like a good person. You do not seem likely to do something bad for no reason. Still, it is not my place to teach you anything. Once you get near Thunder Forest, you will see them right away. They are not completely isolated people.”

“Is that so? Then how far is Thunder Forest from here? No, how much farther until I can leave this forest?”

The forest Valerie was currently passing through lay on the border between Nordlanding and Krischer.

“If you hurry, you should reach Hemsley Village before sunset.”

“I understand. Is there anything especially difficult or inconvenient for you?”

“Inconvenient? It is always people. Nature does not trouble me.”

“People?”

“Ah, well...”

“You may speak freely. I know how to read the situation, and I can distinguish what should and should not be repeated.”

“It is nothing else. You know that tax collector, do you not? The viscount’s tax collector.”

Those who held several countships, such as Dukes or margraves, often appointed viscounts to govern vacant lands. A viscount was not strictly a hereditary title, but a viscount’s authority was equivalent to that of a count.

Krischer was governed by a viscount appointed by the Duke.

“Why the tax collector?”

“We do not usually pay taxes. But the tax collector who came recently has suddenly begun ordering even us to bring deer antlers or dig up truffles. All sorts of strange orders. We ignored the collector, but whenever they come around, the threats get worse.”

Rangers were practically a direct institution of the Duke, so a viscount’s tax collector had no right to order them around.

But as was always the case wherever people lived, matters did not proceed solely according to the rules.

Either the collector had a great deal of nerve, or the collector looked down on the rangers because they lived in isolation.

“We talked it over with the others. If the collector pulls that shit once more, we decided we’d kill the collector in the forest and deny knowing anything.”

The rangers might have seemed simple and treated Valerie well, but they were by no means easy people.

“No. I will look into it, so endure it for now. I should be going before it gets any later. Thank you for the soup.”

“Please take this. Your mouth may get bored on the way.”

As Valerie stood, Squirrel packed several small pouches for him. They contained herb powder, dried fruit, pine nuts, and smoked meat.

Valerie accepted them gratefully and left the cabin. At some point, Snow and the dog had become inseparable.

Valerie mounted Snow to pick up the pace. Then he raised a hand slightly toward Squirrel. Squirrel raised a hand in return, as though wishing him a safe journey.

He did not know much about manners, but he was not a bad person.

Just as Valerie traveled with Snow as his companion, Squirrel lived in the forest with a dog as his.

It seemed everyone had their own way of dealing with loneliness. Even someone with a black hole in their heart, without a single star, might have their own way of living.

But Squirrel had Old Mills living in his heart. It seemed he endured the cold called loneliness through the warmth of the campfire called affection that Mills had given him.

Valerie envied that a little.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried