WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 35

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It was the fourth day since Guttorm, the Second Young Master of the House of Viding, died.

The original plan had been for him to seize the wharf alive, gradually withdraw the troops, and retreat once Duke Sven sent an administrator.

Honestly, it was such an easy, simple task that even a six-year-old child could have succeeded if put in charge.

So no one had doubted it. No, they had never even imagined that he would fail, or that he would die.

But when one day passed, then two, then three, and there was neither a withdrawal of troops nor any news, Duke Sven finally began to react.

“Did I send that stupid bastard to work, only for him to go off enjoying himself?”

Looking only at the circumstances, it was reasonable to think so.

But when he sent people, they found the wharf burned down. Not only was the Second Young Master nowhere to be seen, but neither were the knights and soldiers who had gone with him.

Only then did Duke Sven sense that something was wrong.

At first, he heard the wharf had burned down and was being rebuilt, so he wondered whether Guttorm had foolishly burned it down and run away out of fear of being scolded. To be honest, the Guttorm he knew was capable of that.

But even if Guttorm had fled, it was strange for the knights and soldiers to follow him. They had vanished without news or trace.

People were sent to investigate in Gringen, but its people only kept silent out of fear of the Black Hand.

While this strange incident remained a complete mystery, on the fourth day, whether fortunately or unfortunately, a swollen corpse beyond recognition was found by the riverbank.

Its clothes, teeth, and the carved-out marks on its chest all pointed to one person. It was Guttorm, the Second Young Master.

Upon receiving the report and confirming it with his own eyes, Duke Sven felt more rage at the ruined plan and the challenge to his house than grief over losing his son.

“You vermin...!”

Who had done this? Who dared?

Duke Sven turned it over in his mind. He was not an unintelligent man, but his emotions had overwhelmed his reason.

So he first looked for someone to blame, someone who could absorb his anger.

That person was Knut.

Duke Sven stormed into Knut’s room.

It was full of toys, and all kinds of clutter. As usual, Knut was sitting beside his bed, playing with a toy.

Duke Sven normally paid him no attention, but for some reason, the sight made his anger rise even further.

“You! This was your doing, wasn’t it!? Tell me the truth!”

His father had suddenly burst into his room and begun shouting. Knut could only feel frightened and bewildered. He could not say a word and simply stared at him with wide eyes.

As if barging in were not enough, Duke Sven began smashing and throwing everything in sight. Delicately crafted toys, mobiles, all of them were mercilessly destroyed.

Knut could not resist. Still sitting by the bed, he only raised his arms defensively as broken fragments flew everywhere.

Duke Sven went further still. He suddenly drew his sword and began swinging it wildly. The strings of the mobiles were cut, the bed was slashed apart, and the piled-up belongings around the room were struck down.

At last, some of his anger seemed to ease. Panting, he pointed his sword at Knut.

“Guttorm. You killed Guttorm, didn’t you? You killed Ketil too, didn’t you? You and your mother are trying to take this house for yourselves, aren’t you? Answer me truthfully. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Knut tried to say no, but he suddenly remembered what Valerie had said before.

The question of whether he could kill Knut’s brother.

So Knut thought Valerie had killed Guttorm.

But he said nothing.

Knut had trauma from being falsely accused, but he did not want Valerie to get hurt.

“......”

“Your silence tells me I’m right. Even if it ends my bloodline, you will never take this house.”

As he said that, he raised his sword as though he truly meant to kill him. At this point, they seemed less related than strangers.

With his heart pounding, Knut thought that the time had finally come.

The time to die.

So he closed his eyes as if accepting everything.

Fortunately, the knights waiting outside rushed in like lightning and stopped the Duke.

“Let go! Let go of me!”

“Compose yourself, Your Grace!”

“Do I look like I can compose myself? Ketil was not enough, and now Guttorm too!? This is clearly an act meant to target the heir! It is usurpation! Usurpation!”

Ketilmund had been a concubine-born child, so perhaps that could be overlooked. But killing a legitimate son was a truly serious matter.

Of course, Knut had not killed Guttorm.

Only after the knights restrained him for a long time did Duke Sven finally regain even a little reason. He threw down his sword irritably, then pointed at Knut with a hand trembling from rage.

“Lock him up. Put him behind the bars in the watchtower. I will keep him locked away until he dies. Anyone who gives him food or water without my permission will be killed, no matter the reason! Do it at once!”

Duke Sven finally swept out, leaving the wrecked room behind him. Knut remained sitting beside the bed, his head lowered.

And so, Knut was locked behind the bars of the watchtower once again.

High above the ground, where fierce winds blew constantly, where the floor was not fully covered and his legs often slipped through, and where inward-pointing spikes on the bars made it impossible to lean back comfortably.

When Valerie returned from patrol, it was Knut’s second day imprisoned there.

Valerie had not even washed. Still armed from his patrol, he looked up at the cage.

The journey had been arduous, but returning usually felt like setting down a heavy burden.

Now Valerie’s heart felt heavy again.

“He’ll be all right, won’t he? He got out last time too.”

Skard spoke with his arms crossed and a grim expression, as though trying to stay positive.

“This time seems different. The Second Young Master was a legitimate son, after all.”

Arne spoke of the reality they did not want to face. This was different from when Ketilmund had been killed.

It was not acceptable to kill concubine-born or illegitimate children carelessly, but this was a world where even human lives were judged as precious or worthless.

That was the caste system.

“He was fussy on the outside, but he was very warm-hearted underneath.”

Yorick spoke.

Yorick was currently employed as a servant in Torvik. He had served Knut occasionally, both during the operation in Gringen and afterward, so he was unexpectedly close to him.

“Hey, don’t talk as if he’s already dead.”

Arne frowned and warned him.

“What? Th-that isn’t what I meant...”

“Enough. Right now, we’re all in the same position. There’s nothing we can do.”

Skard stopped an unnecessary conflict before it began. Then, without realizing it, he naturally turned to Valerie.

Arne and Yorick looked at Valerie as well.

No emotion showed on Valerie’s face. Calmly, wearing a surcoat over chainmail and a sword at his waist, he looked up at the cage. A Viking axe rested in one hand.

“Wid.”

Arne called to him.

But Valerie did not look at him. Keeping his gaze on the cage, he said,

“I killed Guttorm.”

Yorick’s eyes widened, while the other two remained silent without changing expression.

“And now I am certain. I know why this house has to fall.”

Words too terrible to speak flowed calmly from Valerie’s mouth.

“What do you mean?”

Arne asked with a grave expression.

“No parent has the right to treat their child however they please. That is what I think. Duke Sven only cares about himself. As long as someone like that is Duke, he spreads misery everywhere. This was never just Winslow’s problem.”

He did not need to make some solemn resolve.

It was simply clear.

This was a world where parents considered their children possessions. Nobles and commoners alike. And it was treated as common sense.

But in Valerie’s eyes, the debt of gratitude for giving birth to and raising a child did not give someone the right to mistreat that child however they pleased. All misery began there. It followed a person for their entire life.

Because I was born a prince, I had to be raised by strangers and kill my brothers and nephews. Were any of those things my choice?

There were things he had seen while on patrol. People embracing and weeping in barley fields, the ranger’s loneliness, large families living beneath one roof, Thorvald’s fight, the frontier knight’s will to live.

Valerie had envied them. At times, he had admired them.

Having seen such things, he understood now. No power or violence should break apart a harmonious family, nor should it block the path each person chose to walk.

Duke Sven was no better than that money grub.

That was what he thought.

But Valerie’s words sounded unfamiliar to his friends. They had never considered that even parents should not treat their children however they pleased.

While his friends could say nothing, Valerie finally turned to them.

“I am going to save Knut. That means standing against the Duke openly. Think carefully before you join me.”

For a while, no one spoke. It was too serious, too enormous to feel real.

Standing against the Duke.

Arne answered first. Perhaps because of his own family circumstances, Valerie’s words about parents not being allowed to mistreat their children struck deeply at his heart.

Besides, he was naturally honest and could not stand injustice.

“I cut ties with my mother and father to live as myself. If I pretend not to see this and walk away, then I won’t be myself. I’m in too.”

Skard thought for a moment before asking,

“...Do you have a plan?”

“First, we go to Gringen. We have enough funds already, so we could form a mercenary band and go somewhere else.”

The money from selling the jewels was enough. And rather than suddenly fleeing far away, Gringen, where they had some standing, seemed better.

After all, the Salt Prince was famous there.

Skard thought once more, then answered.

“I wanted to become a knight, but the Duke and the captain of the guard do not seem to care much about that. Living as a mercenary would be fine too. Since we’re fleeing anyway, I should take a good horse with me.”

Only Yorick remained. Everyone looked at him, though none seemed to expect much.

Under everyone’s gaze, Yorick deliberately straightened his posture and put on a solemn expression.

“How can a beast of prey live only on food given by others? It must go into the wild and fight for what it earns.”

“...Where did you hear that?”

Arne asked suspiciously.

“Yes, well, I have learned a little reading lately. They say that nobles value only what they win through fighting.”

“Have you become a noble already?”

Arne mocked him, somewhat dumbfounded.

“Couldn’t I be a noble at heart? And besides, I’m the only one who can cater to the young master and wait on him. Are you gentlemen going to do that?”

His way with words seemed to be getting better. Or perhaps he had always been like that.

In any case, the four of them came together in purpose.

Then all four looked up at the cage where Knut was imprisoned.

Knut thought that he should become a tree.

A tree made no complaint even when battered by rain and wind, and it accepted pain calmly.

It was closer to self-hypnosis than a thought. Ever since childhood, Knut had suffered all kinds of punishments, not only being locked in cages, so he always imagined a tree to numb himself to pain.

It is all right if this position is uncomfortable. It is all right to be hungry. I only need to endure the cold for a little while. Soon I will grow weak and sleepy. If I faint, much time will have passed. And if I do not wake up, that would be best of all.

Past midnight, on his third day in the cage, Knut was enduring fairly well.

Or could this really be called enduring?

He nodded off like a sick chicken, slept briefly, woke to move his body a little, then nodded off again and fainted.

If this keeps up, I’ll die in my sleep.

That was all he had to think.

It was best not to think at all, but becoming a stone was difficult, so he always thought of trees.

The first thing Knut had done since childhood to become numb to pain was abandon hope.

The hope that he might live. The hope that he might be happy.

The stars shone beautifully that night.

But they brought no comfort. Beautiful things made him want to live, so Knut turned away.

He simply surrendered his mind to fainting, to the strength steadily leaving his body, so that he could find comfort in it.

Then he heard a voice.

“Knut.”

He was used to hallucinations too. When he heard one, he only had to let it continue. If he reacted to it, the pain would return, so Knut ignored it and nodded off.

“Knut.”

The voice came again.

A voice. It was Wid’s voice.

Hm, do I miss him? But I can’t see him anymore. It was fun, even if only for a little while. Goodbye, Wid.

“Knut.”

It came again.

This time, it was like a small drop falling on water and sending ripples outward.

Perhaps it was the faintest will to live.

Knut weakly lifted his head and looked ahead. Outside the high watchtower window, beneath the pouring starlight, someone leaned out.

Once he recognized who it was, Knut’s eyes slowly widened.

“I came to save you. You’ll have to help a little. Can you stand?”

“...Wid?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on. You don’t have to go through this anymore.”

“W-why?”

“What do you mean, why? We’re friends. And you shouldn’t suffer like this because of me. Try to stand first. We don’t have time.”

Valerie placed something like a plank beneath the gap between the cage and the window. A strong wind blew.

Just in case, Skard and Arne held hands tightly to keep Valerie from falling.

Knut’s eyes grew wider still. Then he quickly looked downcast.

“No. Just go.”

“What are you talking about? There’s no turning back now.”

“Father will get angry. You’ll all be in trouble.”

Valerie looked silently at Knut. Then, without even a trace of falsehood, he spoke with complete sincerity.

“Your suffering is worse for me than being in trouble. And I told you before to trust me and follow me. Come on.”

At Valerie’s words, Knut’s face suddenly crumpled, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

He had thought his emotions had died long ago, but tears flowed endlessly, as if a dam holding them back had burst.

Valerie opened the cage with a stolen key. Now they only had to reach for each other.

Knut reached out. Valerie caught his arm, pulled him sharply forward, and held him securely against his chest with one arm.

He was light as a feather. There was no chance Valerie would let him go.

“All right. I have him.”

At Valerie’s words, Skard and Arne clenched their teeth and pulled with all their strength.

In an instant, all four of them tumbled into the watchtower.

“Drink water first. We brought porridge.”

Valerie supported Knut’s back and made sure he took some nourishment first. Knut’s throat was tight, making the porridge difficult to swallow, but he forced it down.

Soon afterward, he fainted.

All his strength had left him.

Valerie picked Knut up and quickly descended the high tower. Arne and Skard hurried after him.

Outside the tower, Yorick was waiting with four horses, including Snow. Somehow, he had also stolen the weapons used by Creed the Groin-Ripper.

Valerie put Knut in front of him and mounted behind him. Skard and Yorick rode together, Arne mounted another horse, and one remaining horse was led by the reins.

Then they passed through the castle gate and drawbridge they had opened in advance and escaped Torvik Fortress.

There were people standing night watch, but they recognized the familiar faces and only stared blankly, wondering what was going on.

Knut woke from his faint in Valerie’s arms.

But his mind was not clear. He was dazed, as if dreaming.

He did not know what was happening, but the stars in the night sky looked so beautiful from atop the swaying horse.

Is this heaven?

I hope so.

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