WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 36

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When people went through something too absurd, they could not even get angry. Even anger that had risen in the first place cooled quickly.

At first, Duke Sven had been furious to hear that Knut had escaped. But as soon as the question, How on earth? arose, his anger rapidly cooled.

“It appears that four people plotted and helped him escape: Wid, the illegitimate child, Skard and Arne, who were soldiers, and Yorick, the servant.”

The captain of the guard delivered his report. His expression was exceedingly grave. The Second Young Master was dead, and the Third Young Master, who had been undergoing punishment, had escaped.

Only then did Duke Sven begin considering the matter calmly before asking,

“Aren’t those the ones who killed Groin-Ripper before?”

“That is correct. They also stole the weapons Groin-Ripper used in life.”

“...Where did they flee?”

“The gate guards say they headed toward Gringen. And...”

“And?”

“They are still investigating Gringen, but on the day the Second Young Master was murdered, they saw soldiers wearing clothing embroidered with the crest of the Margrave of Dunbria setting fires.”

“...”

Duke Sven felt not only his head but even his heart grow cold. So the margrave had been behind it.

He did not think he had been too hasty in punishing Knut. Rather, he thought it had worked out well. Thanks to it, he could expose all the spies.

“Of course. Killing Groin-Ripper in less than a week... I suffered over that for years.”

He believed it was all because the margrave stood behind them. With someone backing them, they could kill Groin-Ripper in less than a week, then push the Third Young Master as the next duke.

That was not the truth at all, but Duke Sven believed it. Given the circumstances, he could not help believing it, and it chilled him to the bone.

Then was Winslow’s illegitimate child the margrave’s lackey? Had Winslow also been betraying him for a long time?

Suspicion naturally bred more suspicion, and Duke Sven’s doubts spread. They extended beyond Winslow to Windale and even Count Debi. There was almost no end to them.

Then, from the deepest part of his heart, his true nature rose. Just as Valerie had said, his cowardly disposition.

“Captain of the guard, what is your opinion?”

The captain of the guard was not merely in charge of security. There was a separate military officer, but the captain commanded the knights, their most vital force.

“Send a challenge to the margrave and issue a muster order.”

Sending a challenge meant declaring war. When war began, it was customary to send the opposing lord or king a challenge to fight.

Kings and lords did not actually meet for one-on-one duels, but that was the formality. Of course, sometimes, very rarely, they really did duel.

The problem was that Duke Sven did not know how to wage war, nor was he confident in doing so. He was suspicious, used people, and occasionally could not control his emotions, yet he lacked confidence in a fight where everything was at stake.

‘If he weren’t a duke, His Grace would be a man incapable of anything.’

For some reason, his second wife’s words crossed his mind. Duke Sven bit his lip without realizing it. His masculine pride and cowardly nature clashed violently within him.

Then, as always, his tendency to avoid responsibility and pin it on someone else came alive.

“Bring Gunnar.”

“Yes.”

A short while later, Gunnar, Duke Sven’s eldest son, entered at his summons. His eyes were swollen, likely from weeping over his brother’s death.

Displeased by that, Duke Sven glared at his eldest son and spoke.

Gunnar was known for being somewhat stupid. It was not a disability, but he was simply rather dim. His one advantage was his great height, powerful build, and natural strength. He was a Norseman through and through.

“The margrave is behind this.”

“...”

“Have you nothing to say?”

Gunnar hesitated before answering.

“...If you intend to entrust me with something, wouldn’t it be better for you to handle it yourself before being disappointed and scolding me again?”

“You worthless fool!”

Frustrated by his eldest son’s response, Duke Sven threw whatever came to hand at him. It was an ink bottle, and black ink splattered everywhere, staining Gunnar’s clothes.

“You weep like a girl, yet you can’t even think of taking down the margrave like a man!?”

“Father has repeatedly said that the margrave’s highlanders are terrifying, that we must never underestimate them and must not neglect our guard.”

“You dare talk back to me!? I’ve worked so hard to give you the position of heir, yet you can’t even accept it. Is that what you have to say!? Are you saying I should give the ducal seat to Knut!?”

“...I wouldn’t mind if you did...”

For a moment, Duke Sven felt as though the back of his head would split and he would collapse. The captain of the guard hurried over and supported him.

Only after calming down for a long while did Duke Sven speak again. He did not shout any further.

“This is vengeance. Nobles must take vengeance to be nobles. If we remain still after suffering this, not only my authority but the authority of our house will fall to the ground. If you truly mourn Guttorm’s death, lead the army and hold the margrave accountable. Once you seize Gringen, I will handle the negotiations afterward.”

Authority, or pride alone, could not be enough to wage war. There had to be a tangible benefit, and that was Gringen.

Duke Sven had wanted Gringen for a very long time. It was close to Torvik geographically, a source of gemstones, and a key transportation hub along the northwestern river.

Yet rather than gaining Gringen, he had spent more than a decade troubled by someone like Groin-Ripper.

That was partly because Groin-Ripper was such an extraordinary man, but also because he could not send a proper force while watching the Margrave of Dunbria’s reaction.

However, if he started a war and mobilized an army, he had to swallow all of Gringen at the very least. That suited the duke’s calculations. His mind worked well in matters like this.

“But, Father, what if the Margrave of Dunbria isn’t behind it? What if he didn’t kill Guttorm?”

Gunnar spoke. It was actually a question that struck at the heart of the matter, but Duke Sven thought this fool was once again saying something ignorant.

Holding the back of his head with one hand and pointing at the doorway with the other, Duke Sven squeezed his eyes shut and said,

“Leave. Leave. Just leave if you don’t want to see me die.”

Gunnar quietly left the room with a dejected expression.

In a way, he might have been the greatest victim among the three brothers of House Viding. He had endured the duke’s contempt and abuse for the longest.

Knut had suffered especially badly, but Gunnar and Guttorm had not lived without watching their father’s mood either. Perhaps those who had suffered the abuse of sharp words had endured it for longer and more continuously. Had Gunnar always been less intelligent? Had Guttorm always been so vile?

In any case, Duke Sven sent a challenge to the Margrave of Dunbria. Then he issued a muster order throughout the Duchy of Eldeira.

The County of Winslow, the County of Windale, the County of Debi, Viscount Krischer, and even the soldiers and frontier knights of Belfort. Muster orders went out to every place obliged to answer their liege’s call.

The sound of war horns rang through Torvik.

Valerie and his friends had brought out four horses, so they could not travel by ship.

Thus, they had to go around the wetlands to the west and reach Gringen by land.

Once Knut regained his senses, he rode the remaining horse together with Yorick.

Perhaps worried about pursuers, Yorick kept looking back.

But they had escaped around midnight, Knut’s escape had been discovered in the morning, and several hours had been spent figuring out what happened. By the time anyone could pursue them, it was already too late.

“You don’t need to worry about pursuit. The road is the problem.”

Valerie spoke.

And indeed, the road was a problem. An uneven expanse of rocky ground stretched as far as the eye could see.

There was not a single tree, and barely any grass. Only sparse, moss-like growths clung to the rocks.

Few people traveled this way because the route was so rough. There was a path, but nowhere they could comfortably ride at speed.

It was late afternoon. They had fled since midnight without sleeping, so they were tired, and only now did they feel somewhat safe from pursuit.

The five traveled diligently until evening, then camped outdoors when night fell. A dry wind constantly swept across the rocky land, and they lit a fire in a place sheltered from it.

Fortunately, it was wide enough for them and their four horses.

A broad rock jutted out above them like an eave, with both sides enclosed. It could block the wind, but not the sound.

Whoooosh...

Yorick set up a stand and placed a pot over the fire. They had carried all sorts of things out with them when they fled, so they would not need to worry about food for a while.

He boiled water, added whatever ingredients he could, and made stew. Well, not entirely at random. Yorick had his own secret method.

Once it was done, they ladled it into their bowls and drank. The slightly sour taste was a little troubling, but overall, it was not bad.

They were tired, and with their stomachs warmed, sleep came naturally.

“I don’t know if we did the right thing...”

Skard lay down with his arm beneath his head as he spoke.

“Do you regret it?”

Arne asked.

“I don’t regret it. I just don’t know what lies ahead.”

Skard’s concern was entirely reasonable. They had helped Knut escape in defiance of the duke.

Yet he was not blaming Knut, nor did he regret it, as he said. Once he had actually left Torvik, the thought that he could never return made him afraid.

It was where he had been born and raised. It was only natural.

“Skard, is there something you want to do from now on?”

Arne asked again.

“Well, we could establish a mercenary company together. If things go well later, since we’re founding members, we might hold very high positions and make a lot of money. Then we buy land. We live grandly there, drinking ourselves stupid. Without a single worry.”

He seemed to be speaking of an ordinary dream. Days with warm backs and full bellies, literally.

“What do you want to become?”

This time, Skard asked Arne.

“I just want to be myself. I don’t know what that is yet. A person who doesn’t waver. Like a tree grown thick and straight.”

“Isn’t that harder than mine?”

“Maybe.”

“What about you, Wid?”

Skard asked.

“Well, if it’s necessary, perhaps I’ll become king.”

“Hey...”

Everyone took it as a joke. Still, they thought it was too much for a joke. A king was not someone one could speak of carelessly. They did not want to fail to enter heaven because of some careless words.

“It’s similar to you wishing to live without a care. The thought just came to me. But think about it. What will you do if the king dies first?”

“W-Well, wouldn’t there be a succession war?”

“Then you side with the one most likely to win, kill him at the end, and become king yourself.”

Valerie said it with a smile. This time, it really was a joke, but nobody laughed. Was it not funny?

“Wid, watch what you say...”

Unable to bear it any longer, Arne spoke up from beside him.

“What does it matter? It’s only us. What about you, Knut?”

“Um... I think anywhere but here would be nice. The north feels stifling. I want to go south and live there. And I want to make toys. Fun, well-made toys that make you lose track of time while playing with them.”

In terms of the whole world, Astria itself lay in the north. Eldeira and Dunbria were even farther north within it. The Norsemen had come down from farther north still.

“What about you, Yorick?”

“I’ll write a diary. I’ll keep writing until I become a bent old man, then gather it all together and make it into a book. Isn’t that what history is? If someone reads that book after a long time has passed, they’ll learn how we lived and what kind of people we were. I may not live like the Dragon Slayer or other great heroes, but I won’t be forgotten. Even if I’m not a legend, there was a person called me. This is how I lived.”

“Hmm. If I become king, I think I can grant all your wishes.”

Valerie said.

At once, Arne frowned.

“Stop talking about becoming king. You’re being too blasphemous. What if I can’t enter heaven because I listened to you?”

Arne pressed Valerie anxiously, but since Valerie had said it as a joke, he laughed loudly at Arne’s reaction.

“You said you wanted to become someone who doesn’t waver, yet you’re shaken by that? You just need to eat well and live well while you’re alive. Long live His Majesty the King, fuck. Happy now?”

Skard reproached Arne.

No one knew whose words were right, but they were all young men just beginning their lives.

Young men who had left the places where they were born and raised, entered a harsh world, and fought enemies difficult to oppose.

They ate together and dreamed together. Their dreams might not have been the same, but they dreamed together.

To Valerie, that became something like a foundation for his heart, and he wanted to see their dreams become reality. How could those who dreamed be so wonderful?

Could he not become king merely to see their dreams? Did he need some other grand reason? He did not know.

The campfire burned, and the night deepened. The group took turns standing watch.

As time passed and the sky gradually brightened before sunrise, they all woke and filled their stomachs with dried food.

They traveled diligently and only reached Gringen again by evening.

The first news they heard there was that war was coming.

The Duke of Eldeira had sent a challenge to the Margrave of Dunbria. That was what everyone said.

Valerie was a little surprised inwardly. He had not expected cowardly Duke Sven to start a war.

He had expected Sven to threaten his safety through his characteristic persistence, whether by sending knights or hiring contractors. War had been beyond his expectations.

That did not mean he was worried. Before his regression, war had been the decisive cause of the duke’s downfall.

Yet now, the duke had started a war himself. Valerie found it ironic.

It could be seen as a result Valerie himself had brought about, but in another way, it seemed like Duke Sven’s unavoidable fate.

Rather than worry, Valerie even thought it had worked out well. For a mercenary company, fame and reputation were value itself, and there was no better opportunity than war to make a name for themselves.

And if someone asked Valerie what he did best, he could answer that more than anything else, it was war.

Once a muster order was issued, gathering everyone could take as little as a month or more than a year.

They had time before then, so Valerie judged that if they seized Gringen, it could become an important variable, though a small one, in deciding the course of the war.

After the war ended, he would probably... go south. That was something to consider later, but perhaps only then would he finally be ready to search for his mother.

That was what Valerie thought.

Late at night, Valerie noticed Yorick unloading baggage from the horses with the others.

He looked at the utterly ordinary Yorick for a while before suddenly asking,

“Yorick, how about writing a legend instead of a diary?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you couldn’t live like the Dragon Slayer or other heroes. If you could live like them, would you?”

“Ha ha...”

Yorick only laughed awkwardly. It sounded too distant and unrealistic.

But for a moment, he seriously considered it. Then he answered.

“If someone abandoned by the world carved a legend into the world, that would be quite a satisfying revenge.”

Yorick had been thrown into a gutter the moment he was born and did not even know who his parents were.

“Look at this guy...”

Arne muttered toward Yorick. He had thought Yorick was merely an ignorant punk, but after learning a few letters, he spoke like a poet. Honestly, Arne was a little impressed.

“I wondered why you learned letters, but I see they’re worth learning.”

“By the way, what should we call our mercenary company?”

Skard asked.

“Gringen’s specialty is frogs, so how about the Frog Mercenary Company?”

At Yorick’s suggestion, Skard and Arne simultaneously furrowed their brows. Gringen was also famous for its gemstones, yet he dismissed rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and all the rest for frogs. Of course. What else could they expect from a punk like him?

Just as they were about to say something, Valerie agreed.

“That sounds good. It looks a little ridiculous, so let’s make sure nobody can take it lightly.”

“...Surely we haven’t decided it already?”

“I’m in favor. Frogs are cute.”

Knut added. It was three to two.

“No, Young Master...”

“Then it’s decided. From now on, we are the Frog Mercenary Company, The Froskar. Knut, Arne, Skard, Yorick, and I are the founding members. Before long, the entire kingdom will know the Frog Mercenary Company, and they’ll tremble in fear at the name alone. I swear it by the dead gods.”

Having said that, Valerie went into the inn first.

Arne and Skard stood there dumbfounded, while Yorick hurried after Valerie into the inn, worried that the two might say something to him for no reason.

Knut went inside as well, leaving Arne and Skard standing there as though dazed.

“I actually had one in mind...”

Skard said regretfully.

“What was it?”

“Widow Makers.”

“...Frogs are better than that, aren’t they...?”

“Then what did you have in mind?”

“Groin-Ripper’s Slayers.”

“Maybe frogs are better...”

In any case, that was how the mercenary company received its name. It was the Frog Mercenary Company. Whether they would write a legend, as Valerie had said, remained to be seen.

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