WeTried Translations

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 44

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The Duke of Eldeira’s army, in other words, the force deployed to occupy Gringen, numbered around five hundred.

Their total force had been a thousand men, but more soldiers had been assigned to guard the supply route, reducing the number available for the actual operation. Just as life never went according to plan, neither did war.

Fortunately for Valerie, the Count of Winslow’s banner was nowhere to be seen. The count was commanding the rear guard and had been assigned to protect the supply route.

People often said that taking a castle or city required at least five times as many troops as the defenders. Gringen had around eighty soldiers, so the occupying force met that condition.

That did not mean Gringen was hopeless. They had a chance, and so did the enemy.

The occupying force did not seem to be a rabble gathered at random. They had the air of a proper army. On the first day of their arrival, they began building a camp beyond bow range.

It was neither especially solid nor orderly, but they dug trenches and drove in stakes, giving it the rough shape of a camp.

It was late summer, or perhaps the beginning of autumn. The weather was cool, with occasional cold winds that seemed to herald winter. Everyone hoped that sense of unease would reach the enemy instead of them.

Watching the enemy from atop the wall, Valerie spoke.

“They’re too close. Let’s show them that being beyond bow range doesn’t mean they’ve put enough distance between us.”

“What are you planning?”

Arne asked.

“You, Skard, and I will ride out and stir things up. We’ll charge in over there, then break out through there.”

Valerie pointed toward parts of the enemy camp. Arne was dumbfounded.

“...The three of us?”

“They’ve been harassed by the margrave’s army on their way here. Look at them. They look ready to collapse from exhaustion, and they had to start building a camp the moment they arrived. We need to strike now.”

A defensive battle was not something you could win by simply staying inside and defending. You had to ride out from time to time, harass the enemy relentlessly, and destroy any siege weapons they had.

If you judged the timing of those sorties well, numbers did not matter as much.

War was fought by people, after all. No one could stay battle-ready all day. They needed to eat, sleep, and rest.

Keeping watch without letting up meant people would grow tired. Then, when they relaxed a little, you had to strike again and harass them. When they tightened their watch once more, you stayed still. Repeating that cycle was how you wore the enemy down.

At its core, whether attacking or defending, a siege was a battle of mental endurance. The side that broke first lost. That was both siege warfare and defending a siege.

Even so, putting it into practice took no small amount of courage.

Valerie put on his helmet and fully armed himself before mounting Snow. His surcoat was white, bearing a green frog emblem.

A sword hung at his waist, and Thorvald’s logging axe was hooked to his saddle in case he needed a secondary weapon. He held a spear in one hand.

Arne and Skard armed themselves and mounted their horses as well. They had trusted and followed Valerie for roughly five months, nearly half a year now. They could not help wondering just how far this fellow intended to go.

No matter how much they thought it was madness, they always found themselves following behind him when they came to their senses.

The ordinary soldiers and citizens of Gringen felt much the same.

They were about to defend the city, and their leader was charging out on the very first day. Who exactly were they supposed to trust?

“Open the gates!”

Unable to resist the sharp command, they opened them.

Pulleys turned as donkeys and people pulled and pushed together, and the gates, tightly bound from thick logs, slowly opened.

Valerie rode out slowly and proudly. He was not thinking of the people watching him, but even if he had been, he needed to look all the prouder.

The enemy, weary and busy hauling heavy objects, pitching tents, and driving stakes, did not even notice Valerie at first. They only spotted him when he had ridden at a slow pace about halfway toward them.

With two men carrying spears following behind him, he looked, at a glance, like some sort of envoy.

But when Valerie picked up speed and leveled his spear, they finally realized something was wrong. By then, the charge had already reached them.

Thudududududud!

Slash! Thud! Crunch! Crack!

Valerie skewered one enemy soldier and trampled tents and camp equipment beneath his horse’s hooves. Drawing Wound, he shouted loudly.

“How dare you make camp in Gringen’s front yard!”

The dwarf steel sword he raised high flashed in the sunlight like a blade of light. The nearby enemies fled in panic, while Valerie rode straight for the makeshift stables.

The knights hurried to bring out their horses, but when they saw Valerie charging toward them, they quickly jumped aside.

Reaching the army horses, Valerie swept past them and swung his sword, cutting them down.

Neigh!

More than one horse was killed or injured in an instant, while the rest panicked and began to thrash wildly. Naturally, the confusion only grew worse.

Valerie turned his horse and charged out to the left. He rammed into and trampled anything in his path.

The enemy hurriedly grabbed weapons and tried to fight back, but they could only stumble about in confusion. Whenever Valerie reached them, they did nothing but run.

After thoroughly throwing the enemy camp into chaos, Valerie looked back. Arne and Skard wore expressions of such exhilaration that they hardly seemed sane.

They did not appear to have the presence of mind to swing their weapons from horseback. Still, it was impressive enough that they had kept up without falling behind.

Just as the enemy began to regain their senses amid the chaos and attempt some response, Valerie turned his horse again and headed for Gringen.

Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!

The three warhorses pounded urgently over the ground.

When they reached the gates, the people greeted them with wild cheers. It was an unbelievable sight.

Seeing three men charge into five hundred, run wild among them, and trample them as they pleased was not something one saw often in a lifetime.

“Waaaaah!”

“Salt Prince! Salt Prince!”

“Long live the Frog Mercenary Company!”

The gates closed again. When Valerie returned and looked at the people, their eyes shone as though they might begin to sparkle. He had certainly succeeded in breaking the enemy’s spirit while raising that of his own side.

Valerie immediately dismounted Snow and climbed the wall. Looking outside, he saw knights who had ridden after them too late, but they could only ride back and forth over the bare ground, kicking up dust. What else could they do? The gates were closed.

A few arrows were shot at them. None hit, but they had no choice but to retreat. The five hundred soldiers also withdrew much farther back.

Near sunset, someone from the enemy camp approached the wall with an escort. They did not come very close, instead shouting from a distance.

“Hey! Illegitimate child!”

Valerie had been resting below when he heard someone calling him, so he climbed the wall. It was none other than Gunnar, the First Young Master.

After confirming Valerie’s identity from afar, Gunnar shouted again.

“I have never hated you! Surrender! I’ll spare you! Give Knut back too!”

“Don’t make me laugh! You tried to kill Knut, and now you demand that I give him back!?”

“Th-that wasn’t me! My father did it!”

“That’s right! Is it honorable for a father to try to kill his own son!? Even if we returned now, how could you guarantee our safety!?”

At Valerie’s question, Gunnar had nothing to say and scratched his head.

Even clever people found it difficult to beat Valerie in an argument. Gunnar was not clever, which made settling things with words even harder.

“Then hand over Gringen! We’ll let you and Knut go!”

That was his true purpose. Whether Valerie and Knut fled or not did not truly matter. They were merely the legitimacy for the war. The actual purpose was to occupy Gringen.

“That is even more impossible! I have resolved to fight and die alongside the people of Gringen! I will not hand this city over to anyone!”

“Do you really have to go that far!? If I can’t occupy it, my father will scold me!”

This time, Valerie was left speechless. He had not expected a man serving as commander-in-chief to state such a reason himself.

Unable to watch any longer, one of Gunnar’s attendants spoke from beside him. If Gunnar were allowed to keep talking, he might lose all dignity as a commander.

“You have urged their surrender enough, Young Master. Let us return now.”

“Have I? What a shame. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could solve this with words instead of fighting? It’s sad.”

He was simple and rough, but he did not seem like a bad person at heart.

In any case, whatever their motives, this had become a battle neither side could retreat from.

Night fell. Groups of two or three people carrying shields and torches approached the walls from the enemy camp.

At first, it was unclear what they were doing, but it was not a large-scale attack. They came close to the walls to inspect weak points.

The archers on the walls fired arrows, but it was night, so there was little chance of hitting anything. The arrows stuck in the ground or struck shields. They occasionally hit someone in the calf, but that was all.

At dawn, the Duke’s army began its full assault. Men carrying ladders, sandbags, and shields formed ranks and advanced toward the walls.

Having spent the night preparing various things, Valerie had not slept at all as he commanded from the wall.

Valerie commanded the wall to the right of the castle, while Skard and Arne commanded the opposite side.

“Don’t let them fill the moat! Prepare the peat!”

The moat had been dug in haste, so it would inevitably be filled in over time. But they needed to delay the enemy as much as possible and inflict mounting losses.

The enemy also fired covering shots with bows and crossbows. Before the sun had even risen, arrows flew back and forth, announcing the start of the battle.

“Stay together! I said stay together!”

“When you dump the sand, get out through the side! Don’t hesitate!”

The enemy also commanded with all their strength and carried out their operation desperately. Those with shields protected the others from above, while the rest carried sandbags and stones.

The defenders rained arrows down from the wall, but there were fewer than twenty archers, far too few to stop hundreds of men. They fired until their arms felt ready to fall off, and they were fortunate when even one arrow struck.

But the real trouble began when the enemy filled in one part of the moat. The remaining soldiers threw peat down below. It had been mixed with flammable materials, and when they hurled it down along with torches, flames surged up at once.

The smell of burning peat was particularly foul, but perhaps because other materials had been mixed in, the smoke was acrid and so poisonous it felt as though it would melt the lining of their noses.

“Urgh!”

“Fuck!”

More than anything, the searing heat made their faces feel as though they were being roasted.

Those who had just begun to set up ladders had no choice but to hesitate. But their allies behind them kept pushing, so they could not even flee.

“Don’t push! I said don’t push!”

“Fire!”

Even then, the moat continued to be filled elsewhere. Whenever an area seemed filled enough, the enemy set their ladders against the wall without hesitation.

But as black smoke rose, the Gringen soldiers atop the wall could not fight comfortably either. The wall was only a little taller than a person, after all.

When enemy soldiers armed with weapons began climbing the ladders in earnest, Valerie suddenly leapt down from the wall. Both enemies and allies froze in surprise.

But Valerie drew his dwarf steel sword and swung it, cutting through enemy helmets and shields alike as though slicing cheese. Limbs fell like leaves, and blood poured out.

Lit by the flames burning around him, the mirror-smooth dwarf steel sword flashed from time to time, scattering red light.

The enemy had not properly prepared long weapons such as spears while filling the moat, making it difficult for them to respond immediately.

With flames surrounding him, Valerie slaughtered the enemies around him, then climbed one of their ladders to return to the wall.

By then, the allied soldiers near the ladders could only stare at him with wide eyes.

Without caring, Valerie swung his sword and cut through the sturdy ladder in a single stroke.

Arrows from the enemy’s covering fire whizzed past Valerie’s cheeks and head. He was truly fighting with his life on the line.

The enemy on the right-side wall was so intimidated that they could no longer do anything. Valerie did not rest. He came down from the wall and headed for the wall on the opposite side of the gate. The fighting there was fierce.

An enemy knight climbed a ladder like a tiger, killed an allied soldier, and tried to force a path open. Skard and Arne faced him, but could not kill him quickly.

The knight bravely jumped down alone into the city from the wall. He seemed intent on opening the gates somehow, but he had chosen the wrong person to face.

Valerie rapidly approached and raised his sword as though he had been waiting for him, then brought it down in a flash. The knight reflexively raised his own sword to block, but it could not stand against dwarf steel.

His sword broke, his head split open, and he died screaming.

Valerie climbed back onto the wall without rest. Then, just as he had on the right-side wall, he jumped down and cut through the enemy almost indiscriminately before climbing back up their ladder.

At this point, it was hardly an exaggeration to say he was defending the city alone.

Watching from afar, Gunnar and the Count of Windale were left dumbfounded. What sort of human feat was that?

“...What kind of sword is that?”

“An Ulfberht blade could not do that much... Could it be dwarf steel? Where did he get it?”

He cut through shields, helmets, and armor alike, making them wonder for a moment what they could possibly do about it.

They still had more ladders, but the soldiers had been so thoroughly intimidated that further attacks were difficult. The assault that had begun at dawn ended with a retreat around late morning.

But news even more despairing than Valerie awaited the Duke’s army. The first food shipment arrived, and it was woefully insufficient.

“Why is this all there is!?”

Gunnar was both dumbfounded and angry as he pressed the officer responsible for food transport.

“W-well, on the way here...”

“On the way here, what!? Did that barbarian old man take it!?”

“No...”

“Then did someone steal it!? Speak clearly!”

“No, it’s just that there are soldiers guarding the supply route, you see? They need to eat too, so on the way here, it kept being reduced... and this is all that remained.”

Was that even an explanation? Gunnar was not the only one wearing a baffled expression. So were the Captain of the Guard and the Count of Windale.

What had happened was that the troops guarding the supply route had consumed the food while it was being transported.

It was beyond ridiculous. The force taking the city was the most important part of the whole army, yet the food shipment arrived last and they were the ones forced to receive too little food.

This was why logistics officers were important. Food needed to be distributed precisely, but the Duke’s army had transport officers and no position responsible for overseeing and taking responsibility for logistics as a whole.

“At this rate, we cannot last even three days, can we?”

Even Gunnar, dim as he was, thought something was wrong and asked the Duke’s Captain of the Guard. It was not a problem the captain had an answer for.

“The mercenaries are supposed to arrive, so we must somehow endure until then...”

Even ordinary people found it difficult to endure after going a day without food. Soldiers fighting for their lives were another matter altogether.

“Then do we have three days’ worth of food now?”

“By my estimate, we have roughly two days’ worth. If we reduce rations, we may somehow last four days.”

“When will the next food shipment arrive?”

Gunnar asked the food transport officer again.

“In one week.”

“What!? A week!? Does that make any sense!? Even if we stretch it, we only have four days! If the food comes in a week, what are we supposed to eat while fighting!? Are you joking!?”

It made no sense by ordinary standards, but war was like that. Things did not go as planned, and when plans went wrong, enormous problems arose from the most absurd places.

The real mistake, if there was one, had been expecting Gringen to fall within a day or two once the army arrived.

The Captain of the Guard, who had originally planned the operation, was too ashamed to lift his head.

But Gunnar did not blame him. Things had already come to this, and blaming someone would not solve anything. This was the time for everyone to join forces and fight. Being simple, that was what he thought.

After thinking hard with his simple mind, Gunnar spoke.

“Let’s eat until we’re full today and tomorrow, then settle this. The soldiers aren’t feeling very good right now. They’ll only feel worse as time passes.”

It was his own gamble. No one knew whether it would succeed or fail.

Still, for all his flaws, Gunnar was good in some ways. He was brave, decisive, and stubborn. More so than his father.

And unexpectedly, people followed him well. He was somewhat lacking, but he had a simple, warm-hearted side.

Thus, the first siege ended. The next siege began that very night.

The Duke’s army had no time.

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