WeTried Translations

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 49

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It was the two counts’ moment. They worked together so well that it was hard to understand why their houses had ever been enemies.

Count Aethelred of Winslow had taken control of Torvik Keep and its surroundings, while Count Aethelwulf of Windale controlled the city and its outskirts.

If too many troops gathered in one place, it would be difficult to respond if unexpected developments arose elsewhere. The two counts met frequently to discuss what came next.

It was not a rebellion, but it was close enough. One wrong move could bring both houses down, or conversely, put power in their hands.

What should they guard against, and how far should their ambitions go? Since this was no ordinary situation, they had to judge carefully.

It was no different from walking along a blade’s edge.

“Wouldn’t an execution be too much?”

The Count of Revi cautiously spoke up. Winslow and Windale were leading the matter, but the Count of Revi also held a seat in the meeting as a formality.

Aethelred and Aethelwulf said nothing, so the Count of Revi continued.

“After all, Young Master Gunnar is the heir. The principle is that when a lord dies, the title and property pass automatically to the successor...”

That was the problem. If someone else had killed the duke, they could simply tear the culprit apart. But what if the murderer was the heir?

Of course, there had been cases where sons rebelled against their fathers and changed the ruling order.

But it was hard to see this as one of those cases. There was a vast difference between a rebellion built on a solid foundation of power and suddenly killing someone.

“Isn’t there another legitimate child besides Young Master Gunnar? And he is the child of a Valkyrie. Wouldn’t His Majesty look favorably upon raising him up?”

The Count of Windale spoke. The count seemed to favor Third Young Master Knut.

“Besides, he has not yet come of age, so he will need a regent. That means we can continue to lead the government for a year or two.”

“But weren’t they at sword point with each other until recently? Even when His Grace was alive, he did not support him as a successor to that extent...”

“His Grace is no longer with us.”

The Count of Windale looked steadily at the Count of Revi, almost glaring. What use was there in considering the wishes of someone already dead? It would only add confusion, and it would not benefit them.

“...What do you think, Count of Winslow?”

The Count of Revi asked Aethelred, who had remained silent throughout.

“First, should we not support the families of those who died in battle? Let us raise the funds by liquidating the duke’s estate.”

“And after that? Whom will you support?”

Taking care of the families of the fallen was naturally something that needed to be done, and something they could do. But at its core, they needed to settle the question of succession. They had not gathered merely to clean up after the war.

“Let us form a committee. A committee made up of His Grace’s vassals, those who served on his advisory council, and the knights. Let it make a decision and choose the successor, then discuss punishment afterward. I believe that would look proper. If we remove Young Master Gunnar as we please, it may be fine for now, but we could be left to deal with the consequences later.”

“A committee...”

The Count of Windale muttered. The count did not seem pleased. The three of them, or strictly speaking the two of them, could make the decision themselves. The count did not like the idea of bringing in so many others.

“If we lead them properly, won’t they follow? If we cannot manage even that much, then this was never something we could have done on our own in the first place.”

“Hmm... Very well. But let us proceed slowly. Regarding the formation of the committee, that is.”

“It may also be wise to let word slip a little. We can distinguish those who wish to join the committee from those who intend merely to stand by.”

Aethelred was not handling this matter out of pure goodwill, either. He simply wanted to establish the next duke cautiously, with as much procedure and proper appearance as possible. So that there would be no trouble later.

“By the way, what do you think that was?”

The Count of Windale voiced the question as if speaking to himself.

Aethelred understood what he meant, but the Count of Revi, who had not been present at the scene, did not.

“What are you referring to?”

“Should I call it an incarnation of a dead god, or was it an Einheri...? If it was an Einheri, why did it suddenly appear there? Did His Majesty make a move in secret? If so, why?”

“Could what Young Master Gunnar said have been true?”

“He may be somewhat lacking, but he is not the sort to lie.”

“Then how about simply asking His Majesty what he intends?”

“It would take a long time to send someone and receive an answer. And if we were going to ask His Majesty what he intends, why would we be doing all this?”

“That is true. His Grace made things difficult for us in many ways while he was alive...”

Duke Sven had not only made Winslow suffer in the name of keeping his vassals in check and under control.

The Counts of Windale and Revi had also endured much. That was why they wanted to install a next duke who suited their tastes, or one who would be prevented from ever imposing such restraints again.

If they asked the king or left the decision to him, such inconveniences could arise again. Once a duke was appointed, it would not be a matter that could be solved by enduring it for a day or two.

“Then what happens if we choose a successor among ourselves and the king does not ratify it?”

“It is an ancient tradition for the leading chieftains to gather and choose the next king. This is an exceptional case, so His Majesty will surely take it into consideration. And if the king does not ratify it, we will merely have more time to deliberate among ourselves. That would be better.”

The Count of Windale answered the Count of Revi’s question.

In principle, only a higher liege could grant a title. In other words, only the king could appoint a duke.

However, once a duke had been appointed, even the king could not casually revoke or strip away the title unless there was a rebellion. All authority over governance, inheritance, national defense, and finances belonged to the duke and the duke’s house.

That was simply how feudalism worked. Central authority had strengthened compared to the tribal era, but even a king could not do whatever he pleased. Local matters were for the people of that region to handle, and they had the right to do so.

Above all, what favored the counts was that the one who had murdered the duke was none other than the First Young Master. It was not as though they had started a rebellion.

“Then let us first take care of the families of the fallen. We shall provide enough funds and food for them to get through this year. For those whose husbands or fathers who had cared for them died in battle, we will arrange remarriages. I will handle the liquidation of the duke’s estate.”

Aethelred spoke. The other two counts also divided the work between them, such as maintaining public order and forming the committee.

That concluded the meeting for the day. Nothing had been decided for certain yet, but it seemed the balance was tipping toward Third Young Master Knut as the next duke.

The duke’s death had thrown the entire duchy into confusion. Some trembled in anxiety, some suffered losses, and some profited.

The one clearly profiting the most was the city of Gringen. The duke had imposed an embargo while he was alive, but once he died, Torvik’s merchants traded with Gringen without hesitation.

The two counts currently controlling Torvik could have continued the embargo, but they did not go so far as to continue the duke’s policies merely to uphold his wishes.

Moreover, since the war had consumed great amounts of military funds and supplies, there was a need to encourage trade instead. They replenished their finances by collecting tariffs.

Even if they had been fighting a war until only a few days ago, livelihood came first.

It was not as if the merchants had started the war. More than that, they had not even participated in it. If anything, the duke had squeezed money and goods from them in every possible way.

Like a blocked blood vessel finally opening, Gringen’s southern docks teemed with merchant ships, and the newly built warehouses were packed tight with trade goods.

The citizens of Gringen also had money to spend, and eagerly bought both necessities and luxuries.

All of that was possible because of Valerie. More precisely, because of the gold of Regin the dwarf.

The docks were the busiest place. Yet Valerie and his friends were not there. They were building an embankment at the edge of the wetlands.

To build an embankment in the wetlands, they first had to scoop away mud like tidal-flat sludge. Then they laid down large stones and gravel, applying plaster as they gradually built it up.

Valerie, his friends, and the other workers were covered in mud up to their chests from doing this. Their labor was beyond description.

“Ah, my back. Let’s take a break.”

Skard was the first to plunge his shovel into the muddy ground. His clothes were already ruined and his face was a mess, so he simply sprawled down wherever he was.

Valerie, Arne, Yorick, and Knut also stopped working for a while. Knut was not working for any reward.

The five naturally gathered together. The other workers were already resting, as women had brought refreshments.

When the women lifted the cloths covering the baskets and hampers, they revealed an abundance of appetizing food and drink. There was freshly baked bread, ham, ale, cheese, and more.

Their mouths watered at once. The five tipped water from their canteens over their hands to wash them, then immediately began eating with gusto. After hard labor, a meal was the most delicious thing in the world.

Once they were somewhat full, Arne asked Valerie, “Why did you suddenly decide to start a land reclamation project? Trade is lively now, and people seem to be managing well on their own.”

“Because we cannot depend on trade alone. We need to secure farmland and become self-sufficient in food.”

“But won’t this take a long time?”

Skard asked.

“That’s right. It could take decades, perhaps even centuries. We are not doing it on a large scale yet.”

“I’ve thought this for a while, but do we really need to go this far?”

“I don’t know. Seeing people become self-reliant somehow makes me feel good. I’m not doing it out of goodwill. I just feel good doing it.”

Valerie answered calmly.

Yet his friends felt an inexplicable distance from him. It was because of the godlike majesty he had displayed in the final battle, and because his way of thinking went beyond the ordinary.

Great, magnificent. Just how far did their friend’s gaze reach? It felt as though he could see far beyond the dreams others dreamed in their mundane lives.

“Did you hear the news? About the First Young Master? They say he was imprisoned after the war.”

Knut’s hand paused as he ate at Yorick’s words.

“They say he killed the duke. Apparently, His Grace gave him a harsh scolding over losing, and he suddenly struck him with a shield and killed him.”

“...Who imprisoned him?”

Skard asked.

“The counts. I don’t know what they intend to do, but they say the counts rule Torvik now.”

“But does that have anything to do with us...?”

Skard said, watching Knut’s expression. As far as he knew, the brothers of the ducal house had not cared much for one another.

“I don’t know much, but His Grace could be harsh. When dealing with the young masters. I cannot say he deserved to die...”

Arne also held back the rest of his words. They had fought against the duke until recently, but he was still Knut’s father.

Still, the duke had imprisoned Knut in an iron cage in the first place, and everything had begun when they rescued him. So they did not particularly mourn the duke’s death.

Knut chewed the food in his mouth. But rather than eating, it was closer to simply moving his jaw. Judging by his eyes, he was thinking of something else.

After a while, he set down the bread in his hand and spoke.

“I do not want my brother punished. Is that selfish of me?”

“Setting selfishness aside, but... if Young Master Gunnar is punished, doesn’t that mean you become duke, young master?”

Yorick asked. Arne, sitting beside him, poked him in the side and shook his head.

Knut did not seem to care much. His friends could say whatever they wanted to him.

Valerie cut ham with his dagger, placed cheese on it, and ate it. After taking a sip of alcohol, he spoke.

“The counts will probably support you, Knut. They will be able to act as regents. What do you think?”

Knut thought quietly before answering.

“Didn’t I say before? The North is stifling. I cannot be a duke. I do not want to be one, either.”

“But even so, can the First Young Master inherit after killing the duke? Even if he is not punished, won’t he be stripped of his right of succession?”

Arne pointed out the practical issue.

Valerie answered instead.

“Stripping someone of succession rights is not something the counts dare decide. If they want it to look proper, the next duke must first be established, and that duke must carry out the punishment.”

In short, it would be procedurally fitting, and would look proper, for Knut, after becoming duke, to punish the First Young Master for murdering the duke.

Valerie believed the counts would steer the situation in that direction.

Count Winslow was a sensible person in his own way. He would judge that punishing the ducal house’s heir at the hands of vassals would be unreasonable when considering the future. And that would be the correct judgment.

If the counts punished the First Young Master themselves, it might be fine for the moment. But later, dissatisfied factions could emerge, rebellions could occur, or the king could raise the issue. At that point, it would be beyond the counts’ ability to handle.

“So they really mean to support you, young master...”

“Probably.”

“But you do not want it.”

“I do not know.”

Skard spoke in the middle of it all, sounding resigned.

In the past, he had thought there could be nothing more desirable than being a great noble. But after following Valerie and experiencing so much, he understood at least that this was not a matter to consider simply.

Arne and Yorick were the same. The days when they had been ignorant country bumpkins who knew nothing were now behind them.

“This time, I will go alone. I will say that I am giving up my right of succession. And I will ask them to release my brother.”

“...Will they release him? He did murder His Grace, after all... I do not mean to spoil things.”

Arne voiced his opposition. He was worried about Knut.

Would the two counts truly be favorable toward Knut? Even if they supported him as the next duke, Arne believed they would make him a puppet. It would be difficult to expect genuine loyalty from them.

“Someone once told me that between regretting doing something and regretting not doing it, it is better to regret doing it. I am trying to find courage in my own way, too. I do not want to burden you any further. So I will go alone.”

That someone was Valerie.

Valerie thought quietly. He decided that the time had come to reveal it. The authority of a prince could settle this matter.

He had also received approval from the rune-mage Sigrún, so revealing his identity would no longer harm the House of Winslow.

Still, once his status as a prince became known, one of two things would happen. He would either gather power and prepare in advance for a war of succession, or his personal safety would be threatened.

As was always the case in life, solving one problem only led to the next.

But had he ever cowered and hesitated because there was a problem? He could say with certainty that he had not. Once he had made up his mind, that was enough.

“Let’s go together.”

Valerie spoke. They were simple words, but they carried weight.

Knut was about to say no, that he would go alone, when Skard spoke first.

“The three of us charged five hundred men. What is there that we cannot do?”

His courage and boldness had clearly changed from before. People grew after surviving great crises.

Arne was reluctant, but since things had come to this, he nodded to show his agreement.

“Then let us make a toast first.”

Yorick said, raising a bottle. When everyone looked at him as though wondering why they were suddenly making a toast, Yorick smiled.

“To the young master’s freedom, to the friendship of friends, to the affection between brothers, to the peace of Gringen, and in the end, to everything.”

Perhaps he really had become a writer of fine sentences, as Yorick said something impressive every so often.

Valerie raised his bottle. It lightly clinked against Yorick’s, their bottles crossing, and the other three bottles joined them. It was as though five swords had crossed in an oath.

In the end, they were all smiling.

“To everything.”

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