WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 50

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Political marriages were one of the unavoidable realities of being born a noble. Marrying for love was virtually impossible, and children had to follow whatever the elders of their house decided.

There was no right of refusal. No, refusal was impossible from the start. To reject a marriage arranged by the elders, by the head of the house, meant rejecting one’s own family.

A marriage alliance was not filled only with love and beautiful blessings. On the contrary, it was such a weighty, solemn matter that there was no room for love or blessings to intervene.

When two houses formed a military alliance, many lives were bound to it. Marriage symbolized the substance of that alliance.

So whether they loved each other or not was never a consideration. Not even if they were young.

Harald was walking through Torvik with Adela, the daughter of House Windale. Harald was fourteen, while his fiancée Adela was eight.

Adela had a maid accompanying her. A little farther behind them, Gidwin and Tommy followed as guards.

A cool autumn breeze blew, and the whole city of Torvik smelled of barley bread baking.

Few homes had kitchens, so during the harvest season, bakers made bread all at once in outdoor ovens. Bread had its season too.

Once the season passed, people had to eat bread hardened like stone, brushing away the mold.

“Is walking tiring for you?”

Harald asked. His eight-year-old fiancée looked up at her maid, who discreetly raised one finger.

“Uh... I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry?”

Adela looked up at her maid again, and the maid raised one finger once more.

“Uh... I’m fine.”

Harald sighed inwardly, but he thought it could not be helped. He could easily guess the reason.

Before coming out today, Adela had been told something by her mother and maids.

She had been instructed to choose only one of three responses: “I’m fine,” “Thank you,” or “I’m sorry.”

They had given her those instructions because, even at eight, she had to conduct herself as the daughter of a noble house. She was still too young to have learned all the proper etiquette.

Besides, their houses had been enemies for a long time, so there was a measure of needless pride involved as well. They could not let the family lose face. Being young did not excuse that.

Harald thought for a moment before speaking.

“I’m feeling a little hungry. Let’s buy some tasty snacks and eat together.”

This time, the maid held up two fingers.

“Uh... thank you.”

Harald smiled faintly. He did not particularly dislike Adela. She did not seem dull-witted, and her efforts to do things properly were rather cute.

Still, what occupied Harald’s mind now was the first battle of his life, which he had fought recently. It kept circling through his thoughts.

The Highlanders’ crazed eyes, severed limbs, screams, battle cries, hunger, utter exhaustion, and death.

Harald had trained in his own way, but none of it had been much use. The terrain was uneven, and one wrong step could make him fall, so he could not properly use the swordsmanship he had learned.

All he could do was grit his teeth and shove forward with his shield in a frenzy, or thrust with all his strength.

At best, he had managed not to fall behind. In the midst of it all, his father, leading the soldiers, had seemed remarkable in a new light.

And Wid. Harald had never imagined that they would meet and fight as enemies. War truly was cruel and heartbreaking.

Still, what had that overwhelming, untouchable, unbelievable being in the final battle been?

Some said an Einheri had come by royal command and ended the war. Others said a dead god had manifested for a moment.

But Harald somehow felt that being had been Wid. Others asked what he was talking about, but Harald simply felt that way.

Harald bought freshly baked bread, fish, cheese, and other things, then went to the riverside. Merchant ships drifted along the river, while a nearby reed bed swayed in the autumn wind.

Ancient ruins stood there as well, reminding them of the transience of time.

They spread a cloth over a flat rock, placed the food on it, and ate. The maid picked the fish clean, while Harald tore apart soft barley bread and drank the wine he had brought.

Adela fidgeted with her little hands as she nibbled at the food, but she must have been hungry, because both the amount she ate and her pace noticeably increased.

“My lady.”

When the maid called softly, Adela seemed to realize herself and began picking at her food again.

“It’s all right. Please eat comfortably. Like this.”

As though demonstrating, Harald deliberately took a large bite of bread. Adela looked back at her maid, and only after the maid nodded did she resume eating comfortably.

A peaceful meal continued for a while. Gidwin and Tommy, who had come along as guards, sat idly plucking grass with their hands.

Then someone called to Harald from behind.

“Harald?”

Harald turned as he took a sip of wine and saw a familiar face.

He wore a dark blue gambeson, with a sword at his waist and an axe with its blade wrapped in cloth in one hand.

His hair was golden like sunlight on a clear day, and his eyes were like the sky. Yet his overall impression brought to mind a dark crimson rose.

They had grown up together, but what had happened over the past five months? He seemed much closer to adulthood now. That was how Harald felt.

“Wid.”

“Who’s that?”

Knut, who stood beside Valerie, asked.

“The heir of Winslow.”

“Ah, so that’s him.”

Knut was also a legitimate child of a ducal house, so he had heard various things about Harald over the years. His second older brother, Guttorm, had especially tried by every means to bring Harald to the ducal house like a hostage.

Gidwin and Tommy rose to their feet, gripping the swords at their waists. But they recognized Valerie as well, so they were not overly wary. Still, they did not welcome him as they once had.

Arne and Skard, who had followed Valerie, gave the two a cold stare, but Valerie seemed to read the mood and spoke.

“They’re my friends. There’s no need to be on guard.”

“Even so, weren’t they enemies until recently?”

“The war is over, Arne.”

“Then I’d like them to disarm and keep some distance.”

“Hey, you disarm first.”

“Tommy.”

Harald stopped Tommy by calling his name.

“...Who is he?”

For the first time, Adela asked a question as she stared wide-eyed at Valerie. In all her eight years of life, she had never seen anyone so handsome.

The maid was so entranced by Valerie that she failed to correct Adela.

But Harald could not readily bring himself to answer.

As if he understood what Harald hesitated over, Valerie spoke.

“Can you still call me your brother?”

Harald looked away, thought for a moment, then answered.

“...Yeah. But I don’t think I ever considered how you felt. I understand a little now. The world isn’t always simple. I know now that nothing can be done through childish sulking alone.”

War changed people, from the preparations for it to the start of operations. Put kindly, it was growth. Put poorly, it was trauma. It also depended on what one went through.

The thrill when the call to arms arrived, his father’s deliberation over whether he, Winslow’s sole heir, would participate, the process of preparing himself for death once his participation was decided, tending his equipment, his mother’s tears, the long march, and battle.

Valerie merely smiled faintly. That smile carried the ease that only the strong could possess.

Wid, you seemed to grow up early even back then, but now you’ve become a complete adult. That was what Harald thought.

Just what path had he walked, and what battles had he fought?

Valerie glanced at Adela beside Harald, then began to walk away.

“I have business at the citadel. I’ll be going.”

Valerie walked off with steady steps. Whether out of consideration for Harald and his friends, or because their relationship had now grown distant, he truly turned away after putting some distance between them.

A distance where sword tips could not reach.

Many soldiers of the count’s house walked around Torvik. The city was not under severe guard, and they casually leaned their spears against their shoulders as they spoke with comrades or bought things in the market.

The places under heavy guard were the homes of people who had attended Duke Sven at close quarters. They were each being held separately, so they could not gather their forces.

So ordinary people did not seem to be suffering any particular harm.

Thanks to that, Valerie’s group reached Torvik Citadel without being stopped.

From there onward, guards stood watch at the gate. When armed young men with swords at their waists approached, they frowned and blocked the way.

“Who are you?”

“Knut. The Third Young Master of the House of Viding.”

Having heard a name he had never imagined hearing, the gate guard stood blankly for a long while before finally answering.

“...W-Well, that is, ah, you cannot enter right now...”

“You mean to stop me from entering my own home?”

“I’m sorry. P-Please, wait just a moment. I’ll report this immediately.”

One guard hurried into the citadel.

After some time, Aethelred, Count of Winslow, came rushing out with several knights. He was shocked once when he saw Knut, then shocked again when he saw Valerie.

Knut looked at Aethelred with eyes completely unlike those he showed his friends, venomous and arrogant.

“The war is already over. Why is the count’s army occupying the city and citadel?”

Aethelred hurriedly collected himself before answering.

“...There were unfortunate circumstances. In the aftermath of the war, while the ducal domain was unsettled, His Grace passed away. To preserve order, we had no choice but to commit this discourtesy.”

“I am grateful for that, Count of Winslow. But it does not explain why I cannot enter my own home.”

“How could that be? The guard was carrying out his duty, and this happened because of it. Please forgive him generously. Come inside. I will escort you.”

“Where is my brother?”

“...The First Young Master is in the castle on the hill. We are taking particular care to ensure that he lacks nothing, except that he cannot leave the castle.”

Listening quietly from behind, Valerie thought that this handling of affairs was indeed clean. From legitimacy to procedure to administration, there were no gaps. There seemed to be nothing to find fault with.

A more foolish person might have immediately removed the First Young Master and made the Third Young Master a puppet duke. But that would surely have caused trouble later.

If the king later demanded to know who they were to decide the heir as they pleased and kill their lord’s legitimate child, their house could truly be destroyed.

And it would not even need to reach the king. The neighboring great lords might launch a military provocation. It would be perfect legitimacy for swallowing the ducal domain.

In any case, Valerie’s group was allowed inside the citadel. Arne, Skard, and Yorick looked around with both tension and a renewed sense of poignancy. Strangers had occupied the place where they had lived for years.

Valerie’s group headed toward the hill. The knights who followed as escorts gave the impression of encircling them. They stood so close that it was difficult for the group even to whisper among themselves.

There was courtesy, but no goodwill. Count Aethelred was slightly deferential toward Knut, but he had not completely bowed his head.

It was like a contest between someone who possessed only legitimacy and someone who had power but lacked legitimacy.

Valerie’s group climbed the hill and reached the castle. They had come here once before after taking down Groin-Ripper, so it was not entirely unfamiliar.

But the family treasures, the spoils passed down through generations, were nowhere to be seen. Count Aethelred had sold them to raise funds.

The castle had always been cold and desolate, but now it seemed even emptier.

Valerie’s group was led upstairs. The Count of Winslow stopped before a room and knocked.

Knock, knock.

“Young Master Gunnar, this is the Count of Winslow.”

“...”

There was no response from within. When he carefully opened the door, they saw Gunnar curled up on the bed in his great body, as though weary of life.

The others waited outside while Knut entered the room alone.

He looked at Gunnar for a long time, but Gunnar would not lift his head. He seemed not to know who had entered, nor did he wish to know.

“Brother...”

After a long wait, Knut called to his brother in a very small voice. Gunnar, who had been motionless as though dead, suddenly raised his head.

But perhaps he had been fasting because he had no appetite. Gunnar’s cheeks were so gaunt that his cheekbones protruded sharply.

The older brother’s eyes trembled wildly as he looked at his younger brother.

Knut spoke.

“I think I would regret it if I didn’t say this before either of us dies. You did nothing wrong, brother. I was the one who was wrong. Back then, I should have just said no.”

At his younger brother’s words, tears streamed from Gunnar’s hollow eyes. His lips moved, but no words came out. He only stretched out a hand as though he wanted to draw closer, then pulled it back again.

Knut stepped closer and took that hand. Though Gunnar was thin, his frame was so large that the difference in their hand sizes was immense. Gunnar’s face crumpled completely as he cried.

At last, the two brothers pulled each other into an embrace. Knut looked as though he might be swallowed by that huge body.

The older brother buried his face in his younger brother’s shoulder, soaking it with tears as he spoke.

“I’m sorry... I just... I was so stupid. I should have done it alone... Even afterward, I could have killed them, but it took too long. I’m sorry...”

Knut, who had been forcing himself to hold back, finally burst into tears as well.

“No. I didn’t understand anything. I was ignorant. Big brother, I’m sorry.”

The brothers apologized to each other. Soon afterward, Gunnar began to sob like an animal.

The door closed. Valerie had closed it. Their crying could still be heard through the shut door.

Everyone remained silent. Arne, Yorick, and Skard had reddened eyes, but Valerie’s gaze remained calm.

It was not that the reconciliation of the two brothers did not move Valerie. But he had complicated feelings about brothers in many ways.

He’d killed them all, hadn’t he? Every last one, even the nephews.

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