WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 55

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How one saw the world depended on the heart. Just as even a single blade of grass by the roadside looked different to a soldier leaving home for a distant battlefield.

As the open door began to swing shut again, someone pushed through it.

The man who had just entered.

In his hand was a sword flashing beneath the midday sun. It looked as though he had snapped off a ray of sunlight like a branch and held it in his hand.

The girl’s ears rang. At the same time, she had the feeling that she would never forget what she saw now for as long as she lived.

Filthy desire, merciless violence, and the loss of her parents had suddenly descended upon her one day.

After that, the world had lost its light and looked like nothing but bleak gray. Yet color was returning to it.

The red blood staining the ground, the breath of the wind, the golden afternoon sunlight, and the man who seemed more special than anyone in the world.

Perhaps the difference between hell and heaven was like this. Nothing had changed. It simply depended on the heart.

Like a lion or tiger strolling at ease, Valerie did not make a fuss or move rashly. He merely walked slowly and swept his eyes over the surroundings.

When his gaze settled somewhere, Knut, who had been watching the scene outside with a crossbowman atop the palisade, stabbed the man in the neck.

The moment he pulled out his dagger, he threw it at another crossbowman farther away. The noiseless dagger buried itself precisely in the man’s temple, and he fell beneath the palisade.

Knut immediately picked up the nearby mercenary’s crossbow, braced it against the ground, and wound the mechanism. Then he loaded a bolt.

It was around then that the mercenaries occupying the village realized something had happened.

In a village where corpses lay carelessly scattered about, one more person was nothing remarkable. Under normal circumstances, they would have sensed something strange at once, but what they themselves had done prevented them from doing so.

“Your captain is dead because you deliberately delayed the commission. From now on, I am in command. Anyone with an objection, step forward.”

Valerie spoke. He had not shouted, yet everyone in the village heard him clearly.

There were nearly twenty mercenaries, while Valerie’s group numbered only three. But the sudden turn of events and Valerie’s confident manner instead intimidated the mercenaries.

They had crimes weighing on their consciences, and having always merely followed orders, they lost their ability to judge when they suddenly lost their captain.

They could not even think of voicing an objection. Their minds went blank, and fear swept over them.

“I will inspect your numbers. Assemble. Wake anyone sleeping and bring out anyone who is not here.”

Valerie pointed before himself with the tip of his sword.

Wondering what this sudden situation was, the mercenaries moved sluggishly, neither doing nor not doing as they were told.

“Why are you moving so slowly! Move, now!”

At Valerie’s fierce rebuke, the startled mercenaries finally began hurrying about with military discipline.

They assembled in lines before Valerie. He counted them with his eyes and spoke.

“Stand as evenly as possible. You, move back. You, come forward. Form a line two deep. Press your shoulders tight against the person beside you. Stay tight front to back as well. Good.”

As he spoke, Valerie held his sword sideways against the mercenaries’ necks as though measuring them with a ruler. Then he moved beside the line.

“Everyone look forward. Move your eyes, and you die.”

The mercenaries, confused though they were, did as they were told.

Valerie took a deep breath and drew upon the power of the runes, focusing not on strength but speed and precision.

Then, in an instant, he exploded the power gathered in his heart as though releasing a spring forced down and held in place.

He bent his waist as far as he could and made two broad swings, first from left to right, then from right to left. His body, arm, and sword blurred beyond sight.

There was no sound. He had swung exactly twice, but he was so fast that it was nearly one swing. All eighteen bodies twitched once, and thin lines appeared across their necks.

Valerie calmed the power he had unleashed and let out a long breath.

Hoo...

Then eighteen heads fell at once.

The headless bodies tangled together as they collapsed, while such a vast amount of blood sprayed out that it formed a pool in moments, too much to believe even with one’s own eyes.

As Valerie stepped back, he sheathed his sword at neither a fast nor slow pace.

The unbelievable swordsmanship was one thing, but the process of lining them up and killing them was far too practiced.

Just as someone who had eaten meat knew how to eat it, someone who had slaughtered before was quick and clean at it.

He had gently gathered them as though herding sheep, then suddenly killed them. Until the moment they died, sheep never knew they were about to be slaughtered.

As Valerie looked around, his gaze reached the women in the cattle shed. Several of them rolled back their eyes and fainted.

They had seen plenty of violence, but Valerie’s act was something that profoundly shook their existing ideas and values.

Still, had he not settled the matter without causing a great commotion?

“I was hired by the farming village, so you have nothing to fear. Put on some clothes and carry the bodies outside. What happened to you is unfortunate, but the farming village will help you. Recover in body and mind, then speak with them.”

Valerie gestured for Yorick to bring the horses.

Leading over two horses, Yorick saw more than twenty corpses piled together and submerged in a pool of blood. His expression twisted.

“Wow, what happened here...?”

“You should not be surprised.”

“Still, this is a bit much... I thought there would at least be a fight.”

“Those who develop a taste for plundering lose their judgment. They cannot even judge that they themselves might die. If you use that well, there is no need to fight.”

Before his regression, Valerie had never permitted plundering. If anything, he simply killed them all cleanly. Afterwards, he distributed the wealth generously.

It was not from good intentions, but entirely for efficiency, such as ensuring swift military movement and preventing the soldiers from becoming corrupt.

Soldiers had to fight with their lives on the line. If they became corrupted by pleasure, their will to fight weakened. That was what Valerie had observed.

“That is true...”

Valerie mounted his horse.

Knut went to the fallen crossbowman to retrieve the dagger he had thrown earlier, but he struggled for a while. The dagger had come loose as the corpse fell and disappeared somewhere in the brush.

Yorick went over to help him search. Fortunately, they recovered the dwarf steel dagger that had nearly been lost on its first use.

“That scared me. I should never throw it again.”

Knut and Yorick mounted their horses as well. Taking only the mercenary captain’s head, the group left the village. They had departed Benholm in the morning, and it was just past noon.

Puffy clouds drifted across the blue sky, and the sunlight was clear, but for all the beautiful weather, the affairs of people seemed unsuited to it.

In any case, they returned to the farming village in the cool wind.

At first, the villagers thought Valerie’s group had merely gone to scout.

But Valerie’s words were unexpected.

“They are all dead. Go and confirm it.”

Valerie cut free the mercenary captain’s head, which he had tied to his saddle with hair, and held it up. The villagers’ eyes widened as they stared blankly.

They closely examined the head, its eyes rolled upward, its mouth hanging open, and its tongue lolling out. It was certainly the captain of the mercenaries who had plundered the shepherds’ village and attempted to occupy this farming village as well.

“Th-this...”

The villagers’ lingering doubts vanished, only to be replaced by bewilderment. It looked as though Valerie’s group had merely gone for a ride, yet they had returned with the mercenary captain’s head. Even with proof before them, it was difficult to believe.

They had fought desperately for their lives, so they even felt hollow at the thought that if this had been so simple, why had they suffered so much? At the same time, they understood why people hired problem solvers.

“I-I will send people to confirm it properly. Please come inside first.”

His tone had become respectful. Courtesy, it seemed, was learned much faster through one demonstration than a hundred words.

The farming village was packed with people. Refugees from the shepherds’ village were there as well. Those who had suffered terrible things at the hands of the mercenaries were the ones who had failed to escape in time.

After handing over their horses, Valerie’s group sat together on a tree stump in a corner of the village. There was not yet an empty house suitable to accommodate all three of them.

People soon gathered around and whispered as they stared at Valerie’s group, as though watching strange and frightening animals.

The only difference between a hero and a villain was whether they benefited or harmed others. Both possessed merciless power.

Charisma came from fear. Whether it was gentle charisma or charisma that overwhelmed a crowd, it arose from the unconscious fear that careless behavior would bring consequences.

Like a lion or tiger, one felt that getting too close would lead to being torn apart and killed, yet it was too captivating to look away.

Charisma was magnified in that eternal distance where fear pushed one away and attraction pulled one closer.

That was what Valerie inspired now. His exceptional looks, his neat clothes that made it hard to believe he had just fought, and the mercenary captain’s head.

The people tried to force those discordant things together in their minds. Yet they could not look away from Valerie.

“Want me to tell them to piss off?”

Yorick asked.

Valerie and Knut nodded slightly at almost the same time.

Yorick immediately made a threatening gesture toward the people and shouted.

“Hey! You here for a show!? You think we’re fucking pushovers because we’re sitting quietly!? Get lost! Are you going or not!? I’ll...!”

It might not have been the most appropriate way to speak, but it was certainly effective. The frightened people scattered at once. They were truly afraid of Valerie, but thanks to Yorick, they could sit in peace.

“Where will we go after we receive the wagon?”

Knut asked, drinking from a waterskin.

“Like it or not, we must pass through the capital of Westlanding and go to Nearcaster first.”

They needed to resupply along the way, so they had no choice but to stop at places where they could replenish their supplies, as though marking points along a route.

Counties had capitals, and duchies had capitals as well. Torvik, for example, was the capital of Eldeira.

The capital of the Duchy of Nearcaster was Nearcaster, while the capital of Westlanding was Helsingborg. Valerie meant they would pass through Helsingborg and head to Nearcaster.

“But that Oder lied to us. On top of that, we rejected his contract and killed the mercenaries. I don’t think it would sit right to just leave.”

Knut spoke while eating peanuts Yorick had shelled. He meant that since they had started this, they should finish it properly.

“As the villagers said, he is only a lackey. There is someone else behind him. Killing him means dealing with that person as well. Even if it leaves an unpleasant feeling, it may be best not to interfere further.”

Valerie always knew where the line was. The boundary between what could be done and what would become dangerous or difficult if crossed.

“What do you think, Yorick?”

Valerie asked.

“Hmm... It seems this whole problem is because of the tax collection rights. What happens if we take those rights away?”

“We would collect the money ourselves and give a set amount to the Count.”

“What if we don’t collect it or give him anything? Or what if we give the people here the tax collection rights? Would the Count have to buy them again?”

“That would be funny. How do you even come up with thoughts like that?”

Knut said with a laugh.

Valerie smiled faintly as well, then fell into thought. Soon, he reached a decision.

“Then let us make him pay for lying first. We can cut out his tongue, or kill him if he resists. And if necessary, we will cut down the person behind him too and take the tax collection rights.”

He said frightening things as though they were nothing. What was even more frightening was that he had the ability to do exactly that.

Perhaps they had become used to it by now, but Knut and Yorick were not particularly surprised or afraid. If they were to question what was impossible, the siege of Gringen had been far more absurd from the start.

Still, at this point, it was difficult to tell what was normal and what was not. Was selling tax collection rights normal, while taking them away and giving them to the people was not?

Valerie and his friends spent the time discussing their future plans and other trivial matters.

Around three hours later, the person who seemed to lead the village men, the one who had represented them in speaking to Valerie so far, came over.

“The person we sent to confirm it has returned and said all the thugs really are dead. We are sending the people who originally lived there back after they gather their belongings. We failed to recognize such renowned swordsmen. Please forgive us.”

He bowed his head. Before, he had called them handsome young knights, but now the way he treated them was entirely different.

He also looked at least twenty years older than Valerie’s group, yet his face had gone pale.

It was fear from the fact that three people had killed twenty mercenaries, and killed them all in less than an hour.

Taking away the travel time, had they not killed them almost instantly? How strong did a human have to be for that to be possible? Were they truly knights? They looked so young.

The headman of the farming village felt confused, yet his heart pounded and his fingertips trembled faintly. If the young people before him wished to, they could kill everyone here as well.

Still, he forced himself to remain calm and spoke as politely as possible.

“The wagon will need repairs, and gathering camping equipment will take some time. Before then, I would like to invite you to my home and offer what little hospitality I can.”

“Very well.”

Valerie nodded.

The place they were led to was an ordinary home. It seemed the residents had been sent out temporarily so that the three could stay there.

There was a faint animal smell and the scent of people living there, but it was not unbearable. Valerie deliberately left the door open.

A fresh meal was laid out. Oat bread, cheese, stew made from freshly slaughtered lamb, and beer.

Valerie dipped bread into the stew as he asked the real village chief, not someone who had carelessly claimed the title like Oder.

“Do you know what company that man Oder belongs to?”

“...I heard it was the Lokir Merchant Company...”

If the Silverrich Mercenary Company was the most famous mercenary band in the north, Lokir was the most famous merchant company. It ranked among the five greatest in the entire kingdom, and its wealth and influence rivaled those of great lords such as dukes.

The difference between a merchant company and a mercenary band was merely their line of business. A merchant company was not without military strength. Even the fighters within a merchant company could overwhelm ordinary lords.

“Hmm... When did the Count sell the tax collection rights?”

Knut asked, drinking water instead of beer.

“It was probably around this time two years ago. After that, those bastards began coming every season. Don’t even ask. Trampling or burning the oat fields was routine. They took hostages, beat villagers, and stole livestock whenever they pleased. All while demanding money. We could somehow endure those things, but after the Lokir Merchant Company gained the tax collection rights, their methods became crueler and worse. That is recent.”

Summer had only just turned to autumn. Valerie had arrived precisely when the collection of taxes had reached its peak.

“Why did he sell the rights? Did he need a large sum of money? Or did he simply sell them because he could not be bothered collecting taxes himself?”

“Because he needed a large sum, surely. It is only a rumor, but it must be true. A Valkyrie said she was not interested unless it was a treasure unlike any other in the world. The Count has been courting the Valkyrie for a long time, so he must have needed money to acquire such a treasure. Everyone around here knows.”

“A Valkyrie?”

“You did not know? Ah, you must not know because you are from Eldeira. Valkyrie Brynhildr has been staying in Nearcaster for several years, claiming she is looking for a husband. Regardless of status, she seeks the bravest man without fear, the wise man who has mastered all the knowledge in the world, and the man who presents a treasure unlike any other. She keeps adding conditions while searching for a husband. Does that make any sense? Only innocent men keep dying, and there would be enough of them to cover that hill and more. The Count is one of the men courting her. But would she even spare a glance for a coward like that? If that witch of a woman has any sense... Forgive me. I did not mean to insult the King.”

Perhaps his complaints had built up for some time, because the village chief grew increasingly agitated. Then he realized that he had spoken disrespectfully and hurriedly apologized.

He had nothing to apologize for before Valerie’s group, but insulting the King could bring misfortune even to those who merely heard it.

Knut and Yorick, who knew Valerie’s identity, looked at him. He showed no sign of offense. Then again, he was the one who had joked about what would happen when the King died.

“Can a Valkyrie marry that way? I thought all nobles had political marriages.”

Yorick asked Valerie rather than the village chief.

“Royals are different. I do not know whether they are different because they are royal, or royal because they are different, but Valkyries may choose their own spouses. In return, the King’s favor ends once they marry.”

Being born a princess was a strange fate indeed. The Volsung royal house thoroughly excluded the maternal bloodline from power. Even marrying a princess did not make one kin to the King.

While they remained the King’s daughters, they received the finest education, delicacies from land and sea, and the best things in the world. But from the moment they married, they were no longer royal and became complete outsiders.

So those born as princesses, as Valkyries, had a choice. They could live under their father the King for the rest of their lives, or marry early.

Even if they lived safely under the King, matters became serious when he died. If their mother’s family possessed some power, that was fortunate. Otherwise, they could suffer endlessly, like Knut’s mother.

Valkyries were beautiful fruits that looked good but had no substance, with no real power or benefit.

Yet perhaps because of their symbolism, some people were obsessed with them. It was not just any bloodline, but the blood of gods.

And attracting public attention had a certain value of its own.

Of course, being born a prince did not mean one was better off. If anything, it was worse.

Being born royal was little different from being born with misfortune clutched in one’s hand.

“This is ridiculous. All this tragedy just because he wants to give a woman a gift...”

Yorick muttered with a sickened expression. It was understandable. Those corpses, and the miserable state of the people.

“If it is not too much trouble, provide bathing water. I am tired after all that sword work.”

“Understood. We will heat it at once.”

The village chief rose and went outside.

A little later, the village women said the bathwater was ready. They had carried it from the river and heated it over a wood fire until it reached the proper temperature.

By the time he finished bathing, the sun was beginning to set. Valerie put on fresh clothes with his body feeling clean and left the village. He decided to go alone, thinking it would be better to deal with the matter quietly rather than kill someone openly.

“I will be back.”

“You’re going without a horse?”

“I think the timing will work if I walk.”

As always, he calmly walked away with only a sword at his side, as though going for a stroll.

But just as he left the village, he saw a young girl standing barefoot there.

It was the child who had held her mother’s head in the village where they had dealt with the mercenaries. She had come this far barefoot at her age, a distance of thirty minutes on horseback. Her hands were covered in dirt and dried blood.

She appeared to have come after burying her parents.

“What is it?”

Valerie’s tone held no compassion at all. It was somewhat indifferent and dry.

“I tried to live... but I have nowhere to go...”

Valerie wondered what to do, then shouted toward the village.

“Yorick! Yorick!”

Yorick, who had just bathed and was joking with the village women while flashing his gold tooth, came running in a hurry.

“What is it?”

“She has nowhere to go.”

Yorick silently looked at the girl, then lowered himself to her eye level and asked.

“What is your name?”

“Ivy.”

“That is such a typical hick-girl name. Do you know who this man is? You think we will take in just anyone because they have nowhere to go?”

“What are you doing?”

Valerie asked, looking dumbfounded.

“What? Was I not supposed to chase her away?”

“No. I told you to take her along and use her as a firewood runner or something. Do you think I only call you over when I cannot be bothered chasing someone away?”

A firewood runner was a child who followed mercenaries or armies and did minor errands. Some were orphans, while others were soldiers’ children. Since they mainly gathered branches and firewood, they were called firewood runners.

“Was it not?”

“...What do you take me for? Enough. Take her and wash her up.”

“It is not as though she has received training as a maid... Honestly. Come here.”

Yorick did not seem pleased, but he took Ivy’s hand and led her into the village. The girl kept looking back at Valerie as though reluctant to leave.

Valerie once again walked the road alone.

In the distance, he saw people taking down the poles on which corpses had been impaled along the roadside.

It was sunset.

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