WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Prince of Rage ◈

Chapter 68

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Valerie seemed to fit people’s image of a handsome prince perfectly. Perhaps that was why he had earned the nickname Prince in so many places.

It was ironic, in a way, for an actual prince to be called Prince, but that was only people projecting their stereotypes onto him.

Valerie ignored people gossiping behind his back, but he despised those who approached him based on his looks alone. He even had a complex about his appearance.

It made him feel as though they were utterly disregarding his pain, sorrow, regret, and emptiness.

His indifferent, cold manner was not meant to look stylish. There was a psychological reason behind it.

Blessings and curses were two sides of the same coin. Even what everyone envied could be a curse to its owner.

Still, it was hard to say people were wrong for praising Valerie’s appearance.

Once he had bathed properly and dressed for the banquet, Valerie truly seemed like someone from another world.

The word perfect was insufficient to describe him. His looks far exceeded human standards, or even imagination.

Enough that one could accept them as a curse.

In truth, Valerie was more attractive than usual because he wore clothes Lucas had agonized over and selected with great care over several days, along with a carefully arranged hairstyle.

Lucas no longer tried to imitate anyone. Having decided to draw out Valerie’s appeal to its utmost limit, he had poured his heart into every aspect, from selecting fabric to tailoring and embroidery.

It was practically a work of art he had made himself.

The tunic was red with gold-thread embroidery, its buttons ivory, and the belt fastening the front made of calfskin.

Nothing, from the colors down to every stitch, had been chosen carelessly. Valerie was the result of an extraordinarily delicate balancing act between splendor and gaudiness, refinement and plainness.

“The collar is a little tight.”

“No!”

When Valerie tried to loosen the high collar, Lucas shrieked.

Valerie looked at him as if to ask what the hell was wrong with him, ready to say something, but stopped when he saw the madness in Lucas’s somewhat hollow eyes.

He would have preferred to wear the gambeson Lady Sybild had made him, but it was worn now, so it could not be helped. This was still an occasion requiring formal dress.

“There is nowhere good to hide a dagger in clothes like these.”

Knut came out through the door, grumbling a little.

Dressed up for the first time in a while, he looked every bit the young master of a noble house. Though admittedly, he still looked rather unpleasant.

They said clothes made the man, and Yorick looked quite handsome as well. Unfortunately, he still could not shake the impression of being a servant. Fortunately, he appeared thoroughly pleased with himself.

Freshly washed and dressed in fine clothes, Ivy looked as cute as a doll, though her bearing was still awkward and unlike that of a noble young lady.

She had neatly braided up her hair and made an effort to dress herself, but without ornaments such as earrings or rings, she looked somewhat plain.

Like Yorick, however, Ivy could not hide her excitement. The two of them chatted more than anyone else.

“Wow, the country girl who used to milk sheep has practically become a princess. Good clothes really do make the person.”

“Yorick, you look a little more like a person now too.”

“...What? I said something nice, so why did that come back at me?”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“Princess is revoked. You’d be perfect as a maid. You know not just anyone can be a maid, right?”

“You could be a valet, Yorick.”

“Hahaha, that doesn’t affect me at all. I’ve served these two for a long time. You couldn’t imagine how remarkable they are.”

“Why? What is so remarkable?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“What? Stop showing off. That doesn’t make you remarkable too.”

“Oh? Look at this one. Is that your temper coming out?”

They seemed to be bickering, yet somehow got along well. More than anything, the smiles never left their faces.

Ivy adjusted Yorick’s clothes, while Yorick carefully fixed Ivy’s hair. Though they seemed to fight, they looked after each other like real siblings.

Because of their faith and discipline, Father Eirik and Sigbold did not dress up. They had merely changed out of their rag-like monastic robes into new ones.

The two also gave off a faint killing intent, in case they encountered traitors.

Lucas looked somewhat haggard, Valerie and Knut were unbothered, Yorick and Ivy were excited, and the old priest and the monk tall as a pole carried killing intent.

It was difficult to define the atmosphere in a single word, but it was certainly a strange and distinctive combination.

“By the way, how reliable is that information?”

Valerie asked Lucas.

“What information? The Valkyrie? Well, it sounds like another false rumor this time, but I don’t know. It’s news that comes around every so often once people have begun to forget, so don’t expect too much.”

The false rumor Lucas meant was that a Valkyrie would attend this banquet.

Such rumors had spread from time to time because of people’s expectations, but the Valkyrie had never once shown her face.

Valerie was not particularly disappointed at being told not to expect much. If one came, one came. If not, then not. He simply looked over the group and said,

“Let’s go.”

At Valerie’s words, the group headed for the hill town at the center of Nearcaster.

It was early evening. From the gate in the walls surrounding the hill all the way to the castle atop it, bonfires burned along both sides of the road.

From above the hill to below, the distant sounds of lutes, flutes, and bards’ songs drifted through the air. The music gently tickled their ears, while the faint heat of the fires brushed against them as they walked.

People seemed excited, but they did not shout or chatter excessively. The overall color and atmosphere were clearly different from the North.

The North was rough. To put it harshly, even nobles there sometimes behaved like beggars. Nearcaster possessed a certain elegance.

Nearcaster was also in the North, all things considered. Yet the difference was so great that Valerie could not entirely fail to understand why people here rejected being called Northerners and looked down on those from the North.

Before his regression, Valerie had traveled throughout the kingdom and fought battles, so he roughly knew the cultural differences of each region. But he had never experienced them like this.

He had spent his time eating and sleeping in the field, fighting, marching, killing, and burning things.

He was not afraid of dying. He only had cynicism toward life and the obsession to end this cursed bloodline, whatever it took. He trampled and destroyed everything that stood in his way.

That was why his body and mind had always been exhausted, his nerves raw, and he had no leisure to consider culture or customs.

Now, unlike then, he slowly climbed the gentle hill road while leisurely enjoying everything before him: the sights and sounds, the weather and scents, people’s accents and dispositions, and all else besides.

Eirik and Sigbold might draw swords if they encountered a traitor, but to Valerie, that was as natural as breathing.

Rather, this leisure and atmosphere felt stranger, more unfamiliar, and more precious.

So this was why people liked peace. He had thought only weaklings liked such things.

“Don’t fool around like that. You’ll wrinkle the clothes.”

“What? I can’t even carry him on my back? Does a person wear clothes, or do clothes wear a person?”

Knut tried to tease Valerie and was scolded by Lucas. Was this peace? It did not seem bad.

The banquet hall did not have long Northern-style tables. Instead, tables for three or four people were scattered throughout, each seating area differing in shape and atmosphere.

People gathered in small groups with acquaintances to converse or introduce new people, freely moving about and enjoying themselves.

Young girls gathered around the bards with dreamy expressions as they listened to sweet songs, while the elderly discussed politics, current events, and recent topics of interest.

Even without listening closely, Valerie could hear his name here and there. He could guess the subject of those conversations without hearing it.

The most popular people were, naturally, the champions. As Lucas had said, the people who truly mattered in Nearcaster were those who had proved their ability or passed the trials.

Their relaxed but confident smiles, and the people constantly gathered around them, seemed to prove it.

There was a place in the banquet hall that did not immediately stand out, yet seemed to hold all the most important people.

That was where the Duke and his family sat. Upon entering the banquet hall, one had to at least briefly greet the Duke. If the Duke showed interest, one was expected to remain and continue the conversation.

Once it ended, one could freely enjoy the banquet. If the Duke summoned someone later, they would return and socialize with him again.

The Duke of Nearcaster was a man in his forties with a mature air about him.

He was neither martial nor scholarly. He seemed moderately confident without liking to show off too much, simply a good-natured man who enjoyed people.

Having people constantly come to greet him should have been tiring, but he seemed to enjoy it in moderation, and there was no falsehood in his smile.

Then a young woman approached him.

From her hair ornaments to her earrings, necklace, and rings, she wore so many lavish jewels that the light in the banquet hall made her entire body sparkle like a halo.

Naturally, people could not help looking at her, but surprisingly, faint sounds of mockery seemed to be heard from time to time.

The Duke opened his eyes wide and warmly welcomed the glittering woman.

“Oh? It has been a long time, Lady Lucilia.”

“It is Lucilia. Have you been well, Your Grace?”

“I’m always the same. A contented life is my creed. How have you been, Lady Lucilia?”

“I too have been well, thanks to Your Grace’s favor.”

“Haha, how could it be thanks to me? How is the Merchant Company Head?”

“Father is well too. The foreign incense you sent last time was greatly helpful. Thank you.”

They exchanged greetings and asked after one another. The Duke hesitated over whether to mention Lucas, Lucilia’s older brother, but decided against it.

He was not oblivious, and he knew the unsavory rumors between the siblings. He did not know about the recent events, but there was no good reason to bring them up.

Moreover, Lucas was much more active in the city than Lucilia, and since he was meant to attend the banquet today, asking after him would have been strange.

Still, a young woman attending a banquet would normally be accompanied by her father, older brother, or a man she trusted. Yet Lucilia was alone.

Lucilia looked so pitiful that it made even the Duke uncomfortable. It was not a good situation for a young woman attending a banquet.

“Please, enjoy the banquet comfortably. Tell me at any time if there is anything troubling you.”

This was the greatest consideration he could show. Any more consideration, or pretending not to notice altogether, would not be good for Lucilia herself. Jealousy, envy, and slander existed everywhere.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Whether Lucilia had firmly made up her mind before coming or was simply frightening by nature, she controlled her expression perfectly. Smiling sweetly as she greeted the Duke, she headed into the banquet hall.

Yet the gazes upon her were far from welcoming. They felt worse than when she had attended recently.

She had first appeared in society at twelve. Led by her older brother’s hand, she had shown her face to the world for the first time, received affection and attention from adults, and made friends.

Everyone had approached her kindly. Everyone had envied and endlessly praised her. Why had those people changed so much?

Girls from noble or respectable families usually found a good husband and married at fifteen. Thus, from thirteen onward, marriage talks began here and there, while friends chattered about men.

Then the Valkyrie came. From that time, people’s attention began to shift toward the Valkyrie, and a year ago, even Lucilia’s older brother joined the line of suitors.

She had been truly sad, but her brother gave various excuses and said that he truly loved her, and that it could not be helped. Yet afterward, attention toward Lucilia diminished even more quickly.

Perhaps that was why she clung to her brother all the more. When she heard he had bought holy relics to give the Valkyrie as a gift, she began to feel truly angry, betrayed, and at times as if she might go mad.

Lastly, Valerie. Valerie would at least offer sure revenge against those things who were not even friends, yet gossiped about her behind her back. They had always laughed and chattered about men’s faces.

But both had left her. Both her older brother and Valerie. On top of that, Valerie had recently entered the jousting tournament. Did that not mean he was courting the Valkyrie?

The Valkyrie again. How could this be? The Valkyrie had not even shown her face in society. Lucilia could not accept it.

What made the Valkyrie so exceptional that she drew men’s love and attention? Was it because she was royalty? Was status truly that powerful? It did not seem so. What was Lucilia lacking?

When she had stomped on the holy relics and shattered them, others would have called her insane if they had heard. Yet she had thought that even then, her brother or Valerie would come to apologize to her. Or at least get angry.

But they were simply leaving? Leaving her behind? And then courting the Valkyrie?

Lucilia did not know when or where her common sense had gone wrong, but beneath her anger was a desire for attention. Perhaps she was still too young to look into herself.

If she knew even a little more about the world, she would have understood that the source of the attention once lavished upon her had been the Lokir Merchant Company’s wealth, connections, and influence. Yet she did not seem to know even that.

Perhaps to preserve her last shred of pride, she neither forced her way into clusters of people nor hovered around them. She stood alone.

That made her sparkling ornaments look less beautiful than pitiable.

People only whispered as they watched Lucilia, saying that she still had not come to her senses, or calling her a lowborn thing.

Each time such words brushed past Lucilia’s ears, her heart sank further into the abyss, rotting and festering until it seemed ready to give off a stench.

Yet she maintained the expression of an innocent girl cheerfully looking around the banquet.

Anyone could see that she was desperately struggling inside to maintain that expression, but no one went out of their way to approach her and speak.

The reason they were so cold was, in truth, because Lucilia had shown off quite a lot when she was receiving attention. Despite not being a noble.

She had wanted to be the kindest, prettiest, and most pitiful person in the world. She had wanted every good thing, and if she did not get it, she openly showed her displeasure and humiliated others.

Whether she was getting what she deserved or not, it was still difficult to watch a fifteen-year-old girl bear the world’s cruelty.

Then, somewhere in the banquet hall, people gasped and began murmuring in admiration. It came from near the entrance.

“Gasp!”

“Oh, my!”

Soon, someone entered the banquet hall, and it truly seemed as if light had flashed. He was a man so otherworldly in appearance that the phrase a different class naturally came to mind. It was Valerie.

His appearance alone seemed to overwhelm status, honor, and wealth, while his sharp eyes were tempered by experience and gravity, as though they could draw in one’s soul.

Everyone’s eyes fixed upon Valerie at once, like arrows loosed by a marksman.

Valerie naturally kept his eyes lowered, but occasionally looked around at the people. With a single passing glance, noblewomen and ladies felt a pain like a knife piercing their hearts.

The men did not feel even a trace of jealousy at the women’s reactions. He was simply that overwhelming.

Valerie normally slept outdoors at times, wore shabby clothes, and had little interest in grooming himself. But Lucas had resolved to dress him properly this time, and Valerie’s beauty had practically exploded.

He talked with Lucas, and sometimes with the short, unpleasant-looking person beside him. Whenever he smiled, even once, women seemed ready to melt away.

When he greeted the Duke, even the Duke looked vacant and dazed. At times he could not meet Valerie’s eyes, then barely looked at him again before looking elsewhere.

Watching him, Lucilia felt herself becoming endlessly shabby. She had thought he was merely a wandering swordsman, and felt the strange regret that she should have treated him better if she had known. She still believed herself above Valerie.

If she had come to the banquet with him, if she had been escorted by that man. Imagining it made her feel as though she had lost something that had originally been hers, and she thought she would go mad.

Her older brother was right beside him, but she could not bring herself to approach and speak. She only hid farther in a corner and watched from afar.

Because she was peeking from a distance, people kept obscuring her view. Lucilia craned her neck about miserably, without realizing she was doing it.

Whenever he came into view, he seemed to live in an entirely different world by himself.

Soon, once people learned that Valerie was the winner of the recent jousting tournament, a crowd suddenly gathered around him. After that, Lucilia could not even watch him.

Should I go too? Should I try? Would he acknowledge me? Would he not get angry? Would he apologize even now? What if he ignores me? There are so many people around him.

With too many thoughts filling her head, Lucilia could not think at all. First she had felt shabby. Now she felt miserable too.

How much time passed after that? Unlike when others entered the banquet hall, the chamberlain shouted loudly.

“The Valkyrie has arrived! Everyone, put down your cups and kneel in respect!”

Royalty was certainly different. Their rank was equal to a Duke’s, and their symbolic importance surpassed it. Even the Duke rose from his seat and respectfully clasped his hands.

With Valerie present and the Valkyrie appearing at a banquet for the first time, people were overwhelmed but hurriedly knelt. Only the Duke remained standing.

With her last scrap of pride, Lucilia hid in the farthest corner and did not kneel.

But when the Valkyrie finally appeared, Lucilia received a great shock, though for an entirely different reason than when she saw Valerie.

A woman taller than most men, with broad shoulders and a neck and forearms as thick as logs, was wearing a dress.

People lowered their heads deeply, lest their startled expressions show. A weighty silence fell over the once-excited banquet hall.

Even from a distance, they could hear the Valkyrie’s voice as she greeted the Duke.

“I am Brynhildr, a Valkyrie. Thank you for your welcome, Duke.”

She was certainly a woman, but was it all right for her to speak like that? Was that how Valkyries normally spoke?

One overwhelmed people with his looks, the other with her build. No matter how they considered it, something felt backward. Not only Lucilia, but everyone felt that way.

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