WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 75
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Morning birdsong was irritating to those who rose late, but welcome to those who rose early.
Birds sang that morning at the Lokir Merchant Company manor as well. It sounded as if they were performing together, or competing to show off their beautiful voices.
But Randgríðr did not hear those cheerful, lovely sounds.
Looking out the window at the distant meadow, she spoke with a somewhat grave expression.
“Three more people went into the forest yesterday and never came back. They’re clearly lying in ambush.”
“Then how many are there in total?”
“Seven people in the forest alone.”
At Randgríðr’s answer, Brynhildr lightly bit her lower lip. Valerie had told her not to worry and leave it alone, so she had done so. Still, she could not help worrying as an onlooker.
No matter how strong someone was, they could be endangered or killed depending on where, how, and under what circumstances they fought. The assassins were openly setting a trap, and it was difficult to simply watch.
However, apart from the jousting tournament, Brynhildr had never faced Valerie herself. She did not know how refined his swordsmanship was, nor how accurate and sharp his judgment could be.
After fidgeting alone for a while, she headed somewhere. Her destination was where Valerie’s party had parked their baggage wagon.
Knut, Yorick, and Ivy often gathered around the wagon and passed the time chattering about nonsense, even when they had nothing in particular to do.
If they needed someone for hard labor, they called Sigbold. If they needed something, they asked Lucas for help.
There was no real need to guard the wagon at the Lokir Merchant Company, but they guarded it anyway.
“No, I’m just curious. What if you launch a boat and the flaming arrow misses? Then the boat keeps getting farther away and drifts off.”
“Think about it. You can just keep hitting it while following the riverbank.”
“What if it’s a funeral at sea?”
Their conversation seemed to concern Norse funeral customs, but their point of debate was pointless.
“You’re making fun of Norsemen, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about? I’m a Norseman too.”
“You? Don’t you not know who your parents are?”
“Look at my name. It’s Yorick.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Someone else could have given you that name...”
They appeared to be discussing the matter seriously, but mixed in jokes now and then. Then their expressions stiffened when Brynhildr approached.
Knut’s characteristically insolent, almost catlike eyes seemed to regard Brynhildr with displeasure in particular.
No one asked why she had come or what she wanted.
“Um, I came because I think you should know.”
Brynhildr was not oblivious enough to miss that Valerie’s existing companions did not look kindly upon her.
Still, she considered the matter urgent enough to speak.
“There are people after Valerie. Not just one or two. Three went into the forest yesterday and did not come out. There are seven in total, and I think they’re lying in ambush.”
“...”
Knut, Yorick, and Ivy gave no response at all, making the speaker feel awkward. Brynhildr wondered whether they had not understood her, or whether they did not grasp the severity of the situation.
Then Knut spoke bluntly.
“Why are you speaking to us so casually when we have barely met?”
“...What?”
“I am Knut, third son of House Viding. I am the only younger brother of the current Duke of Eldeira. I would appreciate some respect.”
Knut had never once revealed his standing when meeting someone. Yet revealing his family and status to Brynhildr was a way of drawing a line.
Brynhildr seemed slightly flustered, perhaps because she had never imagined Knut was the child of such a great noble house.
Among Norse nobles, families that used the name of their clan from the days when they lived in the frozen lands were old and distinguished houses.
Since the reign of the current King, newer noble houses had all adopted Astrian-style family names, whether they were Norsemen or Astrians. That was what made names like Volsung, Viding, Elding, and Staling different.
Brynhildr naturally looked to Yorick and Ivy as well. Yorick at least smiled kindly and shook his head.
“I come from the Thieves' Guild, Valkyrie. This one comes from a shepherd village. You may speak comfortably with the two of us.”
“...Alright... In any case, there are assassins. They are after Valerie.”
Perhaps because of Knut’s unfriendly gaze, or because she believed she had made a mistake, Brynhildr did not switch to casual speech even when speaking to commoners.
“We already know. But if Valerie tells us to leave it alone, we should leave it alone. He isn’t so weak, either. You needn’t worry too much.”
They already knew? Brynhildr was left speechless. Valerie himself seemed strange in some way, but so did his companions. They seemed somewhat outside the bounds of common sense.
They would leave it alone just because he had told them to? She wondered whether they were not very close, but that did not match what she had seen of them so far.
“You may find us strange, but that is how we have always been. We do not stop those who come, and we do not hold those who leave. If someone needs help, we help them, but we do not help in expectation of a reward. Before that, we help people who are trying to rise on their own. That is why respect comes first. Respect for each other’s choices and decisions. No one can interfere with that. Valerie has never said it outright, but that is what I have observed. That is Valerie’s way.”
Having traveled with Valerie for more than a day or two, Yorick understood Valerie’s way of acting and thinking quite accurately. He even understood parts that Valerie himself had not consciously recognized.
Brynhildr found this way of thinking and attitude toward companions very strange and unfamiliar. At times they seemed incredibly close, yet at other times they almost seemed not to care.
But as Yorick had said, it was because they respected one another. There was a line between the ways they were close and the parts that needed respect. That was simply how they were.
Brynhildr stood there with nothing more to say when Yorick kindly spoke again.
“If it still bothers you, would you like to go watch?”
“...Watch?”
“If something does go wrong, we could help. Not to interfere, but that would be a choice too. Valerie is more generous with those close to him than you might expect, if it comes from goodwill.”
“I was worried too. Let’s go.”
Ivy joined in. Yorick turned to Knut as if asking his opinion, and Knut nodded as well.
“Then it’s decided.”
“You’re becoming more like Valerie than you realize.”
Knut said to Yorick.
Friends could influence each other when they spent time together. They had shared much since taking down Groin-Ripper, so perhaps it was inevitable.
Brynhildr found herself oddly drawn to this group that seemed recklessly positive, or somehow outside the bounds of common sense.
At the foundation of Valerie’s companions was the shared fact that all their lives had been miserable. Perhaps Brynhildr was drawn to the strangely hopeful feeling beneath it all.
When it came down to it, Knut, Yorick, and Ivy had all been saved by Valerie.
Brynhildr unconsciously felt that as well.
It was the sixth day since Valerie had begun his training. Only now did it feel as though he could see a path, as though he had found his direction.
The dragon’s nature and the Dragon Slayer’s essence were not truly two separate powers, but one. The two powers had affected my preexisting rune, rather than changing its essence.
It only seemed and felt as though three powers existed in one body, but in truth, they were one. Now I understand.
However, realizing it in his head and mastering it were different matters.
He had to discard even the thought of wielding rune power. He also had to discard thoughts of using that power to gain great physical strength or incredible speed.
What mattered was will. The sword moved according to his will, and the dragon’s fierce power was unleashed to its fullest. Then the power of the dawn rune would naturally follow.
First unleashing the power, then letting the power follow, was contradictory, but there was no other way to describe it.
Wielding rune power was like composing poetry.
It was like crying out at the top of one’s lungs. Thunder striking at dawn was a cry longing for promised radiance. And at last, lightning hauled up the sun.
Feeling, sensation, intuition. Difficult to explain in words, but clearly perceived.
Valerie gripped his sword in one hand and swung it fiercely as though shaking something off. A faint rumble then came from where the sword had passed.
An inexplicable thrill welled up inside him, bringing a smile to his face. Then, without warning, a shuriken fell from a tree. It flashed in the morning sunlight.
Valerie twisted aside at the last moment. Its blade was so sharp that it cut through his outer robe and exposed the lining beneath.
As the shuriken embedded itself in the ground with a thud, two people emerged from the nearby brush.
They held hooked ropes. After swinging them forcefully once, they threw them skillfully at Valerie. The hooks at their ends served as weights, flying toward him with deadly force.
Then someone appearing from behind threw a net. It spread wide through the air, as though it would envelop Valerie no matter where he fled.
The timing of the coordinated attack was exquisite. They had clearly worked together more than once.
In any case, Valerie raised his sword toward the flying hook and instead leapt toward it to evade.
Clang!
Valerie’s sword and the hook collided and crossed. The net caught only air, and another hook that had brushed past Valerie returned to target his back.
The hook that had crossed Valerie’s sword was pulled hard, as though it intended to tear the sword from his hand. At the same time, five people came rustling down from the tree above.
Two of them followed Valerie’s movement and tried to drive short swords into him with reverse grips.
An ordinary swordsman would have been unable to resist with his weapon caught and would have died. But Valerie held his breath once and forcefully swung the sword in his hand outward.
Whoosh!
Clang! Clang!
In one stroke, he severed the hook caught on his sword, broke the swords of the two falling attackers, and cut off their arms. Blood poured out, and two severed arms fell to the ground.
He stopped the remaining hook flying in from behind by grabbing its rope. The rope swiftly wrapped around Valerie’s body once from the hook’s centrifugal force.
Just as the hook that had completed its circle was about to sink into Valerie’s body, Valerie had already reversed his grip on his sword and brought it down to block.
Clang!
Still, his body had been wrapped once in the rope, so its owner gave it a sharp pull, trying to knock Valerie down. At that moment, the attacker realized something was wrong. The rope would not budge, as if it had been tied to a boulder. Huh?
The remaining three people who had landed on the ground lunged in, thrusting their swords as though they would ram Valerie with their bodies.
At that moment, the rope around Valerie came loose. Valerie spread his feet wide, gripped his sword with both hands, leaned his body far to one side, and swung horizontally as though bringing it down.
Perhaps his training had not been in vain. Rune power naturally entered his feet and gouged the ground. His arms held almost no strength. Instead, immense force went into his abdominal muscles and lats as he cut.
Strength crossed naturally around his lower abdomen and was distributed perfectly.
Then came the rotational force of his whole body, running from his feet through his legs and waist. The blade merely rested along that line.
A clean line, like a single beam of light, was drawn through the air, and the three people were cut in half at once.
Their upper bodies crashed into Valerie with the momentum of their charge, but naturally held no force at all. Their lower bodies collapsed to the ground.
Perhaps they had not even had time to feel pain. Not even the shadow of death had crossed their faces. Only afterward did their entrails spill out.
Rumble...!
The thunder came last. But given the situation, the enemies did not notice it.
The shocking sight stunned them for a moment, but Valerie was not finished moving. Somehow, he had picked up the shuriken on the ground and hurled it forcefully at the man who had thrown the net.
The shuriken flew straight and pierced the attacker’s hard skull, embedding itself to the hilt in their brow.
Thud!
Their head snapped back as they fell. At the same time, Valerie gave the rope a hard pull and swung the sword in one hand toward the enemies whose arms had been cut off.
As the sword passed with a whoosh, the heads of the attackers who had been dazed for only a moment dropped with soft thumps. At the same time, Valerie swung his sword widely and cut off the head of the enemy dragged in by the rope.
It all looked like one motion. Like a lie too impossible to believe even with one’s own eyes. It did not look like a fight, but like art, almost acrobatics.
The last remaining attacker stared blankly at Valerie with their mouth slightly open.
Rather than killing him at once, Valerie took a deep breath and raised an arm to wipe the sweat from his face. It was not sweat shed while dealing with them, but sweat from training.
“Hmm, still not enough.”
He was pleased with cutting down three people at once, but he had seemingly fought the rest in his old manner without properly wielding rune power. Valerie coolly evaluated his own level.
Wielding rune power was not something he could do consciously. Yet when he did not think about it, he simply fought in the way that felt most comfortable. It seemed he would need constant effort to bridge that subtle gap.
“Hey, when I say I’ll let someone live, I really do. Just tell me one thing and I’ll let you live. Who sent you?”
Valerie asked the enemy standing there blankly. The man showed neither fear nor hostility, merely blinking as though he could not grasp the current situation.
Then he muttered as if speaking to himself.
“The Duke. The Duke... The Duke of Nearcaster...”
Just as expected.
Now that he had the legitimacy, Valerie intended to go demand money. If necessary, he would reveal that he was a prince.
It was best not to reveal that fact if possible, but extracting money would be easier if the Duke learned he had tried to kill a prince. It would give Valerie firm leverage.
“Alright. You’ve worked hard, so off you go. Go tell them you failed. Or pocket the advance payment and run away. Do as you like.”
Valerie truly let the final survivor leave, swung his sword through the air to shake off the blood, and sheathed it at his waist.
He was about to leave the forest as though returning from a stroll when he felt someone watching him and turned his gaze in that direction. His friends stood in the distance.
Yorick smiled brightly and waved.
“What is this...?”
Then Knut, Yorick, and Ivy approached and picked up the enemies’ weapons from the scene. Iron was iron. Even poor-quality iron could be sold.
“Why are you here?”
“She wanted to come.”
“Who?”
Knut did not answer, merely gesturing somewhere with his chin. Brynhildr and Randgríðr stood there with the horses.
Valerie simply looked away.
“Just grab what you can. You’ll cut yourselves if you carry too much.”
“I picked them up, so it’s my money. I’ll do what I want.”
“Do as you like...”
“Are you an idiot? Find the scabbards first. The scabbards.”
“There are no scabbards. They must have carried them wrapped in cloth.”
Yorick grumbled at Knut’s rebuke. Assassins often wrapped their blades in cloth to keep the sound of drawing them from being heard.
“Ivy, be careful. Wrap the broken ones in cloth.”
“I can have one, right? This one seems like the right length for me.”
“You’ll get hurt.”
“But I can’t refuse to begin just because I might get hurt.”
“You’re going to learn the sword? You?”
“Why not?”
“Don’t cut off your fingers.”
“You’re cursing me before I’ve even begun.”
“Oh? Your temper is flaring again?”
“You keep making me lose my temper.”
There were corpses and entrails scattered around them, yet the two spoke as though playfully bickering. It was not because they were cruel, but because they had seen such things in their lives.
Ivy herself had watched her parents be brutally murdered and held her mother’s head in her arms. A scene like this did not affect her.
As Brynhildr watched them, she wondered what sort of people they were, yet felt envious as well. A belief deeper even than trust seemed to have naturally taken root among them.
Above all, Valerie’s fighting ability was truly beyond belief. He had not been flustered at all by the sudden ambush. Every movement had flowed naturally, like a script prepared beforehand.
Furthermore, cutting three people down at once was not something that could be accomplished merely by possessing a dwarf steel sword. It required strength, speed, and timing.
His jousting skill had already been extraordinary enough to defeat her, but his swordsmanship far surpassed even her imagination.
So she asked her friend Randgríðr, an Einheri.
“How was that?”
But Randgríðr said nothing. She was lost in thought with a grave expression.
“Randy. Randy.”
“Huh?”
“How was it?”
“...Honestly, I can’t say for sure either.”
“What? Does that make sense? He’s skilled enough to defeat an Einheri?”
“He seems a little clumsy at wielding rune power, but his technique surpasses my own. And I don’t know what rune that is. There was thunder where his sword passed... I have never seen or even heard of such a rune...”
Brynhildr stared blankly for a moment at Randgríðr’s words before goosebumps rose on her skin.
I really almost died.
It would have been one thing if she had fallen from her horse and it had ended there, but she had clung to Valerie’s waist until the end and fallen along with him.
That was why, in one way, she thought it was fate itself. Though she had desperately tried to die, she had not died. They had both lived and met.
The birds in the forest, as though they had been holding their breath, began to sing again.
It was still morning.
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