WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 77
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A cool autumn wind swept through the yellow grass that had grown waist-high. The girl’s long golden hair fluttered in the wind.
Ivy walked through the field, swinging a stick. Each time she swung it left and right, it struck the tips of the grass.
Tap! Tap!
It looked like the meaningless way any child might pass the time.
In truth, she was doing it without any particular purpose. Still, she swung the stick with a certain focus.
Ivy understood by feel that the more she relaxed her arms, the sharper the stick swung.
Brush the grass like the wind. Follow the wind.
Every so often, she felt something pleasant. Like chasing an intangible spirit, Ivy followed that sensation.
Yet just when it seemed close, it slipped away. Then it came close again, only to retreat once more.
“No. This isn’t it either.”
Ivy muttered to herself and kept swinging the stick. It looked like practice of a sort, though strictly speaking, it was closer to play.
Because it was fun.
Valerie naturally came to mind. The sight of him lining up those thug mercenaries and cutting off all their heads at once was still so vivid that it felt as though it had happened only moments ago.
That day’s sunlight, the numbness in her limbs, the stench of rotting corpses, the pollen, the trails like beams of light, the sprays of blood bursting forth like something long repressed exploding. She remembered it all clearly.
She felt sorry for her parents, but the memory was so vivid that she could not even think of them.
But that was too difficult. Not yet.
During the fight in the forest not long ago, Valerie had swung his sword with one hand and cut off two people’s heads. Ivy thought she might somehow be able to imitate that.
Cleaner, more naturally, but without wavering. A perfect straight line.
Then, at some point, she swung the stick and did not hear it striking the grass. There was only the sound of it slicing through the air. The grass had been cut cleanly in a straight line.
“Ivy.”
Someone called from behind her. Ivy turned around.
It was a woman whose long golden hair fluttered at her side, brighter than the ripe yellow grass around them.
Brynhildr.
“Do you want to learn swordsmanship?”
Brynhildr asked.
“Um... I do, but no one will teach me. Valerie just shakes his head, Knut says he doesn’t know either, and Yorick even took my sword away because he said I’d cut off my fingers.”
After Valerie killed the assassins, they took the weapons as spoils. Ivy had tried to claim one sword, but Yorick eventually took it away because it was dangerous.
“Should I teach you?”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“What will it cost?”
“What cost?”
“Won’t you want money in exchange for teaching me?”
“...Why would I want money? I’ll just teach you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re a little different from what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I thought you’d be greedy for money.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm... The truth is, I’m sick of money.”
Even while living in poverty, Brynhildr had often been forced by her mother to dress prettily. She had to do so even if it meant going hungry. Money truly felt like an enemy to her.
Brynhildr walked softly over to Ivy. Then she took the girl’s hand and began by teaching her how to hold a sword.
“When you hold it with both hands, grip it as though you’re lightly wringing it. Keep one hand against the guard, and leave a little space at the end of the hilt for the other, so your hands are spread apart. How is it? A little uncomfortable? Or is it all right?”
“...It feels strange, but I think it’s all right. I don’t think I’ll ever let go. But how do you hold it with one hand?”
“For that... it would be best to build your arm strength first. You need to be able to lift it easily before you can swing it as much as you want. Swords aren’t light, especially when you’re cutting something. When even cutting feels light, you can leave the village by yourself. That’s roughly how I learned too.”
That was the level at which one could be said to have become capable of protecting oneself outside the community, in a place as wild as the wilderness.
Of course, it depended on one’s standards, but that was how Brynhildr saw it.
“From whom?”
“My friend, Randgríðr.”
“The really huge one?”
“She really hates being called that. You should call her Randy.”
“Then what should I call you, Lady Valkyrie?”
“Brynhildr. You can call me Hild.”
“All right, Sister Hild.”
Ivy said it with a smile, one that seemed to brighten everything around her.
A smile naturally spread across Brynhildr’s lips as well. If Ivy was like sunlight, Brynhildr was like moonlight. Gentle, but somehow sorrowful.
Judging by appearances alone, Brynhildr had somewhat sharp eyes and a proud air, with an impression that she looked down on others a little. Yet perhaps because she had spent so long forcing herself to be cheerful, changes in her expression did not look awkward.
Except when he was with his friends, Valerie was almost always expressionless, and if things went even slightly wrong, he would glare as though he meant to kill someone. Brynhildr was certainly gentler than him.
“You do look alike.”
“Like what?”
“Valerie.”
“Ah... Right.”
“The jousting tournament was amazing. When you rode your horse.”
“Thank you.”
“Will I be able to learn how to ride a horse someday?”
“Winter is long. You can learn then.”
“But what if I learn faster than Yorick?”
“Well... By the way, aren’t you and Yorick siblings?”
“Me?”
Ivy frowned as though offended.
“You seem very close.”
“That can’t be true. We don’t look alike. Look at me, I even have front teeth.”
“...Yes, that’s true.”
“He always looks down on me, calling me a bitch who only milked sheep. But I honestly don’t care. Milking sheep really was my job, after all. So inside, I’m thinking, ‘What do you want me to do about that?’ But he seems satisfied only if I at least pretend to get angry. So I force myself to get angry. I’m not actually angry. You know what I mean, Sister Hild, right?”
“Uh... Yes.”
Brynhildr did not actually know what she meant, but she said yes anyway.
Still, it was unclear when the two would properly teach and learn swordsmanship, because they kept chatting away.
It had been a long time since Ivy had spoken with another woman. As though releasing everything that had built up inside her, she chattered endlessly without realizing it.
In truth, traveling with three men was not entirely enjoyable for a young girl.
Knut did play with her sometimes, but he was self-centered, so his own enjoyment came first. In a sense, Ivy was sometimes the one entertaining Knut.
Joking around with Yorick was fun too, but he was the oldest in the group and could not fully understand the sensibilities of a young girl. In the end, he simply enjoyed teasing her.
Valerie had an aura that made him difficult to approach. If she made an effort to speak to him, he did not reject her, but she could sense that he found it bothersome. That was even clearer when she cautiously asked whether he could teach her swordsmanship, and he merely shook his head without answering.
But Brynhildr was different. Ivy thought Brynhildr would understand everything about her.
It was a hasty judgment, but Brynhildr at least pretended to accept her. And perhaps because she had never truly had a proper girlhood herself, seeing Ivy stirred pure feelings within her.
It felt like a small seed she had thought dried up and dead was beginning to sprout.
Thus, in the yellow grass field beneath the autumn wind, the woman and the girl healed each other without realizing it.
Lucas was reading a letter delivered by a raven. Its message was brief, but its contents were not light.
<The Nearcaster ducal title is expected to remain vacant for a long period. Intelligence indicates the Third Prince covets it. High reliability.>
Lucas raised his head and looked at Valerie, who was sitting by the fireplace.
“The Third Prince covets the Nearcaster ducal title?”
Watching the occasional flames crackle, Valerie answered without turning his head.
“Princes can’t hold titles. He’s probably trying to put someone else in the position.”
“Either way, he wants it.”
“Wanting it doesn’t mean he can have it. That’s especially true for a prince whose identity has been revealed. The King won’t allow it.”
“Hmm...”
Lucas thought that made sense. From the King’s perspective, a prince whose identity was known could not help being troublesome.
The fact that the prince knew his own identity already went against fair succession to the throne. And if someone with a claim to succession also possessed power, it would not be entirely impossible for them to rebel against the King.
Interfere as little as possible, but do not allow them to possess too much power. Perhaps that was the King’s stance.
“Still, I don’t think he’ll easily give up his greed. Things could become troublesome in many ways. How far do you think he’ll go, Valerie?”
By asking how far he thought the Third Prince would go, Lucas meant what the man might be capable of doing. He could even pretend to have gone mad, seize Nearcaster by force, and dare everyone to do their worst.
“He’s not the type of person who can do that. He lacks decisiveness. He’s probably only trying to take Nearcaster because the people around him are pushing him. So he doesn’t have the drive to raise an army.”
Around an heir, whether a prince or a duke’s son, someone who could seize the next power, there were always people who filled their head with ideas or pulled their strings.
People who egged them on in every way and wrapped them in sweet words. Long exposure to such an environment could make someone lose their sense of reality.
So being born first and discovering one’s status as a prince first could not be called an unconditional blessing. As with everything, there were advantages and disadvantages.
The Third Prince was someone buried beneath the disadvantages. That was how Valerie, who had defeated him before regression, saw him. Still, the process had not been easy.
“I see. Then should we just keep our heads down?”
“That depends on your decision. But Halfdan will probably become the Duke. One of the Kingmakers, a man responsible for military training. Halfdan the Black.”
The Kingmakers were also called “those who made the King.” As the name suggested, they were the people who had helped the present King, when he was still a prince, become the final victor in the War of Succession.
Just as the advisory council advised lords, developed policies, and handled practical administration, the Kingmakers played a similar role beneath the King.
They were called the Kingmakers because they, or the houses they belonged to, held most of the important posts.
Some were prominent houses descended from the Founding King, while others held ranks surprisingly low for Kingmakers.
Halfdan the Black had once led mercenaries and held many powerful offices. His achievements were more than sufficient, yet he had never received a title.
Whether it was because of his humble origins, because he did not want one, because the King had kept him in check, or because of some internal circumstance, no one knew. But he still had no title.
In other words, if Halfdan became Duke of Nearcaster, it would not be some merchant family becoming duke as before. It would mean that a truly formidable figure was coming, someone hardened by war and influential among the Kingmakers.
“How do you know that?”
Lucas asked with wide eyes.
Valerie knew it from before regression, though things could be different now. Still, he felt they would unfold the same way.
And if he had to give a reason, he could.
“Nearcaster is rich in goods, and commerce is developed. But its military strength is lacking. It was the center of northern trade and served as a supply base during the Founding War. They originally intended to put someone suitable in charge and merely manage it, but since the Third Prince covets it, they’ll feel the need to strengthen its military. So that he won’t even dare to reach for it.”
“...How do you know all that?”
“I could be wrong.”
“No, how do you know such a person even exists?”
“Because I’m a prince?”
“...That doesn’t make any sense. Anyway, we should gather information on that man. I don’t know much about this, but if they build up the military, I think the situation here will change quite a lot.”
“You should assume the good days are over.”
“In what way?”
“Regulations will increase, they’ll demand money, oversight will become stricter, and punishments will become harsher.”
Building up the military also meant strengthening security. Then the merchant company’s operations, which had been running smoothly, could begin to creak.
“Is there really a need to go that far...?”
“That’s for the King to decide. The only thing you can decide is which of two choices to make.”
“What are they?”
“Either kill the Third Prince, or become the Duke yourself. If you kill the Third Prince, the King will judge things differently. If you become Duke, at least you won’t be pushed around by others.”
It was an enormous thing to say. So enormous that it should never be repeated. The conversation suddenly became heavy.
Lucas fell silent, lowered his head, and sank into deep thought. One wrong move could destroy the merchant company, but if he did nothing, it might slowly die anyway.
Nothing had been decided, so acting rashly could create trouble where there was none. But failing to prepare could leave him unable to handle things later.
Valerie’s insight was sharp, but putting it into action was an entirely different matter.
Watching Lucas continue to wrestle with it, Valerie said,
“How easy or safe something is can’t be your standard. You need to know what matters to you and use that as your standard. Which choice would be better for the merchant company? What about going beyond the merchant company and governing a territory? Are you prepared? Can you bear it? But if you don’t want to be swept up in a storm, you must know how to raise a storm yourself, Lucas.”
Lucas had certainly grown. But he still had far to go. Could he grow further? That depended entirely on him.
Lucas thought with a somewhat grave expression, then smiled faintly.
“Are all princes like you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t seem to have any lines you won’t cross in your thinking.”
“Not all of them will be like me.”
“It’s like you think like a king.”
“...You can think like a king too.”
“Can I? Let’s eat first.”
Lucas rose from his seat. For now, thinking about it further would only make his head heavier.
“By the way, how is Lady Valkyrie?”
“I don’t know.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“She seems fine.”
“You’re a person with very clear strengths and weaknesses.”
“What?”
“With that face, I suppose you’ve never had to think about a woman’s feelings.”
“What are you talking about? Hild and I are of the same clan.”
“That’s not what I meant. She could be troubled for all sorts of reasons. I’m asking whether you care about that.”
“Isn’t that something she must handle herself? Only a person themselves can govern their own heart.”
“Yes, of course you would say that.”
“...Look at this bastard.”
Valerie let out a disbelieving laugh. Still, he did not dislike this change in Lucas’s attitude.
There were very few people who could see him as an equal, and whom he himself acknowledged.
For someone walking a dark and lonely road, such a person was like a lantern.
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