WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
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◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 82
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Valerie tore the Winslow family to pieces, crushed Duke Sven, and headed south. It was autumn.
Other than the prince he had assassinated in Gringen City, the first person Valerie had truly faced was Ivar, the Third Prince.
Ivar had built up his power for a long time and was said to have grown up in a baronial house. He had learned that he was a prince before the King died, and the baronial house that raised him was reportedly wiped out because of it.
Having built his power for so long, Ivar had already become the leading force before the King’s death.
So it was not entirely incomprehensible that Duke Sven had tried to join the prevailing side for political reasons.
Since he had joined late, it was even a reasonable choice for him to try to kill Valerie, the Fourteenth Prince, to earn merit.
But what did any of that have to do with Valerie? So what? It was none of his business. He would kill them all. That was what Valerie thought.
Valerie had around a thousand soldiers and a little over twenty knights. In contrast, the Third Prince had as many as five thousand soldiers and over a hundred knights.
A fivefold difference in strength. If they had fought in an open field, Valerie probably could not have won. He had still been inexperienced in many ways at the time.
The one variable was Duke Halfdan of Nearcaster, “the Black.” He declared neutrality and said he would support whichever prince prevailed.
Anyone traveling from the north to the south, or from the south to the north, had to pass through Nearcaster. Neither side could advance north or south.
Neutrality was only a word. If they ignored him and passed through, the Duke might change his mind and cut off their retreat, leaving them stranded.
So the Third Prince’s army hunkered down in the south and barely moved. Instead, it kept trying to expand its influence through diplomacy.
Soldiers in Valerie’s army began deserting in droves before the fighting even began. They were caught and publicly executed several times a day.
Arne was the one who whipped and killed the deserters. Flesh came away, bones were exposed, and the deserters wept and begged to be killed.
Sometimes, or often, they cried out for their mothers. When that happened, Valerie killed them himself, threatening that from then on, anyone who called for their mother would be killed without exception.
After that, Valerie decided to make the fullest use of his own strengths and his enemy’s weaknesses.
First, his smaller army could move quickly. Second, while the enemy’s feudal forces each had their own estates, Valerie’s side had no estates in that region.
In other words, the strategy was to move fast and sweep through everywhere. Would those gathered beneath the Third Prince’s banner truly sit idle while their own lands were destroyed? It could also provoke internal division.
However, they could not pass through Nearcaster, so they attacked by crossing forests, wetlands, and mountain ranges.
They called it attacking, but in truth, they raided without distinction. Of course, it was not raiding born of greed. It was raiding as part of a military operation.
Speed was everything, so they massacred and took by force, mechanically and mercilessly.
Valerie learned then that the quickest and easiest way to massacre people was to herd them into temples or barns and burn them alive.
By the time the Third Prince’s forces arrived, Valerie’s army was nowhere to be found. There were only ruins and burned corpses.
Valerie kept doing that throughout autumn and into winter. By spring, only five hundred of his thousand soldiers remained.
Had they been defeated before they even fought? Had the operation been too much? Moving swiftly through mountains, forests, and wetlands, then disappearing into harsh terrain again, was not something people should have to do.
But Valerie did not consider it a failure, even though his numbers had dwindled. He had gained something in exchange for those lost soldiers.
There was a saying that soldiers resembled their commander. The five hundred northern soldiers had internalized harsh discipline and gained a venomous resolve that took even death lightly, along with a headlong aggressiveness.
They were more accurately called a suicide corps than an army.
This battle had been a gamble in which they staked their lives from beginning to end. From the operations carried out from autumn through winter, to the final gamble of passing through Nearcaster and striking south like lightning.
The Third Prince’s army had scattered its troops across a wide area to prevent raids. His defenses on the Nearcaster side had already been weak, and they had grown weaker still.
Leading the five hundred men of his suicide corps, Valerie marched like lightning and charged straight at where the Third Prince was staying.
There were outposts, gates, and enemies along the way, but they broke through them at almost marching pace. They did not look back. If they caught the Third Prince, they won. If they failed, they died.
Even now, Valerie could hear the soldiers’ cries as they shouted like they were vomiting out their bitterness. Though there had been only five hundred of them, their momentum could have overwhelmed ten thousand.
“Cry out, Gramr! Hear the thunder of the North!”
The lightning ambush caught the estate where the Third Prince was staying completely unprepared.
Dressed like a beggar, his eyes glittering like a killer’s, Valerie went looking for the Third Prince.
When he flung open the door to the room, he found his brother, Ivar, the Third Prince, looking unexpectedly gaunt.
A woman rushed at Valerie, so he stabbed her in the stomach and killed her. When he pulled out his sword, bright-red blood streamed down the entire blade.
The Third Prince saw it and spoke calmly, without surprise.
“There’s no middle ground, is there? Either kill everyone, or lie still as though you’re dead.”
“Or are you simply weak?”
“You foolish little brother, we are nothing more than stuffed gods. Father, me, you, every one of our other siblings. Because people want it. Even though the gods are dead, people still need gods...”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll put an end to all of it anyway.”
Valerie approached him with his bloodied sword. They were not words spoken with certainty. They were something deeper, closer to words without which he had no reason to live.
Ivar closed his eyes. But his head did not come off cleanly. Valerie grabbed him by the hair, pressed him against the wall, stabbed him in the neck, and sawed it off.
Then he carried Ivar’s head out of the estate. He hung it from a pole and carried it around as though displaying it everywhere.
The enemy surrendered one after another. Valerie was able to absorb almost all five thousand soldiers.
Naturally, a purge followed. The five hundred soldiers received the greatest rewards and honors.
That was how Valerie took control of a situation and handled people.
Once again, it was autumn. Valerie looked upon the path he had taken, or would take, with the five hundred men of his suicide corps. It was a stone bridge said to have been built by giants.
The dozens of corpses sprawled beneath the bridge had been stripped of their equipment by people. Crows, wild animals, and insects had left only white bones behind.
Three duchies met around the bridge. Valerie was standing in Nearcaster. To the south was Edelia, and to the west was Aldincaster.
Edelia had once been the mightiest and most prestigious of the Seven Kingdoms.
Now it was a duchy boasting the largest territory in the kingdom. Because it had so many local lords, the Duke’s authority had traditionally been weak.
The Third Prince was under the protection of the Duke of Edelia then, just as he was now. Perhaps he had intended to unite Edelia around the prince. If he had properly ruled Edelia alone, he would indeed have commanded the greatest power in the kingdom.
But he had been so focused on expanding his power that he failed to see the opening toward the most important heart. If that could be called a mistake. The overwhelming difference in troop numbers must have made him careless as well.
But none of it mattered now. There was no longer the rage-filled roar of the suicide corps, nor Valerie’s hatred toward his own bloodline.
What were my soldiers doing now? Were they living happily? What about those who had been massacred? Were the deserters with the mothers they had cried out for so desperately?
He was curious, but it was only a passing thought, like an autumn breeze. He did not linger on it.
He only hoped they were all living well...
“Since we’ve been here for ten days without any response, maybe the Third Prince got cold feet?”
Knut spoke from behind Valerie as he looked at the bridge.
“I don’t think he was frightened.”
“Then why hasn’t he done anything? It should be an affront to his pride.”
This time, Brynhildr spoke. Valerie naturally thought of the Third Prince. The scene in that room, the woman who had collapsed bleeding, and the feeling of stabbing into Ivar’s neck.
“He just isn’t that kind of person.”
“How do you know? Have you seen him before?”
Valerie turned to Knut and smiled.
“I haven’t.”
“Then what, do brothers have some kind of connection?”
“Do you have that kind of connection with your brother?”
“Are you insulting me?”
“What are you talking about? When did I insult you?”
“I think I do.”
Brynhildr spoke. Valerie and Knut turned to look at her.
“Valerie goes to the privy every other day, always at dawn. When his expression suddenly turns gloomy, it means he wants to be alone. You shouldn’t talk to him then. He doesn’t get angry, but he starts subtly keeping his distance. He isn’t particularly picky about food, but he prefers fruit and vegetables to meat. He would rather someone tell an obvious lie than make a clumsy one. Lastly, he reacts sensitively to talk about mothers, even though he pretends otherwise. Just like I do. How about it? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“...”
He had to admit that her powers of observation were impressive, but it was absurd too. He was not sure whether that counted as being in sync. She seemed determined to force even things that were not connected into a connection.
“...Let’s stop talking about family.”
Knut spoke. He also had painful memories concerning his mother.
“Would you like me to tell you about yourself too, Knut?”
“No.”
“After ten days together, I’ve learned a little about you too. I may not look it, but I’m friendlier than you two.”
While Valerie and Knut were extremely closed off in their relationships with others, Brynhildr could at least get along with strangers.
“Rather than being friendly, aren’t you secretly keeping tabs on us?”
“What would I be keeping tabs on? I have nowhere to go and no one to report to.”
Simply put, Brynhildr had left home and had nowhere to return to. Even if she went back to the King, it was too late for her to get a share of the allowance on her own.
“Then you’re just a pervert.”
“I don’t take an interest in people I don’t care about.”
“Why are you interested in us?”
“Because you’re pitiful. Because you’re cute. Because I’m the big sister here.”
“...”
Knut lowered his head, too dumbfounded to respond, while Valerie had already turned away. In truth, she was no less pitiful than either of them.
“By the way, can’t you stop drinking?”
“Alcohol tastes so good.”
“Actually, my mother was a Valkyrie too. Apart from seeing her drink, I have no memories of her. She has passed away now. Drinking feels like a selfish act, like you’re only thinking of yourself. Getting drunk is like that, isn’t it?”
“...I never thought of it that way.”
Knut said nothing more. Silence continued for a while before Brynhildr spoke.
“I won’t drink again. I promise.”
“You don’t have to go that far.”
“Then I’ll only drink a little.”
“What...”
“By the way, where did you get your dwarf steel?”
“From Regin.”
Valerie answered. He had turned away from them and was looking at the bridge, but he appeared to have been listening to everything.
“Regin? The legendary dwarf Regin?”
“Ask Knut about the details. I need to go somewhere.”
Valerie spoke as he mounted Snow nearby.
“Where are you going?”
It was so sudden that Knut asked with a baffled expression.
“I’ll be back before winter. There’s someone I need to meet.”
Then he rode across the bridge. Clop, clop. The sound faded away. Knut and Brynhildr watched Valerie head south with expressions of disbelief.
Valerie was heading south for one reason only.
He was going to meet the Third Prince, his brother.
He had no choice but to kill him then, but not now. If Ivar could avoid becoming a stuffed god, what would he do? Valerie wanted to ask him that.
If something like fate existed, Valerie would smash it to pieces.
Rather than answer that he would destroy it all.
Chapter 18 - Memories of Autumn.
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