WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
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◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 86
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Valerie spent two days at Leofin’s house. It had been a week since they set out.
By their agreement, Valerie should have returned, but he did not want to.
Come to think of it, going to meet the Third Prince had been an impulsive choice. Deciding to travel with Ölvir along the way had also been impulsive. Was I really this spontaneous a person?
My usual way had been to make meticulous plans, carry them out thoroughly, and respond to unexpected variables with judgment and skill.
Priest Eirik had told him not to define himself so narrowly. Now, Valerie was no longer sure whether he was a methodical person or an impulsive one.
But it did not matter which he was. At least he did not feel as though he were being chased.
“Valerie.”
Ölvir called to Valerie, who was fastening his belt and putting on his cloak to prepare for departure. When Valerie turned, Ölvir held out a Viking arm ring.
“You kept your promise, so I should keep mine. Everyone ignored me, but you believed in me. Thank you.”
Valerie stared quietly at the arm ring, then accepted it without refusing. He considered putting it away inside his clothes, but instead slipped it onto his left arm.
“Are you a Norseman too?”
“I am.”
“But lately, I have been thinking that it does not matter whether someone is a Norseman or an Astrian. The people who lived here were not Astrians either. Astrian was simply a name that lumped them all together. Likewise, the Astrians lumped us all together as Norsemen. Both we and the people of this land were truly made up of countless tribes. In the end, it seems the Founding King and the current king were right.”
“...Is that so?”
Rather than continue the conversation, Valerie lifted Ölvir onto Snow.
It was dawn. The world was still dark, but a faint light was spreading near the distant horizon.
The wind was cold. Winter would soon come.
Sísrik, ready to leave, stood waiting. While everyone else was still asleep, Leofin looked up at Ölvir, who was about to depart.
“Let us meet again alive.”
“We can meet after death too.”
“I do not think I can go to Valhalla.”
“...Wherever it is, I will come find you.”
“We’re leaving.”
Valerie spoke indifferently and kicked Snow in the flank. Sísrik started walking as well.
They left the village and headed for the mountain range stretching like a folding screen across the world. Leofin watched them for a long time from behind.
The light upon the horizon continued to spread wider.
Without a real guide, they would have had no idea what to do. The mountain paths were rugged and complicated.
One moment they crossed steep cliff paths, and the next a green meadow in the highlands appeared before them. There was a pond so clear it seemed transparent. Though it was not shallow, they could see its bottom clearly.
They quenched their thirst there and filled their waterskins.
When Valerie looked up at the sky, torn clouds hurried somewhere overhead. The sun appeared and disappeared behind them.
One horse and three men rested briefly amid the highland wind, then set out again.
“How much farther is the village?”
Valerie walked beside Snow, holding the reins rather than riding him, and asked Sísrik, who was leading the way.
“There may not be a village.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Cambrians live as they move about. It may be there, or it may not. Do not worry too much. Once we cross the mountain range, it will be flatland again.”
Since he had never been there, Valerie had nothing to say. The place beyond the thick, towering range felt like another world, cut off from everything else.
The sun had risen overhead and was beginning to slope westward. They had set out at dawn and traveled perhaps ten hours when, as though by magic, a wilderness opened before them.
At its far end stood Mount Hekla, the mountain that burned forever.
For a moment, Valerie was struck speechless by the grandeur of the natural landscape. Herds of wild horses grazed across the wilderness. They seemed somewhat smaller than Snow.
“That is Mount Hekla. The gate of hell.”
Sísrik pointed to Mount Hekla at the end of the horizon.
The mountain was entirely black. Not a single tree or blade of grass could be seen, and the land around it was black as well.
Hekla meant a hat, hood, or cover. What it covered was none other than hell.
Yet something strange was happening. Clouds had gathered atop the mountain. There were far more of them there than anywhere else.
Even clear-headed Valerie did not understand every law of the world, and this unexplainable natural phenomenon looked like the work of a god or demon.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they saw people gathered somewhere in the field. There were tents, livestock, and horses. It was impossible to tell whether it was a village or a temporary gathering.
“Let us go there first,” Sísrik said.
Valerie and Ölvir descended the mountain path.
Once they reached the flatland, Valerie mounted Snow. He did not put Ölvir behind him.
That was because riders from the gathered people were coming toward them. In case mounted combat broke out, he had not taken Ölvir aboard.
Some carried spears. Others had things like lassos and swords hanging from their waists or saddles.
“What brings outsiders here?”
One of them asked from a distance. They had been said to be closed-off people, and apparently that was true.
Sísrik answered.
“We are pilgrims. We have come to visit Mount Hekla.”
They had actually come to kill a dragon, but dragons were gods to the Cambrians, so it was best not to say that.
“Pilgrims?”
“That is right.”
They carefully examined Valerie’s group with looks that were far from friendly. Then they spoke among themselves before speaking again.
“At another time, perhaps, but now you cannot approach the abode of the god so freely. However, as it is the festival period, we will permit you to take part in the festival.”
Valerie had no idea what they meant by a festival, but at least they were not driving them away.
The group seemed to judge that two were young, one was elderly, and they were not particularly threateningly armed.
In truth, the reason they opened their hearts even a little was not that. It was Snow, whom Valerie was riding.
“That is a fine horse.”
“Thank you.”
“A fine horse follows a fine master.”
“Perhaps.”
As they led Valerie’s group toward the gathering, they continued watching Snow closely. Valerie wondered whether they coveted him, but they seemed to have another purpose.
“Could we breed from him?”
“As long as he is not harmed.”
“Do not worry. We have a teaser horse, and we are skilled with horses as well.”
It was the price, if one could call it that, for their invitation. They seemed to want to use Snow as a stud.
When they reached the gathered people, the festival truly did have an excited atmosphere. People were slaughtering livestock and constantly carrying around liquor and meat.
The people resembled Norsemen and Astrians in appearance. However, more of them had brown or red hair and beards than blond or black ones.
They wore robe-like garments that covered both their upper and lower bodies. Their most distinctive features were their fur hats and splendid boots, which were embroidered with all kinds of patterns.
The smell of livestock milk, freshly butchered blood, and boiled or roasted meat filled the air. That was the smell of the festival.
The people who had brought Valerie over went among the others, gesturing at Snow and chattering away. When the others saw Snow, their eyes widened too.
They seemed wary at first because Valerie’s group came from elsewhere, but that caution appeared to melt away because of Snow. They truly seemed to love horses.
Meanwhile, women stole glances at Valerie from afar, while children came close to stare at him in wonder.
When Valerie dismounted, an older person came over and held out a bowl to the group. It was filled with livestock blood.
“...”
Surely they were not telling him to drink it?
Even Valerie, who was always calm and never flustered, froze for a moment.
Fortunately, Sísrik, who knew something of local customs, stepped forward.
“We only have to finish one bowl between the three of us, so bear with it a little. I will drink first.”
He took the bowl and drank the blood first. Ölvir drank next, and Valerie received the bowl last, but the amount of blood did not seem to have gone down at all.
Valerie stared at the two in disbelief. Then he barely touched the bowl to his lips and held it back out to Sísrik, but Sísrik shook his head.
“Each person may only drink once. So you must finish it, Valerie.”
“What kind of rule is that? You should have told me beforehand.”
“Bear with it. Once we endure this, we will be accepted here as guests.”
What a shameless man. If that was the case, they should have drunk their share properly. They had barely touched their lips to it, then dumped the rest on him. Valerie was dumbfounded.
When he looked at Ölvir, the old man avoided his gaze.
“As one gets older, one’s stomach becomes weak...”
The thought that this was betrayal passed through Valerie’s mind.
Valerie looked at the Cambrians. They were watching intently to see whether his group finished the blood.
With no other choice, Valerie squeezed his eyes shut and gulped it down. Damn it.
The foul smell rose sharply, making him retch, but he drank it all somehow. His lips were bright red.
Only then did the Cambrians break into broad smiles. Their manner toward the group changed completely.
“Welcome to the festival.”
“Where have you come from?”
“I have never seen such a fine horse in all my sixty years.”
“You may eat and stay as much as you like.”
“You may embrace any woman, but do not force them. Have a look and see who appeals to you.”
“Water first...”
Valerie did not care about any of that. He gulped down water to get rid of the bloody smell first. It was truly agonizing. He still felt like retching.
“We would appreciate somewhere to sleep,” Sísrik said.
The men each pointed in different directions, saying they could stay there. What did that mean? Could they stay anywhere they wanted?
In any case, they seemed to have become official guests. Valerie’s group sat by a fire and ate the food people offered them. Among it was liquor made from sheep’s or goat’s milk, and it smelled even worse than the blood. This was enough to drive anyone mad.
Valerie had come to kill a dragon, yet here he was enduring all these trials and hardships. Still, the meat seasoned with spices or salt was truly delicious.
“By the way, what festival is this?”
Valerie asked one of the Cambrian men.
“The Festival of the End. Once every thirty years, we meet the End. For one month, we slaughter and feast on livestock without stint, and hold rites for the god.”
“...”
He did not understand.
“...If it is the end, does that not mean everything dies and ends?”
“That is true, but an end can also mean a new beginning. Those who survive will carry on the line again.”
Perhaps it was because their culture and customs differed, or perhaps because something about this felt wrong, but Valerie felt uncomfortable beyond mere unfamiliarity. Still, he did not say anything.
After enduring a mixture of disgusting and delicious things for a while, he rose to get some rest. As he looked around, he saw a line of mares waiting to mate with Snow.
Valerie moved elsewhere.
Then, at the edge of the gathering, he saw a girl crouched alone and scratching the ground with a stick. She wore a fur hat and extraordinarily splendid boots. She looked about ten years old.
The red-haired girl turned toward Valerie.
“Outsider?”
“I suppose I am a guest for now.”
“Did you drink all that blood?”
“Yes.”
“You did not need to drink it all. That is impressive.”
“...”
“Are you bored?”
“Not exactly. I came away for a moment. I do not like noisy places.”
“Me neither. I am Adrin.”
“Valerie.”
“Where are you from?”
“The kingdom.”
“A land ruled by a king?”
“Yes.”
“That is strange. A person ruling other people.”
“I could say the same. Worshipping something that is not even human as a god.”
“Huh? I suppose you could see it that way.”
“What were you doing?”
“Just digging in the dirt. But Valerie, have you ever embraced a woman?”
Before his regression, he had. Now, he had not. It was difficult to answer. More than that, Adrin was far too young.
“Why are you asking that?”
“Um... I was thinking that being punished might be better than being offered as a sacrifice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do people in your kingdom not offer sacrifices?”
“...Are you saying you are a sacrifice?”
“Yes. Why?”
“To the dragon?”
“Yes. It is not just me. We need to make a hundred. Tribes from all across Cambri gather and offer one hundred virgin girls as sacrifices. That is the festival.”
“...Will that stop the End?”
“I do not know. I have never seen the End either. Rather than stopping it, they probably hope to survive even after the End. Maybe?”
“What good would it do if you died?”
“I do not know either. But they said that if I do not die, then my mother, father, older sister and brother, and younger siblings will all die.”
Adrin scratched at the ground gloomily with her stick.
Valerie felt his insides twist at Adrin’s words. The discomfort he had felt all along was probably because of this.
When had he last been truly angry? It had been a long time since rage had bubbled up inside his chest like this.
Because the girl being offered as a sacrifice looked much like Valerie himself.
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