WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
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◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 90
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Wild barley grew abundantly in Cambri. Volcanic ash fell once every thirty years, making the land fertile.
The cries of pain and fresh blood spewed forth by Mount Hekla eventually led to abundance.
However, no one truly understood such natural principles.
They only believed that a volcanic eruption was a sign of the end, and that dragons were both the agents and gods of that end.
But now that dragon was dead, their entire worldview had practically collapsed.
Inside a portable tent, Valerie, the one responsible for destroying that worldview, stared at the campfire burning in the middle.
Sísrik was sharing the tent with him, but he seemed uncomfortable. He had seen Valerie kill the dragon.
He still could not understand or believe how a person could do such a thing.
Though he was a person of the kingdom, Sísrik felt Valerie was a god, or someone connected to one, just as the Cambrians did.
However people saw him, Valerie did not particularly care. It was not simply indifference. He did not want to be swayed by other people's gazes and expectations.
Valerie watched the firewood burn with a crackle, crackle, then shifted his gaze to a red stone about the size of a human head lying nearby.
That stone was the heart of Húginnis, the fire dragon.
Considering the dragon's immense body, it was remarkably small. It was strange that it felt like such a hard stone. Valerie had driven his sword, Wound, into it, leaving a deep gash.
Yet according to legend, Sigurd had roasted and eaten a dragon's heart.
Perhaps that was why he had been able to drink dragon's blood and remain unharmed. But how was one supposed to cook something that felt like a stone?
Valerie had tried, but the stone only grew hot. It did not cook like meat at all.
So he had no choice but to bring it back as it was.
The dragon's blood had seeped into the ground or evaporated the instant it died. Only its horns, bones, and hide remained. The corpse was still at the site because it could not be cut apart or moved.
He had not killed the dragon for its remains, but in the end, all he had gained was a heart like a stone.
Valerie looked back at the firewood. As he watched the flames, he thought of Ölvir. His final smile and his final words remained in Valerie's heart.
He could have spent the rest of his life with his old friend Leofin. He must have known Valerie was a prince, yet he gave up even going to Valhalla, with a bright smile.
He had longed for Valhalla his entire life, only to abandon it without regret in his final moments, because killing the dragon was the only way to save the girls. To save even the children who would be offered as sacrifices in the future.
Perhaps he had not seen a heaven in the afterlife, but a heaven in life. Perhaps he had found heaven in a choice that had once seemed like nothing more than a passing moment.
The choice to save Leofin and the children long ago, the memories he had made with them, enduring every hardship and humiliation before taking the long way around and finally reuniting with them. There, Ölvir had found heaven.
Thus, he broke the chains of fate, and even death could not invade his heaven.
That was what Valerie thought. So he did not mourn Ölvir. He only envied him painfully and sent him his praise.
Valerie did not readily acknowledge others. But on the rare occasions he did, Thorvald, Eirik, and Ölvir were among them.
What they had in common was that they had lived their lives to the end. People who endured and overcame the pain, regrets, sorrow, and anguish of the past as they continued living.
Unlike Valerie, who had taken his own life.
Thinking of them gave him a pleasant sense of defeat.
Valerie regretted that he had not treated Ölvir better.
As he watched the firewood burn, he tried to turn that regret into longing for Ölvir, even though he would never see him again in life.
Crackle. Crack. Crack...
But as he watched quietly, something about the flames seemed strange. It was as though the sensations and thoughts he felt when looking at fire had changed. It felt familiar, yet alien.
For example, even without touching wood, he could roughly tell what it would feel like against his fingertips. The same was true of metal, water, and stone.
Of course, he knew that fire burned when touched. Passing through it briefly would be fine, perhaps.
But now, it did not seem as though it would burn him at all. Rather, it felt alive, as if it were speaking to him.
Give me more wood. I want to devour it all. Pet me...
Valerie reached out and brought his hand close to the firewood. Sísrik watched with anxious eyes, holding his breath.
What is he doing?
Even after Valerie put his hand into the flames and time passed, it was not hot at all. Instead, the fire flickered softly, almost as if it were acting cute. The flames truly moved as though they were drawn by Valerie's hand.
When he gently gathered up a handful of flame, it burned in his palm. Sísrik's eyes widened.
Valerie stroked the flame as though playing with a soft ball of cotton. Then a voice came more clearly than before, as if whispering into his ear.
I was born with the birth of the world. I can always come into being, and I can disappear. Yet I do not cease to exist. I am unyielding fighting spirit, burning vengeance, immortal hatred, fiery love, every passion. I am Ignis. Call me. Call my name. Let me love you...
“Ignis.”
Following the flame's whisper, Valerie murmured the name.
The flame burning in his palm disappeared, as though a contract had been completed.
For a moment, flames seemed to form in Valerie's eyes before they returned to their usual sky-blue color.
“What was that just now?”
Sísrik asked with wide eyes. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost.
“I don't know.”
Valerie did not know exactly what had happened to him either.
Then the tent entrance was pulled aside. Someone poked their head in. It was Adrin.
“Um, Lord Valerie...?”
Not long ago, she had spoken to him casually and called him by name. Not now. Whether it was because he had killed a dragon, because she had been utterly defeated by his beauty, or both, Valerie did not know.
“What is it?”
“The chieftain of the Sinan Clan wishes to see you. What should we do?”
“What does he want?”
“They say there is a skilled slave blacksmith. He said he could make equipment from the dragon's corpse, so they brought him here first.”
“Is that so? I will meet him. Let him in.”
A chieftain was practically a king here, yet the chieftain needed permission to meet Valerie. That was because the Cambrians now regarded Valerie as a near-divine being.
Sure enough, the chieftain removed the fur cap commonly worn by Cambrians, disarmed themselves, and entered on their knees. Without even looking at Valerie, he first prostrated himself fully.
“Do not show me such reverence. Formalities are unnecessary. Respect in your heart is enough. Speak freely of your business.”
At Valerie's words, the chieftain remained prostrate for a moment before slowly raising themselves.
“Not long ago, we captured a slave with exceptional skill. He said he could handle a dragon's corpse, and asked to be brought before its owner, so I brought him here.”
“Bring him in.”
Only after Valerie agreed did the chieftain signal outside again. Soon, a clinking sound was heard. To Valerie's surprise, the person entering looked young and had pointed ears.
The blacksmith who entered the tent was none other than Regin, wearing an iron collar around his neck. His eye was bruised, and he was swollen from being beaten all over, but it was undoubtedly Regin.
“Huh?”
“Ah!?”
Meeting in such an unexpected place, Valerie and Regin were both startled at once.
Regin's face twisted as though he were about to cry, and he tried to run over and embrace Valerie.
“Sid! Ack!”
But the Sinan chieftain yanked the chain, catching Regin by the neck.
Valerie flinched in disbelief, then rose from his seat.
“It is fine. Release him.”
“He uses foul magic. You must be careful.”
“He is my friend. Release him.”
The chieftain seemed to think that a warrior who had killed a dragon would not be helpless against one dwarf, so they obediently released Regin.
“Then...”
Freed from the collar, Regin rushed at Valerie again and burst into loud sobs.
“Sid! You came to save me! Waaah!”
“That is not why I came...”
“It was so hard. These bastards kept beating me, and they would not let me sleep. So I made horns grow out of their asses, and they beat me even more...”
“...How did you get captured?”
Regin wrapped his arms around Valerie's waist and answered with only his head lowered. His clothes were covered in tears and snot. Valerie's expression twisted for a moment, but he did not say anything.
“A volcanic eruption was about to happen, so I came here. You cannot get lava and volcanic ash whenever you want. But there was a dragon living here, so I stayed around the area for a while. Then some brats were eating apples. I cannot control myself around apples, you know? So I gave them a few knocks, took them, and ate them. Then these bastards came riding horses...”
It was so pathetic that Valerie could not think of anything to say.
“You used tremendous magic when you killed that witch. Why didn't you use it to escape?”
“Hey! Do you think magic can do everything? That witch had smeared trashy magic all over her face and body, so I only used it against her. The people here are too ignorant, so my magic does not work properly on them.”
“...Anyway, it is good to see you again. Chieftain, you may leave. Thank you for bringing him here.”
“What? You are not going to kill them? They tormented me!”
“Be quiet. It is not like you did nothing wrong.”
“What!? S-Sid... You have changed...”
“And I am not Sid. I am Valerie.”
“Huh? Ah... Right. I suppose you are...”
Regin looked sullen.
In truth, this was not the first time Regin had lived as a slave. When Sigurd was young, Regin had also been captured and made to work as a blacksmith. Sigurd had no father, and his mother trained him in a way that was close to abuse, so Regin became the only one who would talk with him. That was how they became friends.
Regin reforged the broken Gram, Sigurd freed him, and they hunted Fafnir together, becoming inseparable friends. But Regin no longer had that friend.
In any case, for a wicked and infamous mage as well as an excellent blacksmith, Regin had many careless sides. It was clear enough from how he kept getting captured and living as a slave.
After the chieftain left the tent, only Valerie, Regin, and Sísrik remained. Sísrik was so terrified by how unreal everything was that he hid in a corner, trembling with fear.
Whether Sísrik did so or not, Valerie asked Regin,
“I heard that Sigurd the Dragonslayer roasted and ate a dragon's heart. But this one would not cook over a fire. Is something wrong with it? Is it because it is old?”
Though Regin had been sulking, his emotions changed quickly, and he seemed to stop caring at once.
“So you are the one who killed the dragon. I knew it. But idiot, this is a fire dragon's heart. Do you think it will cook over fire? You need to boil it in water.”
“Really? But is there any benefit to eating the heart?”
“Not particularly. If you drink dragon's blood, your power goes out of control and you eventually die. It just makes that easier to control. You could say it changes your constitution a little. You will become a bit stronger too.”
Then Regin went to the entrance and spoke to Adrin, who was outside.
“Hey, ugly girl. Go bring a pot. A big one. And bring as much water as you can.”
“What did you say?”
“Did you already forget what I just said?”
“No, you called me ugly?”
“Then are you pretty?”
“...Hey, you do it. What is wrong with you?”
“...”
Regin stood still for a moment before going to get it himself.
He brought back a large pot, built up the firewood, and placed it over the flames. Then he filled it with water and put the stone-like dragon's heart inside.
“You need to boil it for three days. Keep watch over it. I will go make armor from the scales.”
“Can you make horse armor too?”
“Listen, Mr. Valerie. Dragon scales are extremely rare materials, but it takes more than one or two things to make anything from them. You cannot just make whatever you want.”
“So you cannot make it?”
“That is not what I said. Nothing is impossible for me.”
His personality was impossible to pin down, and he was simple in some ways too. In short, he was like a child.
A rather cruel and twisted child.
Regin went outside. Then he went around boasting of his friendship with Valerie. He recovered his sword as well, and found Andvari's Ring in his own excrement after having swallowed it in a hurry when he was captured.
In any case, Valerie boiled the heart of Húginnis, the fire dragon, for three days. Since the water kept evaporating, he had to refill it, and he stayed beside it just in case.
Before that, the fire dragon scale armor was completed, and he tried it on. It had leather lining and protected his torso, shoulders, forearms, thighs, and shins.
It was light and did not hinder his movements, but that mobility meant it did not thoroughly protect the joints. After its grime was removed and it was polished, the red of the scales shone like rubies.
It was too flashy, so Valerie wore a black Cambrian battle robe over it. Of course, the robe had Cambrian-style embroidery, so it was just as flashy.
After three days, the dragon's heart, which had been boiled while he constantly added wood and water, became a little softer.
He took it out, let it cool, and tasted it. It was not fit for human consumption. It was far too fishy. How had his great-grandfather eaten this?
Even after adding salt and trying everything he could, he could not hide the fishy taste. So he ate it over two days, retching the entire time.
He retched so much and forced down what rose in his throat so often that he was exhausted. He had no time to examine any changes in his body.
“As long as humans are human, they cannot use a dragon's power in its entirety. Remember that.”
Regin said.
Unless he allowed his power to run wild at the cost of his life, Valerie could not display power like Thorvald before the regression, or Valerie himself had displayed in Gringen.
In Thorvald's case, he had merely lived longer because his runes were compatible with that power. It had only been a matter of time before he died.
In any case, the seal placed on Valerie by the rune-mage Sigrún naturally came undone, allowing him to use the dragon's power more fully and forcefully than before.
He would need to rest first, however.
“What will you do? Do you want to come with me?”
Valerie asked Regin.
“I am going to stay around the volcano for a while. And no matter what anyone says, you are Sid to me. Understood?”
“Do whatever you want...”
Valerie spoke as he mounted Snow. Since horse armor could be cumbersome for a horse, he had packed it as luggage for now.
When Valerie looked back from horseback, the Cambrians were watching him leave. They seemed at a loss.
Did they think he was abandoning them?
Adrin was the one who finally gathered enough courage to approach him.
“What about us?”
“What about you?”
“Th-The god, no, the dragon is dead...”
Once the being they had revered almost like a god was gone, they did not know what to do. Even Adrin, who had wanted so badly to live.
But Valerie could not simply call them foolish.
He thought that people would never change in this regard, no matter how much time passed. Even people who did not believe in gods always had something they regarded like one.
Money, honor, power, ideals, anything.
When it collapsed, people would be flustered, angry, and anxious.
What could he tell them?
Even if he told them, would they understand?
“Do not kill without reason. Find salvation in your own lives. I think heaven is not where you go after death. It is found in life.”
After saying that, Valerie rode away with Sísrik.
The volcanic ash that had fallen for three days ceased. The air was still somewhat hazy, but the sun shone.
Several small and large rainbow-colored sun halos formed in the air. It was a natural phenomenon that could only be seen for one day every thirty years, a sight that resembled heaven itself.
Valerie left that place and returned along the path he had taken.
Had it been about ten days since he first set out with Ölvir? What if his friends were waiting for him? Should he go see the Third Prince, or simply return to Hayden Crossroads?
What did it matter?
Thanks to all this, he felt a little freer.
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