WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
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◈ Prince of Rage ◈
Chapter 99
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Soldiers of the fief, mercenaries, and knights.
Regardless of origin, troop type, or social standing, all those who fought on the battlefield ultimately traced back to one thing.
They were warriors.
Whether they fought on horseback or wielded swords and axes did not matter.
What mattered was the courage not to retreat, and the exceptional skill to overwhelm their enemies and win.
Legends of such warriors had been passed down and were still sung as immortal ballads.
But after the age of such legends had passed and large-scale warfare developed, perhaps division of labor became more important. The way one fought differed by troop type, and one’s role differed by mission.
The essence of group warfare was each person’s methods and duties fitting together to produce fighting strength. The larger the group became, the more important specialization and cooperation were. Command was what brought it all together.
Thus, whether they were soldiers of the fief, mercenaries, or knights, the word that encompassed them all was soldier.
Yet warriors had not disappeared simply because times had changed. How could one fight on a battlefield without courage, or overwhelm enemies without honing one’s skills?
It had merely become more complex and difficult. Its essence had not changed, and never would.
No matter how much time passed.
Strong winds blew ceaselessly over Burningstone. The banners snapped and fluttered like vigorous flames, though the standard-bearers looked rather miserable.
Armed people had gathered below the high ground. Seemingly just arrived, they had not even formed ranks. They merely stood or sat scattered here and there.
The terrain was not good even for horses to move through, so the knights were all on foot. One of them removed his stifling helmet and surveyed the high ground.
Irritation and exhaustion showed on Count Gareth’s face. Count Gareth was a member of the Antler Alliance and the commander of the current force.
Count Gareth’s eyes fell upon a small but sturdy castle.
“This won’t do...”
Count Gareth muttered to themself, then turned and looked over the troops.
Winter had prevented Count Gareth from calling up the entire force, but this was still the largest force currently available.
There were a little over two hundred people, but a hundred of them handled supplies. Only about a hundred could properly fight.
Yet even those hundred looked listless, like soldiers already defeated. That was winter for you. Merely living outdoors was exhausting and painful.
They had also been too anxious to retrieve the prince quickly, so the force had not been properly organized. They had simply gathered enough bodies to deal with the immediate need.
But in life, there were times when it was difficult to turn back once something had begun.
This was one of those times.
They could not disband the force without achieving anything, yet there were far too many things lacking if they truly intended to fight.
History was full of foolish failures, and most happened this way. People knew something was wrong, but still tried to make it work somehow because they had no choice, only to ruin themselves.
Of course, great figures sometimes overcame such difficulties, but such things rarely happened. That was why they were called heroes.
Would Count Gareth prove to be a hero, or an ordinary person? In truth, even withdrawing would have been a courageous decision.
Valerie’s boast that he would fight alone was based on calculations like these. It was not arrogance born from being strong enough to kill a dragon.
What sort of wind was this? Count Gareth was almost resentful that anyone lived in such a place.
There was a reason even the Norsemen, who had seemed ready to set the entire world ablaze during the War of Conquest, had not even glanced at Burningstone.
“If we spread out the troops to show our strength, then open negotiations, Count Burningstone will have no choice. We came to borrow the road, not to fight. We only need to persuade him of that and buy him off with money. There is no need to worry too much.”
One of Count Gareth’s subordinates spoke. Count Gareth thought the subordinate was right. They had not come to fight.
“Put the standard-bearers on the high ground. Spread the soldiers wide to either side.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The troops moved at the Count’s command. Rather than moving in orderly formation, though, they shuffled about. From a distance, they looked like a mass of writhing insects.
Still, they somehow managed to make it look as if a large army had arrived when viewed from above. Count Gareth and several knights then stepped over the uneven rocks and headed for the castle.
When they reached it, the castle looked truly insignificant. Count Gareth was irritated that they had to go through all this over such a place, but there was no helping it.
“Ho there! Is anyone there? Count Gareth of Edelia has arrived!”
One of the knights shouted grandly toward the castle. Yet the knight’s voice seemed to be swept away halfway by the fierce wind.
“Lord of the castle! It is impolite not to come out when guests have arrived! Show Count Gareth the respect befitting his rank!”
The knight shouted again. Someone appeared atop the wall, and after looking closely to see who it was, they were startled.
It was Valerie.
“The lord of the castle is resting. Why are you shouting so loudly?”
“You, you...!”
Count Gareth and the knights could not help but look as though they had seen a ghost. They had all believed Valerie would be at Hayden Crossroads.
They could only gape soundlessly.
“Withdrawing is also a courageous decision. I will give you the chance. Leave.”
Valerie spoke.
Then a fire seemed to rise in Count Gareth’s chest from nowhere.
“You bastard! Kidnapper! And you call yourself a dragon-slayer? I have never seen anyone as vile as you in all my life! Why do you interfere with everything I do? You should be the one to get lost! Come and face me fairly in the open field!”
“By facing each other fairly, do you mean a one-on-one duel?”
“Not that!”
“It is not I, but incompetent commanders like you who drive innocent soldiers to their deaths. Be grateful you are still breathing, and leave while I am asking nicely. I will count to three. If you have not withdrawn by then, I will kill you first. One!”
Even so, ordering an entire force to withdraw before he counted to three was asking too much. Regardless, Valerie continued counting.
“Two!”
“Hey!”
“Three!”
The moment he counted to three, Valerie truly jumped down from the castle wall. It was about twice a person’s height, yet he did not hesitate in the slightest.
As Valerie actually leaped down, the knights with the quickest reflexes immediately hoisted Count Gareth onto their backs and hurried down the slope.
The banners below fluttered with such majestic force, but everyone fled in blind panic. The soldiers below watched the entire disgraceful sight.
“Crossbowmen! Crossbowmeeen!”
One knight cried out urgently. But Valerie rushed in with ghostly speed from behind, thrust his sword into the knight’s back, and sliced outward.
“Agh!”
The startled knights hurriedly turned, raised their shields, and drew their weapons, but Valerie was nowhere to be seen. He had moved too fast. Brushing past them in a low stance, he cut down another knight.
They were knights heavily armored behind shields, yet what sort of blade cut through all of it like cheese?
“Dragon-slayer!”
Someone shouted then. It came from among the soldiers.
The soldier was enormous and carried a two-handed axe. While everyone else trembled in fear, they stepped forward.
They wore a gambeson, and the only metal armor they had was a helmet. Judging by their equipment, they were an ordinary soldier.
“Fight me! Leave the Count alone!”
Valerie could easily have killed Count Gareth, but he stopped and looked back down at the Count from above.
Then he rushed straight at the soldier.
An incompetent commander could be left alive, but even a single brave soldier could not. That soldier was more dangerous.
The uneven ground restricted movement. Even so, Valerie bounded down it like a mountain goat. In an instant, he nearly reached the soldier, standing atop a rock and looking down at them.
He held his sword in one hand as his hair and cloak streamed in the wind.
“I bear no personal grudge. I commend your courage.”
“...”
At Valerie’s words, the brave soldier pressed their lips together and gave no answer. They only faced Valerie from below, their eyes shining.
Unable to waste time, Valerie stepped onto a rock between them, sprang over to the other side, and raised his sword high above his head.
In that brief moment, the brave soldier swung his two-handed axe powerfully at Valerie’s opening, aiming for his waist. It was a fierce blow, but it could not compare to the speed of Valerie’s downward strike.
It was like lightning striking down.
Rumble!
Valerie split the axe in two and cleaved his opponent in half. It happened in an instant.
What everyone registered more clearly than the sight before them was the sound of thunder.
Then arrows flew straight at Valerie from both sides. There were around fifteen. Most missed, but two or three flew true.
Yet Valerie simply flicked his sword around as if swatting flies, easily knocking the arrows away.
To the enemy soldiers, it was despair. The fear of facing something against which there was simply no answer.
Arrows did not work, yet they could not fight him up close either. How were they supposed to fight him?
Valerie immediately threw his sword.
It lodged precisely in the back of the knight still carrying Count Gareth as he fled.
The knight jerked once and nearly collapsed, but planted their feet firmly and endured. Then they kept running with the sword embedded in their back.
They reached the soldiers, saved their lord to the end, and finally fell.
Even Valerie was briefly at a loss for words at such remarkable endurance.
The enemy soldiers hurried to pull Valerie’s sword from the knight’s back. But no matter how hard they tried, it would not come free, as if it had been enchanted.
“What is this?”
Even several people pulling together could not make it budge.
Valerie did not hurry. He slowly walked down toward his sword. As he drew closer, the enemy soldiers panicked and scattered.
At last, Valerie reached his sword, grasped its hilt, and pulled it free. Blood ran down the blade as it slid out easily.
He swung the sword twice through the air as though shaking off blood. Flames rose from its blade and burned away every remaining drop.
But it did not end there.
The flames climbing the blade spread to the hilt, his hand, and his arm, then engulfed Valerie’s entire body. In the fierce wind, the flames wrapped around him and streamed wildly.
By coincidence, the black rock Valerie stood upon looked as though it had melted.
Burningstone.
Perhaps a dragon had breathed fire on it and melted it in the distant past. And perhaps, before recorded history, another unnamed dragon-slayer had fought that dragon.
Now Valerie stood atop it.
The dragon-slayer of the present age, acknowledged by all. The man who had felled the impossible.
And his eyes.
Valerie’s eyes shone brightly within the flames.
“Gasp... Pant...!”
The nearby soldiers who witnessed the sight stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed, trembling. Some lost the strength in their legs and collapsed. Others threw down their weapons and ran.
Countless weapons lay scattered across the ground. Spears, swords, shields, crossbows, bows. Every kind of weapon was there.
Even Count Gareth, barely able to think, saw Valerie’s appearance and fled in utter shock. He ran, fell, crawled, rose again, and ran once more.
Then, as though a candle had suddenly gone out, the flames engulfing Valerie were swept away by the fierce wind and vanished.
Half the enemy soldiers had fled, while those farther away craned their necks and watched, wondering what in the world was happening.
In short, they were not an army. They were merely a mob.
Valerie surveyed the battlefield and, apparently deciding this was enough, sheathed his sword.
Then he climbed back toward the castle.
When he reached it, Count Saxon and his adjutant were peeking over the castle wall. Their expressions were no different from those of the enemy soldiers. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung open.
The castle gate opened, and Valerie entered once more. Other than a little blood splattered on his cloak and clothes, there was hardly any sign of battle upon him.
Count Saxon and the others came down from the wall, completely different from when they had first met. Indeed, showing something once was far more effective than trying to persuade someone with many words.
“I believe simply collecting the weapons abandoned on the ground is more than enough to fulfill my promise.”
“...That is true...”
“I am a busy man, so I must leave once the enemy has withdrawn. I have fulfilled my promise first, so I trust that you will fulfill yours as well. If the enemy returns, do not give them the road.”
“That is true as well...”
Perhaps Count Saxon was somewhat dazed, because he merely agreed with whatever Valerie said.
Hearing rumors about a dragon-slayer was vague enough, but seeing one with one’s own eyes was enough to make one’s heart tremble.
“Despite the world’s indifference, it is certainly noble that you have guarded this castle for generations, whatever methods you employed. I know that cannot have been easy. The new Duke of Nearcaster will not turn a blind eye to your role, so you need not react to outsiders like rough stone every time.”
After saying that, Valerie removed his cloak and sat by the fireplace to rest.
It was as though the situation had reversed. The master of the house was now the one unable to settle down.
The enemy had withdrawn and did not return.
Perhaps they had bought themselves time for at least the winter, but that could not be known for certain.
In any case, that was something to wait and see. For now, Valerie merely rested his chin on his hand as he watched the burning logs, lost in thought about the brave soldier and loyal knight he had seen earlier.
They had both been soldiers, yet they had also been warriors.
Lives bloomed and fell on the battlefield. There was little point in dwelling on them, but a warrior’s heart did not contain courage alone.
There was also respect for one’s opponent, and so regret was unavoidable.
He did not know their names, where they came from, or what lives they had lived.
Certainly, Valerie was no longer as cold as he had been in the days when he had neither blood nor tears.
That did not mean he was indiscriminately generous or merciful. But at least, he possessed respect.
Perhaps that was where all beginnings, or all change, lay.
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