Chapter 49

Translator: Willia

Now it was the two counts' turn. They got along so well that it was hard to understand why their two houses had been bitter enemies all this time.

Aethelred, Count of Winsloe, took control of the Torvik Citadel and the surrounding area, while Aethelwulf, Count of Winddale, took control of the city and its outskirts.

If too many troops were concentrated in one place, they would have trouble responding if some unexpected development arose elsewhere. The two counts met frequently to discuss what they should do from here.

It was not quite a Rebellion, but the situation came close. One wrong move could bring both houses down together, or conversely, put power into their hands.

What did they need to be wary of, and how ambitious could they afford to be? This was no ordinary situation, so every decision had to be made carefully.

It was no different from walking along the edge of a blade.

“Wouldn't execution be going too far?”

Count Levi cautiously broached the subject. Winsloe and Winddale were the ones leading matters, but he too was a count, so for form's sake, he had a seat at the table.

Aethelred and Aethelwulf said nothing, so Count Levi continued.

“After all, Young Lord Gunnar is no ordinary man. He holds the Succession Right. In principle, when a Lord dies, his Noble Title and property pass automatically to his successor......”

That was the problem. If anyone else had killed the Duke, they could simply tear him apart and be done with it. But what happened when the murderer was the man who held the Succession Right?

Of course, there had been cases in history where a son rebelled against his father and seized power.

But it was difficult to regard this as such a case. There was a world of difference between launching a Rebellion after building up a solid power base and simply killing someone out of the blue.

“Isn't there another Legitimate Heir besides Young Lord Gunnar? What's more, he's the child of a Valkyrie. Wouldn't His Majesty look favorably on installing him?”

Count Winddale spoke. Apparently, he favored the Third Young Lord, Knut.

“Besides, he has yet to come of age, so he will need a regent. That means we could continue steering affairs for another year or two.”

“But weren't we crossing swords with him until only recently? Even when His Excellency was alive, Knut was hardly being pushed as the Heir......”

“His Excellency is gone now.”

Count Winddale stared quietly at Count Levi, almost glaring at him. What was the point of worrying about the wishes of a man who was already dead? It would only add to the confusion, and there was nothing in it for them.

“......What do you think, Count Winsloe?”

Count Levi asked Aethelred, who had remained silent throughout.

“Shouldn't we first provide for the families of those who died in battle? We can fund it by liquidating the ducal house's assets.”

“And after that? Whom are you saying we should support?”

Taking care of the families of the fallen was obviously necessary, and it was something they could do, but the fundamental question of succession still had to be settled. They had not gone through all this merely to clean up after the war.

“Let us form a Committee. It should consist of His Excellency's retainers, former members of the Advisory Council, and the knights. Let the Committee decide on the successor, and we can discuss punishment afterward. I think that would be the proper way to do it. If we remove Young Lord Gunnar on our own authority, things may be fine for the moment, but we could end up facing the consequences later.”

“A Committee......”

Count Winddale muttered. He did not look particularly pleased. The three of them, or strictly speaking, the two of them, could simply make the decision themselves, so he disliked the very idea of involving a host of other people.

“If we lead them properly, won't they follow our direction? If we can't manage even that much, then this was never something we should have attempted by ourselves in the first place.”

“Hmm...... Very well. But let us proceed slowly when it comes to forming the Committee.”

“It may also be wise to let word of it slip out beforehand. That way, we can at least distinguish those who wish to join the Committee from those who intend merely to stand aside.”

Aethelred was not acting out of pure goodwill either. He simply intended to install the next Duke cautiously, following proper procedure and maintaining appearances as much as possible, so that it would not cause trouble later.

“By the way, what do you suppose that was?”

Count Winddale voiced the question almost to himself.

Aethelred understood what he meant, but Count Levi, who had not been there at the time, did not.

“What are you referring to?”

“Should I call it an incarnation of one of the Dead Gods? Or was it an Einheri...... If it was an Einheri, why did he suddenly appear there? Did His Majesty quietly intervene? If so, why?”

“Could what Young Lord Gunnar said actually have been true?”

“He may be a little slow, but he isn't one to lie.”

“Then why don't we simply ask His Majesty what he wants?”

“Sending a messenger and waiting for a reply would take too long. Besides, if we intended to ask His Majesty what to do, why are we doing all this ourselves?”

“True. His Excellency made things difficult for us in all sorts of ways while he was alive......”

Winsloe was not the only one Duke Sven had harried under the pretext of keeping his Vassals in check and governing them.

Count Winddale and Count Levi had suffered plenty as well. That was why they intended to use this opportunity to install a new Duke more to their liking, or at least put measures in place to keep the next Duke from restraining them in the same way.

If they asked the King or left the decision to him, they might end up dealing with the same inconvenience all over again. Once a Duke was installed, it was not something they could simply endure for a day or two and be done with.

“Still, what happens if we choose the successor among ourselves and the King refuses to ratify him?”

“It is an old tradition for powerful Chieftains to gather and choose the next King. This is an exceptional situation, so His Majesty should understand. And if the King refuses to ratify our choice, then that simply gives us more time to deliberate among ourselves. That may actually be preferable.”

Count Winddale answered Count Levi's question.

In principle, only a superior liege could grant a Noble Title. In other words, only the King could appoint a Duke.

However, once the appointment had been made, even the King could not casually revoke or strip that Noble Title unless there had been a Rebellion. Authority over governance, inheritance, national defense, finances, and everything else belonged to the Duke and his house.

That was simply how Feudalism worked. Central authority had grown stronger since the tribal era, but even a King could not do whatever he pleased. Local affairs were for the locals to handle, and they had the right to do so.

More importantly, what worked in the counts' favor was that the man who had murdered the Duke was none other than the First Young Lord. It was not as though they themselves had staged a Rebellion.

“Then for now, let us begin by taking care of the families of the fallen. We will provide enough money and food to see them through this year, and for households that lost the husband or father who supported them, we will arrange remarriages. I will handle the liquidation of the ducal house's assets.”

Aethelred spoke. The other two counts divided the remaining duties between themselves, matters such as maintaining public order and organizing the Committee.

That brought the day's meeting to an end. Nothing was certain yet, but the balance concerning the next Duke seemed to be tipping toward the Third Young Lord, Knut.

The Duke's death had thrown the entire duchy into disorder. Some trembled with anxiety, some suffered losses, and some were profiting.

The clearest beneficiary was the city of Grinnen. The Trade Embargo had been imposed while the Duke was alive, so the moment he died, Torvik's merchants resumed trade with Grinnen without even worrying about what anyone might think.

The two counts who now controlled Torvik could have maintained the Trade Embargo, but they had no particular desire to continue the Duke's policy merely for the sake of honoring his wishes.

Besides, the war had consumed enormous amounts of money and supplies, so there was actually a need to encourage trade. Instead, they replenished their finances through Tariff collection.

They might have been fighting a war only days earlier, but wartime hostility meant little when livelihoods were at stake.

It was not as though the merchants had started the war in the first place. More importantly, they had not even taken part in the fighting. If anything, the Duke had been the one squeezing them for money and supplies.

Like a blocked artery suddenly opening, Grinnen's southern wharf swarmed with merchant ships, and the newly built warehouses were packed to the brim with trade goods.

The citizens of Grinnen now had money to spend as well, and eagerly bought both necessities and luxuries.

All of it had been possible because Valery was there. More precisely, because of the Dwarf Regin's gold.

The wharf was the busiest place in the city. Valery and his friends, however, were nowhere near it. They were building an embankment along the outskirts of the wetlands.

Before an embankment could be built through the wetlands, the tidal-flat-like mud first had to be dredged away. Then large stones and gravel were laid down, and the embankment was gradually built up while everything was mortared together.

After all that work, Valery, his friends, and the other laborers were covered in mud almost up to their chests. The labor was indescribably grueling.

“Ugh, my back. Let's take a break.”

Skard was the first to speak, planting his shovel deep into the muddy ground. His clothes were already ruined and his face was a mess, so he simply dropped down right where he was.

Valery, Arne, Yorik, and Knut also stopped working for a while. Knut, of course, was not doing the work for pay.

The five naturally gathered and sat together. Some women had brought food for the break, and the other workers were already resting.

When the women came over and lifted the cloths covering the baskets and hampers, they revealed an abundance of appetizing food and drink. Freshly baked bread, fresh ham, Ale, cheese, and the like.

Their mouths watered at once. As soon as the five poured water from their canteens over their hands to wash them, they dug into the food ravenously. After grueling labor, a meal tasted better than anything else in the world.

Once they had filled their stomachs somewhat, Arne asked Valery,

“Why did you suddenly decide to start a Land Reclamation Project? Trade's thriving now, and people seem to be managing fine on their own.”

“Because we can't depend on trade alone. We need to secure farmland so we can feed ourselves.”

“But won't this take a long time?”

Skard asked.

“Yeah. Decades at least, maybe even hundreds of years. I'm not doing it on a large scale for now.”

“I've wondered this for a while, but do you really have to go this far?”

“I don't know. Seeing people become self-reliant just makes me feel good for some reason. I'm not doing it out of goodwill. I do it because it makes me feel good.”

Valery answered calmly.

Yet his friends felt an inexplicable sense of distance from him. It came from the godlike might he had displayed in the final battle, and from the way his thoughts seemed to go beyond anything ordinary.

Great, perhaps even majestic. Just how far did this friend's gaze extend? He seemed to be looking far beyond the worldly dreams other people contented themselves with.

“By the way, did you hear the news? About the First Young Lord. They say he's been imprisoned since the war.”

At Yorik's words, Knut's hand paused in the middle of his meal.

“They say he killed the Duke. Just out of nowhere. Apparently His Excellency really tore into him over losing the war, and then he suddenly bashed him with his shield and killed him.”

“......Who locked him up?”

Skard asked.

“The counts. I don't know what they're going to do with him, but apparently the counts are the ones ruling Torvik now.”

“But does that have anything...... to do with us?”

Skard said while glancing at Knut. As far as he knew, the brothers of the ducal house were not particularly close.

“I don't know. His Excellency could be pretty harsh. Especially with the Young Lords. I can't say I'm glad he's dead...... I don't know.”

Arne let the rest trail off. The Duke had been their enemy until only recently, but he was still Knut's father.

Still, all of this had begun because the Duke had locked Knut in a cage and they had rescued him. That made it difficult to feel much grief over the Duke's death.

Knut chewed the food in his mouth. But it looked less like eating than simply moving his jaw. His eyes made it clear that his thoughts were elsewhere.

After a while, he put down the bread in his hand and said,

“I don't want my brother punished. Am I being selfish?”

“More than that, though... if Young Lord Gunnar gets punished, wouldn't that make you the Duke, Young Master?”

Yorik asked. Arne, sitting beside him, poked him in the ribs and shook his head.

Knut did not seem to mind, of course. They were his friends. They could say whatever they wanted to him.

Valery sliced some ham with his dagger, ate it with cheese on top, then took a sip of Ale before speaking.

“The counts will probably back you, Knut. That way they can act as regents. What do you think?”

Knut thought silently for a moment before answering.

“Didn't I say before? The North feels stifling. I'm not cut out to be a Duke. I don't want to be one, either.”

“But even so, the First Young Lord killed the Duke. Can he really inherit the title? Even if he isn't punished, wouldn't he lose his Succession Right?”

Arne pointed out the practical problem.

Valery answered in his place.

“Stripping someone of the Succession Right isn't something the counts can presume to decide. If they want to do things properly, the next Duke has to be installed first, and then that Duke should hand down the punishment.”

In short, both procedurally and for the sake of appearances, it made the most sense for Knut, once he became Duke, to be the one who punished Gunnar for murdering the previous Duke.

Valery thought the counts would steer matters in that direction.

Count Winsloe was sensible enough that, looking ahead, he would realize having Vassals punish the successor of the ducal house themselves was a step too far. And he would be right.

If the counts punished the First Young Lord on their own, things might be fine for the moment, but a discontented faction could emerge later, a Rebellion could break out, or the King could take issue with what they had done. If that happened, it would be beyond what the counts could handle.

“So they're just going to back Young Master, then......”

“Probably.”

“But Young Master doesn't want it.”

“I don't know anymore.”

Skard spoke midway through the conversation with a resigned air.

In the past, he had thought that becoming a great noble meant having everything a man could want. But after following Valery and experiencing so much, he at least understood that it was not something so simple.

The same was true of Arne and Yorik. Their days of knowing nothing about the world were over.

“This time, I'll go alone. I'll tell them I'm renouncing my Succession Right. And I'll ask them to release my brother.”

“......Will they release him? He did kill His Excellency, after all...... I don't mean to discourage you.”

Arne voiced his doubts. More than anything else, he was worried about Knut.

Would the two counts truly be well disposed toward Knut? Even if they backed him as the next Duke, Arne suspected they would only try to turn him into a puppet. It was difficult to expect genuine loyalty from them.

“Someone once told me that if you're going to regret something either way, it's better to act and regret it than to do nothing and regret that. I'm trying to be brave in my own way. I don't want to keep burdening you guys. So I'll go alone.”

That someone had been Valery.

Valery considered it quietly, then decided that the time had come to reveal his identity. The authority of a Prince should be enough to bring this matter to a conclusion.

He had also received Rune Mage Sigrún's approval, so revealing his identity now would no longer bring harm to House Winsloe.

Of course, once his status as a Prince became known, one of two things would happen. He would either gather forces and begin preparing in advance for the Succession War, or he would become the target of threats against his life.

As was usually the case in life, solving one problem only brought the next.

But had he ever hesitated in fear merely because problems lay ahead? Absolutely not. Once he had made up his mind, that was enough.

“Let's go together.”

Valery spoke. The words were simple, but they carried weight.

Knut was about to refuse and insist that he would go alone when Skard beat him to it.

“Three of us charged five hundred men. What is there we can't do?”

They had clearly grown bolder and more daring than before. People grew after surviving a great crisis.

Arne was not thrilled about it either, but since things had come this far, he nodded in agreement.

“Then let's start with a toast.”

Yorik said, raising his bottle. Everyone stared at him as if wondering why he had suddenly brought up a toast, and Yorik grinned.

“To Young Master's freedom, to the friendship between companions, to the bond between brothers, to the peace of Grinnen, and finally, to everything.”

Perhaps Yorik really had become a wordsmith, because every now and then, he came out with something surprisingly eloquent.

Valery raised his bottle and held it out. It clinked lightly against Yorik's and crossed over it, then the other three bottles joined them. It looked like five swords crossed together as their owners swore an oath.

By the end, everyone was smiling.

“To everything.”