Chapter 51

Translator: Willia

As was usually the case with castles, the lighting was not particularly good. A band of white light from the window cut straight across the room, while the rest lay in darkness.

There were none of the usual refreshments for guests on the table, nor any liquor. Valery placed a golden cloak clasp on the bare tabletop.

“The Valknutr......”

Count Aethelred murmured. Three interlocking triangles, the Slain Warrior’s Knot, the symbol of the Einheri.

“Even if my identity comes to light now, it will no longer bring harm to House Winsloe. With this, I consider my debt for being raised by you repaid.”

Valery spoke. The white beam of light cutting between them obscured his face so perfectly that Aethelred could not see his expression.

A brief silence followed. Valery tucked the cloak clasp back into his clothes and continued.

“Perhaps I should say I’ve been freed from the bonds of obligation. Not that I ever particularly felt bound by them, but what I mean is that I will show no further consideration beyond this point. I commend you for how cleanly you handled matters after the Duke’s death. But that is as far as it goes. Do you understand?”

Valery was telling him that the Counts were no longer to take it upon themselves to interfere in the ducal succession or the matter of Gunnar’s punishment.

It was true that Valery felt a certain fondness for the Count, the Countess, and House Winsloe. They had, after all, given him laughter.

But as Valery had said, that was as far as it went. Personal matters were personal, and public matters were public. Valery drew a clear line between the two.

Perhaps sensing that, Count Aethelred answered respectfully.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

Valery turned toward the window.

“Summon the retainers, the knights belonging to the ducal house, and the other two Counts to the castle. Nothing good will come of leaving the ducal seat vacant for long.”

“I shall.”

Count Aethelred was now unquestionably in a position where he had to follow Valery’s orders. He seemed well aware of that himself.

Count Aethelred bowed, then left and closed the door behind him. Click. With the sound of the door shutting, silence filled the room.

There was nothing in the room but Valery and a single quiet shaft of light.

With word that Knut had arrived and an urgent summons from the Count of Winsloe, the Count of Winddale hurried back to the citadel.

Armed knights and soldiers moved about the citadel courtyard. They did not seem to be doing anything in particular, yet the place looked strangely unsettled.

“What is going on? Where is the Third Young Lord?”

The Count of Winddale questioned a knight without even dismounting.

“We were ordered to reduce the garrison inside the citadel.”

“Who gave that order?”

“Count Winsloe...... He also ordered that all the ducal retainers and knights be released.”

“What?”

The Count of Winddale stared in bewilderment. Having something like this done without even consulting him wounded his pride. Why in the world would they release the ducal retainers and knights?

All sorts of thoughts crossed his mind. Had something gone wrong? Or were the other two Counts plotting something without him? For now, however, he hurriedly dismounted to find the Count of Winsloe.

Then, accompanied by his escort knights, he climbed the hill.

When he entered the castle, people had already gathered in the first-floor banquet hall. The ducal retainers and knights were there, along with the Counts of Winsloe and Levi.

A chill ran through him. There were a great many knights belonging to the ducal house, around twenty of them. Fortunately, they were unarmed.

More importantly, Harold, Winsloe’s sole heir, was also present, so there did not seem to be any sign of a dangerous scheme.

So confused that he forgot his manners, the Count of Winddale hurriedly caught the Count of Winsloe by the sleeve and asked,

“What is all this?”

“The Committee has been convened. I expect a decision will be made shortly. The treatment of the First Young Lord and the succession to the dukedom.”

“Suddenly? Did we not agree to take our time?”

“Well...... things turned out this way. I cannot explain it to you right now, but just watch for the moment. I believe this is a time to keep our heads down.”

“......”

The Count of Winddale thought it strange. It was not like the Count of Winsloe to act this way. But when he quietly looked around the hall, it seemed the Duke’s retainers and knights were just as clueless about what was happening.

A short while later, the First Young Lord Gunnar and the Third Young Lord Knut entered the banquet hall. Valery and his friends were with them.

They passed through the crowd and walked toward the seats of honor. Naturally, every eye in the room followed them.

At the head of the hall stood a chair that only the Duke was permitted to occupy. Other chairs had been arranged on either side of it. Once Gunnar and Knut had taken their seats, Valery spoke.

“Leaving the ducal seat vacant is no different from leaving a void in governance. I have therefore convened this Committee to set matters right. I ask that you all listen carefully.”

The dozens of people present remained silent and listened to Valery.

“Each of the three Counts will cast one vote. The retainers as a whole will cast one vote, and the ducal house’s Household Knights will cast one vote. The matter of succession to the dukedom and the treatment of the First Young Lord will be decided by vote, and I ask that none of you contest the result.”

At first hearing, it seemed like a fair system. But no one understood why Valery was the one deciding the procedure. Was he simply speaking on behalf of a decision Gunnar or Knut had already made?

More importantly, since the Counts had been steering the political situation, they could easily devise a procedure that favored themselves. Even if the process itself appeared fair, the others still had grounds to be dissatisfied.

At that moment, Knut rose from his seat and spoke.

“I, Knut of House Viðing, speak as one who holds the right of succession to the dukedom. As of this moment, I renounce my right of succession and support my elder brother Gunnar as the next Duke.”

The declaration was so shocking that the room remained silent at first, only to erupt into murmurs moments later.

Then what would happen to the crime of murdering the Duke and the punishment for it? If Gunnar became Duke as the sole remaining successor, they could hardly punish the Duke himself.

Valery spoke again.

“Silence, everyone.”

At once, everyone closed their mouths and turned toward Valery.

“The succession of the sole heir who slew the previous Duke may be considered a flawed succession. However, that flaw may be remedied by the support of the family’s members, Vassals, retainers, and knights. Once that flaw is remedied, the succession becomes legitimate, and the crime and punishment for the killing of the previous Duke will naturally disappear as well. As I said before, the Committee’s decision will be determined by vote. Once a majority is reached, you will abide by that decision.”

A heavy silence filled the banquet hall. Then one man stepped forward. It was the Count of Winddale.

Looking at Valery, he asked,

“Who decided upon such a procedure?”

“I did.”

“Why should you decide a matter of such gravity? I saw your exceptional ability and accomplishments in Grinnen with my own eyes, so I know them well. But that does not make you any less a bastard, does it? His Excellency was murdered, and now we are deciding who will succeed him. Surely only those with lawful standing should be permitted to discuss and handle such a matter. If a bastard determines the procedure and the method, is that not itself a flaw? Can a Duke who succeeds through such a process truly be considered legitimate?”

The Count’s objection seemed reasonable. There was no place for a bastard to interfere in a matter this grave. No matter how fair the procedure might be, if it had been established by a bastard, that alone was a problem.

But there was one thing he had wrong.

Valery neither grew angry nor showed any shame. He merely stood at the head of the hall and looked at the Count of Winddale.

Valery drew upon Rune Power awakened by Dragon’s Blood. As he focused on the energy originating in his heart and coursing through his entire body, strength welled up within him, and his body seemed to grow lighter.

Then a faint breeze began to blow. It was nowhere near as strong as the wind during the final battle, but in a banquet hall where there should have been no wind at all, it was strong enough for everyone to notice.

Valery’s hair stirred softly. Then light began to emerge from deep within his eyes. It grew steadily brighter and clearer.

Everyone in the hall stared at Valery, and suddenly their hearts began pounding as chills ran across their skin.

Could it be?

Then Valery spoke.

“Count of Winddale, I am no bastard. I am a man of House Vǫlsungr, the fourteenth son of His Majesty King Helgi, Valery Helgisson. Would even a prince constitute a flaw in the proceedings?”

The Count of Winddale flinched and took a step back. His legs nearly gave way beneath him, leaving him on the verge of collapsing where he stood.

A prince?

A prince?

Why was a prince here?

Everyone else in the hall trembled from the shock as though they had been struck by lightning.

Unless one lived through a Succession War, or happened upon one of the rare accidents or incidents that exposed a prince’s identity, most people never dreamed they would see one in their lifetime.

That was why no one could take their eyes off Valery. To behold in person that almost unrealistically handsome face and those radiant eyes that one scarcely dared meet directly, the so-called Stars of Dawn, filled them not only with fear but with awe.

House Vǫlsungr was regarded almost like a living legend. Above all, to belong to House Vǫlsungr meant inheriting a Divine Bloodline.

It also meant being born to a destiny of blood, the sublime and brutal fate of waging Fratricidal War and Kinslaying in order to lead people to Heaven.

In other words, they were beings who seemed half human, half divine.

Valery’s friends were just as shocked. Knut’s eyes widened, while memories of Valery’s past exploits flashed through Arne’s mind.

And yet, part of him found himself thinking, Of course.

Valery had accomplished things that defied belief.

While everyone stood lost in confusion, not knowing what to do, Aethelred, Count of Winsloe, was the first to lower himself onto one knee.

“I pay my respects, Your Highness.”

The ducal knights immediately dropped to their knees as well, bowing their heads as they spoke with trembling hearts.

“We pay our respects, Your Highness.”

The retainers and Count Levi also knelt, while the Count of Winddale dropped heavily to his knees, nearly collapsing outright.

Valery’s gaze caught sight of Harold standing in a corner. His eyes were trembling uncontrollably. Beneath Valery’s shining gaze, which seemed to pierce straight through the heart like a spear, he too dropped to one knee.

“I pay my respects, Your Highness......”

His nearby friends also knelt. The only one who was not trembling was the somewhat slow-witted Gunnar. He had simply taken the revelation at face value: Valery had not been a bastard after all. He had been a prince.

In the end, everyone in the hall was kneeling, and Valery alone remained standing. And so no one noticed the trace of sadness in his eyes.

The faint breeze circulating through the banquet hall died away. Valery sat in the Duke’s chair as naturally as though it had always been his rightful place.

“Everyone, rise. Speak your opinions freely and cast your votes freely. I, a prince, will guarantee the result, so I trust there will be no objections.”

Valery lowered his head slightly, looking somehow weary.

But with the Prince himself guaranteeing the Committee’s decision, there was little need for a lengthy meeting or debate, and a decision was reached quickly.

Anyone with the slightest awareness could infer the Prince’s wishes from what Knut had said.

Whether that could truly be called a decision made freely was another matter, but in any case, Gunnar was unanimously chosen as the next Duke of Eldeira.

There were no cheers, nor was there anything resembling a celebratory mood. The atmosphere was solemn, but there was an unmistakably conflicted and bitter undertone to it.

It was not as though no one wondered whether it was really all right to let the matter pass as though nothing had happened after the Duke had been murdered. But with a prince personally intervening, they could hardly keep pressing the issue to the bitter end.

The more fundamental reason was that none of them had felt particularly deep loyalty toward the late Duke Sven. They had obeyed his authority, but they had never felt any personal devotion or affection toward the man himself.

When Valery told him he could say whatever he wished, Gunnar rose and addressed the gathering.

“Uh...... I’m sure you’re all very surprised. I’m sorry. That day was...... I don’t know. I’m not sure how to explain it. But as all of you already know, I’m not very clever. If you help me, I’d like to listen to all of you and govern Eldeira well. I’d also like to thank the three Counts. Count of Winddale especially, you went through a great deal during the siege with me. I don’t think I ever got the chance to thank you. If the three Counts are willing, I’d like you to serve on my Advisory Council. I’ll do my best. For now...... this is all so sudden that I can’t seem to get my words together. That’s all I’ll say.”

There was something strangely compelling about Gunnar, something that made it difficult to dismiss him as merely slow-witted. Perhaps it was his guilelessness. It was hard to say.

His gaunt appearance after barely eating properly for several days only stirred their sympathy further.

Several of the knights shed hot tears. Having served the ducal house for so long, they knew how hard Gunnar’s life had been.

And anyone who had been there knew that he had fought harder than anyone during the war. Had he not stood shoulder to shoulder with ordinary soldiers, taking arrows while digging with a shovel and swinging a pickaxe?

He had never merely stood behind the lines giving orders. No one could deny that Gunnar had been the one fighting at the very front.

Even though they had once met as enemies, Valery respected him for that.

Clap, clap, clap......

Someone began to applaud. Quiet applause spread through the hall, gradually joining together until it grew loud.

Valery applauded as well. Then he took Gunnar by the hand, pulled him over, and seated him in the Duke’s chair. The applause grew louder still.

With that, Gunnar was absolved of the crime of killing his father. As a result, Knut was left with nothing to regret or grieve over, Winsloe and Winddale ended their long feud, and peace finally came to Eldeira and Grinnen.

The price of it all was the solitude and loneliness of a single person.

Chapter 12 – The One Who Leads to Heaven. End.