Chapter 65

Translator: Willia

Military castles were generally situated on hilltops or mountainsides.

Strong walls and the people defending them were important, but geography mattered most when it came to defense. Much like fate itself.

As with most human settlements, Nearcaster had begun with a castle on a hill. Buildings were then raised around it as the hillside was cut away, and those buildings eventually grew into a town.

But it was no longer a small town perched on a hill.

Beyond the walls at the foot of the hill, the city spread wide like a drop of water spreading across the ground, filled with homes, workshops, commercial buildings, temples, and more.

So while Hill Town remained the center of the city, it was no longer the city itself.

The Valkyrie Brynhildr stayed in the very heart of Nearcaster. But contrary to what people might imagine, she was not shut away in some secluded inner residence.

The morning sun had only just begun to rise, and someone lay sprawled on a pile of straw in a barn as though they had been discarded there.

The long, pale legs sticking out suggested it was probably a woman. She might even have been dead.

Fortunately, that did not seem to be the case. She stirred after a moment, sat up, and vigorously scratched at her long, disheveled blond hair.

Disheveled as she was, she was such a beauty that her face seemed to shine like a pearl buried in dirt.

Her eyes, however, were rather sharp, resembling those of a bird of prey, an eagle or perhaps a hawk. If anything, her bedraggled appearance seemed to soften that fierceness.

Her eyes were the blue of a clear sky.

She sat up wearily, let her head droop, then stretched an arm toward the entrance of the barn and spoke. Her voice was languid, yet surprisingly low.

“Randy. Booze.”

A figure stood at the entrance with the light behind her. She had the height and build of a man, but her voice was clearly a woman’s.

“You drank it all yesterday. Yourself.”

The woman sitting in the straw let her outstretched arm drop.

“It was good. What was that stuff called again?”

“Don’t know.”

“Was it mead? Wine?”

If she did not even know what she had been drinking, she did not seem to be entirely in her right mind.

“Sigrún came by yesterday. That was the fifth warning.”

“What was Pointy-Ears nagging about this time?”

“She said it’s all over now. You’ll pay for ignoring the warnings. She said a regret you won’t be able to escape is here.”

“......Sounds fun.”

“Why don’t you finally put a stop to this? Pick someone, anyone, or just leave. Even the king’s patience has limits.”

At the mention of the king, the woman gave a dismissive little laugh and sneered.

“That man was interested in me? I had no idea.”

“You...... Never mind.”

“There you go again. You know I hate that.”

“What do you want me to do? Maybe you should behave yourself, Hild.”

The woman called Hild was none other than the Valkyrie Brynhildr. The king’s daughter, a princess.

The woman called Randy was the Einheri Randgríðr, Brynhildr’s bodyguard and longtime friend.

“Or why don’t you cut this suffocating feeling out of me? Slice me open or something. With your skill and that Dwarven Steel sword, I bet it wouldn’t even hurt.”

Brynhildr pointed at her heart as she spoke. Randgríðr turned her head as though she had not heard.

Brynhildr wore a bitter smile for a moment, then forced herself to sound cheerful.

“I think I was born wrong. I should’ve been a man. I’d rather have been born a prince and fought a Succession War. Don’t you think?”

“......”

“Fine! Don’t talk if you don’t want to! Great! I’ve decided! I’ll just enter the joust! I’ll marry the man who beats me there! And if nobody can beat me, I’ll live alone forever!”

Brynhildr sprang to her feet and declared it with great spirit.

It was not as though she was following some particular plan, nor had she reached the decision after careful consideration. It was completely impulsive.

If she was going to make the decision this impulsively anyway, it did make one wonder what exactly she had spent the past two years doing.

Looking almost like a beggar, Brynhildr left the barn. She was barefoot.

Several guards besides Randgríðr stood outside. When the Valkyrie emerged from the barn, they quietly bowed their heads.

“Bring me my armor!”

Brynhildr shouted.

There was a part of Nearcaster’s outskirts where the boundary between the city and the outside was unclear. In other words, there were no walls there yet, so it was difficult to tell where the city ended.

The jousting arena stood there. It was a large rectangle with one side left open, allowing people to watch freely from there. Anyone who wanted to watch from the stands had to buy a ticket.

Naturally, the area where no ticket was needed was packed with people. Most were spectators, though there were plenty of street vendors and pickpockets as well.

Brynhildr had registered for the joust anonymously, and since it had been a while since she had ventured outside Hill Town, she came to the arena to have a look around.

She did not buy a ticket, however, and instead headed toward the densely packed crowd.

With her hair left unstyled and her clothes little different from those of a country girl, no one could possibly have imagined that she was the Valkyrie.

She had bodyguards, but they were not standing directly beside her, so there was nothing about her to attract attention other than her pretty face.

Brynhildr climbed a tree in hopes of getting a better view. Some local children had already claimed spots on its thick branches.

When she climbed up and squeezed herself into a seat, the children stared at her with round eyes.

“Pretty lady.”

Brynhildr laughed and patted them on the head. There was, however, one problem.

“Hey, miss. You gotta pay for that spot.”

A thug-like man spoke from beneath the tree. The children beside Brynhildr certainly did not look as though they had paid to climb it, so singling her out meant he was clearly just trying his luck with her.

Of course, Brynhildr had no reason to answer him herself.

There was no need for the Einheri Randgríðr to step in either. Vidar Red Eye gave the thug a light shove and spoke.

“What? Why?”

His massive height and build, combined with his menacing presence, made not only the thug but even the people nearby quickly back off.

Perhaps Brynhildr had a guileless streak, because she quickly became friendly with the local children. She happily ate whatever strange snacks they handed her, even things that looked like roasted bugs, and laughed loudly while taking swigs from a bottle of alcohol.

“Are you a witch? You’re pretty, but you seem crazy.”

“Hey, is that any way to talk to a lady? Keep that up and how are you ever going to get a girl?”

“I think you’re the one who should worry about whether you can get a man.”

“......You really are a good judge of character.”

“Who’d you bet on?”

“Huh?”

“You gotta bet money.”

“Well, I don’t even know who’s competing.”

“‘The Invincible’ Walter is up against that... what was it? ‘Frog Prince’ Valery. Walter’s payout is low. Valery’s is high.”

“This Walter fellow must be pretty strong.”

“Yeah. He’s never lost. They say he once agreed beforehand to throw a match, then won anyway and broke the other guy’s arms and legs.”

“What? What a coward. What about the Frog Prince?”

“Dunno. Seems like this is his first match.”

“Really? Then why do they call him the Frog Prince?”

“Dunno. All anyone knows is that he’s from the North.”

Hearing that he was from the North, Brynhildr imagined a large, taciturn man.

She thought about it for a moment, then told the children,

“I’ll bet on the Frog Prince.”

“You sure don’t hold back.”

“I never do. Hey, Randy, give me some money.”

Randgríðr, standing beneath the tree, let out a deep sigh before handing her several silver coins.

The children’s eyes went wide when Brynhildr passed the coins to them. The child sitting farthest out on the branch called to someone and placed the bet with him.

“Mister! Mister! Three silver coins here! On the Frog Prince!”

One of the men running a gambling setup by the roadside sent a lackey over to collect the money.

“Are you rich?”

“Who knows? If I win, buy yourselves some meat. You have to eat well if you want to grow.”

“Really!?”

“Of course.”

Finding him adorable, Brynhildr once again patted the head of the child whose face was streaked with grime.

Just then, the herald overseeing the match bellowed in a thunderous voice. He was a professional herald, and his voice was so loud it hardly seemed human.

“Quiet! Quiet! It’s not like this is your first or second match! You’d think by now you lot would know how to shut up! You there! I saw you open that yap! Shut it if you don’t want to get thrown out!”

No one was frightened by the herald’s shouting. They merely burst into laughter.

Once the crowd’s murmuring had died down somewhat, the herald formally began the proceedings.

“Hear ye! Hear ye! Citizens, hear ye! This joust is held at the Valkyrie’s behest! Hosted by His Excellency the Duke of Nearcaster! Under laws handed down from ancient times! None but the contestants may enter the arena! Magic and spells are strictly forbidden! Should anyone violate these rules! Hellfire surely awaits them, and furthermore! Under ancient law they shall be torn limb from limb and put to death! Let there be no such foolishness! The contestants shall fight on horseback with the designated weapons! Both shall fight with identical weapons! The victor shall take everything from the defeated! And the defeated shall be left with nothing but acceptance of defeat!”

After proclaiming the basic rules of the match, the herald introduced the contestants in the first bout.

“Who dares say Astrians are weak! An undefeated knight comes riding on the wind! His swift movements and precise lancework are already the stuff of legend! Today’s match shall add another line to that legend! He is none other than The Invincible... Walterrr!”

The crowd cheered and applauded at the introduction. Walter proudly burst into the arena atop a sleek brown steed.

A red lion adorned his helmet, and his armor was covered in all manner of decoration, making him extraordinarily flashy.

Walter kept his face uncovered as he made a full circuit of the arena, showing himself off. Then he rode toward the stands and extended his lance.

The women there erupted into shrieks, and a dazzling beauty, obvious even from a distance, tied a handkerchief around the tip of his lance.

In a world with little else by way of entertainment, it was certainly an unusual and entertaining spectacle. It had been going on for two whole years, so whatever harm it might have caused, ordinary people simply enjoyed the show.

“Next contestant! Who dares make light of frogs! Frogs from the North bite people too! Will he take the field by storm! Or will he be squashed flat! The Frog Princeee... Valeryyy!”

The somewhat ridiculous epithet sent the crowd into laughter. But then again, as long as it was entertaining, that was all that mattered.

At that moment, a pitch-black horse burst onto the field. It was large and massive, yet beautifully proportioned, a rare steed of exceptional quality.

Unlike Walter, Valery wore a frog-mouth helm that completely hid his face, and neither his helmet nor his armor bore any particular decoration. His shield was equally plain, painted a featureless black. It had not been intentional, but with a horse as black as his, he looked somewhat like a black knight.

Those with a discerning eye sensed that there was something unusual about Snow. It was obvious at a glance that he was no ordinary horse. Most people, however, were simply looking forward to the violent collision that was about to come.

Valery did not make a circuit of the arena or approach a lady to ask for her handkerchief. He merely rode around a little, then took his place with his lance in hand.

A barrier ran through the middle of the arena. The two contestants positioned themselves on the right side of it and prepared for the match.

The herald took a deep breath, then shouted.

“Begin the maaaatch! Begin the maaaatch!”

Both riders dug in their spurs at the same moment and charged.

Thud-thud! Thud-thud! Thud-thud! Thud-thud!

The lance tips, which had been angled upward, gradually lowered until at last they pointed directly at one another. Every bit of their speed and weight, their concentration and their very lives, rode on those lance tips.

Thud-thud! Thud-thud! Thud-thud! Thud-thud!

CRACK!

A jousting lance shattered. Walter’s body bent violently sideways, struck the barrier, and scraped along it for a long stretch.

SCREEEEEECH!

A long metallic screech rang out before he finally fell from his horse and hit the ground with a thud. The crowd let out a roar, then abruptly went silent as though someone had thrown cold water over them.

No, Valery’s friends were making a tremendous racket in the stands.

“Some Invincible! You lost! You’re not invincible anymore!”

Yorik shouted at the top of his lungs, while even Knut, who was usually indifferent to everything, clapped his hands in delight.

“Wahaha! This is fun! This is great! Long live the Frog Prince!”

Perhaps intending to see whether his opponent was alive or dead, Valery rode all the way to the opposite end before turning Snow around and coming back.

He looked toward the herald. The man stood there blankly before suddenly snapping out of it.

“The victor......!”

At that moment, Walter staggered to his feet and shouted.

“Not yet!”

He tore off his helmet and hurled it aside, then lunged at Valery. He tried to drag Valery down from his horse.

Valery made no particular effort to resist and allowed himself to be pulled down. It was to gain the upper hand in the grapple.

He came down almost on top of Walter. After the two rolled around on the ground for a moment, Valery rose with his left arm wrapped around Walter’s head. At the same time, his right hand drew his sword in a reverse grip.

The spectators could not tell what had happened. All they saw was Walter’s body crumple uselessly to the ground. The fallen Walter had no head.

Valery had forced Walter’s head down and sliced through his neck with a sword that was not even fully drawn.

Gasps sounded throughout the crowd. Valery casually let Walter’s head drop, then finally removed his own helmet.

When his astonishingly handsome face was revealed, it was as though the world itself had awakened. And for an entirely different reason, gasps sounded from every direction once more.

He swept back the platinum blond hair plastered to his head with sweat, fully drew his sword, swung the blood from its blade, and sheathed it again at his waist. After casually glancing over the stands and the crowd, he spoke to the herald.

“Who is the victor?”

There was really no need to ask. No one was going to dispute the result. The herald, whose voice had been so thunderous moments earlier, was completely stunned and barely managed to murmur the words.

“Th-the victor... Valery......”

Only then did Valery mount Snow again and ride impassively out of the arena.

Brynhildr, still perched on the tree branch, could not think of anything at all. Her gaze seemed nailed to Valery, following him wherever he moved.

Her mind was empty, yet her heart ached in sharp, stabbing pulses.

Then, from across the distance, their eyes met in passing, and it seemed as though time itself had stopped.

There was a piercing intensity in his eyes. Brynhildr instinctively sensed the sorrow hidden beneath it. That sorrow seized her body, her mind, and her soul.