Chapter 69

Translator: Willia

The Duke of Nearcaster knew who was who. The Valkyrie was staying under his protection, after all, so he had seen her before and also knew her bodyguard, the Einheri Randgríðr.

He had been told beforehand that Randgríðr would be posing as the Valkyrie, but the sight of her now was so startling that it momentarily left him speechless.

“Uh, er, the honor, the honor is mine, Valkyrie.”

Brynhildr, the real Valkyrie, wore men’s clothing and a sword at her side, as though she were the Valkyrie’s bodyguard.

She was a rare beauty herself, but the startling sight of Randgríðr overshadowed even her looks.

The duke kept looking back and forth between Randgríðr and Brynhildr. Normally, they would have exchanged a few polite greetings, but his mind had gone blank, and all he could do was open and close his mouth.

So Randgríðr turned to the kneeling guests and said,

“Everyone, rise. Pay me no mind and enjoy the feast.”

She looked as though she might beat anyone who failed to enjoy the feast. She was an Einheri, after all, and quite apart from her size, she had an aura that made it hard to defy her.

She trudged over to a seat, planted herself in it with her legs spread and arms folded, then pointed straight at Valery and said,

“You. Come here.”

Valery stepped out from among the guests and went to stand before Randgríðr. Everyone watched with bated breath.

Yorik, in particular, was staring blankly at Randgríðr. He looked so utterly captivated that he might not have answered even if someone standing beside him called his name.

When Valery reached her, Randgríðr pointed to Brynhildr standing beside her and said,

“You. You know her, right?”

“I do.”

They had faced each other in the final, so of course he did. Brynhildr turned her head away, unable even to meet his eyes.

“You. What do you think of her?”

“I have no opinion.”

“Hmm...... Do you want a ransom?”

“I don’t need one.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t need anything. I hope that answer is satisfactory.”

Then he simply walked away. Listening beside them, Brynhildr found herself thinking, Huh? This doesn’t seem right. Randgríðr looked at a loss, with nothing more she could do for her.

A strange silence settled over the feast hall. Even the bard stopped singing, and the musicians went still.

No one seemed able to make a move, but surprisingly, it was Lucilia who first stepped forward to greet Randgríðr.

“Hello. I’m Lucilia of the Lokir Merchant Company. It is an honor to meet you, Valkyrie.”

Randgríðr gave Lucilia a look that said, What’s this about? Then she answered.

“Oh, yes. Good to meet you, Lady Lucilia.”

“You aren’t very accustomed to feasts, are you? Would you mind if I kept you company?”

“Well, not really......”

“I’ve longed for you every night, Valkyrie-nim. I’ve finally had the chance to meet you today, so please let me join you.”

What she meant by longing for her every night was anyone’s guess, but Randgríðr was caught off guard and simply agreed.

Was Lucilia trying to get the Valkyrie on her side? The women who had been bad-mouthing her behind her back thought so. Unwilling to be outdone, they too hurried over and crowded around Randgríðr.

“You’re so impressive.”

“You have such a regal presence.”

“What sorts of things do you like, Valkyrie?”

They seemed to have no shame at all, vying to heap embarrassing praise and flattery on her. Naturally, Randgríðr was bewildered and flustered, having never experienced anything like it.

Ever since childhood, she had trained among men, devoting herself solely to grueling physical conditioning, honing advanced combat techniques, and learning to wield the power of runes.

It was not her first feast, but it was the first time she had been the focus of so much attention.

Judging by this, looks seemed to count for nothing when it came to popularity at a feast. Family and lineage carried far more weight.

With less attention on him, Valery could finally catch his breath. But when he looked over at Sigbold and Eirik, he found them both glaring in the same direction.

A man stood near the entrance, the white of one eye entirely red. It was Vidar the traitor.

Whether out of shamelessness or contempt, he met their stares without looking away.

On one side of the hall, people loudly showered someone with flattery. On the other, men exchanged silent, murderous stares.

After they had stared at one another for a while, Sigbold walked over to him. Vidar greeted him with a faint smile.

“It’s been a while, brother.”

“Who are you calling brother? Traitor.”

“A traitor? Me?”

“There are limits even to shamelessness. Let’s step outside quietly and settle this. I’m no assassin.”

“If that’s what my brother wants, so be it. But there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding.”

“No, no. Hey, old man. Don’t you have anything to say?”

Vidar spoke rudely, looking at Eirik. Eirik gave no answer and remained still.

Sigbold sensed that something was amiss. Valery and the others, who had so far stood by and watched, had much the same feeling.

Vidar turned back to Sigbold and said,

“That thing’s a fake. The skull.”

“What?”

“Don’t misunderstand. I mean it was fake from the start. There never was a Dragon-Slayer’s skull. Old Aleric told me. I was with him on his deathbed, and I suppose his conscience started bothering him at the end. He said it wasn’t the Dragon-Slayer’s skull at all, just some ordinary skull someone had picked up without knowing whose it was.”

Aleric had been one of the men who founded the Jómsvíkingr alongside Eirik. Vidar claimed that Aleric had told him the truth before he died.

Moving with unhurried ease, Vidar picked up a freshly baked cookie from a table and ate it.

“Use your common sense. When the Dragon-Slayer was captured by those vile kings of Astria, nailed to a cross alongside the settlers, and burned to death, that old man wasn’t even there. Who got the young Founder-King to safety? Him. So what’s all this about the Dragon-Slayer’s skull?”

Sigbold looked back at Eirik, the priest who was like a father to him. Was his faith wavering? Could the traitor be right?

Eirik said nothing.

It was a shocking revelation, and since Lucas had done business with Vidar, he had, in a sense, been swindled. Vidar recognized Lucas too.

“Didn’t His Excellency vouch for it?”

“What would the duke know? He made up the whole business with the Trial of Valor, the Trial of Wisdom, and the most valuable treasure in the world to swindle people. The Valkyrie said she was here to find a husband, regardless of his status. She never laid down any of those conditions.”

“......What?”

“Do you know how much money the jousts and melees bring in? Who do you think runs the biggest gambling operation? Besides, the duke doesn’t care whether the treasure is real or fake. All he has to do is collect his cut as the middleman. The higher the price, the better. He won’t have to answer for any of it.”

In short, the Duke of Nearcaster had been exploiting ‘the Valkyrie’s Courtship’ for his own ends. The Valkyrie herself had taken no interest in any of it.

The money Lucas had paid for the holy relic was almost enough to buy a manor. And now he was being told it had been a fraud. It was beyond belief.

Lucas looked over at the duke in his seat. He wore his usual genial smile. Randgríðr had rattled him a little, but now that the tension had more or less eased, he seemed satisfied.

As Lucas stared at him in disbelief, Vidar continued.

“That’s how the world works. You fleece people, or you get fleeced. So, discipline, control, faith. Why should I go along with any of that crap? It was a lie from the beginning. You tell me, old man.”

Eirik did not look flustered or angry. He merely seemed saddened and sorry for Vidar, who had once been like a son to him.

“......That is the nature of faith. Faith transcends even truth and falsehood. Look back on your life. Think about how you lived, and where faith led you. Wasn’t it simply that you found life in Jómsborg stifling? Don’t start talking about truth and lies now.”

“See? He has no answer, so he changes the subject.”

Vidar spoke to Sigbold with a cynical smile. Sigbold frowned, looking confused.

Then Eirik said,

“Move aside, Sigbold. I’ll kill him myself.”

He sounded bold enough, but his body was far too old. He had once been called Red Axe because the blood on his axe never had time to dry, but now even lifting one looked like a struggle.

One might have expected him to resent the passing years, but he did not seem to. As he himself had said, he was simply living out the rest of his days with quiet acceptance.

Vidar shook his head and drew his sword.

Wait, were they going to fight right here? Not take it outside? Lucas stepped back in alarm, and Yorik hurriedly made sure Ivy came with him as he backed away.

Knut hesitated, wondering whether he should draw his dagger just in case. When he glanced toward the Valkyrie, everyone there was still squealing and chattering away, oblivious to what was happening on this side of the hall.

The bard had begun singing again, and the gentle plucking of lute strings and the sound of a flute drifted through the feast hall.

At that moment, Sigbold seized the priest’s axe and said,

“I’ll do it.”

Vidar regarded him coldly and said,

“Foolish brother.”

“No. You’re the fool. Why do you still call me brother? There’s your answer.”

“......Bullshit.”

Vidar swung his sword first. Sigbold stepped just out of range, then swung his two-handed axe down hard. Vidar dodged too, and the axe struck the table instead.

Bang! Crack!

The solid wooden table shattered in a single blow. The noise made the guests jump.

Ignoring them, Vidar attacked Sigbold again. As Sigbold prepared to counter, Vidar treacherously aimed for Eirik instead.

Just as Sigbold’s surprise threatened to throw him off balance, Valery drew his sword with lightning speed and struck Vidar’s blade aside. Vidar’s sword was no ordinary weapon, yet it snapped in a single blow.

Clang!

The guests were even more alarmed. A sword fight! Who on earth was fighting!?

Everyone stared wide-eyed like startled rabbits. Clutching his wrist, Vidar hastily fled outside. He managed it because he was near the entrance.

Sigbold immediately gave chase, while Valery moved to support Eirik.

The sword fight had lasted only moments, but it had thrown the feast hall into chaos.

“Aaaah!”

“What!? What’s happening!?”

At that moment, Lucilia, standing right beside Randgríðr, pulled the dagger she had brought from inside her clothes. What was she thinking?

In truth, she was not thinking at all. She did not even know why she was about to do it.

Deep in her subconscious, there was only one firmly entrenched and utterly bizarre rationalization: no one had called her to account for breaking the holy relic, so it would be all right to hurt the Valkyrie too.

In fact, she had not brought the dagger solely for the Valkyrie. She had brought it to hurt her older brother Lucas, Valery, or any of the other nasty people if the opportunity arose.

Because it feels like the only way I can survive. Otherwise, I feel like I’ll go mad.

And as it happened, the Valkyrie had come to the feast. Lucilia’s first glimpse of Randgríðr’s massive frame had driven those misguided thoughts out of her head, but amid the chaos, she deluded herself into thinking the dead gods had blessed her with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Lucilia finally did what she should never have done. But even setting that aside, she went about it all wrong.

Had she attacked openly, Randgríðr could have subdued her with a single finger, to exaggerate a little. But a sudden ambush left Randgríðr no choice but to react reflexively.

As soon as Randgríðr sensed murderous intent, her body reacted before her mind could register it. She drove an elbow backward, catching Lucilia squarely in the jaw.

Lucilia’s jaw shattered. Her head slammed into the wall with a thud, and she crumpled to the floor.

It did not end there. It was night, and the feast hall was dim, lit by candles and lanterns.

Without knowing who had fallen, Randgríðr lifted her foot high and stamped down.

Crunch!

“Huh?”

Only after crushing Lucilia’s head like a watermelon did Randgríðr realize what had happened. But it was already done. Brain matter, bone fragments, and an eyeball burst from the shattered skull.

Jewelry lay scattered here and there, its gemstones glittering.

The women nearby screamed in horror at the gruesome sight.

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!”

Some of them fainted, their eyes rolling back. In an instant, the feast hall descended into pandemonium.

Randgríðr was so flustered that she did not know what to do with herself. What had happened? How had it come to this?

She was too overwhelmed to look after her longtime friend Brynhildr, the real Valkyrie.

Brynhildr was dazed and flustered too, though not as badly as Randgríðr. Then someone suddenly seized her arm and dragged her to a corner of the feast hall in moments.

Startled, she tried to wrench her arm free, but it would not budge. She tried to draw her sword, but the other person moved so fast that a hand was already pressing down on the hilt, preventing her from drawing it.

Still bewildered and dazed, she found herself on the balcony outside the feast hall. In the moonlight, she could see who had seized her. It was Valery.

He was so beautiful that he himself seemed like the most valuable treasure in the world. At least, that was how Brynhildr saw him.

Even so, Brynhildr was so stunned that she could only gape, unable to say or do anything.

Valery said,

“It’s you, isn’t it? The Valkyrie.”

“......H-how?”

Brynhildr’s heart lurched at the realization that Valery had recognized her, even as indescribable delight and happiness bloomed within her.

But she was flustered all the same.

“I could tell from your eyes. You’ve got that look, like you’d never listen to a damn word anyone said. Anyway, I don’t know why you’re putting on this childish farce, but it’s time you stopped.”

“......”

Her swelling joy was short-lived. As Valery went on, Brynhildr felt her heart begin to grow cold.

“Just pick someone and marry him, or get the hell out. A lot of people are suffering because of you. Do you realize that?”

The duke had invented things like the Trial of Valor and the demand to bring back treasure for his own benefit, and the Valkyrie had never personally imposed them. Even so, that did not mean she bore no responsibility.

She had set it all in motion, after all. If other people were being harmed, she should have taken action to stop it. Failing that, she should have brought the matter to a close and put an end to all the chaos and harm.

As Valery saw it, the Valkyrie’s fault was ‘neglect born of indifference’.

It even offended Valery. His feelings about his bloodline were divided: he disliked it, yet also felt compassion and pride.

As a fellow member of House Vǫlsungr, he did not want to see her behaving like this.

So this was less punishment for wrongdoing than discipline imposed by a fellow member of the house.

“......”

Unfortunately, Brynhildr’s expression suggested she was so dazed that not a word was getting through to her.

So Valery slapped her. It was not a hard blow, but it was a humiliation the Valkyrie had never experienced before.

Slap!

This was nothing like fighting for her life. It was sheer disrespect, treatment she had never even imagined receiving.

“You, you......!”

The shock was so great that Brynhildr stammered. All sorts of emotions churned in her chest: anger, resentment, sorrow, disappointment, affection, dislike. They raged inside her as though each had a life of its own.

Still holding Brynhildr’s arm, Valery drew on his rune power. Light began to shine from deep within his eyes.

At the sight of that light, Brynhildr shuddered as though struck by lightning. The tangled emotions that had been raging so fiercely fell silent with startling suddenness in the face of the harsh truth.

For the light in his eyes meant only one thing: a king, or a prince.

“......!”

“Hey. Listen to me carefully. I’m giving you three days. Decide what you’re going to do within three days. If you don’t, I’ll kill you myself. Understand?”

Brynhildr could only stare helplessly at Valery. She could not answer him or even nod. For some reason, tears began to fall.

Valery released Brynhildr’s arm. She slumped to the floor as though all her strength had drained away.

Straightening his clothes, Valery said,

“Stop sniveling. I can’t stand the sight of you.”

Were brothers and sisters usually like this? His words were terribly harsh and cold.

Valery walked away, leaving his sister alone. He was going to find Sigbold and Vidar.

Brynhildr sat alone, tears streaming down her face, each drop catching the mournful moonlight.

A regret she could never shake. Now she thought she understood those words.

For she had instinctively realized that, even though he treated her so harshly and they could never be together, she would never be able to escape her feelings for him.

All those raging emotions merged into one. They became sorrow, carved into her heart as a deep wound, and there was no question that it could never be erased.

That was the price she paid for what she had done. Or perhaps it was her punishment.