Chapter 72

Translator: Willia

The autumn wind was cold. Even so, it was warmer than words cold enough to gouge at the heart.

The collar of Brynhildr's cloak was trimmed with white fox fur. As she rode at a walk, the fur rippled delicately whenever the wind brushed past, making it look exceptionally luxurious.

“What did you mean by little brother?”

Randgríðr asked as they rode side by side. She was so large that, with only a little exaggeration, the horse beneath her looked like a donkey.

“Exactly what I said.”

“......He's a prince?”

“Yeah.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I saw his eyes shine on the day of the feast. The Stars of Dawn. Clearly, and for a long time.”

Randgríðr was momentarily lost for words. A Valkyrie was special, but a prince was even more so.

In principle, there was no way to know who they were or where they lived, unless the king died and the Royal Succession War began, or some incident exposed their identities.

At present, the 3rd Prince was the only prince known to the world.

Seeing any prince besides him was therefore rather like seeing an imaginary creature.

“Why would a prince...... Isn't that a little dangerous?”

Randgríðr asked cautiously.

The sanctity of House Vǫlsungr applied only to its paternal line. But for that very reason, a prince could also be someone who absolutely had to be eliminated.

To most people, a prince was someone to worship and obey. But if they supported another prince or stood opposed to him politically, there was no one in the world they had more reason to kill.

In other words, a prince truly had two sides, like a double-edged sword. Unlike a Valkyrie.

“I don't know much about any of that. But his eyes looked sad.”

“Sad? He looked incredibly cold and high-strung to me.”

“That's true too, but I don't know. That's just how he felt to me.”

“And that's why you're going to follow a prince?”

“Yeah. Isn't it only natural for an older sister to look after her little brother?”

“......”

Randgríðr had nothing to say. Brynhildr could not possibly know anything about the bond between an older sister and a younger brother.

She had grown up without affection from either her father, the king, or her mother's family.

She seemed to have grown up wanting for nothing, but she had lacked the most important thing of all. A family's love.

The king had shown no interest in her whatsoever, while her mother's family resented the needless burden of having a princess born to them. Even trying to use her politically promised them nothing and risked bringing terrible calamity upon them, so they treated her as an encumbrance.

That was why Brynhildr dreamed of having a family of her own, yet also felt an aversion to the idea. At least, that was how Randgríðr had come to see her.

Ironically, the person in the most extraordinary position of all longed for the most ordinary thing.

“But first, I have to take responsibility. He told me to.”

Brynhildr said.

However, she was not taking responsibility because she felt personally responsible. She was doing it largely because Valery had told her to.

“From where I'm standing, you seem like the sad one.”

At Randgríðr's words, Brynhildr looked back and smiled.

“It seems there's someone else drawn to sad people. I'm really grateful for people like that.”

“You don't need to be grateful. My luck just got all tangled up, that's all.”

“Then I'll untangle that luck of yours for you.”

“Just take care of yourself.”

“Hmm...... Am I really that unreliable?”

“Honestly, how are you planning to get the money out of the duke?”

“I'll go and talk to him first.”

“And say what?”

“Whatever else may be true, I'll tell him he has to answer for guaranteeing those fake treasures as genuine.”

Valery had called Brynhildr stupid, but the fact that she had at least understood what he meant suggested she was not lacking in intelligence like Lucilia.

She also understood exactly where the problem lay and how far liability for compensation could extend.

The question was how she intended to make him pay.

“Do you think the duke will simply do as you say?”

“Who knows? He probably won't.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I'll tell him to pay the price for using my name. It's a little late, though.”

The Trial of Valor, the Trial of Wisdom, and the Most Precious Treasure in the World. Those were supposedly the conditions one had to meet to court the Valkyrie. But Brynhildr herself had never demanded any such thing.

In other words, the duke's fabrication of claims she had never made could be considered a stain upon the Valkyrie's honor.

Naturally, being a Valkyrie did not grant her the authority to order a local lord about. But neither did that mean anyone was free to exploit the Valkyrie's name however they pleased.

The issue had therefore changed. It was no longer about the duke deceiving and defrauding people, but about his dishonoring the Valkyrie. Which of the two would frighten the duke more?

The fact that she had thought this far perhaps proved they were family after all. She shared something with Valery: an instinct for quickly identifying an opponent's weakness.

“If he dishonored you, you could formally challenge him to a duel. Is that what you're planning?”

“For now.”

“That would put the duke in quite a bind. He can't exactly fight you, and even if he did, he couldn't injure you. Still, we'll have to see how he reacts first.”

“Right.”

“You can be surprisingly meticulous about things like this.”

“I have a goal now.”

“What goal? Following the prince?”

“Yeah.”

“......”

Randgríðr could not tell whether it was healthy for Brynhildr's motivation to revolve around another person rather than principles of her own.

What would happen if that person were evil? What if he exploited and abused Brynhildr?

The Duke of Nearcaster himself had exploited the Valkyrie. To Randgríðr, placing someone else at the center of one's heart did not seem wise.

Because she still did not know what kind of person Valery was.

The Duke of Nearcaster was named Edgar, and by ancestry, he was an Astrian.

Unusually, his family had begun as merchants and risen to prominence overnight by backing Helgi, the current king, during the Beast Wars.

Recognizing which of the many princes had the makings of a king and backing him in advance was an ability in its own right. His family had also committed its entire fortune to supporting the war, so their contribution could hardly be called small.

However, it was Edgar's father who had possessed those abilities, not Edgar himself, though Edgar had grown up watching his father from an early age.

In any case, House Nearcaster had only a short history as a noble family, much less as a house of great lords who ruled an entire region.

That also meant the foundations of its rule were weak. Moreover, Edgar, the current duke, was renowned as an affable man.

He treated people without discrimination, enjoyed maintaining friendly relations with everyone, and had neither any particular strengths nor any particular weaknesses.

Valery would have formulated a plan while taking such history, foundations, and personal traits into account.

Brynhildr, however, did not yet possess such a discerning eye. That was only natural, as she had neither experienced war nor practiced intrigue at the center of power.

“What happened at the recent feast was truly regrettable. Had you told me beforehand, I would have done what I could to mediate.”

The Duke of Nearcaster spoke as he drank tea made by boiling wine with apples and scenting it with herbs.

He was referring to the sudden clash of blades between Sigbold and Vidar. He seemed to believe Lucilia had also died in an accident caused by it.

However, because they were the Jómsvíkingr rather than some other group, he could not punish them or do anything of the sort. What could he possibly do about a force even the king could not move against lightly? It had been an accident, plain and simple.

Without touching her tea, Brynhildr said,

“It is regrettable. Both the girl's death and the fact that the holy relic was a fake.”

“What do you mean, Valkyrie?”

“I heard the holy relic Your Excellency brokered was a fake. Did you happen to know?”

“Is that so? Goodness...... This is the first I've heard of it.”

“Is that right? Then what about the Count of Westlanding being ruined? I heard he sold his tax collection rights and borrowed money to buy some bead no bigger than a fingernail.”

“Did such a thing happen? Good heavens, how dreadful......”

“Yes. You may not have known. You only connected the seller with the buyer, after all. But by making that connection, weren't you guaranteeing their credibility with your name, Your Excellency?”

“Was I? I only remember mentioning that someone was selling such an item and that someone else was seeking one. Whether they took an interest and chose to buy or sell was entirely up to them.”

The Duke of Nearcaster kept insisting that he knew nothing. Brynhildr thought, Look at this bastard, and felt her temper slowly rising.

She had never paid him much attention before, but now she wondered what sort of man could behave like this. A person's true nature only emerged once one came into conflict with them.

“Then why did you broker treasures in the first place? I never asked for anything like that. The same goes for the Trial of Valor and the Trial of Wisdom.”

“Why, I merely wished to help because I heard the Valkyrie was seeking a husband. Naturally, he would have to be a man of suitable qualifications, would he not? I apologize if it caused you discomfort, but I cannot understand why you are raising this issue only now......”

“I hadn't intended to go this far, but you claimed I said things I never said, damaging my honor. What do you intend to do about that?”

“What honor?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ha ha ha...... I'm afraid I don't quite understand. You aren't a prince...... I have always done my utmost to ensure the Valkyrie's comfort out of loyalty to His Majesty the King. Naturally, I will continue to do so. Yet you persist in treating me like a swindler, and I feel that it is my honor being diminished.”

His phrasing was remarkably sly. He was saying that he had treated her well only out of regard for the king, and that she, as a Valkyrie, had no honor of her own.

It was an unmistakable insult once one looked beneath the surface, and Brynhildr's eyes changed at once.

She glared at the duke with the fierce gaze particular to House Vǫlsungr, eyes that truly seemed to blaze with fire, and Edgar's heart lurched.

Whether the Valkyrie held any real authority or not, hers was a gaze that instinctively struck fear into any human being.

“You just said I have no honor. Is that right?”

“......Oh, this is a misunderstanding. Ha ha...... A misunderstanding. That was not what I meant......”

Faced with Brynhildr's razor-edged question, the duke tried to laugh it off. Having subtly belittled her, he belatedly felt a sense of danger and realized that she was indeed a member of House Vǫlsungr.

“Enough. Are you going to pay or not? Just answer that. Don't evade the question or talk around it. Otherwise, I'll kill you here and now.”

At her threat to kill him, the door to a small room adjoining the office opened and a crowd of people poured out. They were the duke's guards.

At the same moment, Randgríðr kicked the office door to pieces and entered.

Bang! Craaack!

She leisurely swept her gaze over the duke's guards. In truth, she could have killed not only the duke but his entire family and everyone in the castle by herself.

The duke hurriedly shouted at his guards. It was the only way he could survive.

“Who told you to come in? Don't do anything foolish!”

Fortunately, the duke's guards had not drawn their blades. Had they done so, the situation could have become truly serious.

Even if the Valkyrie possessed no real authority, the duke could not do anything to her either. Mutual respect was the best outcome, while anything else was the worst. His entire house could be destroyed.

The duke rose from his seat, knelt on one knee before Brynhildr, and said,

“I will pay you at once. However, as the sum is considerable, I will first give you an advance of five hundred gold coins. If you grant me time, I will procure the remainder.”

Silence lingered for a moment. Brynhildr first calmed her anger, then said,

“Very well.”

The duke turned to the others and gestured for them to bring the money at once. One of them opened a desk drawer and brought over a small chest.

He respectfully placed it on the table. When Brynhildr opened the chest, she found five pouches filled with gold coins. Each appeared to contain one hundred gold coins.

At a glance from Brynhildr, Randgríðr picked up the chest and tucked it under one arm.

Brynhildr rose and looked coldly down at the kneeling duke.

“There are lines we must both respect, Your Excellency. I sincerely hope matters proceed amicably.”

She then bowed courteously and walked out through the gaping doorway, its door shattered to pieces.

Silence fell once more. Duke Edgar remained motionless on one knee for some time before rising and sitting in his chair again.

He did not look offended or angry. His heart was simply pounding at the realization that he could have been well and truly fucked. Have I lost my touch? Why did I do that?

Two years was a fairly long time. With Brynhildr doing nothing but drinking herself senseless day after day, it was understandable that his instincts had dulled a little.

The thought that he would have to keep paying left a bitter taste in Duke Edgar's mouth. Then an idea suddenly occurred to him.

“It seems someone has been putting ideas into her head. I think it's that handsome fellow. What was his name?”

“Valery.”

One of the guards answered.

“Yes, he was the final champion, wasn't he?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm...... A man from the North, the champion of the joust, and with a face like that. Winning over the Valkyrie could not have been too difficult.”

Recalling the feast that day, the duke became certain. There had been the exchange of roles with Randgríðr, as well as the question about what Brynhildr was like.

He contemplated whether to investigate Valery first, send him a warning, or eliminate him quickly. He felt that leaving matters alone could land him in serious trouble.

And so, rather unlike himself, he reached a somewhat hasty decision.

“As for this fellow Valery, select only our most capable men and have it taken care of within a week.”

“Understood.”

One of the guards bowed, then entered the room attached to the office.

The duke believed he had only slightly overstepped a line with his recent mistake. He never dreamed that he was now crossing the most dangerous line of all.

Still, pretending to be thoroughly affable in public while pursuing his own interests behind the scenes did seem fitting for a duke.

He was not incompetent, but a family that rose by backing the right person could also fall by backing the wrong one.