* * *

Nothing changed immediately in Valeri’s daily life.

He rose at dawn and put his bedding in order, ran with the boys to the nearby mountain, then raced up its slopes carrying a load of stones. After returning to the castle, he spent the afternoon teaching them swordsmanship. The same routine repeated day after day.

Now and then, he made time to ride Snow across the fields. Winter, which had occasionally returned for a visit, was receding farther and farther, making it a fine season for riding. The flowers in the fields wore the bright, varied colors of spring.

He did not know what Earl Æthelred was thinking, but he had little interest in finding out. They never crossed paths anyway.

It was the boys who seemed worried, betraying their anxiety in all sorts of ways. Whenever they did, Valeri was the one who reassured them.

“What if the duke sends his army to arrest you?”

“He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure? Wouldn’t it be better to run before they get here?”

“I’ll fight beside you.”

“Hakon, you’d help more by staying out of it.”

“Please don’t hate me, Wid.”

“I’ve never hated you.”

“Then?”

“You’re just annoying.”

“How do I stop being annoying?”

“Stop annoying me.”

“?”

“Honestly, though, it felt good to see that. If it had been a fight to the death, I would’ve won. Swordsmen seem to learn nothing but nasty little tricks.”

“Since things have come to this, wouldn’t it have been better to just cut his head off?”

“Tommy, have you still not learned to control your temper?”

“You should be saying that to Wid. I didn’t do anything.”

That was more or less how their conversations went. Children would be children.

Still, Valeri much preferred their childish chatter to the affairs of adults. There was no calculation in it. Words blurted out without a thought were far easier on his heart.

Surprisingly, however, Harald said little. Only when they were alone would he occasionally venture a question.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s obvious.”

“What is?”

“Duke Sven. He’s consistently a crafty bastard, so he’ll try something crafty this time too.”

“Like what?”

“He’ll coax me along and help me grow stronger. Then he’ll use me to keep House Winslow in check.”

“... Wid, are you living your life a second time or something?”

Valeri turned to Harald and smiled. As always, he looked like something out of a painting when he smiled.

“You caught me.”

“I know. You’re going to the duke’s household in my place.”

“... Do you? I didn’t realize you’d figured that out.”

“I might be childish sometimes, but I’m not oblivious.”

“That much I knew.”

“Hey, Wid.”

“What?”

“Why do you talk like you’re not even human?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Are you sulking now?”

“Yes. Why? What are you going to do about it?”

“...”

Valeri let out an incredulous laugh. Even so, he was amused. Shaking his head, he said,

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to me, and I have no intention of doing anything to Winslow. In fact, there’ll be more I can do at the duke’s than here. If he wants to use me, I can use him without feeling bad about it.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Not at all.”

“Unbelievable.”

Valeri laughed again. This felt just right. The right amount of distance, perhaps—neither clinging too tightly nor pushing each other too far away.

“Would you be offended if I said I envied you, Wid?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“You have things I don’t. I suppose the reverse is true too. In the end, I have no choice but to be tied to this place. But you don’t.”

“...”

Valeri thought that was perfectly understandable. Once, he might have glared at Harald for being so immature, but not now. If something had changed since his return to the past, that was it.

A spring breeze blew. Standing on the threshold between boyhood and adulthood, they also had to learn to let the wind carry away old feelings, and feelings they could no longer take with them.

Two weeks had passed since the instructional match.

This time, a messenger arrived in advance to announce that Duke Sven’s envoy would be coming.

Three days later, a man named Ketilmund, one of Duke Sven’s adjutants, arrived at Winslow with an attendant.

An adjutant served directly beside a ruler, assisting with practical affairs. Moreover, though Ketilmund was the son of a concubine, he carried the blood of the ducal house. The visit had been arranged with a certain regard for courtesy and rank.

Accordingly, the Earl of Winslow and the members of his household came out of the castle to receive him with the appropriate ceremony.

Ketilmund dismounted at the foot of the castle hill and walked up. Looking down from horseback on a superior or a noble would have been a breach of etiquette.

In many ways, this was unlike Geir’s visit. And unlike Geir, Ketilmund was a more accomplished player.

“Oh dear, why have you come out? There was no need to greet me yourselves. You put me quite to shame, my lord.”

“Not at all. I could hardly neglect the courtesies.”

“No, no. As the old saying goes, even a farmer is king in his own home. That makes me no more than a servant here, with a servant’s duty to look up to you. There is no need to stand on ceremony for someone as lowly as myself.”

“Well, in any case, let us go inside. We have prepared a feast.”

“A tremendous honor. Thank you, my lady.”

Ketilmund did not forget to pay his respects to the countess. As he did, he briefly surveyed the gathering: Harald, the knights, and Valeri. Valeri’s remarkable good looks made him stand out at once.

Seated at the feast were Earl Æthelred and his wife, Ketilmund, Harald, and Valeri. Ketilmund’s attendant and Æthelred’s two knights stood in attendance by the wall.

Ketilmund kept up a stream of genial chatter, and Earl Æthelred responded as appropriate. Neither made any particular mention of the instructional match.

Then, as the meal was drawing to a close, Ketilmund said he had something to show them and beckoned to his attendant. The man presented a box.

Setting it before him, Ketilmund said,

“One might call it a gift. I do hope it pleases you.”

He opened the box, staring straight at Valeri.

“Ah!”

The countess started so violently that she nearly fell from her chair. The earl hastily caught her. Harald flinched in shock as well.

The box was filled with salt, and in its center lay Geir’s head. Its nose was missing, it had shriveled somewhat, and its skin was bluish.

Valeri, of course, showed no sign of discomposure. Ketilmund watched him from beginning to end, as though determined to catch even the slightest movement of a facial muscle. It was a ploy to test him by suddenly revealing something shocking.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Earl Æthelred’s brow was deeply furrowed. He was angry that his wife had been frightened, but beyond that, this was hardly something to put on a dining table.

“I heard he dared speak rudely to you, my lord. These days, some underlings are so full of themselves that they forget their place. I offer an apology on behalf of the ducal house. This is a token of our contrition. Will you accept it?”

The duke’s people were always like this: rude in their actions, apologetic in their words.

Earl Æthelred turned his head away as though he could not bear the sight.

“... I will accept the sentiment. Remove it at once.”

Only at the earl’s reply did Ketilmund close the box.

“Thank you. Now, His Grace takes a great interest in young Master Wid. It was at Blacken’s horse market, was it not? Your exploits there were the talk of Torvik for days. And now that you have chastised this insolent swordsman, you have proven yourself nothing short of a genius in combat. His Grace is eager to meet you as soon as possible.”

It was an overt summons. After all this, refusing would be virtually impossible.

Had they threatened him, there would at least have been grounds to resist. But they had gone so far as to cut off Geir’s head and bring it along, with the duke’s side bowing first to offer an apology. To refuse now would be to treat the duke with outright contempt.

Earl Æthelred was truly caught in a dilemma. He had a duty to protect the prince and keep his identity secret, so the thought of Valeri passing beyond his control filled him with anxiety.

Yet somehow, Valeri knew his own name and status. Above all, the words “You are not a vessel capable of containing me” had lodged in the earl’s heart and still echoed in his ears.

He felt helpless, guilty over his inadequacy, and ashamed. In the end, he closed his eyes.

“I’ll go.”

Valeri spoke first. Ketilmund responded with a genial smile that all but overflowed with insincerity. It was a smile made by deliberately moving the muscles, crinkling his eyes and curling his lips upward to an exaggerated degree.

“Young Master Wid wishes it too. You will give your permission, won’t you, my lord?”

Æthelred remained silent for a long time before reluctantly nodding.

“Please don’t worry so much, my lord. It isn’t as though we’re going to eat him. As I said, his martial renown has inspired such admiration that we merely wish to welcome him into the duke’s household. It’s hardly far on horseback, is it? You can see him whenever you like.”

Knowing nothing of what was on the earl’s mind, Ketilmund prattled on in an attempt to reassure him.

But he did not know that Valeri, too, was observing him.

They decided to strike while the iron was hot: make the necessary preparations and depart in two days. There were his usual clothes and everyday belongings to pack. The first thing Valeri put away was the gambeson the countess had made him.

Such a sudden change in circumstances might have left him unsettled, but Valeri spent the time following his usual routine, entirely untroubled. Rise at dawn, put his bedding in order, run up the mountain, return and teach swordsmanship.

He felt no particular unease or frustration. When the boys’ duties kept them from spending time with him, he rode Snow across the fields.

He rode and rode upstream, stopping only when he reached a place where he felt alone in the world. Spring flowers swayed in the wind, and sunlight blossomed in glimmers on the river.

He stayed there for a while, simply letting the breeze wash over him. Then hoofbeats sounded from the direction he had come. Turning, he was surprised to see Earl Æthelred appear over the ridge.

The earl rode over to him, brought his horse alongside Valeri’s, and looked out over the river, the fields, and the spring landscape.

Valeri did not go out of his way to speak. Both remained silent. Yet there was neither discomfort nor awkwardness. They simply were.

Then Earl Æthelred began to speak, as though entrusting his words to the wind. Not as an earl addressing a prince, but as one person to another—or perhaps as something else.

“It was around this time of year, I think. Fourteen years ago. The flames of war had long since died down, but embers still remained. We assembled in the royal capital, Valden, and were sent out to mop up the defeated remnants. But though we called them remnants, they were seasoned warriors who had fought in the War of Founding. People say His Majesty won the War of Beasts thanks to the knights. That is not at all how I saw it. I saw countless fellow knights meet sudden, violent deaths from axes flying out of the undergrowth. It was terrifying, facing those frenzied warriors. And so was the anxiety of never knowing when or where you would die.”

As Earl Æthelred gazed at the spring scenery, his eyes seemed fixed on a past beyond it.

“It snowed. Spring snow, like we had at the recent horse market. It came pouring down. We had lost men and were retreating in haste. It was late at night, I had no idea where I was, and I thought I was done for. That was when I met a rune mage. A mysterious figure in a large hat, with what seemed like faint moonlight surrounding him. Was he younger than I expected? I don’t remember clearly. I followed where he told me, and there was an old, ruined tower. You were there. You were only this big. Can you believe it?”

Earl Æthelred held out his palm. Valeri turned to look at it.

“You were this small, and now look at you. I hardly know what to say. At any rate, it looked as though your umbilical cord had only just been cut. Were the stories true? Were princes taken from their mothers’ arms as soon as they were born? I had too much on my mind at the time. The rune mage vanished, leaving only your name and a warning. Valeri. Keep his secret and protect him. Mourn the dead gods... From that moment on, my own life no longer mattered. All I could think of was keeping this tiny, fragile creature alive.”

“...”

“As you know, I had already lost two wives and two children. Going through that twice made me hate life itself. Perhaps that was why, when I first saw you, you truly seemed like a son the dead gods had sent me. It wasn’t until I returned home from the operation that I learned Sibild was pregnant.”

Valeri simply listened in silence. This felt different from when the countess had revealed her true feelings. No emotion welled up in him, yet neither was he unmoved.

Was it as though something were melting? Or as though his heart were gradually growing lighter, like a spring breeze? Whatever it was, that was how he felt.

“... What is it you want to tell me?”

“I found you near Ringstre. It is not far from Valden, the royal capital. Perhaps your mother lived somewhere nearby. I don’t know whether she still lives there. And Valeri is neither a Nord name nor an Astrian one. I understand that princes are named by their mothers, so I suspect she may have come from a foreign land. That was what I wanted to tell you.”

“...”

Valeri remained still in the breeze. Then he asked one more question.

Perhaps there was no need to ask it. But perhaps it was a question he could ask only now. If he let this moment pass, he might never have another chance.

“If one of us had to die, Harald or me, whom would you choose?”

It seemed a childish question. Yet Earl Æthelred did not treat it as childish at all. He thought for a long time, asking himself what he would do if that situation truly arose.

“... I would kill you, then die myself. Because that is my responsibility.”

The moment he heard those words, Valeri smiled without realizing it. He could not have been more satisfied.

Still smiling, he offered his hand. The gesture was so unexpected that Earl Æthelred looked at him questioningly.

Valeri said,

“Let’s make peace.”

Make peace? The earl considered what that meant. He looked back over the way he had treated Valeri for the past fourteen years, then recalled how the boy had recently saved Harald. He felt he had fallen short in so many ways.

Taking Valeri’s hand, Earl Æthelred said,

“I’m sorry. I have been sorely lacking. Please forgive me.”

Valeri answered without a word, his smile deepening.

Spring had fully arrived. Amid the cool air, a warm breeze blew from time to time.

Part 3 – A Farewell for Reconciliation. End.