Hyakuren no Haou to Seiyaku no Valkyria - Volume 24 - Chapter 3.2

“You ready?” Jorgen asked, taking a few practice swings with his wooden sword. It was the sword he always practiced with, so it was like an extension of his own arm.

“Whenever you are.” In contrast, Skavidr picked up a wooden short sword at random and held it at the ready. Jorgen had heard the boy was only twelve years old, but his stance was that of a seasoned warrior beyond his years.

“...Damn, he’s strong!” Once a warrior became experienced enough, they could gauge the strength of their opponent just by their stance, and since last year, Jorgen had gained experience facing off against full-grown adults within Bruno’s Chalice family. The fact that this boy was still a preteen sent a chill down Jorgen’s spine, even more so than the boy’s wolflike eyes.

“So, this is an Einherjar... ” Jorgen swallowed nervously. “But like hell I’m gonna lose!” Being five years older could make all the difference. Jorgen was taller and more muscular. He had an overwhelming advantage already, so he just needed to focus on winning—and not on how shameful it’d be if he lost.

“What’s wrong? Got cold feet?” Jorgen taunted with a confident grin. His pride wouldn’t allow himself to strike first, since he was the older one. He was the teacher here, and Skavidr was the student.

“If you say so!” Skavidr kicked off the ground.

“Holy shit, he’s fast!” But not fast enough that Jorgen couldn’t react. Clack! With a smooth movement, he returned Skavidr’s downward strike.

“Guh?!” Skavidr was thrown off-balance. Not missing that opportunity, Jorgen swung his wooden sword toward Skavidr’s unguarded torso.

“Tch!” Skavidr managed to block the attack at the last second with his own wooden sword...

“Ha!”

“Wha?!” But Jorgen didn’t let up, continuing to press his wooden sword into Skavidr until the boy lost his footing and fell to the ground. Jorgen then pointed the tip of his wooden sword at Skavidr’s nose.

“What’s wrong? Is this all an Einherjar’s capable of?” His voice was low and icy.

“Whoooa!” The crowd surged with excitement and surprise. Perhaps they hadn’t thought the battle would be decided so quickly. Jorgen hadn’t either—truthfully, the outcome had been so anticlimactic that it upset him. He’d expected more of a struggle than this.

“A weakling like you isn’t even worth training,” he said with a disappointed sigh. He felt like a fool for sensing strength within the boy—for getting nervous.

“L-Let me try again! O-One more round!” Skavidr protested.

“Fine. Now come at me!” Jorgen replied with vigor.

“Okay!” Skavidr leaped up from the ground and delivered blow after blow. Jorgen had stoked the fires of desperation in the boy, but...

“Not good enough,” Jorgen spat coldly after effortlessly blocking about twenty of Skavidr’s blows. For a twelve-year-old, his defense and offense were indeed well above average—outstandingly so, in fact. But only for a twelve-year-old. In the end, a boy with a small build couldn’t hold a candle to Jorgen, who was used to fighting full-grown adults. The boy’s fighting style was also too by-the-books, and he trusted his opponent too much. Perhaps he’d have no equal among children his age, but he was going to have to come into his own abit more before he’d ever be a match for Jorgen.

“This is how you use a sword.” After using the direction of his eyes and the movement of his shoulders to perform a feint, tricking the boy into guarding his head, he swung the sword with all his strength at the boy’s thigh.

“Gah?!” Slow to react, Skavidr took the brunt of the attack at full force and was knocked off his feet. He did a somersault in the air before crashing to the ground.

“Is this all an Einherjar is capable of...?” Jorgen muttered, lightly smacking the boy on the head with his sword. Honestly, he couldn’t be more disappointed. Why was this boy chosen and not him? At the time, he’d had no idea. But a year later, Jorgen would finally learn the true strength of an Einherjar firsthand.

“Haaaa!”

“Hooohh!”

The clacking of wood against wood seemed to continue without end. After having sparred with Skavidr close to fifty times now, Jorgen expected to once again be on the offensive from start to finish—a one-sided battle like all the others. But this time, he wasn’t able to deliver the deciding blow.

“Haa!”

“Hup!”

Even if Jorgen struck with all his strength, he was always intercepted with perfect timing before the attack could muster any real weight. When they were locking swords and he tried to clinch the battle with sheer force, the boy always slipped away like a snake. If he tried to attack Skavidr with a flurry of blows during his retreat to get him to stay put, he would always avoid it with masterful footwork.

“Damn!” Furthermore, every time Skavidr slipped away, a sharp strike would follow. Even if Jorgen managed to block it, the boy always took that opportunity to gain some distance, making it impossible for Jorgen to get a bead on him. For the past few battles, that pattern had repeated itself.

“Haa...haa...” But Skavidr’s breathing was starting to become labored. Even though Jorgen had been the one exerting all his stamina, it had probably exhausted Skavidr’s concentration and nerves to keep up with such a strong opponent for so long.

“Haa!” But Jorgen had no obligation to let him rest. He sent strike after lightning-fast strike toward the boy.

Skavidr kept dodging until his posture suddenly crumbled. It wasn’t because he’d been hit—he’d slipped on a fallen leaf. Naturally, Jorgen didn’t let that opportunity slip by.

“Gotcha!” With all his might, Jorgen sent his wooden sword downward. Skavidr tried to block with his own wooden sword, but with his posture compromised, he was unable to.

“This is it! You’re done for!” Jorgen thought. But in the next instant, he was proven wrong. Suddenly, his sword began to move in a direction he hadn’t intended to take it. The weight of Jorgen’s own attack dragged him along with it, sending him off-balance. “What the hell?!”

In the height of his confusion, he saw Skavidr rear up to strike from the corner of his eye. “Shit!” It was already too late to react. A searing pain shot across his left flank, and he fell to one knee.

“Yes!” Skavidr pumped his fist. He’d never been one to show much emotion, so it was often hard to tell what he was thinking. This was the first time Jorgen had ever seen him exhibit something resembling elation. Perhaps after losing so many times over the past year, he was just happy to finally clinch a victory.

“Tch. You finally got one over on me, huh? What was that last thing you did, anyway? It was like my sword was moving on its own,” Jorgen asked him. He almost added, “Don’t get so carried away over a mere fluke,” but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to sound like a sore loser, and he was genuinely curious what could’ve possibly compromised his posture like that.

“Instead of taking the strength of your blow head-on, I simply diverted it in another direction. Of course, that doesn’t work with just any attack, so I lured you into taking a big downward swing,” Skavidr explained.

“What?! You mean you slipped on that leaf on purpose?!”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I see.” Jorgen scratched his head. In other words, he’d taken the bait Skavidr had laid out. The straightforward Skavidr of last year never would’ve attempted something like that. Of course, Jorgen wouldn’t let that work on him next time, but in actual combat, there were no “next times.” Begrudgingly, he had to admit that the boy had beaten him not through sheer luck or random happenstance, but on his own merit. Jorgen had lost.

“Hmph, not bad, Einherjar.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Big Brother Jorgen. After so many battles against someone I couldn’t win against with sheer strength alone, I started strategizing and finally had a revelation. If I’d continued to only fight people my own age, I might’ve been so stuck in my own ways that I’d never have improved,” he said with a grin.

At this point, Skavidr was still green and had much more growing to do, but in the distant future, this meeting would inspire the boy to create the “Willow Technique” and one day pass it down to a pupil of his named Sigrun, who would in turn pass it down to a pupil of hers named Hildegard. That secret technique of Skavidr’s would later go on to be the thread that always kept the girls alive in the face of certain death.

“By the way, my name’s not ‘Einherjar.’ It’s Skavidr.”

“Ah, right.” Jorgen belatedly realized that up until now, he hadn’t once called Skavidr by his proper name, probably something he’d unconsciously done in petty retaliation against the boy for earning a rune quicker than he had. However, now that Jorgen had fought him, he could sense a toughness and dogged determination to win, a strength completely independent from what his rune had granted him.

“You’ve gotten strong, Skavidr.” With a small smirk, Jorgen finally called the boy by his name. Reluctant as he was to do so, he acknowledged Skavidr as a fellow warrior. Suddenly, he heard applause from behind. Jorgen turned around—and immediately bent his knee.

“F-Father?! My apologies for showing you such a pathetic display.” He greeted Bruno by kneeling before him. Beside Jorgen, Skavidr did the same.

“Pathetic? That was one of the finest battles I’ve ever witnessed. I came to praise you, not berate you,” Bruno said.

“I-I am not worthy of your words. Thank you.” Jorgen bowed his head.

“And you, Skavidr.” Bruno then turned to face Skavidr. “To claim victory against the strongest member of our family is quite the accomplishment, especially at such a young age.”

“Thank you, Father,” Skavidr replied.

“However, you can’t get by in this world on strength alone. Be sure to listen to your brothers and treat them with respect as you learn more and more. Remember, diligence is key,” Bruno explained.

“Yes, Father. I understand.” Skavidr nodded.

“Now then, Jorgen, I have another matter to discuss with you. Come with me.” Gesturing with his chin for Jorgen to follow, Bruno walked away. His demeanor and tone had seemed a bit more stern just now. “What’s with hun? Did I mess up somehow without realizing it?” However, Bruno was his sworn father, and his father’s word was absolute. Silently, he trailed after Bruno.

“How many years has it been since you came here?” Once they’d reached the pond in the corner of the garden, Bruno spoke. He did not turn around to face Jorgen.

“As of last month, it’s been four years, I believe,” Jorgen replied.

“That long, huh? Well, I suppose given that much time, even a boorish monkey like you would learn some manners.”

“That’s all thanks to your thorough discipline, Father.” Jorgen bowed his head, returning the insult with ready wit. He was being sarcastic, but it was also true—over the past four years, etiquette had been thoroughly drilled into him. Acting improperly would result in no dinner or even corporal punishment. Bruno had put it aptly—under that environment, even a monkey would’ve learned.

“Seems like you’ve also excelled at the work I’ve given you. Everyone always talks about your attention to detail.”

“It’s an honor to hear that.” In truth, however, he felt no joy at being praised. After completing his three- year etiquette course, Jorgen had spent the last year doing work for Bruno’s faction—although his share involved boring behind-the-scenes work like collecting the annual taxes from the townsfolk, overseeing the transportation of weapons and rations to the front lines, and managing the upkeep of the town. Of course, he approached all these duties with diligence and care, but hearing his work praised in these areas did nothing for him. To a warrior, such things were trivial.

“So, I was thinking since you’ve done so well, it might be time for you to finally receive Father’s Chalice,” Bruno said.

“Huh?!” Jorgen wasn’t expecting that. Seeing Jorgen’s surprise, Bruno grinned.

“That was the arrangement originally, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Well, yes, but...” Jorgen was at a loss for words. Truthfully, he’d been convinced that Bruno had only used the prospect of Farbauti’s Chalice as bait, a promise that was never meant to be fulfilled. He’d been sure that the only way to actually receive the patriarch’s Chalice was to accomplish something great, and that as long as he was in Bruno’s family, he’d be stuck doing menial work anyone could do. So why was Bruno offering Farbauti’s Chalice now?

“The last four years under me have been boring and miserable, haven’t they?” Bruno said knowingly.

“Of course not, Father, any time under you would never...” He quickly tried to deny it, but Bruno had hit the nail on the head. How many times had he longed to nullify his oath with Bruno and move to another family? He’d lost count.

“But no matter how mundane the task, you were always diligent and gave it your all. That’s not something just anyone can do.”

Jorgen blinked in surprise. He hadn’t imagined Bruno would ever say something so thoughtful. He’d been sure that Bruno was just a stubborn old man who cared about outward appearances and formalities more than what was actually inside, so his assessment came as a shock.

Bruno’s assessment continued. “Young folk tend to only be focused on accomplishing great things. However, in a clan like ours, there are inevitably times when you’ll be forced to do things you don’t necessarily want to—times when things don’t go the way you want them to, or when you’ll have to say something’s white when it’s clearly black. Such circumstances require the composure and wit to be able to keep your head down.”

“So, you’ve been testing me all this time? Is that what you’re telling me?” Jorgen asked.

“You catch on quick,” Bruno replied. “Not just a test, though. I wanted to give you some experience, so that even during the rough times, you’ll be able to hang in there a bit longer.”

“True. I’m pretty sure I could handle anything, especially after the hell you put me through.”

“I know, right?” Bruno let out a despicable chuckle. It had been a hellish environment—on top of being boring and restrictive, Bruno would deprive him of food and beat him if his speech and manners didn’t meet his exacting standards. But just as Bruno had said, that had toughened Jorgen up into someone who wouldn’t fold when faced with the average hardship.

“I said this to Skavidr too,” Bruno went on, “but strength alone isn’t enough to make it in a clan like ours. It may seem like nothing more than formality at a glance, but etiquette and discipline prevent unnecessary conflicts from popping up, and they keep you from tripping up when it really counts.”

“I...see.” Jorgen had now matured enough to understand the significance behind Bruno’s lessons. At first, he’d been convinced that formalities and proper conduct were little more than pointless lip service, but now he realized that people were more receptive to him and kinder when he kept up those formalities.

“As you are now, I don’t have any qualms about letting you have Father’s Chalice,” Bruno said. “Diligence is key. Remember that.”

Suddenly, Jorgen felt tears welling up in his eyes. If he were being brutally honest, he despised Bruno. He’d lost count of the times the old bastard had yelled at him and beaten him. Jorgen thought he’d never be able to respect a man like that, and though he kept such thoughts very much to himself, he’d looked down on him as a stubborn old man stuck in his ways, someone every bit as narrow-minded as the rumors said.

Truthfully? The rumors had mostly been right. But now, he’d come to realize that there was more to Bruno than he’d thought. Given everything he’d seen and learned, Jorgen finally realized that Bruno’s lofty position as second-in-command of the Wolf Clan hadn’t been for show.

Jorgen bowed to Bruno’s back, deeply enough that his head reached his knees, and shouted his reply. “Yes, Father! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your guidance, and for whipping me into shape these past few years!”

The years that followed flew by Jorgen in a flash. His workload became mountainous, and after clearing it all, his status within the clan rose. With that elevated status came further increased responsibility within the clan, which meant even more work. That cycle continued as he worked as hard as he could, and before he knew it, he was over thirty, he ranked sixth within the clan, he had started a family, and he had become the Wolf Clan’s permanent adviser. He had taken two women as his wives and had children with each. He couldn’t be more satisfied with his current life.

“In the end, without your instruction, I never would’ve gotten this far, second-in-command,” Jorgen admitted. Those were his true feelings. If he’d still been the cheeky upstart he used to be, he was sure he never would’ve risen to his current position. He had to admit that Bruno’s lessons in conduct and etiquette, and perhaps most importantly, those relating to improving his social skills, had been a huge boon for Jorgen when it had come to making a living within the clan.

“Heh, stop that. I’m not second-in-command anymore,” Bruno said with a wistful half-smile. Moments ago, there had been a ceremony to amend the Oath of the Chalice, and Bruno had stepped down from his position as the second-in-command of the Wolf Clan, becoming its leader of subordinates instead. As far as anyone was concerned, it was billed as a promotion, but under the Chalice system, a patriarch’s successor was chosen from among his sworn children—there was no precedent for a successor to be chosen from among a subordinate. In other words, Bruno had lost the qualifications to lead the Wolf Clan as Farbauti’s successor.

As much as Farbauti was fond of Bruno, the truth was that for the past ten years, Bruno hadn’t accomplished anything of merit, and he simply couldn’t compete with the rising stars of the clan. Jorgen owed a lot to Bruno, so he did find it a shame, but well, such was the passage of time. The strong rose to the top, and when they grew weak, they were demoted to the lower ranks and replaced by someone stronger. That was the way of the world in Yggdrasil.

“Hey, Uncle, congratulations. You’ve done some fine work up until now,” said a cheerful voice. When he turned to look, he saw a blond-haired, blue-eyed man in his midforties, wearing his trademark grin as usual. It was someone Jorgen knew well, a man who was highly respected within the Wolf Clan. But from his prolonged exposure to the man, Jorgen knew that behind that smile lurked a calmness that was almost inhuman.

That being said, Jorgen didn’t dislike that side of him. It was thanks to the man’s levelheaded judgment that in the Wolf Clan’s ongoing feud with the Horn Clan, their casualties had been kept to a minimum and their clan had been able to prevent the Horn Clan’s advances. Thanks to him, the Wolf Clan had enjoyed peace for the last ten years.

The mystery man was none other than Helblindi—an outsider whose skills had enabled him to take Bruno’s place and become the new second-in-command of the Wolf Clan.

“What do you want, Helblindi?” Bruno said hatefully with a glare. In response, Helblindi casually shrugged his shoulders, perhaps because he was confident he was the stronger one.

“My business isn’t with you, Uncle,” Helblindi replied. “You just relax and rest those tired bones. I’m here for Jorgen.”

“Me?” Jorgen raised his eyebrows in suspicion. Helblindi’s grin seemed to become wider.

“That’s right. How’d you like to join my family instead, Jorgen? Uncle’s done for, I’m afraid. Sticking around him isn’t gonna do you any favors, let alone snag you any promotions.”

“That’s a rude thing to say when the man himself is right here,” Jorgen growled.

“See, that’s what I mean. Always a stickler for formalities. Hey, Uncle. Give up Jorgen and Skavidr to me already. You wouldn’t want to see the boys you spent so much time and effort raising fall into obscurity, would you?”

“Why, you...!”

“Stand down, Jorgen!” Before Jorgen could explode with rage, Bruno raised a hand to stop him. “I thank you for being so considerate, Helblindi. Indeed, I would hate to see Jorgen and Skavidr’s talents go to waste. Please take care of them for me.” Bruno bowed reverently to Helblindi—to his archenemy who’d usurped his position.

“You’re too soft, Uncle. "There was only a thin line between being gentle and being weak. Both Farbauti and Bruno had a tendency to cross that line—so focused on the big picture that they were often far too lenient with those around them. In order to survive in this world, there were times when you had to stand your ground or risk being walked all over, and now was one of those times. Naturally, Jorgen knew that Bruno was acting in the best interests of his sworn children... but Bruno was being far too servile. It was so pathetic that Jorgen couldn’t stand it.

“Well, now that I have Uncle’s permission, you’ll be under me starting tomorrow,” Helblindi stated. “I’ve taken quite a liking to that persistent loyalty you’ve shown toward Uncle, you know.”

“So you can use me as a tool without having to worry, I presume?” Jorgen shot back.

“Hmph, you’re smarter than you look. Yes, you and Skavidr will be incredibly useful tools. However, I won’t use you to the point of breaking, at least. You will be rewarded with promotions and the like for your efforts.” Helblindi acknowledged it immediately—he didn’t even try to hide it. He would use anything as long as it was useful—that was the sort of matter-of-fact logic Helblindi was known for, and likely also the reason he continued to achieve results. He was a bastard, but Jorgen had to admit the guy had talent.

“Next, I’d like for our newly appointed second-in-command of the Wolf Clan, Lord Helblindi, to detail our plan for the clan going forward.” As the ceremony chairman moved on to the next topic, cries of excitement and enthusiasm arose from all around the assembly hall.

“Oh, looks like I’m up.” With a casual wave of his hand, Helblindi turned on his heel and stepped up to the podium.

“I’ll begin by introducing myself. My name is Helblindi.” There was confidence and authority in his voice as he greeted the crowd. He spent the next few minutes outlining what actions he planned to take from here on. Then, once the speech had reached a stopping point...

“Loptr, come here.”

“Yes, dad.” Helblindi summoned his own son to the podium—a boy of delicate build, with the same blond hair and blue eyes as his father. While their faces weren’t very alike, the glint in the boy’s eyes was the spitting image of his father’s—the cold, condescending gaze of someone who viewed others as disposable tools.

“Let me introduce a certain young boy next. This is Loptr, my son and, as most of you already know, an Einherjar,” Helblindi explained.

The mention of an Einherjar caused a commotion within the crowd. Naturally, Jorgen had also heard of Loptr—the “all-arounder prodigy,” as he had come to be known. The boy had an uncanny ability to pick up and absorb any technique, no matter the category, as easily as sand soaks up water—and that wasn’t even taking his Einherjar powers into account. Some even said that the real reason Helblindi was able to snag the seat of second-in-command was that he had a son like Loptr.

“In recent years,” Helblindi continued, “the number of Einherjar within the Wolf Clan has drastically increased. As it happens, my daughter, Felicia, has also recently been blessed with a rune of her own.”

The commotion from the crowd was louder this time. “Not just the older one, but the younger one too, huh?” Jorgen clicked his tongue in frustration. “Must be nice to come from such a magnificent bloodline.” It made him so jealous he could barely stand it.

“Just the other day, Sigrun, who has already received our patriarch’s Chalice despite her young age, also came into a rune of her own. Looking to the west, the Hoof Clan’s forces grow larger by the day, suppressing ever-growing portions of the Horn Clan’s territory. This, I believe, is Angrboda’s guidance at work.” With his hand on his heart and his gaze to the heavens, Helblindi spoke in a reverent tone.