Vinland Saga IF – The Tale of the Other Queen, Rím
Rím, the woman who served as King Canute's shadow and devoted everything to him, now gets her own tale, a story that never came to be in the original saga.
Just as he is about to unify England, Canute is poisoned and falls into a deep coma. In her despair, Rím holds onto one secret knowledge: the dream of Vinland, the ideal land that Canute secretly yearned for deep in his heart, a legacy of the man named Askeladd.
"I'll show him Vinland myself!"
With that wild declaration, Rím secretly organ
Vinland Saga IF – The Tale of the Other Queen, Rím - The Rotten Eagle's Conspiracy and the Mercenary's Debt
The veil of night wrapped the city of Jorvik in its entirety.
From the king's hall, faint lamplight seeped out. But that light seemed somehow cold, flickering with unease.
"So, that woman has managed to ensnare the old crone of the Silver Tide Trading Company."
Hervor Thorsteinson twisted his lips as he spoke. With every word, the eagle-feather ornament adorning his fingertip quivered faintly. His long golden hair, now beginning to streak with white, was stiffened with oil, without a single strand out of place. His cold, blue-gray eyes bore into the spy standing before him.
This was a noble's mansion in Jorvik. In a room enclosed by stone walls, the hearth fire crackled and popped. Yet the air in the room was frozen solid.
"Yes. Gudrun Halfdan intends to invest her entire fortune. She has already begun purchasing five knarrs at the river port."
The spy answered, his head still deeply bowed.
Hervor tapped the ring on his left ring finger against the desk—tap, tap, tap. Concealed within that ring was a secret mechanism for dispensing poison.
"That woman... does she truly intend to carry a dead man across to heathen lands?"
"It appears so. To Vinland, she says."
Crack.
The quill in Hervor's hand snapped clean in two.
"Vinland!?"
He rose from his chair and walked slowly toward the window. Gazing into the darkness outside, he forced out his voice.
"The King of the Danes... that woman, a mere handmaid, intends to spirit our king away to some fairy-tale island? By the pride of the Danes, could there be any greater blasphemy?"
But.
When he turned back, his face bore a twisted smile—something entirely separate from anger.
"...However, this is a golden opportunity, the kind that comes once in a thousand years."
He slowly returned to the hearth and stared into the flickering flames.
"King Cnut lies in a coma. And if I, his loyal retainer, deeply concerned for his well-being, were to capture the madwoman throwing the kingdom into chaos—"
His voice was sweet, cloying.
"Who could possibly fault me? If anything, the position of regent is all but guaranteed."
"What shall we do, then?"
"Is it not obvious?"
Hervor toyed with his ring as he gave his orders.
"First, drag that woman's reputation through the mud at the port. A deranged handmaid, carrying a dead man out onto the winter sea—who would cooperate with such a madwoman? Spread the rumors. Make the sailors tremble. Especially those ruffians who loiter around the tavern, the Broken Oar. If you destroy her reputation there, she won't be able to arrange for mercenaries or sailors."
"Understood."
"And one more thing—"
Hervor lowered his voice.
"Summon Rorik. Order that man to tail the handmaid and the old woman. If the opportunity arises, you may dispose of them, staged as an 'accident.' Needless to say, ensure it cannot be traced back to my command."
"As you wish."
Once the spy had left the room, Hervor stood alone before the hearth, smirking to himself.
"Now then, struggle all you like, woman. Your mad devotion shall become the cornerstone of my power."
A spark from the fire popped and burst.
At that same hour, Rimu and Gudrun were at the port tavern, the Broken Oar.
Inside, the establishment was packed with sailors and merchants. The mingled scents of sweat, cheap ale, and brine created a singular atmosphere. On the walls hung sea charts cracked here and there, and a broken ship's wheel.
The innkeeper, Inga, plunked tankards of ale down before the two of them.
"There you go. Lately, you two are all anyone talks about."
Rimu, reaching for her tankard, stopped mid-motion.
"...What are they saying?"
"That a crazy handmaid's hauling a dead man out to sea! The whole port's buzzing with it. You've really made yourself some enemies, haven't you?"
Rimu's mouth twisted into a frown.
(It's already spread that far... This has to be Hervor's doing.)
"Oh my, a dead man? How insulting. The king is very much alive. He's just... sleeping a little, that's all."
"Hah, is that so? Well, give it your best."
Once the innkeeper had gone, Gudrun tilted her tankard back and spoke.
"Seems that rotten eagle's flapping his wings. That's Hervor's handiwork, no doubt about it."
"...Yes, I'm certain of it. But we can't back down."
"Aye, I've no intention of backing down either. At this point, it's a matter of pride."
The two of them began approaching the other patrons.
"Excuse me, is there a mercenary here looking for guard work?"
"We're recruiting a mercenary band! The pay is generous!"
But the patrons' reactions were cold.
"So you're the madwoman we've heard about."
"The North Sea in winter? Might as well jump straight into a coffin. Who'd go?"
"My granny always said a ship carrying a dead man is cursed."
Laughter rose. Some even stood up and left outright.
Rimu bit her lip.
(Damn... the rumors are having a bigger impact than I thought.)
Gudrun clapped Rimu on the shoulder.
"No use fretting. Rumors like that change in three days anyway."
That was when it happened.
Thud.
Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed before Rimu.
Looking up, she saw an extraordinarily large man standing there. Close-cropped dark brown hair, gray eyes reminiscent of a bird of prey. And—the origin of his name—a jaw fitted with an iron plate. Countless old scars were etched across his entire body.
(Wha... who is this?)
Rimu instinctively caught her breath.
The man stared down at her in silence. At his expressionless face and overwhelming presence, the surrounding patrons momentarily fell quiet.
"...Do you want something?"
Rimu desperately steadied her voice, which threatened to tremble.
"Aye."
The man nodded heavily.
"Take me aboard your ship."
"Huh?"
"You need guards, don't you? If I'll do, I'll lend you my strength."
"Um, well, that's very kind, but... we don't have much money to spare—"
"I don't need money."
Rimu grew even more confused.
"Why...?"
"I just want to repay a debt."
"A debt? To me?"
"No. To King Cnut."
The moment that name was spoken, Rimu's heart jolted.
"You know him!?"
Sverting did not answer. He simply stared at her in silence.
Rimu's eyes were drawn once more to the countless scars etched into the man's face. The scar on his forehead, the scar on his temple, and—
(That jaw wound... what kind of battle could shatter a man's jaw? And how did he survive it?)
At that moment, Gudrun, who had been drinking ale beside her, peered intently at Sverting's face and spoke.
"That wound... is it from the Battle of Anglia?"
Sverting's brow moved—just barely.
"Three years ago, at the battle in Anglia, the left flank of the Danish army was broken by the enemy's axe battalion. At that time, the king himself led his household guard in a charge. And then—he shielded a young soldier who had been struck down by an enemy axe, using his own body as a shield."
Gudrun's voice was quiet.
"The king's armor was dented, shield and all, and he couldn't rise from his bed for two months, apparently. The soldier survived—but his jawbone was crushed. And that's why you've got that iron jaw."
Sverting said nothing.
But that silence spoke volumes.
"...So that's what happened."
Rimu felt a warmth spreading deep within her chest.
(That man... that cold man who never opens his heart to anyone... he used his own body as a shield to save a soldier.)
Cnut had used Rimu as a food taster, yet he had never tried to keep her away from danger. He had only ever said, "Don't die."
(But... he did something like this, too. For a single, nameless soldier.)
Rimu looked at Sverting anew.
"He saved you. And now—you're trying to save him in return."
Sverting's mouth moved—just slightly, ever so slightly.
His iron jaw gave a small, metallic click.
"Aye. So let me repay my debt."
Rimu nodded deeply.
"...Thank you. I'll make sure you can repay that debt. Welcome to our fleet."
"Your name?"
"Sverting. Sverting Jarnkjaft."
"Right then, Ironjaw. I'm Gudrun. This here's Rimu. We're counting on you."
Sverting nodded in silence.
But then, at that moment.
Gudrun suddenly gripped Rimu's hand tightly.
"...Don't move. The corner table. Look at that red-haired man."
Rimu casually shifted her gaze.
At a table in the corner of the tavern sat a man. Soiled leather armor, shifty, darting eyes. And—he was unmistakably watching them.
"...A spy."
"Aye. Probably one of Hervor's men. He's been eavesdropping on us for a while now."
"What do we do?"
"Leave it to me."
Gudrun grinned.
And then, suddenly—
"Ahhh, you! It's been ages, hasn't it! My, how you've grown, big and strong!!"
Gudrun shouted at the top of her lungs, grabbing Rimu's hand and rising to her feet.
Every patron in the tavern turned to look at them at once.
"Huh? Wha— Gudrun!?"
"Listen up, everyone, I've got a wonderful story! This girl here is my daughter! And just recently, she struck a gold mine on a southern island! Isn't that amazing!?"
"W-wait, what are you—"
"And now we're taking the king and moving to a southern paradise! There's still room on the ship! If you've got a gold coin or two, why not join us!?"
The entire tavern erupted in laughter.
"Oi, oi, Granny Gudrun, you've had way too much to drink!"
"A gold mine!? You must be dreaming!"
Gudrun staggered about on unsteady legs, accosting table after table.
"You coming too!? We've got five ships, you know! A hundred silver coins per person! Come on, come on!"
She deliberately drew closer to the table where the spy was sitting.
The man was visibly bewildered. Gudrun's bizarre antics had completely seized his attention.
In that opening—
Sverting whispered into Rimu's ear.
"Let's go, anego."
"Huh?"
Sverting seized Rimu's arm and pushed through the crowd toward the back door.
"W-wait, what about Gudrun—"
"She'll be fine. We'll meet up with her later."
The two of them burst out into a dimly lit back alley.
The cold night wind cooled her flushed cheeks.
"Hahh... hahh..."
Rimu caught her breath and looked up at Sverting.
"...Thank you. You saved me."
"No need for thanks."
After a while—
"Oiii, sorry to keep you waiting!"
Gudrun appeared in the alley, cackling with laughter.
"Gudrun, you're safe...!"
"Heh, that was nothing. That spy was completely dumbstruck by my beautiful singing voice."
"...You were pretending to be drunk."
"Something like that. While I was at it, I spread a little rumor that our fleet struck a gold mine. Fight false rumors with false rumors, I say."
"...A merchant's wisdom is really something else."
"Well, just a little trick of the trade."
Gudrun turned toward Sverting.
"You're pretty quick on your feet, aren't you? Looks like you'll make a fine guard."
"...Naturally."
He said it with his usual expressionless face—but his gray eyes had softened, just a little.
Rimu looked back and forth between Gudrun's face and Sverting's.
(Thank goodness... we've gained another ally. With this, we can move forward, just a little.)
But—
"Still, this makes things clear."
Gudrun's voice was serious.
"Hervor is already making his move. It's not just that one spy. I'm sure there are many more eyes watching us."
"Yes... I know."
"Unless we pluck the feathers off that rotten eagle—your voyage will remain in constant danger."
Rimu looked up at the night sky.
Through a break in the clouds, the cold moon peered out.
"For the king's sake, I'll take on any eagle. Besides—"
Rimu looked at Sverting.
"—the life that he saved is now protecting me. Just knowing that fills me with incredible strength."
Sverting said nothing.
Only his iron jaw moved, ever so slightly.
When they returned to the abandoned house, Rimu went straight to Cnut's bedside.
On the old bed, the king lay as he always did, his shallow breaths repeating endlessly. A pale face. Closed eyes. The faint scent of medicinal herbs hung in the room.
Rimu took the king's cold hand.
"...I'm back, Your Majesty."
She spoke to him gently, just
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