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 Fireball Sister Is Born
Outside, it was still dim. A little too early for dawn.
The air at the harbor was colder than usual, thick with the scent of brine. The surface of the River Ouse rippled, reflecting a sky just beginning to pale.
Rimu stood on the deck of the Fimbul, gently touching the bandages on her left arm. It still throbbed with pain.
"...I won't let a single scratch touch him."
Her murmur vanished into the wind, meant for no one's ears.
Right beside her, Gudrun stood before a mountain of loaded supplies, frowning over a ledger in her hands. The candlelight faintly illuminated her silver hair. The gold ring on her left hand glinted faintly each time she turned a page.
"Three barrels short on the dried cod. Two pennies a barrel. That fat merchant fudged the numbers again, didn't he? So it's not just rats skulking around the harbor—we've got plump, well-fed foxes too."
Gudrun snapped the ledger shut with irritation and rapped her left-hand ring against the desk.
"First thing tomorrow morning, I'm storming in. Business aside, let me tell you—every last person who's underestimated me has lived to regret it. That's the Silver Tide Trading Company's way."
"...You're reassuring."
Rimu gave a wry smile—and that was when it happened.
Thud. Thud. The ship's gangway shook under heavy footsteps.
"...He's here."
Emerging from the pre-dawn gloom was Sverting Jarnkjaft.
His massive frame was unmistakable even from a distance. A stiff-looking new leather cuirass encased his 192-centimeter body, creaking with every movement. His dark brown hair was cropped short and neat, and his raptor-like gray eyes swept the surroundings without expression. But what drew the eye most of all was his jaw. The iron plate caught the faint morning light.
Clad in the leather armor that marked him as captain of the guard, he looked even larger than usual—and more dangerous.
"That's some fine armor. Like a bear decided to put on a cuirass."
"…………"
Sverting stared wordlessly at a single point on the deck. His gaze was fixed on the stairs leading down to the ship's hold—the king's sleeping quarters.
"Aneki."
A low voice, as if rumbling up from the depths of the earth.
"Nothing unusual."
"Yes. Thank you, Sverting."
At Rimu's nod, Sverting dipped his chin just once, heavily. The iron plate gave a small click.
The sun began to rise.
Sailors and merchants had started gathering at the harbor since early morning. Before long, a crowd had formed around the Fimbul as well—people who had caught wind of the voyage about to begin. Some were clearly just gawkers.
"Hey, that's the Iron Jaw they talk about."
"Don't get close. One glare from him and you're done."
The onlookers pointed at Sverting from a safe distance. But one rough-looking man, apparently drunk, raised his voice on the courage of alcohol.
"Oi! What's with that jaw?! You trying to show off, or are you planning to eat iron or something?!"
Sverting slowly turned toward the man.
That alone transformed the atmosphere entirely. The man's companions scrambled backward.
Gray eyes seized the drunkard. Killing intent. That was all it took—the man froze as if turned to ice.
"Whoa there, you'd best not pick a fight with this one."
Gudrun cut in with a light tone. She glanced at Rimu and grinned with amusement.
"This bear, you see—once upon a time, the king nearly split his jaw open. And then, instead, the king saved him. When he was on the brink of death, the king went out of his way to shield him with his own shield. Ever since, he's been an oddball who lives for nothing but repaying that debt."
The sailors stirred.
"That king... you mean King Canute?"
"The king did that?"
"That's right. On a battlefield in his younger days. An enemy axe caught him in the face. His jaw was shattered—just when he was about to die, that boy-king threw out his own shield and protected him. That's how he survived. Ever since, this bear's been living solely for the king, to repay that life-debt. An oddball, isn't he?"
Sverting stood rooted like a guardian deity, saying nothing.
The onlookers' eyes shifted slightly from the fear they'd held moments before.
"...Man's got a strong sense of duty."
"So that's how it is."
The drunkard muttered something under his breath and hurried away.
Watching Sverting's back, Rimu smiled softly.
(A life that man saved... is standing right here.)
A warmth spread deep in her chest.
That was when it happened.
"—Something's wrong."
Gudrun's voice had suddenly turned serious. She looked up at the sky and sniffed the air repeatedly, as if tasting the scent of the wind.
"...Lady Gudrun?"
"This wind, this humidity... the smell is different. A storm's coming. And a big one—by tonight."
"A storm..."
Rimu looked up at the sky. There were still few clouds. But the distant horizon alone was darkening, eerily so.
"When you lose your family at sea, you learn the smell of a storm whether you want to or not. This is bad. Double the moorings. And lash down the supplies, tight."
Gudrun's face had shed its usual hearty grin, deep wrinkles etched into it now. She turned the ring on her left hand round and round, over and over.
Rimu caught her breath at the grim intensity of her expression—something she had never seen before.
The loss at sea this woman carried. The winter storm that had taken her husband and son.
"...Understood. I'll make preparations at once."
Rimu clenched her bandaged left arm tightly.
The work on the ship was over in a flash.
Under Sverting's direction, the mercenaries began lashing down the supplies. Being a man of few words, his orders came not as shouts but as simple gestures with one hand.
"This way."
"Aye!"
"Double the ropes."
"Understood!"
For some reason, the mercenaries moved briskly at his blunt commands. With that overwhelming presence of his, no one dared defy him.
Before long, the sun set and night arrived.
A stronger wind than usual had begun to blow through the harbor. The sky was blanketed in thick clouds—no moonlight, no starlight. Only the eerie sound of the wind echoed.
All the ship's lamps had been extinguished, and darkness enveloped everything.
"Aneki, rest."
"...Yes, I will."
Shielding her fiercely aching left arm, Rimu started down the stairs toward the cabin.
That was when—
Scuff.
A small noise.
"...?"
She turned. But she saw nothing.
(Was it just my imagination?)
Sverting was patrolling the deck. Gudrun had also gone to check the supply hold.
Rimu pictured Canute's sleeping face and smiled quietly.
—How much time passed after that, she did not know.
Whoosh.
The first to notice the anomaly was Sverting.
"...Fire!"
Toward the stern, an orange light flickered and swayed.
The next morning, the harbor tavern "The Broken Oar" was abuzz with talk of the previous night's arson.
"Did you hear?! About the Fireball Aneki!"
"Yeah, she jumped right into the flames, didn't she?! While her own arm was burning!"
"And then she just smiled with her hair all singed, they say. 'I won't let a single scratch touch him'!"
At the counter, the innkeeper Inga laughed heartily.
"I had a view of the harbor last night. I saw an orange light flickering. Thought it was a bonfire at first—but no, it was the ship! The ship! And in the middle of those flames, I saw a figure running."
"That aneki?"
"That's right. Hair and arm burning, and she still hacked through the bulkhead with an axe. All by herself—wouldn't even listen when that Iron Jaw bear tried to stop her."
The tavern erupted.
"Fireball Aneki! That's a fine name!"
"Iron Jaw and Fireball, huh?! At this rate it ain't just the ship burning—the whole sea's gonna catch fire!"
Polishing a tankard, Inga murmured.
"...But the one who set the fire still hasn't been found, right? Which means there's still an enemy on board."
At those words, the tavern fell silent for a moment.
"And on top of that, a storm's coming. Everyone at the harbor's saying that ship is finished. With a traitor and a storm, there's no winning."
A dim ship's cabin.
The candlelight flickered, small and unsteady.
Clenching her bandaged left arm tightly, Rimu stared out into the darkness beyond. The smell of brine and charred wood still hung in the air.
Tonight, too, an eerie wind raged through the harbor. In the distance, thunder rumbled low.
"A storm is coming... and we don't even know who the traitor is... but still."
She turned and gazed at the king's bed.
Illuminated by the candlelight, Canute's sleeping face was pale, like a wax figure.
"...That man is asleep. So—I have to stay awake."
That was when—
Creak.
The cabin door opened, and Sverting stood there wordlessly.
In his hands, he held a well-worn leather vambrace. Darkened with scars and the grime of use—something he himself had worn for many years.
"...?"
Sverting held the vambrace out to Rimu.
"Aneki."
He looked at her left arm. The burned, blistered skin wrapped in bandages.
"Protect that arm. To protect King Canute."
Saying only that, he pressed the vambrace into her hands and turned away.
"...Sverting."
Without looking back, he climbed the stairs with his usual expressionless, heavy tread.
Rimu stared intently at the vambrace in her hands. Cold, hard leather. But inside, a faint warmth still lingered—the body heat of that giant of a man.
(That bear-like man... he really is kind after all.)
Gently, she fitted the vambrace onto her left arm. Over the bandages, she fastened it tight.
"Thank you."
Her whisper was swallowed by the thunder.
The next morning.
The entire crew had been assembled on the deck of the Fimbul.
The sky was covered in thick gray clouds, looking ready to unleash rain at any moment.
Shielding the leather vambrace on her left arm, Rimu stood before the crew. Her singed hair had been cut short. Pain had left her face a little pale, but her hazel eyes looked straight ahead.
Sverting stood wordlessly at her right side; Gudrun stood at her left with her arms folded.
The crew was restless.
"Oi, what do we do? There's an enemy on board, right?"
"And a storm's coming besides. Even if we set sail now, we'll just die."
"We're just hired for coin. We don't wanna die in a place like this."
Rimu drew a quiet breath.
"—Everyone, please listen."
The murmuring quieted, just a little.
"Last night, an enemy set fire to this ship. And that oil jar was brought in from inside this vessel. The culprit is among us."
The crew exchanged glances.
"I threw away everything for this voyage. My position at the royal court, my safe life, and—"
Rimu looked down at the vambrace on her left arm.
"—this arm, my hair—I gave it all up. But that's fine. Because—"
She raised her head.
"I will absolutely bring that man to Vinland. Whether there's a traitor, whether a storm comes—I've long been prepared to sink to the bottom of the sea. But."
Gazing at each face in turn, Rimu's voice hardened.
"Anyone who lays so much as a finger on the king's bed—no matter who they are—I will chase them to the depths of hell and burn that hand off."
There was no jest in her voice.
Those were the eyes of the woman who had leaped into the flames the night before.
The mercenaries swallowed hard.
"...Well, then."
Gudrun stepped forward.
"Tonight, before the storm hits, we're going to smoke out the traitor. Those who'll cooperate, stay. If you don't like it, get off this ship right now. ...But know this—anyone who leaves won't be hired again. Consider yourself on the Silver Tide Trading Company's blacklist."
Sverting folded his arms across his chest in silence.
That alone made the air grow taut.
—Click.
His iron jaw gave a small sound.
None of the crew moved.
Rimu slowly gazed toward the stairs leading to the hold.
An enemy still unseen. A storm closing in.
But—her eyes were unmistakably burning.
Just as befitted the name the harbor tavern had given her: the Fireball Aneki.
(I will bring him to the promised land, no matter what.)
Her battle had only just begun.
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