WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 105

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When spring came, swallows returned, and violets bloomed around that time. It was that season now. The breeze sweeping across the fields was cool, while the sunlight was warm.

But the man and woman with swallows embroidered over their chests had no time to enjoy spring. They stood on the boundary between life and death. With trembling hearts, they drew their swords.

Do we really have to fight? We might die. This is insane.

Such thoughts seemed to seize them by the nape, urging them to run.

No matter how often they looked back at Ricart, he simply stood there, leaning on his staff and watching impassively.

“Are you clan scum? Where are you from?”

Someone who appeared to lead the people guarding the road spoke. They looked older than they were, with an unkempt beard and eyes with the whites showing on all four sides of the irises, a look characteristic of criminals.

Perhaps he had been resting. The front of his gambeson hung open, but that disheveled appearance only seemed to prove how much real combat experience he had.

At the question of where they were from, Kaspar and Yulia looked forward again. For some reason, the words would not come. Their minds were filled with the futile hope that they could still turn back.

A pack of wolves instinctively knew whether their prey was frightened. The members of the Ringwald Sword Brotherhood noticed that these two young people were afraid.

And they knew that frightened prey should be struck at the throat.

“W-we’re...”

“You little brat!”

Kaspar tried to name his clan, but the other man shouted first. He flinched, his body stiffening, and then the enemies rushed in all at once.

He could not see people. All he saw were ten or fifteen flashing blades before his eyes. Kaspar and Yulia staggered backward in terror, unable to swing their swords even once.

They had trained and practiced in their own way, but none of it came out now. One opponent, or even two or three, might have been manageable. But against ten or more people, they had no idea what to do.

If they blocked one side, an attack would come from the other. They could not simply curl up and dodge. Running was the only answer, but it was already too late for that.

Then, suddenly, they heard something like a flag snapping in the wind.

Flap flap.

Something swift passed Kaspar and Yulia, cutting through the enemies as well.

After that, all they could see was the enemy leader without a head.

Though he had lost it, he remained standing. Blood sprayed from the severed neck, Pshh! Pshh!, before his body finally crumpled to the ground.

For an instant, everyone stopped moving. Rather than shock, their faces held blank confusion, unable to understand what had happened.

Then Ricart, who had passed through the enemies, spoke.

“I’ll handle this side. You two take the other.”

He swung the staff in his hand, and another enemy who had been standing there stupidly lost his head.

They were called a sword brotherhood, so they were not mere hacks with blades. Yet if they lost focus for even a moment, their heads were sent flying without fail.

By then, the enemies’ hair was standing on end. Ricart did not care. He threw a high kick, then jabbed the end of his staff into another opponent’s Adam’s apple. In a brief flurry, three or four people fell.

Only moments ago, Kaspar and Yulia had been frightened and retreating. Now the situation had reversed in an instant, and the enemies were horrified. The moment their eyes met Ricart’s, they broke and fled in a rush.

“Move!”

Ricart turned toward Kaspar and Yulia and shouted fiercely.

Only then did the two come to their senses and chase after those fleeing.

It was an ugly sight, grabbing whoever they could and killing them wildly, but lives were at stake.

Kaspar seized a fallen opponent by the hair and stabbed him in the neck. Yulia slashed the thigh of a fleeing person, bringing them down, then gripped her sword in reverse and stabbed them in the chest several times.

Then they ran frantically after the others, trying to catch those fleeing in all directions.

Some enemies resisted, and the hems of their cloaks were torn while their gambesons were cut. Fortunately, neither suffered any serious injuries.

Still, there was no swordsmanship to speak of. They simply grabbed, shoved, and stabbed by brute force.

Because of that, they could not kill everyone. Four or five people kept running off somewhere, and the distance between them had grown too great to pursue.

Gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp...

His clothes and hair were disheveled. Kaspar stood holding his bloodstained sword, staring down at the dead as he struggled for breath.

“What are you gasping for? You barely did anything.”

Ricart’s voice struck his ears. Kaspar flinched and turned toward him.

“I told you to handle that side, but you let five escape. If they report what happened here to the main force, can you handle what comes next?”

Ricart pressed them, but neither could properly take in what anyone said. It was likely their first time fighting so many opponents. Kaspar and Yulia were still too shaken to think straight.

“Search the bodies and the guard post. Take anything useful. You have one minute.”

Ricart gave the order. When the two merely stood there in a daze, he quietly said,

“One, two, three, four...”

As he began counting, they finally came to their senses again and hurried into motion. Kaspar ran to the guard post and searched inside, while Yulia searched the bodies.

Going through the clothes of people lying there bleeding was not pleasant. Taking rings, especially, was not easy.

When she wasted time trying to pull off one ring, Ricart took Yulia’s sword and brought it down on the dead person’s fingers.

Chop!

The fingers fell away.

He tossed the sword before the startled Yulia and coldly said,

“One minute is up.”

Then Kaspar came running from the guard post with an armful of miscellaneous items. His usual youthful bravado and stubbornness had vanished completely. He looked half out of his mind.

“Throw away everything except money and precious metals. It slows you down. You only take the rest when you have time.”

At Ricart’s words, Kaspar dumped metal dishes, candlesticks, and the like onto the ground.

Afterward, the two stood there blankly, having no idea what to do next. Ricart asked them,

“So what now?”

“Excuse me?”

“What are you going to do? You said you wanted to save decent people.”

“W-well, perhaps if we contact the clan and get some support...”

“Then when are you going to actually undertake your training? Volka or Bori will handle the real work while you two spar with people like yourselves using practice swords again? You feel good if you win, then swing your swords at thin air when you lose. Is that how you strut around or lose heart over whether you have talent?”

“...I don’t know. Please show me the way, Teacher.”

When Kaspar finally called him Teacher, Ricart grinned.

“Who’s your teacher? Isn’t Bori your teacher? Forget it. If the ones who escaped inform the main force, they’ll make preparations. Then we have two choices. We either get the people out of here quickly, or we strike the enemy’s heart before they can prepare.”

The ability to make decisions in the field as naturally as breathing was difficult for ordinary people, especially those without experience.

Perhaps it was even more important than handling a sword when it came to surviving real combat and achieving results.

Ricart repeated his first question.

“There’s no time. What will you do?”

Kaspar and Yulia looked at each other. Though they were a man and a woman, they wore nearly the same emotions, as though looking into a mirror. Bewilderment and fear at the sudden turn of events.

They were disciples whose talent had been recognized, making them direct students of a Sword Master among the clan’s trainees. They had even believed that no one around their age could match them.

Even when they had set out on this warrior’s training journey, they thought it would not be difficult to protect themselves. They thought that if they chose their opponents well, it would not be dangerous.

But when a true challenge that put their lives on the line arrived before them, fear came with a strange competitive desire. Had they ever truly tested their own limits?

When the dangerous, difficult battle began, their usual swordsmanship had failed them. Their minds went blank, leaving only crude strikes.

In the end, to surpass a limit, they had to experience it first. This was the moment of choice.

Kaspar and Yulia spoke with their eyes.

Will we do it?

Let’s do it.

I want to.

The exchange passed clearly between them.

Kaspar hardened his gaze and looked at Ricart again. This time, I can do better.

“We will strike the enemy.”

“Good. But if someone asks, say it proudly.”

“Say what?”

“When they asked, you were so scared that you couldn’t even tell them your clan’s name.”

“...I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll state our name proudly.”

Kaspar lowered his head in embarrassment as he answered.

“Let’s go.”

Leaning on his staff, Ricart walked in the direction the enemies had fled. Their destination appeared to be the castle once used by the former lord.

After walking for several hours, they arrived after sunset. It was a rural place, so the castle was not large. Its walls were not brick, but wooden palisades.

There was one problem, however. There were too many enemies.

The castle was too small to hold them all. Outside it, thugs and swordsmen gathered haphazardly in a dense mass. There had to be several dozen of them.

Bonfires flickered everywhere, and the vulgar laughter of prostitutes and drunken shouting carried all the way to where Ricart stood.

Kaspar had confidently declared that they should strike the enemy, but seeing their numbers, he began to think this was not a good idea. A person’s resolve could change depending on the moment.

“Where do you think Ringwald is?”

“...He is probably inside the castle. But I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“When there are many of them, they’re more likely to let their guard down. They don’t seem to have any discipline, either. Walk in with your heads held high, and no one will know.”

“What about when we come out?”

Yulia asked, eyes wide.

“Don’t be afraid of their numbers. Look at the sort of people they are. Do they look like people who would risk their lives for revenge if their leader died? Shout proudly that I have dealt with Ringwald and tell them to make way. Of course, if there’s a back entrance, you can slip out quietly if the situation calls for it.”

Ricart did not appear to have much of a plan himself. And he told them to look at the men, but it was dark, so their faces could hardly be seen.

Still, he was not entirely wrong. They had almost no discipline and seemed concerned only with carousing, drinking, and sleeping.

“It was the same earlier today. If you’re afraid, the other side notices immediately. Then even what should work won’t work. But if you act shamelessly, even what should not work can work. Understand?”

Kaspar and Yulia could not answer. But if they remained within the bounds of common sense, they would never surpass them.

Ricart walked toward the castle, leaning on his staff. He passed the noisy, boisterous crowd and reached the castle, whose gate stood open.

Unless an army invaded, closing it only made coming and going inconvenient, so they had left it open.

When they entered the narrow courtyard, the guards there stopped the three of them.

“I haven’t seen you before. Who are you?”

Ricart looked at Kaspar and Yulia.

“Brace your stomachs and shout with everything you have.”

“Excuse me? Shout what?”

“You said you would proudly announce yourselves if someone asked who you were.”

“Y-you want us to say it now?”

“When else will you say it? Are you going to keep disappointing me?”

But this is too much. We can’t say it in the middle of enemy territory. Kaspar nearly looked ready to cry.

Surprisingly, thinking, To hell with it, Yulia shouted sharply.

“We’re from the Viola Clan!”

The person who had been eyeing the three suspiciously frowned and stared at them.

“What is it? What’s going on?” people said as they continued gathering around them. Perhaps because of the Viola Clan’s reputation, murmurs spread through the crowd.

Then someone emerged from the Inner Castle.

He was a tall man with short hair. As though he had not slept properly in some time, his eyes were hollow and his cheeks gaunt.

Yet his gaze was clear, seeming almost mad. There was no need to be told that this was Ringwald.

“Why is the Viola Clan here?”

“W-well...”

When the leader appeared before them, Yulia was overwhelmed by his presence. Kaspar was also too busy looking around. They were completely surrounded. How did I end up here?

Kaspar and Yulia looked like small birds surrounded by wolves, and Ricart thought he had no choice.

It was not enough to satisfy him, but part of him still found it admirable that they had come this far. It was too early for them to spread their wings and fly. This was as far as he could push them.

So he stepped forward himself.

“I’m Ricky of the Viola Clan. I heard that you killed the lord’s family who once lived here and are oppressing the people.”

“Ricky? Ricky... Ah, I know. Red Cape. Are you the man who was once famous as a genius swordsman? This isn’t the North. What brings you here?”

“North or not, do you admit that you committed serious crimes?”

“Well, why is your clan telling me how to handle a private family matter?”

“A family matter?”

“Yes. Bastard though I may be, I inherited my father’s blood. Killing my brothers, nieces, and nephews and taking the title is what nobles have always done, isn’t it? Why shouldn’t I?”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t. But you have to deal with the consequences too.”

“Consequences? I think you’ll be the one dealing with those. Did you think I’d be scared just because you’re the Viola Clan?”

Ringwald spoke with a nasty smile.

More swordsmen than before had gathered, surrounding Ricart, Kaspar, and Yulia. They all twisted their faces into fierce expressions and glared as though they wanted to devour them.

Ricart snorted.

“You think you’re safe because you gathered a pack of morons around you? Even if it isn’t me, it seems like it’s only a matter of time before someone kills you.”

“Ha ha ha... Everyone lives, then dies. Before they die, they settle their grudges and fulfill their dreams. That’s all. Have you fulfilled your dream, Ricky?”

Ringwald spoke as though he had grasped the truth of life. But in truth, he was the one most uneasy. The long dark circles beneath his eyes from insomnia proved it.

Ricart let go of his staff.

Then he slowly drew the sword at his waist.

As the blade emerged, flames flared. Golden fire burned in the dark night. From below, the light illuminated Ricart’s face.

Ricart stared at Ringwald with gleaming eyes.

“I see beyond what you call a dream.”

Then golden lightning flashed across the darkness of the night.

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