WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 107

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At a low mountain pass stood a large stone marker as high as a person's shoulders. Crude lettering had been carved into its flat surface.

'Those who pass this marker must respectfully abide by the rules of the Viola Clan.'

It read less like a simple notice and more like a warning. Still, Ricart smiled as he looked at the marker, wearing a cloak with a sword at his waist.

“Ricky.”

Marie called from a short distance away. When he turned, the group was standing at the crest of the pass, looking down the other side.

Ricart had been the last to follow, absorbed in admiring the marker. When he reached the others at the summit, a pastoral scene that seemed straight from a dream spread out before him.

There was a great lake, a village beside it, and appetizing white smoke rising from chimneys throughout the homes.

Cattle grazed leisurely in the fields, while people fished or worked the land.

It was not a large village, but it seemed to have everything. It was the sort of place that made one want to live there.

The land dipped inward toward the lake, perhaps artificially shaped, and a small castle stood there.

Like Stormhertz, it looked more like a manor with a defensive tower attached than a castle. Still, that was what an ordinary castle in the countryside looked like.

“This is a safe place, so you may rest easy. Let us go.”

Bremen, their guide, spoke.

Bremen led the way, and the group followed. Ricart walked at an unhurried pace, taking in the lake, the fields, a single tree, and the mountains one by one.

As they walked along a dike road crossing the lake and farmland, the farmers showed little wariness despite seeing outsiders. Instead, they greeted them with smiles. It was a strange place.

The migrants could not even return the greetings. They simply stared in shock. A place like this existed?

“There. That is the clan headquarters.”

Kaspar spoke. When Ricart had first met him, Kaspar had been sullen and quiet, but perhaps he had grown used to Ricart and the others. Now he was even speaking up first.

“We will look for a place to pitch our tents.”

Bremen addressed Ricart and Marie, who had ties to the Viola Clan. Ricart also had business with the clan, since he had promised to introduce Bletter.

“Ah, but you cannot camp here anymore.”

Kaspar said this to Bremen.

“Hmm?”

“So many outsiders came and set up tents to live here that all sorts of problems arose. Now outsiders must stay at a private home or an inn. Otherwise, you might get thrown out.”

The rules had apparently changed while Bremen had not been passing through this way. Since it was an autonomous territory, the clan's rules were effectively the law of the land.

The clan decided how criminals were defined and punished.

“Are the inn fees expensive? A private home would probably be better, then.”

“One silver coin per room. That includes bathwater and meals. They might give a discount for long stays, but I don't know.”

It was quite expensive. Decent inns in major cities charged about that much.

On second thought, this place was not all that welcoming toward outsiders. They quietly pressured and drove them away by indirect means.

It was an awkward situation. Yet the clean, pastoral scenery and the smiling farmers were possible because of those very rules.

The clan protected its people and filtered out outsiders so that neither side had to come into conflict.

“How about staying just one night? We can have several people share one room.”

They were not completely without money. They had some. But they needed to spend as much of it as possible on food.

“I'll ask. They may show us some kindness. Don't unload your things yet. Just follow me for now.”

Ricart said.

Ricart had never left the clan. He had simply departed without warning. That meant he was still one of its founding members, so calling it kindness was not quite right.

Still, he said it just in case. His friends had built lives here without him, so he could not simply insist on his own position.

To be honest, Ricart was a little nervous too. Would they resent me for leaving without a word? Would they feel betrayed? Would they hate me...?

Because the castle stood in the land that curved inward toward the lake, there was a gate on the strip of land connecting it to the rest.

People dressed in matching outfits, almost like Academy uniforms, moved about near the gate. Unlike the expensive uniforms of Beringen Academy, though, they simply wore the same gambeson, cloak, trousers, and boots.

They looked to be in their teens or early twenties. Some wore swords at their waists, while others carried loads and worked without weapons.

When Kaspar and Yulia approached, the clan members seemed to recognize them. Yet none came over to greet them or speak.

“Are you not that close?”

“They are apprentices and probationers. Many quit before becoming trainees, so we are not very close.”

Kaspar answered Ricart's question. Kaspar and Yulia were trainees, and as direct disciples of a Sword Master, they generally kept their distance from the others.

“You have returned already? I heard the Guardian gave you a quest.”

Unlike the others, a person in a black cloak approached Kaspar and Yulia. A sword hung at their waist.

They looked older than Kaspar, yet spoke respectfully.

“I think we've completed the quest by now. We met our teacher on the way.”

“Your teacher?”

“This is Teacher Ricky. And this is Ms. Marie.”

When Kaspar introduced Ricart and Marie, the young swordsman in the black cloak looked them over.

“Who...?”

“What do you mean, who? Hunts, don't you even know the people who founded the clan?”

Kaspar frowned and scolded them. Some of the younger people did not know much about Ricart.

“Not me.”

Marie corrected Kaspar. The clan's founding members were Volka, Bori, Delphi, and Ricart. Marie had joined later, after entering the Academy a year afterward.

In any case, Kaspar rebuked the swordsman who seemed older than him, then asked,

“Is the Master inside?”

The clan master was Volka. The title clan master carried a somewhat different meaning now. It referred to the person responsible for the autonomous territory and the clan as a whole. Volka was the first to hold the position.

“Yes, he is.”

“What about my master?”

“Bori went to Adelorne. A Codex was discovered.”

“Why the Codex?”

Ricart interrupted to ask. He did not have a good impression of Codices.

“I don't know that much...”

“Our master sometimes searches for Codices to burn them or collect them. I don't know the reason in detail either.”

Bori searched for Codices to burn them? Perhaps Bori had seen their serious side effects and was trying to erase them from the world. The safer ones, he collected separately.

Ricart felt conflicted when he realized that Bori had been doing such things. It somehow seemed lonely for Bori to be doing it alone.

“Shall we go in first?”

Kaspar pointed to the already open gate. With him leading, they passed through without trouble. Even though a group of ragged migrants followed, people only looked at them strangely. No one stopped them.

The road to the castle was like a natural bridge over the lake. They crossed it and reached the castle.

The walls were nearly no more than fences, making it hard to even call them walls. Still, that allowed plenty of sunlight inside, and since the place was already a natural fortress, high walls did not seem necessary.

Once they passed through the castle gate, Ricart was a little surprised by how neat the interior was.

The courtyard was free of weeds and regularly swept clean. Lodgings for trainees stood on either side, while the Inner Castle, where the clan's true swordsmen seemed to reside, was the structure he had seen from afar.

Strong shouts of exertion came from somewhere. It sounded like someone was teaching basic stances.

Ricart and Marie looked around blankly. What their friends had built felt unfamiliar, yet deeply moving. Then they heard a familiar voice.

“Ricky?”

Ricart turned toward the sound. It was Volka, staring at him with wide eyes.

“My god, it really is Ricky?”

Volka looked as if he had met someone he thought was dead.

He suddenly pulled Ricart into an embrace and squeezed him so hard it almost felt as if his bones would break. Without saying a word. Though Ricart could barely breathe, he felt an indescribable relief. He doesn't hate me.

When they pulled apart and looked at each other, Volka's lips finally curled into a smile. He pulled Marie into an embrace too, and at last broke into a broad grin.

“Hey, what is this supposed to mean?”

“What do you think? We heard the news on the way and came to see you.”

“What in the world have you been doing?”

“Herding sheep.”

“Sheep? Were they golden sheep or something?”

“No.”

Ricart burst out laughing at Volka's unchanged manner of speaking.

“Still, Volka, you have accomplished something incredible.”

“It is thanks to you. You succeeded in the operation, after all.”

“...”

What had happened at the Order's Holy Temple was not a pleasant memory. Volka had not personally seen Ricart draw his sword, but he had seen the terrible aftermath.

No matter how awful they had been, the sight of nearly several hundred bodies scattered about was a horror beyond description. Blood had risen to their ankles.

At the time, amid the stunned silence, Bori, who had been there, had only said that Ricart and Marie had “left.”

So Volka could not help but stare wide-eyed when Ricart suddenly appeared.

“I heard Bori went to look for Codices?”

“Right. They are unsettling things, aren't they? We don't necessarily need to involve ourselves, but we saw that place.”

Everyone had been traumatized by seeing the human experimentation site during the subjugation operation.

It was an era where public beheadings were held in town squares, and people were sometimes tortured by being skinned alive. But the experimentation site was far beyond even that.

“By the way, who are these people?”

Volka asked, looking at Bletter and the migrants behind Ricart. They only stood there awkwardly.

“They are people I'm traveling with to the Eastern Frontier. We passed through here, but couldn't find anywhere suitable to stay. Ah, this is Bletter. He was my senior at the Academy, and I thought he might join the clan... I'll vouch for him.”

Saying it aloud made Ricart feel a little embarrassed. Bletter stepped forward to introduce himself, but Volka remained as fiery as ever.

“Hey! I don't need your guarantee, Ricky! What do you take me for? If he came with you, he's already family. And welcome to all of you as well. Anyone traveling with Ricky is an honored guest to me. I'll find you rooms, so please make yourselves comfortable for as long as you like. By the way, didn't you have a quest? You're back already?”

Volka looked at Kaspar and Yulia.

“Ah, well, we dealt with the Ringwald Sword Brotherhood, so we thought that might mean we had completed the quest our master gave us, to earn renown as swordsmen.”

“The Ringwald Sword Brotherhood? You two? I would have trouble dealing with them myself. You handled them together?”

“Ah, we received help. Teacher Ricky helped us... quite a lot.”

“You met him on the way? Hmm, I see. Luck is a skill too. Still, I'm glad you're safe. You should know better than to overdo it. Why else would Bori have given you such a quest?”

“I'm sorry. I truly learned my lesson this time.”

“Good, good. I'm glad to hear it. By the way, why are you going to the Eastern Frontier?”

“Well... Volka, could we go inside and talk first?”

“Ah, right. Why are we standing here? Kaspar, Yulia, show these people around. Ricky and Marie, come with me.”

Volka waved an arm grandly for them to follow and strode ahead. But he limped on one leg.

What?

While Ricart and Marie had been gone, there must have been many hardships and dangers while Volka built all this. Ricart felt a sudden stab in his chest. Marie felt the same.

Yet Volka was still fiery and strong. The sight almost brought tears to Ricart's eyes, but he held them back.

Once inside the Inner Castle, Volka immediately shouted.

“Delphi! Delphi! Hey, wife!”

Delphi shouted back from somewhere.

“Hey! I told you not to shout inside! It echoes everywhere!”

“How can I not shout? Come out here, now!”

“If I come out, you're dead!”

“I don't care if I die, just come out!”

“You little...!”

Delphi came out, fuming. Then she saw Ricart and Marie and froze in place.

“It has been a long time, Delphi.”

Ricart greeted her with a gentle smile.

Delphi stood there blankly for a long while, then rushed over and threw herself into their arms. The three embraced, and unlike Volka, Delphi burst into tears.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...”

There was nothing for her to apologize for, but Delphi kept saying she was sorry as she cried.

Caught up in her feelings, Ricart and Marie began to cry as well. Even Volka's eyes grew wet.

They did not know why. Was it simply because, in this harsh world, seeing one another alive again was so moving? It was not an age with a long life expectancy. Especially not for those who made their living by the sword.

Clan members passing by looked confused, unable to understand what was happening, and some even turned back the way they had come.

The four of them cried for quite some time, as though grief-stricken. It seemed to be more than simple emotion. They could not know exactly what it was. Their hearts merely swelled with a feeling their minds could not understand.

Thinking about it now, Ricart wondered how they had endured those hardships before. Without knowing anything, they had just clashed, broken, gritted their teeth, and held on until they reached this point.

Even Ricart had nearly died several times. The same was true of his other friends.

They were not afraid of growing old. They had no regrets for the years gone by. Only a fragment of longing, an inexplicable sense of loss, and a handful of relief soaked their hearts.

They were still only young people in their late teens and twenties, but this brutal world had driven them beyond their limits since childhood.

Perhaps the tears they shed were gratitude for the person I was back then, and my friends, who had laughed without knowing anything, come together through trust, and somehow survived long enough to make it here.

Even if their paths had divided, friends were still friends. Friendship forever. That was the Viola Clan.

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