WeTried Translations

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 144

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Valensha had vast stretches of fertile land and was one of Sinatria's leading port cities.

Trade was lively, and food production was abundant enough to make it worthy of becoming a nation's capital. But it had one fatal flaw. The terrain was not favorable for defense.

“...For a very long time, Valensha has been occupied by many different powers. Siding with one side, then another is a long tradition here. That is why everyone calls this place the land of betrayal. Never trust the amir, Señor El Cid.”

A knight from the army King Santonio had assigned him spoke to Ricart.

Ricart had stationed the army outside the city and was riding his red horse around the harbor. There were an unusual number of cats there, and they did not run even when people approached.

One yellow cat had even stretched out in the warm sunlight for a nap.

Ricart looked at the cat and replied,

“I'll keep that in mind.”

The people at the harbor did not seem particularly interested in Ricart bringing an army.

They loaded cargo onto ships, unloaded it, checked goods against ledgers, sent ships out, and received those coming in. That was all.

The sea breeze was as cool as the water was blue. The seagulls crying overhead were irritating, but not threatening.

“The amir has sent someone.”

As Ricart looked out at the sea, Raimund approached and delivered the message. Now that Ricart commanded an army, people could no longer speak to him directly without going through intermediaries, even when they were not far away.

When Ricart turned his head, he saw the amir's messenger surrounded by Flame Knights.

No one openly threatened the messenger, but simply having knights stare at them from close by seemed enough to frighten them badly.

Ricart did not call the messenger over. He looked down from horseback and asked,

“Where should I go if I wish to see the amir?”

“Pardon? Ah, I will guide you there.”

“No. I asked where I should go.”

Ricart had come as an occupying force, not as a guest. He should show courtesy to one who had surrendered, but the line still had to be clear.

In short, he would not go merely because the amir summoned him. He would go if he wished to.

The messenger quickly understood what he meant.

“...There is an orchard not far from the western gate. The amir is there.”

“Very well. Go.”

As soon as Ricart finished speaking, a knight roughly seized the messenger by the back of the neck, dragged them away, and shoved them aside.

It was somewhat violent, but it clearly conveyed that they had not come here for a holiday.

The amir's messenger left looking as miserable as a dog caught in the rain.

Watching the messenger leave, Raimund said to Ricart,

“He has surrendered. Wouldn't it be better to treat him a little more kindly?”

“No. He'll be more satisfied if we are strict with him.”

“Why?”

“There must be a reason he surrendered so suddenly. If we just smile and make polite conversation, he will think us weak.”

“Do you know why he surrendered?”

“It's obvious. People who side with one power and then another eventually test the patience of kings. Even if it lays golden eggs, a beast cannot toy with people. Rather than hand the goose to a neighbor, it may be better to kill and eat it.”

In other words, he had brought in King Santonio's army to stop an enemy. That enemy was Yusuf, the sultan he had served until recently.

“...So he offered up the whole city to hire mercenaries.”

“No. Hiring mercenaries would have cost a vast amount of money. Did this cost him anything? He brought in the king's army without spending a single coin.”

Raimund had operated in this region for a long time, but as a member of the insular Flame Knights, he did not fully understand how these people thought or how matters truly worked.

Surrendering after converting was admittedly unusual. The amir of Valensha had not converted before, but he had made a bold move to draw in the suspicious King Santonio.

In any case, Ricart slowly looked around the harbor. Only after the sun had moved somewhat across the sky did he head toward the city's western gate.

He had seen it on the way in, but the farmland near the city truly stretched on without end. It was all wheat fields, broader than many territories in the Empire.

The unripe green wheat swayed like waves whenever the wind blew.

After passing through the farmland and reaching a low hill, Ricart saw a low stone wall running around it. Beyond it stood rows of trees. The orange fruit hanging from them was unfamiliar to him.

Ricart dismounted and entered the amir's private orchard. His attendant knights stayed mounted, keeping watch around the hill.

As he walked between the orchard's trees, a refreshing scent unlike anything he had ever smelled seized Ricart's attention at once.

It pierced through the comforting smells of earth, wood, leaves, and flowers. The fruit's bright fragrance captured his attention so completely that Ricart could only stop and look at the tree.

He suddenly thought that perhaps this was what sunlight would smell like if it became a fragrance. The unfamiliar fruit smelled like sunshine.

“An orange. It is different from a lemon.”

Someone spoke. When Ricart turned, he saw a man who seemed to be Valensha's amir. Rather than fine clothes, he wore shabby work clothes with the sleeves rolled up. In appearance, he seemed closer to a Franken than a Salaman.

The man reached out, plucked an orange, cut into it with a dagger, and peeled away the thick rind. Then he split the flesh in half and handed one portion to Ricart.

Ricart sniffed it once, examined it from several angles, then put it in his mouth. Juice burst forth, and a perfectly balanced sweetness and sourness hit him with startling intensity.

“I bred and cultivated them myself. Even the Salamans failed to grow them, but I succeeded. Don't you think it was worth the effort?”

“It has the fragrance and taste of heaven, but even this will grow tiresome. Humans are that kind of creature.”

“Then why not give it to someone who has not yet grown tired of it, someone tasting it for the first time, like you? Someone you love, perhaps.”

When people experienced something wonderful or ate something delicious, they sometimes thought of their parents, lovers, or children.

The taste of an orange was powerful, sweet, and harmless. It was the kind of experience one would want a beloved, precious person to have at least once.

Still, it seemed an excessively leisurely hobby for surviving in this harsh world.

“You are right, Amir of Valensha. But one cannot always live lost in sentiment.”

“That is true... I am Ahmad. You must be El Cid.”

Ricart nodded.

“Have you heard Valensha called the land of betrayal?”

Ricart nodded again. People often called Valensha the land of betrayal.

“Honorable people may not understand us, but seen another way, it is merely one means of survival. Heroes who thundered their commands, emperors who held the whole world beneath their feet, dynasties proud of their great power, all eventually fall before time. In the end, perhaps this orange will remain the longest. And perhaps one day, it will give this happy taste to people, even commoners rather than nobles.”

Ricart understood what Amir Ahmad meant. He could understand it, accept it, and even agree with it. But it was far from what Ricart sought.

That was clear enough from Ricart's expressionless face. It was as if he were saying that he understood it all and respected it, but had no particular interest in it.

So Amir Ahmad put the remaining half of the orange into his own mouth, chewed it loudly, and said,

“Twenty thousand, I hear. I made all sorts of extraordinary offers, but the sultan seems to have made up his mind. He will arrive before this year's wheat ripens and sweep everything away. There is no telling how many people he will kill or how much he will plunder. I can run away. But I am staying. I love this city. It is the only thing to which I give my loyalty.”

Twenty thousand. If that meant twenty thousand pure combat troops, excluding supply forces, it was an enormous number. It was enough to contend with the Empire itself.

That number showed the sultan's firm resolve. Rather than let someone else have it, he would simply destroy it.

One might think that the amir should have simply remained still rather than join King Santonio. But there was no knowing how many complicated matters and incidents had unfolded beneath the surface.

Still, even after hearing that overwhelming number, Ricart showed no sign of agitation. Amir Ahmad quietly watched him, observing whether he merely acted calm or truly had the ability to back it up.

Ricart's forces numbered just over six thousand, combining the Flame Knights and King Santonio's army. Yusuf had more than three times as many soldiers.

“How far away?”

That was all Ricart asked.

“They should be setting up camp around now. It would take about two days riding alone, or three to four days leading an army.”

They were closer than expected. An enormous army was practically at their doorstep.

Whether Ricart considered it someone else's problem or simply was not afraid, his expression did not change. He merely looked around the orchard and said,

“Pick all this fruit and give it to the soldiers. If it is cut in half, every one of them can have some.”

Amir Ahmad stared at Ricart for a moment. He had expected extravagant demands, but Ricart's request was more romantic than he had expected.

“...Is that all? What about military funds?”

“Set aside their weekly wages and rewards for victory.”

“Is there nothing you need for yourself?”

“Hmm... Once a year, send someone to bring this fruit to Adelorne.”

No matter how Ahmad thought about it, Ricart was strange. He had not demanded beautiful women or treasures from the Ancient Empire.

Military commanders were usually arrogant and self-centered, but Ricart was not.

“I will be going.”

As though their business was finished, Ricart turned and left the orchard. Before leaving, he picked an entire basket of oranges to take with him. He had to eat some himself, after all.

After leaving the orchard, Ricart told Raimund and the others what he had discussed with the amir. One knight asked,

“Putting aside that we are outnumbered, can we trust him? What if we go out to fight and the amir attacks us from behind? What if he closes the city gates when we retreat?”

“If we consider every possibility, we cannot fight at all. He will decide whom to side with while watching how the battle goes. So we only need to think about winning.”

Ricart did not trust Ahmad from the start. He had simply confirmed that their interests aligned, and thought that was enough.

“Still, twenty thousand...”

“If we rely on the terrain, it is a battle we can manage.”

When one knight voiced concern, Raimund answered confidently.

But just as when people had called him a braggart, Ricart said something unusual again.

“No. We will meet them in open battle and break them.”

“...”

Everyone had agreed to trust and follow Ricart, but they were already starting to think this was too much.

Because he himself was so strong, did he have no sense for military command? Did he think everyone else was like him? Those were their concerns.

Still, the oranges Ricart gave the soldiers tasted incredible. Whether they tasted good enough to die in battle without regrets was another matter.

Of course family and friends were precious. But at that moment, the people most precious to Ricart were his soldiers.

Ricart did not treat his soldiers like livestock or tools. He sincerely treated them with respect, person to person.

It was because of what he had experienced in his past life. Now that he had become a military commander, he was also easing the grievance that had taken root deep within him then.

Soldiers were burdened with sins then as they were now, but they were also pitiable people. Ricart, at least, could understand their hardships.

That was the meaning held within the oranges.

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