WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 146

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In the long epic called history, war might be no more than a tragic paragraph, and a battle no more than a single sentence.

That was why it was too hasty to decide a war's outcome based on one battle.

Still, there were always exceptions. Sometimes a single sentence went beyond its paragraph and changed the course of the epic itself forever.

The Battle of Valensha, where Sultan Yusuf fell, did more than shatter an army. It became the catalyst for division among the Salamans in Sinatria.

If someone of that era could see through such changes with insight and stand atop their waves, the unification of Sinatria might not have been such an impossible dream.

But that was not Ricart's task. Was it the limit of being a foreigner, or simply knowing his place as one?

If he had wished, he could have built up a third power centered on Valensha. But Ricart restrained himself.

Valensha was, in the end, King Santonio's territory. Ricart had merely borrowed troops from him and occupied it for a time. His own goal was to apply strategic pressure against Bilter.

Most military supplies and provisions flowed into Caragosa through Valensha. Holding this place meant putting the Flame Knights in a chokehold.

Regardless of political shifts or changes in the times, Ricart had never forgotten his family, his wife, or his friends for even a moment. He had not lost sight of the larger context of the epic that was his life.

Ricart did not throw his weight around as commander of the occupying army. He treated even those of low status without airs, and he did not mistreat Ahmad, who had once been an amir but had converted and was now a count.

Though unintentional, such conduct made people see him as virtuous and humble.

He did not put himself forward, did not covet wealth for himself, and guarded Valensha responsibly. Rather than diminishing him, it raised Ricart's standing even higher.

And so, the people of Sinatria offered Ricart the most honorable treasure of all.

A true heroic ballad.

How could the earliest songs have been written down? They had not been composed by writers, but were ballads with rhythm, passed from mouth to mouth.

Adelorne had begun first, but Sinatria created its own new songs. Songs naturally reflected the character of their region.

They told of a man overflowing with faith, who heard God's words at a holy site, won a horse called Red Comet in a wager with a prince of the Mayub Sultanate, was chosen by the Emperor of the Ancient Empire, then crossed into Sinatria, and so on.

Like most stories, it was a mixture of truth and falsehood. They spoke of Ricart's great faith and freely gave names to the horse he rode.

In any case, Ricart had now entered the ranks of legend and myth.

Yet the heroic ballad contained this verse, taken from scripture and comparing it to Ricart's fated struggle.

The first murder was committed between brothers...

It was the rainy season. Rain fell over Valensha day after day.

Rumble... Thunder continued to sound from the dark gray sky. Yet it did not unleash all its rage at once, as though it were holding itself back with great effort.

Or perhaps it was grieving. Perhaps it was the sound of sobbing.

The water running from the eaves and the rain striking the window were pleasant to hear. They seemed to calm the heart and make one content with what one had.

Even the sword standing against the wall seemed to have lowered its killing intent and listened to the rain. But it could not reach Ricart's heart.

Though it was daytime, the room was dark because of the rain. Ricart sat by the window without lighting a lamp, silently lost in thought.

His long lashes hung halfway down, and his half-open eyes seemed to be looking beyond the present, toward some part of the past. Was it the recent past, or the distant past?

Some memories remained vivid no matter how much time passed, while others grew faint even after only a little time.

Even a peerless hero praised by all could not rise above being human. Painful memories pained him, and sorrowful memories filled him with sorrow.

Yet some memories were so beautiful that they made the present seem hopeless and sad.

Sultan Yusuf's final expression resembled Bilter's when he had left home, leaving Ricart deeply unsettled. Even the soothing sound of rain could not easily calm his heart.

God's language was silence. Perhaps quietly reflecting on what had passed was a way of hearing God's words. But Ricart had to find the answer himself, and he could not find his bearings.

Then someone knocked softly at the door.

“El Cid.”

A Flame Knight opened the door slightly and spoke.

“We have someone we suspect of being a spy. May we torture them?”

“A spy?”

“Yes. They had been lurking around this area for several days, so we apprehended them. They refuse to give their name, and their behavior is suspicious.”

It was a world rife with torture, but it could not be done carelessly.

It required a lord's permission, and since Ricart was leading the army, he had the authority to approve it.

Still, Ricart held a critical view of torture. He decided that he should see the suspect himself first.

“Where are they now? Can you bring them here?”

“I will present them at once.”

The knight immediately headed off somewhere, then returned shortly afterward with the suspect. Ricart was startled when he saw who it was.

It was Hashim.

The turban on his head had come off, and his already thin body was soaked through from the rain, making him look utterly miserable. Perhaps he had been struck, because his left cheekbone was badly bruised.

Even so, he clutched the glass bottle containing the crystal flower tightly against his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well...”

“Do you know him?”

“He is my friend. He isn't a suspicious person.”

The knight tilted their head and looked back and forth between Hashim and Ricart. Their ethnicities differed, and they appeared to be quite far apart in age. Friends?

It seemed strange, but Ricart himself had called Hashim his friend, leaving the knight with nothing to say.

“You should have said so.”

Perhaps feeling a little guilty, the knight brushed at Hashim's body. There was not a speck of dust on him, considering he was drenched from head to toe.

“Never mind that. Bring towels and fresh clothes.”

Ricart did not shout, How dare you do this to my friend. He simply gave the order.

The knight brought towels and fresh clothes into the room, then shut the door again. In the dim room, only Ricart and Hashim remained. Other than the rain outside, neither spoke for a while.

Ricart was bewildered, while Hashim hung his head, seemingly ashamed.

“Why put yourself through all this? You could have come to me anytime.”

Ricart spoke as he lit the candle on the plate. Lighting it did not make much difference, but its glow was as comforting as the sound of rain. It was better than nothing.

“Dry yourself and warm up by the fire. It may be summer, but catching rain at your age could still give you a cold.”

Ricart lit the fireplace as well. With his head still lowered, Hashim spoke.

“I am sorry...”

Ricart snorted and shook his head.

“What is there to be sorry for? You need not feel embarrassed. If you are in trouble, you can come find me anytime. Now hurry and dry yourself, then change into the fresh clothes.”

Hashim was a fearsome mage and a wise man, but there was also something absentminded about him. Ricart knew that well after traveling with him through Lunadan.

Both of them were unbothered by hardship, which was why they got along in that respect. But unlike Ricart, Hashim tended to go wherever life carried him.

Moving sluggishly, Hashim dried his hair and body with the towel. Then he changed into the fresh clothes and sat beside the fire.

For the lodging of a peerless hero, it was truly modest. Yet it lacked nothing and was simply comfortable.

Hashim watched Ricart's expression with his large, sunken eyes before speaking.

“To be honest, I meant to wander without a destination, as I had all my life. But when I thought about it, was that not all a journey to recover my memories? Yet I have already found the answer. The crystal flower is here. I did not know where to go, so I lingered around you. Forgive me.”

“If you have nowhere to go, you may stay beside me as long as you wish. I do not abandon friends. Though I do not hold them back, either.”

“I knew you would say that.”

“But you still have not recovered your memories?”

“Mm... Have you never felt that way? You desire something more than anything, but when it is finally before you, you hesitate.”

“I cannot recall feeling that exactly, but I understand what you mean.”

“What if recovering my memories turns me into something other than myself? The way I see you, the world, and people may change. Who knows? Perhaps I was a terrible villain in the past.”

“I have some experience with that. It could turn out well. You will have many good memories you have built since then, after all.”

Ricart had lived a life completely different from his terrible past life. So he did not believe that Hashim's current character would change dramatically even if he had been a villain in the past.

“Now that you mention it, you are right.”

“Have you made up your mind?”

“Not yet.”

At those words, Ricart left his gloom behind and smiled faintly.

“I will not interfere. It is entirely your choice. But if you need help, I will always help you. Remember that much.”

“I understand. But what about you? Have you made up your mind?”

“...”

The smile gradually faded from Ricart's face. His gloom seemed to return, but having the friend who had endured hardships with him nearby made it somewhat easier.

“I do not know. The initiative is already mine, and I am confident that I can win even if I lead the army into battle. But if Billy resists to the bitter end, I do not know what I should do.”

“It is difficult... But is there not something beyond that? Your wife and friends are waiting in Adelorne. For their sake as well, you cannot lose.”

“I worry that trying to have it both ways will leave me with neither. Perhaps I should simply give up everything and leave.”

Ricart spoke aloud all the words he had kept inside. Whether it was what he truly felt or merely something he said, it eased the pressure in his chest and left him feeling lighter.

“That is also a choice. But it is unlike the Ricky I know. Perhaps what you must prepare yourself for is accepting what must be accepted. Are you afraid of pain?”

“No. That is not it. I am not afraid of pain. What I fear is betraying the memories of the past. Betraying myself, perhaps... I do not know. I only wish Billy would come to his senses...”

“You appear deeply conflicted. Perhaps your brother made that choice without intending to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Could the wishes of the knights, all bound together by vengeance and hatred, not be resting upon him? If he is like you, he could not abandon them.”

Hashim's words made Ricart realize something.

Ricart felt kinship with all soldiers and warriors. That did not mean he overlooked their wrongdoing, but perhaps Bilter, too, could not bring himself to abandon his brothers in the order. Even if they were extremists.

But even if that was possible, then reality demanded that they fight all the more. How could he stand by and let them kill innocent people merely for being heretics?

They had to be stopped because of their cruelty. But the most tragic part was that they had thrown themselves into flames of vengeance and hatred. They could not imagine any life beyond that.

“...”

Faced with that heavy reality, Ricart lowered his head. A deep shadow covered his face.

Hashim looked at him with a troubled expression.

“Get some sleep. It is not a problem that will be solved by worrying yourself sick.”

“...Didn't you say that last time too? To get some sleep. Is there not some restorative magic that clears the mind?”

“You treat magic with prejudice at times. Scholars have agreed since ancient times that sleep is the best medicine. There is no magic greater than that.”

“Which scholars?”

“Well, there is me.”

“What remarkable magic.”

Ricart laughed again, unable to believe him. It was as though the shadow covering his face had lifted once more.

Hashim smiled as well, though his cheekbone was bruised.

“Just as you always welcome me warmly, I will always support you.”

“Thank you.”

Ricart nodded. Perhaps he needed to face his fight with Bilter not with fiery resolve, but with a calm heart.

It had been a trivial conversation, but simply having someone he could speak openly with settled Ricart's heart.

Only then did the sound of rain outside begin to seep quietly into his heart.

Pitter. Pat. Pitter-patter. Pat...

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