WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 149

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The best tranquilizer is sleep and time. Sleep eases stress, and time dulls pain.

So when stress and pain are too great, enough rest is essential.

Then how much sleep must one get, and how much time must pass, to ease the stress and pain of someone who killed their brother?

Ricart stood with one arm stretched out, gripping it with his other hand as he looked down into a puddle. His posture seemed slightly hunched.

The clouds in the sky were reflected in the water, along with my own face. Since I could not make out the color of my eyes, I looked even more like Bilter. The wind blew, and ripples stirred across the water for a moment.

Some people are bound by the past and unable to move into the future. Yet because they are human, others look back on the past, realize what they did not know then, and move forward.

The beautiful memories remained as they were. When I thought of Bilter, I only remembered a boy who laughed brightly and was prickly with everyone but me.

Strangely, there was no knot in Ricart’s heart. No heavy, rough, sharp, pointed thing with nowhere to go.

He did not know whether this state of mind came from the light that had poured down from the sky, but one thing was certain. Nothing new had appeared. It had all been inside my heart.

Behind hatred was love, behind pain was healing, behind vengeance was forgiveness, and behind sorrow was joy. They did not exist separately, but were mixed and bound together.

Therefore, deciding which side to see and what choice to make was the free will God had given people. Because they had free will, humans suffered at the crossroads of choice.

Of course, Ricart could not simply smile brightly and act as if nothing had happened. With a heart that wept quietly, he held all of it close.

Two things that grow from the same stem sometimes grow in completely opposite directions. Our choices and paths had differed, but Bilter did not resent me, and I do not resent him.

If there was an afterlife, Billy would meet Mother first. Ricart thought of Bilter smiling in their mother’s arms when they were children.

A quiet realization led Ricart into a deeper, broader, higher state of mind.

Like the bold yet tranquil heart of a Hero who stood against the Demon Lord and saved the world.

“Commander.”

Someone called from behind Ricart. He thought he recognized the voice.

When Ricart turned, Raimund stood amid the disorderly interior of Caragosa Fortress.

“Didn’t you say you would call me Ricky, Ray?”

“I can no longer do that. You know why.”

Ricart looked around the bustling Caragosa Fortress. The disorder was caused by the Flame Knights sorting through the possessions they had accumulated over many years.

As an organization that had existed for centuries, they had many relic-like objects, and much of it had to be disposed of before such a long journey.

Old hardwood furniture, holy relics, weapons and armor, along with other strange-looking objects. They did not throw everything away, and took some things with them, but if an item seemed cumbersome, they even sold the holy relics.

As Ricart saw it, holy relics were things like an alleged prophet’s shinbone, burial shroud, foreskin, and so on, whose authenticity could not be known.

The relic he had gone through so much trouble to bring back to headquarters at Edmund’s request had also been the finger bone of some unknown person.

It was a world full of fake relics. Some fakes had become antiques in their own right simply because they were so old, but Ricart had ordered all the large and heavy ones disposed of.

Sell holy relics? In the past, the knights would not have obeyed such an order. But things were different now. The Flame Knights accepted Ricart’s words as though they were God’s will.

“We searched the surrounding area thoroughly, but we could not find your friend. There were witnesses who said he left the fortified camp the night before the sacred duel...”

Raimund spoke.

Ricart was not the sort to stop someone from leaving, but he felt a strange regret when it came to Hashim.

I want to tell him that I am all right, after he worried about me to the very end. Ricart could not possibly know of Hashim’s final repentance and the sacrifice he had made for Ricart.

Many people had loved Ricart. His mother when he was born, his brothers as he grew, his father at a crossroads in life, the friends who had shared hardship and joy with him, and Marie.

There were also people he could dare call his teachers. The Nameless One, Armand, and Hashim.

Ricart felt that he owed many debts. But that sense of debt did not pressure or crush him. It was the foundation that helped him grow into a more mature person.

He was eighteen. By the standards of the age, he was old enough to fully bear an adult’s responsibilities, but whether he was truly an adult in mind was another matter.

A strong spirit and a gentle heart. To carry those things and keep moving forward, to keep living.

Ricart rode Red Comet down from the fortress. At its base, people crowded together, while soldiers of the Flame Knights haggled fiercely with merchants.

They were arguing to sell goods for even a little more and buy them for even a little less.

But when Ricart appeared, they all took off their hats and dropped to one knee as though paying respect to a king. Like ripples spreading across water, everyone knelt.

Dressed comfortably in ordinary clothes with only a sword at his waist, Ricart looked at them before speaking to an unfamiliar merchant nearby.

“I will not criticize you for making a profit. But I ask that you do so with a conscience.”

Then he spoke to a knight who had once been a lord.

“Gather King Santonio’s army. It is time for you all to return to where you belong.”

“But many soldiers wish to follow you, Commander.”

“Do not expect salvation from me. I am no saint. If salvation exists, it already rests within every one of you. If I do not keep my promise to King Santonio, I am nothing but a liar. It would be even harder to expect salvation from me then, would it not?”

“That is true, but... I feel the same way...”

For people who had witnessed the pillar of light with their own eyes, it was difficult not to follow Ricart. In a world where religion was widespread, it was only natural that leaving the side of someone chosen by God was not easy. By staying near him, they might go to heaven.

“Very well. Let us do this. I will pardon every sin you have committed so far. In return, live good lives from now on. Will that do?”

Ricart was not a liar, but when there was no ill intent behind it, and when circumstances such as war demanded it, he was willing to lie.

It was somewhat contradictory, but circumstances differed from moment to moment. He could be rather shameless about such things.

Ricart had spoken so firmly that even the noble knight reluctantly accepted it and gathered the soldiers.

The soldiers looked at Ricart with expressions that were both fearful and desperate. One of them reached out, trying to touch him.

When one person did it, everyone else reached out as well. It was as though a flower made of human arms had bloomed around Ricart.

With his path blocked, Ricart paused and spoke to the soldiers.

“Brothers, though I am an outsider, you bravely followed me and fought rather than flee. I will never forget the courage of Sinatria’s men for as long as I live. Where there is meeting, there must also be parting, so do not grieve too deeply. I pray that salvation may rest upon your families, your friends, and yourselves. I heard God’s words, and that is what God said.”

Ricart mixed truth with lies. Naturally, he had never heard any words from God.

Ricart believed that God’s words spoke steadily to people throughout their lives. Whether they listened was ultimately up to them.

But such a complicated, profound thought would take too long to explain and would not be intuitive, so he simply lied. The soldiers were uneducated and would not understand anything too difficult.

And the lie worked perfectly. Soldiers were sobbing all around him.

It was not so much that Ricart’s words had moved them. Rather, their guilt and the knots in their hearts had been released. Every soldier had a life of their own. Living was painful. For everyone.

The path opened again. Ricart rode forward, and the soldiers followed behind him.

It was about a day’s journey from Caragosa Fortress. The very place where Bilter had ascended. Since he had ascended, Bilter had no grave.

Still, rumors said that people were making something to commemorate him.

King Santonio waited at the place where Bilter had ascended, mounted on horseback with a small escort. He kept looking around as though searching for something.

When Ricart appeared over the ridge with the soldiers, Santonio turned to look at him. It was sunset, and the light of parting shone between the two men.

Ricart slowly rode toward him and called to him with a gentle smile, using the name they had agreed to use when they met again.

“Sancho.”

Not my king or Your Majesty, but his familiar name. A smile appeared on the face of the dignified man as well.

“God has said nothing to me.”

It seemed King Santonio had heard that a miracle happened here and had come hoping to hear God’s voice himself.

“Wait a moment.”

Ricart put on a grave expression and tilted his head as if listening somewhere. After a moment, he spoke.

“Hmm... God says those strange clothes do not suit you very well, Sancho.”

“What? Hahahaha!”

At Ricart’s joke, King Santonio threw back his head and laughed heartily.

Ricart gave kind words to the soldiers and a light joke to his new friend. King Santonio did not dislike that.

“When are you leaving?”

“I am trying to reduce our numbers as much as possible, but it is not easy.”

The Flame Knights had a full 1,000 knights and 5,000 support troops and ordinary soldiers. Taking such a large force all the way to Adelorne would not be easy.

“Transport the supplies by ship as far as Orsello. It will be much faster. If you ask the Count of Valensha, the count will lend you a fleet.”

Ricart had already planned to do that, but he simply nodded as though he understood.

Santonio asked, “How far is Adelorne?”

“Well, I did not come by a normal route either.”

“Will we ever meet again?”

“If we remain alive, what would be impossible?”

“Haha, that is true. But... what did God really say?”

This time, Santonio asked more seriously.

“It seems you are curious about that too, Sancho. God said nothing. God merely showed me something, if it truly was God.”

“What did God show you?”

“That this world is already full of salvation. That even our foolishness, pain, and suffering are merely part of the journey. So there is no need to despair, no matter what happens. It is all right to rest for a while when things become difficult. That is what God showed me.”

“...Hearing that does make me feel a little better.”

King Santonio was a lonely man caught between a king’s responsibilities and his personal ambition. Like a poor porter carrying a heavy load, he too had burdens.

Perhaps Ricart and King Santonio could become friends only because they had to remain far apart. Had they lived in the same region, they might have become lifelong rivals.

Even so, they could not help feeling sorrow at parting. It was strange, when he thought about it. They could be close because they were distant, and now that they had grown close, they had to part.

Looking back at the setting sun, Santonio said, “Let us send out the soldiers and have them set up camp. Tonight, Ricky, you will have no time to sleep. Friends cannot leave out drink.”

“I have tasted alcohol from many regions. Let us see how good the drink here truly is.”

“Haha, my friend Ricky. I am a king. I have already tasted every fine drink in the world, but none was better than Sinatria’s.”

Like any man, Santonio was immensely proud of alcohol. Especially since this was his homeland, and he was its king.

After the tents were raised, Ricart drank with Santonio throughout the night.

Sinatria’s drink truly had an exquisite taste. It was wine mixed with lemon, apples, oranges, and other fruits. It was sweet, and went down easily with oily meat and fish.

King Santonio could truly drink, and Ricart fought him in his own way with his will burning brightly.

They burst into loud laughter over trivial stories, and Santonio cast aside the dignity of a king to make ridiculous faces.

Thus the night deepened. It was their first and last great drinking bout.

Ricart did not get up until long after the morning sun had risen. His mouth was dry, and his head spun.

Then King Santonio entered the tent carrying alcohol and olives.

“The only way to beat drink is with more drink.”

Ricart was sick of it, but it was a kind of consideration. The drink was incredibly strong, yet after he ate an olive, a salty, nutty flavor burst through his mouth and stirred his appetite. Even after he had stuffed himself so full the night before.

Before long, the king’s cook brought them a meal. Instead of meat, there was only soft bread, soup, and fruit.

Ricart had breakfast with King Santonio after spending the previous night drinking with him. This conversation, however, was not merely cheerful laughter and chatter. It was serious in its own way.

“The western Empire has long been divided between two nations. Strictly speaking, there are three, but simply put, there are the Capet Kingdom and the Basque Kingdom. Neighboring countries are naturally enemies, and they are no exception. But as you know, Ricky, both kingdoms dissolved the Flame Knights’ branches and confiscated their property. The road home will not be easy.”

“That does not matter.”

“I do not doubt your combat ability, but do not forget that many heroes throughout history have fallen victim to the three-inch tongues of politicians.”

Ricart nodded as though he understood. He appeared somewhat absent-minded, but he knew that well enough.

Santonio watched Ricart eat for a while, then said, “If I achieve the great task of unifying Sinatria in my lifetime, let us meet again then, Ricky.”

It was something difficult to achieve within one lifetime. Then again, it might be possible. No one knew.

“I wish you fortune in battle. Take care of yourself.”

After finishing their meal, Ricart and Santonio went outside. Before every soldier, they shook hands and embraced, their shoulders touching.

Ricart was formally returning the army he had borrowed from him. It was difficult to find any moment in history when two leaders met and settled matters so peacefully.

As promised, Ricart had taken Leonia Fortress, occupied Valensha, won a great victory against Sultan Yusuf, and finally handed even Caragosa Fortress over to King Santonio.

Thus, he had kept a promise between men. In a way, it was an ending so beautiful that it seemed unreal and unreasonable.

King Santonio led his army away. Ricart watched him depart from horseback, then returned to Caragosa Fortress to prepare for the long journey.

To Adelorne. At last.

They gathered supplies, reorganized the order, and abandoned the name Flame Knights. From now on, they were the Steel Knights. A steel sword born from flame and cooled in a brother’s blood.

Even by ship, it would be a long way. Overland, and with an army in tow, there was no knowing how long it would take.

Along the way were countless kings and lords, unknown lands, villains and heroes, and even the Emperor.

The plan to cross the Empire from west to east, from one end to the other, was reckless and nearly impossible. Yet the newly reborn knights were ready to follow Ricart with ironclad faith and not a shred of doubt.

Even if hell waited at the end of his road.

The knights set out for the Empire. The Empire that had worked them like dogs for centuries before finally abandoning them.

Now that they had even changed the knights’ name, they had no particular intention of raising a blade of vengeance. But whoever stood in their way would have to endure a storm of steel.

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