WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 154

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There were many wonders in the world.

Seas full of salt water, seas made of sand, the blazing sun by day, and starlight pouring down like rain at night.

The ancient Emperor's Mausoleum that spoke of life’s transience, and magnificent fortresses that seemed built by giants.

But if I had to choose just one place to lay my body down, I would leave all those wonders behind and choose my homeland.

There might be nothing surprising about it, nothing that stirred any great feeling, but my soul could find rest nowhere else.

They passed through the western Empire, reached the Kingdom of Netherlant in the lowlands where vampires lived, then headed east again.

The scent of flowers on the wind, the smells of earth, grass, and trees, the taste of water, the familiar accents of the people, and a sense of the season that fit like well-tailored clothes.

It was the north.

A little farther east lay Ernberg, and farther north were the Haiden Fields.

Ricart’s strategy had worked. By acting as though he intended revenge, he had kept the kings too busy protecting themselves to interfere with the knights’ movements.

If they had known he was heading for Adelorne, and if he had politely asked for their understanding, could he have reached the north as safely as he had now?

They would likely have blocked the way and tried to extract something from him. No one could expect goodwill from people who framed innocent people and extorted money and privileges.

Every place Ricart and the knights passed through fell silent in fear, like children who believed ghosts wandered outside their homes at night.

The bandits in their strongholds and the lords who cruelly collected tolls only wanted Ricart to pass by quickly. Not one of them showed their face.

To deal with the Steel Knights required at least an army on the scale of a kingdom. This was not a surprise invasion, but it had happened suddenly enough that everyone was still struggling to gather their forces.

In other words, while cowardly rulers did nothing but make futile moves, the Steel Knights had some breathing room.

Nature, however, could not be controlled. Summer monsoon rains covered the north.

Rumble. Rumble...

Lightning flashed across the shadowed world, followed by thunder in the distance. It was as though God had seized the sky and shaken it violently.

On the endless northern plains, thunder and lightning amid the pouring rain made for a spectacular sight.

Actually being caught in that rain was far from pleasant. The armor most soldiers wore was called a gambeson, lined with wool or cotton, and it absorbed a great deal of moisture.

Once soaked through, it weighed several times more than usual. The paved roads were long behind them, and the ground had become mud that swallowed their ankles.

Spear shafts became slippery. The food and firewood loaded on wagons and carts grew damp, and the wheels sank into the mire before they could even roll a few times.

Anyone who had not suffered through it could never understand this hardship, this exhaustion. It was such draining, unbearable agony that it made one want to die.

It was as though the land persistently asked them, Do you still love your homeland?

Life was always full of trials. Enduring and overcoming them was the only answer.

Ting. Ting. Titing. Ting.

Rain lashed against the soldiers’ helmets. Its rhythm only grew faster, never slower.

Ricart and the knights dismounted and pushed the carts and wagons. The invention called the wheel was nearly useless now. Like oxen plowing a field, people had to push each wagon forward by hand.

How much farther did they have to go at a marching speed slower than a grub? Even a genius of strategy and tactics was no more than a tiny creature before nature.

Ricart’s lower body was covered in mud, and his armor had lost its shine. The Knights’ banners, which normally snapped so powerfully in the wind, hung limp and soaked.

As they pushed carts for a long time and urged the soldiers onward, men began collapsing from exhaustion one or two at a time.

They could grit their teeth and bear the hardship, but at this rate, they could fall ill.

Ricart decided they could not continue like this.

“Gather the carts and wagons in one place and set up tents to keep out the rain. Then light fires and warm yourselves. Eat all the potatoes and the like before they start sprouting.”

“...”

The place was far too vulnerable for a camp, but Raimund and the nearby knights could not argue.

They knew how difficult the situation was. Nor did they think Ricart had given the order without understanding that.

Ricart had not issued the command in a resigned, to-hell-with-it mood, either. A leader could not be like that. Whether it seemed possible or not, there always had to be a solution and a direction.

“It will take at least three days to reach the nearest city. If the rain does not stop, we could take more than a week at this pace. Before then, more men could collapse or fall ill. The knights and I will search the area. We will find somewhere the soldiers can rest, whether it is a small village or anything else.”

He meant for the soldiers to stop and rest while Ricart and the knights worked harder to find a way out.

When Ricart’s orders spread, the soldiers felt as though they had received rain during a drought.

They wanted nothing more than to collapse and do nothing, but they squeezed out the last of their strength. They arranged the carts and wagons around the perimeter like a temporary wall, dug drainage ditches, and set up tents.

They let the horses rest inside, then quickly lit fires, wrung out their wet clothes, and removed their boots. When they turned the military boots upside down, mud fell out in clumps. Their feet were so swollen that, with some exaggeration, they looked ready to rot.

After seeing the camp hastily established, Ricart tended to Red Comet before himself, despite being soaked through. He dried the horse with a towel, brushed its coat, and fed it plenty of carrots and dried bean stalks.

Perhaps Red Comet knew that its master had cared for it before himself. It pressed its head against Ricart and flicked its tongue, acting spoiled. Ricart kept pushing its head away because it was in the way.

“What is it? Hold still.”

Only then did he remove his armor and shoes, dry himself by the fire, and attend to himself a little. Rain kept pattering endlessly against the tent.

As Ricart warmed himself beside the fire with Raimund and his closest knights, a soldier brought over a silver plate holding grilled meat and mashed potatoes.

“Thank you.”

Ricart took the plate and ate with his hands. In that instant, pleasure swept through his entire body. “Ah, this is killing me.”

He had pushed carts and wagons several times more than anyone else, so Ricart was quite exhausted as well.

After all that suffering, drying himself by the fire and eating fresh food felt like heaven itself.

He wanted to put everything aside and close his eyes, but he could not. Their camp stood in open ground, and they could not remain there for long.

“We should get moving. Ray, watch over the camp.”

“Yes, sir.”

His body was not completely dry, but Ricart put his shoes back on and wore only a cloak. He left his armor behind and fastened Lightning Flash at his waist.

About ten knights dressed similarly. Ricart and the ten knights pulled up their hoods, let the rain fall on them, and headed south to search for a place the soldiers could stay.

The soldiers watched them go.

Naturally, one thought came to mind. A commander like that was not someone a man could meet twice in a lifetime.

Our commander is this kind of man. Our king fights like this.

They even felt pride.

Beyond being the person who had saved them and carried out their revenge, Ricart was simply an excellent commander. Leading by example was easy to say, but not something just anyone could do.

He had decisiveness, the ability to devise and carry out plans, and personal strength. There was nothing lacking in him. He was simply someone worth following.

Unaware of those gazes on his back, Ricart continued south. Soon, he entered the pitch-black darkness and disappeared from the soldiers’ sight.

To the south were low mountains and forests. It was doubtful there would be a village in such a place. Even if there was, could it be large enough to house six thousand men?

They could not help worrying, but giving up was not an option. Giving everything to uncertainty was familiar to Ricart and the knights, even if it could lead to death.

Once they entered the forest, they were less exposed to the rain, but it was as dark as night. The knights lit the torches they had brought.

Was it late afternoon? Early evening? It did not seem to be night yet.

Ricart and the knights closely examined the trees and ground around them, searching for signs of wild animals or people.

After climbing the pathless mountain for some time, one knight called to Ricart.

“Commander, here.”

Ricart turned and saw the torch-bearing knight looking down at the base of a tree. As Ricart approached, he saw a corpse hidden beneath the brush.

The eyes were gone. Maggots writhed in the empty black sockets. The lips were gone as well, and the mouth was filled with maggots. They had eaten the softer flesh first.

The rest of the body was somewhat bloated but largely intact. Judging by the recent weather, the person seemed to have been dead for three or four days.

If more time had passed, birds and beetles would have gathered to feed on the maggots, but none were visible yet.

“A sword wound.”

Ricart briefly stated the cause of death. The heart had been pierced precisely between the ribs. There were no other wounds. Whoever had killed this person had considerable skill with a blade.

They searched the area and found two more corpses. From the distance and direction between the bodies, they could tell that the killer had pursued and slain people who were trying to flee.

“The swordsmanship is too good for ordinary bandits. But where did these people come from? Where were they fleeing from?”

Ricart spoke as though talking to himself, yet also asking the knights around him. Though they were dead now, their presence made him wonder whether there might be somewhere nearby where people lived.

Their purpose was not to track the murderer, but to find somewhere that could accommodate the soldiers.

“How about going in the opposite direction from the escape route?”

“Or we could follow the direction they were fleeing. They must have been heading somewhere.”

By connecting the places where the three corpses had fallen, they could roughly tell which way the victims had been running.

Ricart thought for a moment before speaking.

“Let us go in the direction they were fleeing. With skill like this, the killer could have killed them all at once. But they were allowed to run. That means this person probably wanted to know their destination as well.”

He was not certain, but Ricart made what seemed to him a reasonable deduction.

That guess gave their search some direction. Ricart and the knights headed southwest.

As they walked, they found another corpse. This one was quite fresh. Insects and animals had not touched it, and its white eyes and bluish lips remained intact. There were five such bodies nearby.

Looking down at corpses by torchlight in the black forest was chilling, but Ricart and the knights remained indifferent. That indifference was what allowed them to judge the scene coolly.

“They are pursuing them, but it almost seems like a hunt.”

One knight spoke. Those familiar with death could tell at a glance. They were no less familiar with it than Ricart.

“It does look as though they are reducing their numbers. But the question is whether one person did this or several.”

“The method is the same, so I believe it was one person.”

“That is true, but I have the feeling it could be several people trained in the same method. In any case, let us keep all possibilities open and not be too certain.”

The knights nodded. It was a remarkably cozy conversation to have while looking at corpses.

Still, Ricart felt a strange sense of familiarity. It was not merely the swordsmanship. The killer did not simply chase them down and kill them at random, but seemed to be gradually reducing their numbers with some thought.

It looked very much like the method Ricart himself had used in his days as an adventurer. Judging by the techniques alone, there was something both cold and impulsive about it.

Ricart and the knights continued onward. Then they found a mountain village.

No, to be exact, it was not a mountain village but a bandit stronghold. A fairly large settlement of mountain bandits. It had likely once been a mountain village, then converted into this.

The terrain cleverly concealed it, and it was difficult to notice at night. Small lights leaked out here and there.

At this scale, even a count would have found it difficult to subdue. It seemed to be a group with quite a notorious local reputation.

Yet even this group had remained as quiet as mice after hearing that the Steel Knights were passing through.

Ricart and the knights looked at one another with broad smiles, like the sky finally clearing after a dark and cloudy day. Without saying a word, they understood one another’s thoughts.

They had found it. They could rest there.

At daybreak, they could attack, kill everyone or drive them out, remain inside until the monsoon ended, then continue east.

Ricart and the knights were so delighted that they could not stop smiling. Casually, as though chatting, they discussed the operation.

“How about circling around to the south, blocking their escape route, and frightening them from the main gate?”

“Is all that necessary? Let us form a small separate unit and infiltrate. Then we can open the main gate from inside. Our purpose is occupation, not killing.”

“They could become a nuisance if we leave them alive.”

“It would be quick to herd them into a barn and burn it down.”

“We cannot take that risk. Even one place to shelter from the rain is precious.”

“What if we disarm them first, then kill them all at once?”

In the middle of their discussion, something unusual caught Ricart’s sharp senses. Before his mind could make any judgment, he turned his head precisely in that direction.

“Quiet. Someone is watching us.”

The knights immediately stopped talking. Ricart stared into the darkness where nothing could be seen, slightly uphill.

“I think they are the people who made the corpses we saw. There is more than one.”

“What?”

“We were unsure whether it was one person or several, remember? But it is not one. One, two, three, four. At least five. More than that.”

Though he could see nothing, Ricart had almost exactly grasped their numbers.

“Should we put out the torches?”

The knight asked because they could not see the others, while the others could see them because of the torchlight. Rain still fell, tapping against their raised hoods.

“No. I do not sense hostility yet.”

“What kind of people are they?”

“I do not know either.”

The knights did not seem tense in the slightest. They were that confident.

Then lightning flashed.

For an instant, the entire world was divided into only white and black before returning to darkness.

Rumble...

The sky groaned. It had only been an instant, but this time the knights saw them too. Four or five people stood on slightly higher ground, looking down at them like grim reapers.

Though both sides recognized the other, no words passed between them. No one quietly reached for a sword hilt.

Then someone beyond the darkness spoke first. It was a young man’s voice.

“Are you from Count Rotar’s household?”

“No.”

“We are already dealing with this place. You had no interest until now, so I would prefer you not to interfere with our work.”

“I said no.”

“Then who are you people?”

“Who are you?”

“We are...”

Just as the young man’s voice was about to reveal who they were, another person spoke. The voice was low and oddly familiar to Ricart.

“Are you seeking a place to rest, travelers?”

Ricart felt a momentary flicker of recognition at the familiar voice.

Once its owner came to mind, a smile naturally formed on his lips. He could not see it, but he sensed that the other person spoke with a smile as well.

“Come to me, you who are weary and exhausted, and I will give you rest.”

Then the figure jumped down from the higher ground.

Crunch, crunch.

The person approached until reaching the torchlight. A deep hood concealed all but the faint smile around the mouth. Then the hood came off, revealing the whole face.

Even another man might have felt dizzy at the sight of such extraordinary beauty. The rare silver hair was slightly damp, making the man look all the more alluring.

Ricart’s smile deepened.

“Ice, swordsmanship instructor of the Mikela Sword Order.”

Ice played a small joke, as though introducing himself to a stranger.

Ricart snorted. It was a sign of delight, a kind of ironic response.

“You have gotten more handsome...”

The march had stalled, and they stood in a dark forest beneath pattering rain, yet the heaviness in Ricart’s heart lifted considerably.

The smile of a friend he had not seen in a long time held that kind of power.

There was nothing surprising about it, nothing that stirred any great feeling, but it felt as though he had returned home.

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