WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 156

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Friendship was less fiery than passionate love, but warmer than cold indifference. Like a campfire that warmed the body to just the right degree.

Ricart had been having a pleasant dream. He could not remember what it was about, but it was the kind of dream that made him not want to open his eyes even after waking.

He heard those who had risen first gathering their things. The creak of leather belts being tightened, the scrape of boots across the floor, the rustle of belongings being packed away.

Then came a familiar voice.

“I know you’re awake. Your breathing changed, Ricky.”

Ice spoke. Ricart was curled on his side and only opened his eyes.

The campfire was still burning low. Someone must have tended it to keep the warmth going. Looking after someone naturally, without making a show of it. That was the warmth of friendship.

The rain had weakened, but it was still falling outside the cave. Even so, he did not feel damp at all. His clothes had dried just enough, and the fabric brushing his skin felt pleasant.

The world beyond the cave was bright blue. It was morning.

When Ricart sat up, the side of his hair was flattened or sticking out from sleeping on his side. He smoothed it down with his hand, but it did not make much difference.

One of the knights brought him soup. It was less soup than water boiled thick with cornmeal, jerky, and hard bread.

He blew on it and drank. It was nutty and salty, decent enough. Warmth spread through his stomach.

After finishing the soup, he rinsed his mouth with water and swallowed. Then he stood.

He straightened his clothes and adjusted his belt, drew his sword slightly to inspect the blade, then sheathed it again. That was all the preparation he needed.

Everyone was already waiting at the cave entrance. Ice was there too.

Ricart looked over Ice’s disciples. There were two girls and three boys. They still had youthful faces, but they were not mere novices. They had probably killed before.

“How long have you trained with the sword?”

“...”

Ricart asked, but the disciples did not answer. They did not look embarrassed or shy. They simply seemed wary of a stranger, as children often were.

“I’ve never taken fools who can’t even answer a question as disciples.”

Ice, who had been watching from the side, spoke up.

Ricart felt the difference between Bori and Ice in that moment. Bori seemed fond of his disciples, yet indifferent to them. Ice seemed strict, yet affectionate.

Ricart could tell Ice was a little upset that his disciples could not answer.

“The four of us have studied for four years, and this one for three.”

“Then you’ve learned enough. Honestly, one year is enough. Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

They did not seem to be from the Order. The one thing they shared was that none of them had parents. They saw Ice and the nuns as their father and mother.

“I know. You’re the commander of the Flame Knights.”

One of the female disciples spoke.

“They’re the Steel Knights now. The name changed. Anyway, you, these gentlemen, and I have work to do together. Can you handle it?”

“What kind of...?”

“What kind? Weren’t you planning to wipe out the bandits?”

“We were, but we follow our master, so...”

“Do as you’re told.”

Ice spoke to the disciples, who seemed reluctant.

Ice knew Ricart well enough, but for children meeting him for the first time, it was only natural that this would be hard to accept.

Ricart smiled faintly and spoke as if to reassure them.

“I heard about it from Ice. You’ve been fighting by gradually reducing their numbers. Not bad. It’s a straightforward approach. But I don’t have much time. We’re killing all the bandits today. I’m telling you beforehand because it might be difficult.”

“...Today?”

The disciples of the Mikela monastery stared wide-eyed. It sounded impossible.

It was one thing to kill enemies easily because of a vast difference in skill. The problem with a small group facing a larger one was stamina. Killing many people was practically hard labor.

Especially when the bandits led by Snake-Eyed Ashtad numbered nearly a hundred. The newly arrived contingent numbered only eleven, Ricart included.

Unless the bandits simply stood still, killing a hundred people in a day was, by common sense...

“Nothing in this world is impossible. There are only people who think it is. Once you do it, you’ll realize it was nothing special. If you really can’t believe me, believe your master, who believes in me. Let’s go.”

Ricart pulled up his hood. When he stepped out of the cave, the rain was no longer pelting down as hard as it had the day before.

Ricart led the way, followed by the knights. The monastery’s disciples followed Ice, who followed Ricart. They looked like a pack of wolves on the move.

The bandit base led by Snake-Eyed Ashtad was not far away. After walking steadily for about ten minutes, they reached a point above it.

It was a mountain village beside a flowing valley stream. The current was fierce from the monsoon rains.

The village was not very spacious, but buildings rose in tiers from the entrance.

Its location and structure resembled a mountain fortress from the start. It looked ideal for bandits to settle in and hold out. Reinforced palisades and watchtowers gave it the appearance of a real military fort.

Not all six thousand soldiers could stay inside the buildings, but with tents and the surrounding terrain, it was a place where they could avoid the rain and conserve their strength well enough.

Ricart swept his gaze over the terrain once, and a plan immediately came to him. He could simply see it. What to do, and how to do it. Just as he always had.

“It’s isolated, so it’s good for holding off a large force. But that also means they cannot move around freely. Here’s what we’ll do. First, draw them out. Once they come outside, you take control of the gate and close it. Ice and I will do the fighting, so you only need to guard those two paths. They won’t be able to rush us all at once, so they’ll be easy to handle.”

It was an extremely simple strategy. Draw the enemy out of the bandit stronghold, lock the gate behind them, and settle things outside.

The knights would seize the gate, while the monastery’s disciples would block the paths.

Blocking the paths was relatively easier. The monastery’s disciples looked capable enough, at least when it came to swordsmanship alone.

“That spot is open.”

Ice pointed to one place.

“I’m leaving it open on purpose. So they can run that way. Once they do, they’ll end up killing each other.”

“They’ll kill each other?”

One disciple asked.

“When too many people crowd into a narrow place, fear spreads quickly and they start shoving each other. Then they fall into the valley and die.”

It sounded plausible, but it did not quite sink in.

“But how will you draw them out?”

“Ice and I will handle that. Go to your positions. Once you’re in place, we’ll move.”

Ricart gave his orders. The knights followed them without concern, while the monastery’s disciples looked slightly bewildered.

Once he had watched everyone take their places along the mountainside, Ricart was alone with Ice.

“Ice, are you any good at lying?”

“Out of nowhere?”

“We’re going to kill the ones wandering outside, but we’ll let one go. Tell them we’ll leave them alone if they pay us. Say we’re willing to negotiate and want to meet him in person. This Snake-Eyes has probably been waiting for a chance to get us. If he thinks there are only two of us, he’ll bring his men out.”

“...I have to do it?”

Ricart grinned.

“You get better at lying if you keep doing it.”

Then he headed down the mountain with Ice.

Though the bandits holed up in their stronghold, they had to send people outside regularly. To get food, gather herbs, hunt, or sell slaves. They needed to survive somehow.

They knew strangers were prowling around the stronghold and killing their people.

Perhaps that was why the groups they sent out had gradually grown larger. Now, about ten of them traveled together.

They had taken control of the mountain village years ago. It was obvious what had happened to the people who originally lived there. The men had been killed, the women violated, and the children sold.

Anyone worth selling as a slave had long since run out. They had many people but poor earnings, and surviving grew harder by the day.

Just as every person had their own fate, bandits inevitably split apart and collapsed once they grew too large. That was the fate of a bandit gang.

Their resentment built, they became selfish, and they grew increasingly cruel. A starving human was many times more dangerous than a starving beast.

With someone killing them on top of all that, they could not help becoming tense.

“Fuck, if we just sold one of the boss’s sex slaves, we could sit around eating our fill for ten days.”

One bandit spoke as he walked down a narrow trail. Ten of them were traveling together, and they all looked like beggars. Dried streaks of grime ran down their faces.

“Don’t you think we’re being too scared? What’s so damn special about a knight order? Does it make any sense that we haven’t been able to work for days?”

Another bandit spoke. By work, he meant robbery.

“Better than dying. What else can we do?”

“Hey, starving to death and getting stabbed to death are the same thing.”

“You’ll think differently when it happens to you. And seeing how much you lot are whining, it seems you’re still living well enough.”

Whenever three or more people gathered, there was bound to be one sensible person among them. Unlike the other bandits, who were full of complaints, this one could think relatively clearly.

“How about we overturn things while we’re still living well enough?”

“Overturn what?”

“Overturn it. Don’t you know what I mean?”

“You got the ability for that?”

“I’ve got connections. These days, the deputy boss is doing better than the boss. You all know it, don’t you? He’s a lot more manly, smarter, and knows how to look after his people.”

“This bastard’s trying to stir us up...”

“Think whatever you want. But life is shitty right now not because I’m stirring you up. Isn’t that right?”

Whether it was a nation, a merchant company, or a bandit gang, every group had a structure. A power structure. A leader, the officers supporting that leader, and those beneath them.

Bandits were the kind of group that constantly talked about loyalty while having the weakest unity. When a crisis came and unease spread, cracks quickly formed.

If left alone, they might destroy themselves. But that did not mean they would disappear.

The bandits, divided into smaller groups, would spread elsewhere. Like the spores of poisonous mushrooms.

Words of betrayal flowed naturally, like everyday conversation. But before that betrayal could be put into action, the bandits encountered strangers blocking their path.

Two men with their cloak hoods pulled low. The bulges at their waists suggested swords beneath their cloaks. Fine rain sprayed down around them.

The ten men froze at once when they saw them. After a moment, one spoke under his breath.

“Fuuuck...”

“W-Who are you? Do you know whose territory this is? This is Lord Snake-Eyed Ashtad’s territory!”

They had just been talking about betrayal, yet now that they faced apparent enemies, they hid behind their leader’s reputation.

“I’ll let one of you live. Who wants to survive?”

One of the two swordsmen spoke. It was impossible to tell whether the words were merciful or merciless.

“Y-You’re the ones, right? You’re the ones who’ve been killing our people lately? Right? Who sent you? Was it the Arn Mountain lot? The Grim Brotherhood?”

The bandit blurted out whatever came to mind. Meanwhile, the others hurriedly drew crudely made weapons. Most were short or modified from everyday tools. Sickles, hammers, and things resembling long kitchen knives.

When the bandits drew their weapons, one of the swordsmen drew his own. The other remained still.

Ricart spoke to Ice, who had drawn his sword.

“Don’t make it shine. They might get scared and not come out.”

“Got it.”

Ice nodded and trudged forward. The ground was muddy, but not enough for his feet to sink in.

The bandits were confused as one man remained still while only the other drew his sword and approached. Was it a bluff, or was he truly a master swordsman?

The path was too narrow to surround him. Still, as was common with such people, they found courage in their numbers.

Someone threw something like an iron nail. For an ordinary bandit, it was a fairly skilled throw. He seemed to have practiced that one thing endlessly.

Unfortunately for the bandits, Ice merely tilted his head slightly to avoid it. Then, as though he had charged from far away, he suddenly closed the distance.

The bandits could not react to movement faster than anything they had imagined. They flinched. That was their last moment.

Ice held his sword in one hand and slashed from inside his body outward. The gleaming blade swept through two men at once.

Then, in what seemed like the same motion, he took the sword in both hands, swung the other way, and slipped to the side.

After two swish, swish cuts, four people fell.

With an ordinary person’s reaction speed, it took time even to see that their companions had died and understand what had happened.

And the time needed to accept that reality and decide to run was far too long before a master.

The moment their eyes widened in shock, Ice’s sword swung with measured precision. Of course, the bandits could not even see it. All they could see was his slightly wet cloak fluttering.

It did not take long for nine corpses to fall. Not quite as fast as a blink, but close. More astonishingly, none had been wounded. Every one of them died in a single stroke.

The last survivor’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the wet ground. Then he met the cold eyes staring down at him from beneath the hood.

Ice’s beautiful face was hidden from view. He looked like nothing but a ghost.

“Tell Snake-Eyes this. If he doesn’t want to suffer any more losses, he should pay. Tell him we’re willing to negotiate and want to meet him in person.”

His voice was as cold as his gaze, with not the slightest trace of human feeling toward another human being.

It was impossible to tell whether the last bandit understood properly or not. His jaw trembled so hard his teeth went clack-clack-clack. Unable to stand, he pushed himself backward with his feet, away from Ice.

Once he had put some distance between them, he scrambled up and fled.

Only then did Ricart, who had been standing behind, approach.

“You’re a good liar.”

“Who do you think I learned from?”

“Huh? It’s not like I lie that much.”

“Who knows.”

Ice gave him a smile whose meaning Ricart could not read.

Ricart found it absurd, but grinned as he answered. They were trading jokes without a trace of tension when, before long, Snake-Eyed Ashtad truly came out with all his men.

One of his pupils was spread vertically. It was not narrow and sharply split like a real snake’s eye, but more bluntly shaped. It seemed to be some kind of deformity.

His beard was unkempt, and he was not as large as Ricart had expected. With a deep frown, he spoke.

“I kept quiet because of the knight order, and now some fucking pieces of shit think I’m a fucking joke.”

“Are you not overestimating yourself? Do you think the knight order would care about trash like you?”

Ricart spoke calmly. But as he did, bandits appeared from the path behind them. They seemed to have gone around the slope to block their retreat.

“What would some ordinary swordsman like you know? This is called tactics. No matter how good your swordsmanship is, you’ll only cut down three or four men before you die.”

When the bandit leader spoke of tactics, Ricart was so dumbfounded that he had nothing to say. It was not as if the man would believe him if he said he was a knight commander.

It was the kind of situation where telling the truth would make him sound like a liar.

“...This is ridiculous. Seriously.”

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