WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 17

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The sky was blue, the clouds white, the wind cool, and the sunlight warm. It was the sort of day that lifted your spirits for no reason but that.

Ricart packed some money and a dagger, fastened his red cloak, and left the dormitory with Volka.

For some reason, Volka seemed to be in a good mood. When Boribori smiled brightly, he looked like spring sunlight, and Ricart’s mood lifted with his.

Still, he had not realized it on the way up, but coming down the sheer rocky mountain was a little frightening.

There were no safety rails, and the narrow stairs were uneven. One wrong step could make someone lose their footing.

The wind was especially strong at this height, constantly whipping Ricart’s hair and cloak about.

“Someone’s going to have an accident here.”

Ricart said.

“Some kids jump on purpose.”

Volka, walking ahead, said it as though it were nothing. He meant they took their own lives.

“What?”

“Heaven’s Cliff. It used to happen sometimes. Kids jumping on purpose.”

“...What about lately?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen any recently. Not for about three months.”

“...”

Ricart had nothing to say. His heart ached. He wanted to mourn the children who had passed away, but he did not know their faces or names.

But perhaps children jumping from the cliff was not so unusual to Volka. He simply asked without much thought.

“It takes six hours to get there. What do you want to do? Stay in the city for a night, or come back after a short visit? But if you’re coming back today, I can’t go with you. I have things to do too.”

That meant twelve hours there and back. It was still morning, so if they returned to the Academy dormitory that day, they would barely have any time in the city.

Ricart thought it over carefully, then remembered something his eldest brother Graut had once said.

Days like this aren’t for making plans.

Ricart looked up at the blue sky scattered with white clouds. Letting the feelings that had briefly weighed on him drift away on the wind, he said,

“I’ll decide when we get there.”

“Fine. You said you have some money, right?”

“Yeah.”

“In the city, money is king and emperor. If you have money, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“It can be the seed of misfortune too.”

“Haha, that’s true. But who’s going to mess with you?”

Volka knew Ricart’s skill, so he was not worried about his safety. If Ricart had been some ordinary kid, Volka would not have brought him to the city like this unless he were introducing him to a job.

Still, coming down the rocky mountain and looking out over the endless fields was truly spectacular.

It was the right season, and colorful spring flowers embroidered the green fields. Spring had gently settled over the plains, and the stairs looked like steps leading down into heaven.

He had heard that children had once often ended their lives there, so he could not see it as only beautiful. No, perhaps that made it more beautiful? No. It had to be beautiful.

Once they finally reached the bottom, a single road stretched all the way to the city. It was unpaved, made only by countless human footsteps, which somehow made it more moving.

Boribori ran excitedly ahead alone, pointing around and shouting.

“Milkwort! Daffodils! Lily of the valley! Starbell flowers!”

Boribori called out the names of every grass and flower in the field.

Endlessly.

Listening, Ricart realized that even the things he had seen back home all had separate names.

“You memorized all that stuff?”

Volka frowned, apparently tired of listening.

“But they’re so pretty. Wouldn’t they be sad if nobody looked at them?”

“Really? Is this pretty too? Take that!”

Volka stomped on a yellow daffodil. Boribori flinched and fell silent, while Ricart only smiled.

Still, Ricart went over to the dejected Boribori, touched his shoulder, and said,

“It’ll grow back. Even if a flower wilts, that doesn’t mean its life is over.”

“Yeah...”

“I don’t know about Ricky, but you need to get a grip. Are you going to coast along just because you got lucky and made good friends? What are you going to do in two years?”

Volka harshly criticized Boribori. Still, the fact that he went out of his way to say so much might have meant he was starting to care a little.

“We have to walk for six hours, though. Listening to flower names isn’t so bad.”

Ricart tried to defend Boribori. Honestly, he did not understand why Boribori had memorized such things either.

Volka only gave a displeased snort.

Of the three of them, Boribori was the one whose childish innocence showed the most, despite being two years older than Ricart.

“What flower is that?”

Ricart asked, hoping to cheer Boribori up again.

“A violet.”

“And that little one?”

“Cucumber herb.”

“Wow, there’s really nothing you don’t know. I heard flowers have meanings too. Can you tell me about them?”

At the mention of flower meanings, Boribori’s eyes began to shine again.

“It’s called a swallow violet because it blooms around the time swallows return after being away all winter. Its flower meaning is eternal friendship.”

“Really?”

Ricart picked three purple violets. He gave one to Boribori and said,

“Does that mean we’ll be friends forever?”

“...Hehehe.”

Boribori giggled, accepted the flower, and tucked it behind his ear.

“Volka, you take one too.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Doing what?”

“You’re trying to annoy me.”

“What are you talking about? Didn’t you hear? The flower means eternal friendship.”

“This is the kind of thing girls do.”

“So you won’t take it?”

“I don’t believe in this stuff.”

Despite his words, Volka snatched one away. Ricart smiled.

With his spirits restored, Boribori told them stories connected to flowers.

Stories of an innocent maiden’s heartbreak, flowers blooming where a brave knight had shed blood, flowers delivered by a descending angel, and more.

Whether they were true or not, whether they believed them or not, the walk to the city was not boring.

The wind blew. The sound of flowers and grass brushing in the field was like the sound of waves.

Shhhhh...

Beringen had no distinct city boundary, at least not below the hill. At some point, the fields gave way to farmland, and they saw cattle grazing.

Far away, a castle stood atop a hill. The closer they came to it, the denser the population became.

Volka pointed here and there as he spoke.

“This is the eastern district. There are lots of guild members and Academy graduates here, so it’s relatively decent. You’d better avoid the north and west. Nord immigrants live in the north, you see. They have their own customs. If you run your mouth carelessly there, they’ll split your head with an axe, so remember that. The west is where people who have lived here for a long time reside. They don’t think well of us.”

“What about the south?”

Ricart asked.

“It’s a mixed bag. People come in from deeper inside the Empire. Some of them are real scum. So stay quietly in the eastern district, and you’ll be relatively safe. Let’s head to headquarters first.”

Ricart and Boribori followed Volka. It was afternoon, with a few hours left before sunset.

Headquarters was a large, unusual building. Its second floor was bigger than the first, and a skybridge connected it to another building.

There was a separate space for parking carriages, and five stood there. The horses that had worked hard to bring them in had been freed of their heavy harnesses and were eating fodder and drinking water in the stable.

Ricart had once visited what was supposedly a branch office, so he found himself thinking that headquarters at least had its own building.

“The real headquarters is inside the castle. Strictly speaking, this isn’t headquarters, but everyone calls it that anyway.”

It was where much of the actual work was handled. The real headquarters inside the castle was home to the so-called higher-ups, and it merely relayed their instructions.

“You probably can’t go in yet, but I know someone, so maybe it’ll work. And if you do get in, don’t open your mouths carelessly. The atmosphere is shitty more often than not.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? Because people die.”

“Ah.”

The real beginning came after two years at the Academy. That was when the most people died. Then those who remained were divided again into upper, middle, and lower ranks.

Out of two hundred male and female students combined, fewer than fifty challenged the adventurer’s path. It was that difficult and dangerous. A few ran away, while most simply looked for other work.

Volka went inside, while Ricart and Boribori stood close together and looked around.

People with weapons at their waists walked about. Their shadowed expressions and eyes seemed to reveal the lives they led.

If they were adventurers, or preparing to become adventurers, then they had all graduated from the Academy.

They were seniors, but Ricart did not get a good feeling from them. Despite the bright weather, they looked gloomy and exhausted.

Merchants moved about even more than the adventurers. Anyone could commission the guild, but merchants were naturally its main customers.

They caught fragments of conversations drifting by on the wind.

Whether goods had been received or not. Whether a lord in some region had begun charging tolls. Which gang had been causing trouble lately. Where goods were cheap, and where they were expensive.

Then Volka came back out.

“They said it’s fine if we only look around for a bit. You have to behave. Don’t wander around for no reason.”

“Okay.”

Ricart finally entered the guild headquarters.

The interior was no different from an ordinary tavern, except for the wanted posters covering the walls.

There were so many that some were not neatly displayed, but layered over one another in thick patches.

Then Boribori, who had entered with them, saw someone sitting at the bar and froze, trembling.

It was the person who had beaten him and poured water over him on the first day.

He had a sword at his waist and was speaking with the bartender. But when the bartender noticed Ricart and Boribori, whom Volka had brought in, he greeted them.

“Ah, these are the kids? You need to eat plenty and grow big. Make yourselves comfortable. No alcohol, though. If you discover alcohol before you’re old enough, it ruins you.”

It sounded like decent advice. Or perhaps not. In any case, when the bartender spoke to Volka’s group, the man who had been talking to him naturally turned his gaze toward them as well.

Then the man met Ricart’s eyes and started in surprise, visibly flustered.

“Oh? Uh, uh.”

“Hello.”

Ricart greeted him.

“Ah, yes. Um, is the dormitory suitable for you?”

“Yes. It’s all right.”

“Ah... Yes...”

Volka, Boribori, and even the bartender stared wide-eyed as the senior adventurer, an Academy graduate and one of the more capable adventurers, did not know what to do.

Volka and Boribori had no idea what was going on and looked nearly dumbfounded.

The senior adventurer was flustered by Ricart because Ricart was from a noble family.

Ricart had seen the man on the first day, just as Boribori had. When he showed his admission letter, the man had begun visibly panicking.

Seeing that reaction, Ricart decided he should not reveal that he was a noble if he wanted to live comfortably at the Academy. So he had simply been using his nickname as if it were his name.

From the senior’s perspective, it was awkward to treat him like a noble, yet he could not treat him casually either. That was why Ricart made him uncomfortable.

Ricart was not the eldest son, but he was legitimate. A true noble.

Bastards were instinctively uneasy around legitimate children. The man was a bastard as well.

“I, I should get back to work. I’ll be going.”

Leaving even the drink he had been having behind, he hurried away. At the end, he gave Ricart a particularly respectful bow.

Volka and Boribori looked at Ricart as though demanding an explanation.

Ricart shrugged and made an excuse.

“I didn’t hit him.”

No matter how good a fighter Ricart was, had he beaten up a senior? It was an industry where strength was everything, and a senior was nothing if they were weak, but becoming an adventurer still meant possessing skill on a different level.

The bartender stared in surprise, then his expression relaxed as though he understood. He had heard that a noble was coming to the Academy, and now he realized the boy before him must be that noble.

Unlike the man who had left, the bartender appeared fairly relaxed. As a bartender who dealt with many kinds of people, he seemed quick to read the room.

Perhaps he had also noticed that Ricart did not want to reveal his status as a noble, because he quickly changed the subject.

“Hunt must be a little out of it after drinking. See? Alcohol isn’t all that good. Anyway, Volka, did you hear the rumor?”

“Yes? What rumor?”

“You know Roch, right?”

“Ah... yes.”

Roch did not have a good reputation among adventurers. He was fairly capable, but rumors said he committed crimes on the sly.

On top of that, he acted like a thug, so few people liked him.

Adventurers were not as honorable as knights, but neither were they as completely immoral as bandits. They had lines they observed in their own way, and Roch was famous in this business for walking dangerously close to those lines.

“I heard there’s a hole in his jaw. It went through his tongue too, so he can’t even eat properly.”

The bartender spoke while pretending to jab the skin beneath his own jaw with a finger.

“Why? What happened? Didn’t they say he was pretty skilled?”

“Looks like he messed with a woman from the Bletter Clan and ended up that way. That’s why you need to be humble in this business. Skill isn’t everything. Just watch. That bastard will be dead soon. He’s made enemies in far more than one or two places. What an idiot.”

Though Roch belonged to the same guild, the bartender hated him enough to practically curse him. Or perhaps it was not a curse, but insight.

“What’s a clan?”

Ricart asked. He had been curious for some time, but had not found an opportunity to ask.

The bartender wiped a cup with a towel as he answered.

“A clan is a group of like-minded people in the guild. It’s good if they’re skilled, but more than that, they have to be trustworthy. That’s why Academy life matters. The kids who stick together then keep sticking together afterward. Kids know best who’s skilled and who can be trusted.”

It seemed the guild was a collection of clans. The two words were not really superior and subordinate concepts, but in practice, that was what they were.

The guild gave work to clans, issued orders, and above all, provided legitimacy.

Through its connection to the Emperor.

That was the most important part.

“Were you from the Academy too, mister?”

Ricart did not sit down, but leaned against the bar with his arms on it. The counter came up to his chest.

“Mister? Me? Hahaha, sorry, but I’m not from the Academy. I was just an adventurer. You could say I was a fixer affiliated with the guild. I’ve retired as a fixer and do this now, but I still belong to the guild. I give tired adventurers a warm place to sleep. And sometimes I pass along the guild’s orders.”

“What’s a fixer?”

“A fixer is a fixer. Someone who gets things done.”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“In this business, getting something done means giving a client the result they want, by any means necessary.”

“Uh... Is that something scary?”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.”

“I see. By the way, do you have a room where three people can stay together for about a day?”

Ricart took out his money pouch as he asked. But the bartender shook his head.

“Since it’s your first visit, I’ll let you stay for a day free of charge. I have that much discretion. Go upstairs and use the last room on the right.”

“Thank you. By the way, what’s your name, mister? I’m Ricky.”

“...Better than being called mister, I suppose. I’m Dunkel.”

“Is that your real name?”

Dunkel smiled faintly, set down the cup he had been wiping, leaned close to Ricart, and quietly asked where no one else could hear.

“Is yours, young master?”

The bartender who called himself Dunkel had neatly trimmed brown hair and beard, giving him a tidy impression. Yet behind his calm eyes, there was a presence like a sharp dagger concealed from view.

Ricart could see it.

Ricart only smiled without a word. Then he turned to his two friends and asked,

“Let’s put down our things first, then look around. How does that sound?”

But Volka and Boribori were staring blankly at Ricart with utterly stunned expressions.

“What’s wrong?”

“...Huh? Oh, no. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Volka suddenly came to his senses and answered.

Strange. This was not the sort of place that showed this kind of consideration just because it was someone’s first visit. In truth, it was not a considerate place at all.

Boribori was too speechless to say anything after seeing Ricart deal so casually with frightening people.

The two followed Ricart upstairs in a daze.

Silence settled over the hall. At the tables, adventurers merely slept with their heads down or sipped alcohol in gloomy moods.

Then a woman approached Dunkel.

“How was he?”

“His personality seems fine.”

“No. Not that.”

“I couldn’t sense any mana.”

“Then is Roch an idiot, or did the boy learn some secret swordsmanship passed down in his family?”

In truth, anyone in the know was aware that Ricart had defeated Roch. So around the time Ricart came to the Academy, the guild had quietly been keeping an eye on him.

“Probably both.”

“Hmm... So? Are you going to test him?”

Dunkel took out some alcohol, poured it into the cup he had been wiping earlier, and offered it to the woman as he shook his head.

“No. That’s not our job. It’s the Academy’s.”

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