WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 24

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“What do we do?”

Someone spoke. It was already dark, and the forest made it even darker.

Then Ricart suddenly strode alone toward the cabin bathed in moonlight.

“R-Ricky.”

Volka called out, but Ricart paid no attention.

Without much caution, Ricart opened the cabin door. The inside was a mess, but it did not look as though anything had been taken. They had come purely to kill people.

He picked up a lantern lying on the floor, lit it, and gave the cabin a quick look. Other than the mess, there were no bodies, and it seemed livable enough for one night.

Ricart came back outside and looked at the bodies scattered around the cabin. Their equipment had all been stripped away, and their arms and legs were bent or stretched out at random. There were twelve bodies in all.

He held the lantern close and examined them carefully, trying to estimate their causes and times of death, even if he could not be exact.

They had not died from a single stab or cut to a vital spot. They had been brutally slashed apart. That meant there had been a fight.

Flies buzzed around the bodies, and there were eggs, but no maggots yet. There were no signs of birds or animals pecking out their eyes or lips, so it seemed no more than a day or two had passed.

Putting together a rough timeline, it seemed this had happened here before Ricart himself was attacked. One or two days ago.

Perhaps they had learned that support was coming from the Academy while killing the adventurers here, then hidden and ambushed them. The route here had been obvious enough.

Ricart tentatively reached that conclusion. If so, the enemies must have been exhausted too.

The students only watched Ricart's actions with anxious eyes. None dared approach him. Ricart turned to them.

“Looking at this, it seems like this happened a few days ago, so you don't need to be that scared. We should be able to stay here for a day.”

Was that so? Even if it was, how could he be so calm?

Still, the students gradually began to recognize and accept reality. They were fucked, sure, but they could not stay like this forever.

“Put Molty on a bed and at least gather up the bodies. Then we'll decide on night watches... and have a meeting, I suppose. Go inside the cabin and check your equipment.”

Ricart calmly gave orders. Without saying much, the students followed them.

They gathered the bodies in one place, laid them out neatly, and covered them with cloth. They could not afford to dig graves. Their strength was practically their lifeblood right now.

Ricart roughly tidied up outside the cabin before coming in. A single lantern on the table lit the dark interior.

Since the cabin was a guild hideout, it was spacious enough for nine people.

Ricart sat among the students, drew his sword, and carefully inspected the blade for damage in the faint light.

Then he wiped it down properly with a cloth, took out camellia oil from his bag, and oiled and cleaned it again.

As he rubbed the blade, he suddenly felt eyes on him and looked up. Everyone was staring at him.

“What? What is it?”

“...We were wondering if you had anything else to say.”

Volka spoke.

“Get some sleep, even if it's only for a little while. We don't know what will happen tomorrow. Rest while you can.”

“Still, is it really okay to stay here?”

“You saw the bodies outside, right? There aren't any maggots yet. Their eyes and lips are intact too, so it has only been a day or two. Do you think the people who killed them are different from the bastards who attacked us? I don't. That means those bastards are exhausted too. They won't have the strength to move around separately. And we killed the one who looked like their leader, so there won't be anyone to give orders until a new commander arrives. So staying here for a day should be fine. Of course, we don't know what might happen, so make sure you stand proper watches.”

Ricart spoke smoothly, like water flowing from a stream, and the students listened with slightly dazed expressions. How did he know all that? His grasp of the situation was unbelievable.

Volka blinked a few times before speaking.

“...Ricky, have you been through something like this before?”

“Let's just say I have.”

“What does that mean?”

Ricart sighed inwardly and changed the subject.

“Did everyone check their equipment? Maintain it while you can. Dried blood might stick to your weapons and keep them from coming out of their sheaths properly. Be thorough ahead of time.”

At that, everyone hurriedly took out their weapons and began examining them. Seeing that, Ricart thought that they were still kids after all.

At the same time, it was worth praising them for fighting back instead of running immediately when they were attacked. They had not completely lost their heads either. Maybe they had not reached the upper ranks of the pecking order for nothing.

“So what do we do now?”

Volka asked while examining a sword that was not his original one.

After thinking for a moment, Ricart offered his opinion.

“Two options. One is to return to the Academy by tomorrow. The other is to go to the village first. We should somehow figure out the current situation, decide whether to fight the enemies, then decide whether to continue the commission.”

Plans always went wrong, but plans were always necessary. You needed one to decide the direction of your actions.

If a plan fell apart once the real fight began, then you had to make a new one as things happened.

Ricart's opinion was sound. In the end, they had to choose one of two paths. Go back, or move forward.

Volka looked at the students and asked for their opinions.

“Raise your hand if you want to go back.”

Excluding Molty, three of the eight raised their hands. The two female students and one male student.

“Raise your hand if you want to go to the village.”

This time, Ice and their two friends raised their hands. Three to three. Ricart and Volka did not raise their hands.

“Ricky, what about you?”

Once again, everyone's eyes turned to Ricart. In a situation like this, they placed almost absolute trust in him.

Even in the military, soldiers knew best whether their commander was someone worth following. Right now, the students wanted Ricart to lead them.

“Chasing deserters isn't something that can be finished quickly. So the commission has a generous deadline. And there are nine of us right now. That's not a small number, if you ask me. Other than Molty, nobody is seriously injured. If we aren't caught in another surprise attack like today, and if we seize the opportunity and strike first, we can defeat them. Molty should be able to move around after resting for about two days, and fight from the third day on. So, to sum it up, don't chicken out. You all fought well today.”

As they listened to Ricart, it felt as though their clouded eyes were brightening. They had panicked and become frightened without even knowing what was what, but as they looked at things one by one, they began to think they might actually be all right.

“The way back will be more dangerous. The enemy will be more likely to focus on that route. They won't start a bloodbath in the village, so let's head there as soon as dawn breaks. If we run into them there, that would actually be good. We can find out who they are. And then, let's make sure we take revenge. No matter when it is.”

“Revenge?”

“You know, for the friends who died.”

“Ah...”

“I know we aren't that close. So it would be hard for us to fight while entrusting our lives to each other. I won't ask that much of you. But if any one of us is killed by the enemy, let's promise that we will take revenge.”

At the word revenge, the students were overcome by a strange feeling. The word itself carried a certain desperation.

It was not positive, but neither was it negative. Revenge had a power that forcibly bound people's trust together. And it brought a strange sense of stability.

Revenge was also a noble's right and duty. No matter how many years it took or what means they had to use, nobles had to take revenge when their family was insulted or wrongfully harmed.

That was how they gained and maintained their privileges, and one reason feudal society found it difficult to unite. There was hardly a noble family that was not entangled with another through grudges and debts.

Moreover, revenge was not only for nobles. It was also a means for criminal groups to maintain their solidarity.

In other words, Ricart had suggested it because these nine people needed to unite somehow if they were going to get anything done.

What was the point of staying together if they remained strangers and each went their own way to survive?

“I'll go first.”

Ricart brought over a wooden bowl that had been lying on the floor. He drew his dagger, quickly cut his palm, and squeezed blood into it. There was not much blood.

Without needing to be told, the students in the cabin all understood what Ricart's actions meant. It was a somewhat heretical and barbaric method, but folk beliefs had been handed down since ancient times.

Ricart handed the dagger to Volka. Volka confidently cut his own palm and squeezed blood into the bowl. Had he cut it a little too deeply?

In any case, using the same dagger, they each squeezed blood into the bowl. When it was Ice's turn, they held the dagger and bowl for a moment in silence.

Then, without a word, they cut their palm. Once all eight had gathered their blood in one bowl, there was quite a lot.

Ricart dipped a finger in the blood, marked his forehead and heart, then drew a line across his throat.

“Huh? We weren't supposed to drink it?”

Volka said.

“Why would we drink something this foul? Isn't this how it's done in the north?”

“Ricky, are you from the north? Didn't you say you came from the south?”

“Where I'm from, we make a cross on our faces.”

Perhaps oath rituals differed by region. Ricart, Volka, and the other students all looked slightly puzzled. Still, following Ricart's method, they marked their foreheads and hearts with blood and drew a line across their throats.

“From now until this commission is complete, if even one person here meets an unjust death, is sacrificed unfairly, or loses their life to an enemy weapon, each of us swears to kill the one responsible. Whoever breaks this oath will receive God's punishment and fall into hell after death.”

In a way, it was childish. But when blood was right before their eyes and they performed a ritual like this, it was only natural to feel serious and solemn. Especially in such a dark place.

When Ricart swore the oath on behalf of everyone, the students finally felt a sense of unity. It might not have been strong, but it was red as blood.

The night grew deep. The students had not been able to sleep properly that night, but it was still better than staying awake all night.

By morning, Molty had regained consciousness and could walk reasonably well if someone supported them.

“Did something happen to you all?”

Molty looked confused when they saw that everyone had a bandage around one hand.

“We swore an oath. An oath of vengeance. Even if we can't protect each other, we'll make sure to take revenge. And from now on, we'll take revenge for the ones who died. No matter who the enemy is.”

At Ricart's words, Molty looked around at the students. Nothing had changed much on the surface, but there was an air of seriousness that was hard to explain. It was as though they had made some sort of resolve.

“Then I can't stay out of it.”

Despite having collapsed from blood loss already, Molty cut their own palm and joined the oath.

With all nine having sworn the oath, the support party from Beringen Academy set out for Griffinswald. They did not run away. No matter what came of it, they had resolved to fight to the end.

In the early morning, Ricart walked at the front, and the students naturally followed the youngest among them.

A violet at his breast, a red cloak around his body, and a longsword over his shoulder. That boy was the leader guiding the students.

Like the leader of a pack of wild dogs.

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