WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 33
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Time passed. The flowers that had bloomed all summer had fallen, and the fresh leaves were drying brown.
Many students began leaving one by one with adventurers sent by the guild. There was no graduation ceremony. Leaving was simply graduation. It was an age that did not even have the concept of holding an event to celebrate graduation.
Volka, Molty, Lara, and Delphi left first. When snow began to fall, Ice, Jerome, Menson, and Pallen left as well.
Their farewells were plain. There was no embracing each other and crying. They did not openly show their regret, either.
They only smiled and wished one another luck, promising to meet again.
Molty said they were quitting adventuring and continuing to work at the blacksmith’s shop, so they could still meet often in the city. That was fortunate.
The places left by those who departed were not filled right away. New students continued to arrive here and there, but spring was when newcomers truly began coming in.
The students who remained now had to endure the winter. Winter was a season of rest, but it was also a season to survive. Cold, hunger, and loneliness.
Since so many students lived together at Beringen Academy, loneliness was not a problem. But there was no escaping or avoiding the cold and hunger.
Firewood quickly ran out, making it difficult even to light a fire. Even the hard bread once given for free had run out.
They had to find their own food, but it was a time when food was scarce everywhere. Even going into the city did not make it easy to find anything to eat.
Work was hard to come by as well. The few jobs they found paid them not in wages, but with rotten potatoes or a handful of grain.
Students who had stored food through summer and autumn were better off, at least. The problem was those who had nothing put away.
They filled their stomachs with ice-cold water, dug up grass roots to eat, or went into the fields to try catching field mice or rabbits. That was how they barely got by.
Ricart and Boribori could endure on their stores of salted meat, blocks of cheese, and grain. But it was cruel to pretend not to see others starving and falling ill right beside them.
It was difficult to gather all the food at once and distribute it. What reason was there to take away what students had earned through their own hard work?
But Ricart did not have nearly enough to share with everyone, and he could not starve himself just to help others.
Even a Count Palatine could do nothing about winter food shortages. Their own subjects were starving.
Still, they had to do what they could.
Ricart put on a thick gambeson and wrapped himself in a cloak, preparing to go out.
A dagger hung at his waist, and a longsword rested over one shoulder. Seemingly resolved to do something about it, he packed extra food before heading outside with Boribori.
Before leaving, Ricart looked back. The students gathered in one room were all wrapped in blankets, shivering beside the fireplace. They had no choice but to stay together to save firewood.
The sick students were gathered in another room, coughing beneath their blankets with cold sweat on their faces. These days, the students began every morning by checking whether anyone had died.
“Let’s go.”
Ricart spoke, and Boribori silently followed with the hood up. Winter seemed capable of freezing even an innocent boy’s smile.
At Boribori’s waist, a one-handed sword called a side sword rested quietly in its sheath.
They left the Academy and descended the cliff. Beneath the gray sky, snow fell across the entire world, covering the fields in white. It was truly a magnificent sight.
It was so beautiful that Ricart almost wanted to ask whether it was right for the world to look like this while they suffered so much.
At the bottom of the cliff, snow-covered footprints stretched westward. Ricart and Boribori walked across the vast snowy plain, listening to the soft sound of snow piling up.
Crunch. Crunch...
After walking for six hours, they arrived in Beringen. They shook the snow from their heads and shoulders in front of the headquarters building, then went inside.
When the door opened, warm air swept over them. As the frozen muscles in their faces thawed, their minds nearly went numb.
The adventurers inside turned to look at whoever had suddenly opened the door. They recognized Ricart less by his face than by his build and red cloak, then quickly lost interest.
Ricart was fairly well known in Beringen and the surrounding area. He was called the boy swordsman in the red cloak, or Ricky the Severer, because he broke the sword of everyone he fought.
Dunkel sat at the bar with his chin resting on his hand. When he saw Ricart, he casually looked away. As if Ricart would not notice.
Ricart shut the door with a clatter and walked toward him with steady steps.
“I’m not here to borrow food again.”
Ricart had come to borrow food more than once, and he knew it troubled Dunkel every time. So he made clear from the start that he was not here for that.
Dunkel slowly turned his head to look at Ricart.
“Then what is it?”
“I was wondering if there was work. A big request that pays enough for the students not to freeze or starve through the winter.”
Dunkel quietly studied Ricart.
Why did he care about other people’s circumstances? What did it have to do with him?
Dunkel did not think Ricart was kind or had a noble character. He simply could not understand him. Dunkel had lived entirely for himself.
“There’s always work...”
“Really? What kind?”
“But... Ha... Your patron aside, the guild has its own position to consider, Ricky.”
Dunkel seemed to have some difficulty he could not speak of. And because he knew who Ricart’s backer was, he seemed even more troubled.
“Why? Do you not trust me? Or did I cause trouble before?”
“That’s not it. I know you’re impressive, and everyone here knows it too. But some work can’t simply be handed over. The deserter request last time had an accident in the middle, but the request itself wasn’t that difficult, right?”
“Right.”
“But some jobs... Well, difficulty is one thing, but some jobs absolutely can’t fail. To put it plainly, if you fail, it becomes something that has nothing to do with us. To put it even more plainly, you’ll just die a pointless death. Do you understand?”
“...An assassination?”
When Ricart said the word assassination, Dunkel gestured for him to follow. He entered a door deeper inside the bar, one only staff members could enter.
Ricart and Boribori exchanged a glance, then followed him in.
There was nothing special in the room. Only the liquor bottles displayed all over the walls looked somewhat unusual.
A backless stool stood there. Dunkel sat on it and continued speaking. Cold air slipped in through the crack of a door leading outside, making a whooo... whooo... sound.
“Have you heard of the Ernberg Five? Their leader, Steiner, is one of the Nine Swords of the Empire.”
“I’ve heard of them.”
“The request is to kill two of the five. Reto the Experimenter and Erze the Skin Collector. Killing more would be fine too. No, that would be impossible.”
The five traveled together, and killing only two of them would be extremely difficult. In other words, Ricart would realistically have to face all five. Even now, he could not be certain of success.
But an ordinary assassination request could never earn enough money to feed nearly a hundred students through the winter. To make that possible, he would have to take a request with difficulty close to the highest rank.
“Those five have made enemies everywhere while operating around Ernberg. In other words, plenty of people have wanted them dead for a long time. But every person or group that tried to take down the five either died or was ruined.”
In short, they were not people to provoke. No one could mobilize an army just to catch five people, and even if they did, the five could simply run.
“What exactly have they been doing?”
“There may not be any truly good people or bad people in this line of work, but those bastards are villains just by existing. If they want something, they take it. They kill people. They do dirty work for nobles and receive protection, then stab those nobles in the back and run away. They live however they please. Reto the Experimenter enjoys torturing people, and they say Erze the Skin Collector skins people and wears their skin. Oh, and they call themselves adventurers too. They don’t belong to any guild. Just being alive, they’re thoroughly staining the reputation of adventurers.”
Dunkel spoke as though he held a personal grudge against the Ernberg Five.
“Then they’re people no one will mind if we kill. That’s enough for me.”
“No, no. Were you even listening? The problem isn’t whether they deserve to die. The problem is whether you can kill them. If you fail, and they learn that we arranged this job, the guild will be in serious trouble. We already have enough trouble dealing with rival guilds. Do you expect us to earn the hatred of one of the Nine Swords?”
“If I finish the job, you’ll definitely provide enough food and firewood for everyone to get through the winter, right?”
Dunkel thought, This bastard definitely isn’t listening to me.
But there was nothing he could do to scold Ricart or stop him. He knew who Ricart really was.
He wondered whether he should not have brought it up. Still, Ricart had pestered him so often to borrow food that he had ended up mentioning it.
“That’s certain. Several groups have secretly gathered an enormous fund. Some groups even said they would pay in supplies from the beginning.”
“I’ll start right away, so lend us some food first as an advance. You don’t need to spend it on me. Send it to the Academy.”
“...But do you really need to go this far? I guarantee there has never been a student like you in the Academy’s history.”
Ricart smiled faintly.
“I don’t act according to what is necessary. If I want to do something, and I can do it, then I do it.”
“...Is that so?”
Dunkel did not look as though he understood.
“Anyway, I’m glad there is work.”
“No. There are always people who want someone dead. No matter the season. Spring or winter, snow or rain.”
“...I suppose so.”
It was a bitter reality, that there would always be people wishing for someone’s death. But as long as humans lived, it was something that would never disappear.
“Which way is Ernberg?”
“First, follow the southwestern road. You’ll find a tavern called Anna’s Loss beside the road. You have that cloak clasp, right? Show it to them and say I sent you. Then they’ll give you information about the job.”
“So it’s not a guild branch?”
“No. It’s a thieves’ guild. The Arisen Brotherhood. Because of the nature of this job, we can’t move openly. Let me be clear. We know absolutely nothing about this.”
Ricart looked at Boribori. Boribori was only staring blankly at Dunkel.
Dunkel thought Boribori was not part of Ricart’s fighting strength, but merely someone who followed him to assist with errands.
“Are you okay with this?”
Ricart asked.
“I’m okay. Because I’m with you, Ricky. I don’t mind dying.”
Ricart was like light to Boribori. He had pulled Boribori from the swamp of a life filled with nothing but despair.
Boribori could lose his life, but he could not lose that light. Boribori knew too well that nothing was more miserable than living unwillingly.
“No, um...”
“Honestly, having a student step forward is not a bad choice for our guild. The capable active adventurers are known by face. You’re a perfect fit, Ricky. But don’t even think about facing them head-on. You’ll truly die a pointless death. The Nine Swords are not children’s play. They’re infamous across the entire Empire.”
Dunkel spoke. Ricart might be famous, but only in Beringen and the surrounding area. The gap between him and the Nine Swords of the Empire was like the gap between a local name and one known across the nation.
And Ricart was no more than a rising talent. He had not even secured a position as the strongest in his region.
“I’ll handle that myself.”
“...Are you really not listening to me?”
“I’m listening to everything I need to hear.”
“...”
Dunkel wondered what kind of person Ricart was. Still, it was true that his unusual nature matched his exceptional skill.
“It takes a day to get there, so stay the night. Leave in the morning. As for the advance... I’ll send it to the Academy.”
Ricart nodded and left the room. He went upstairs with Boribori, removed his equipment, and lay down on a bed to rest.
Ricart looked at the snow falling beyond the window. But that white snow could not fill the emptiness left after his friends had departed. It seemed to make it feel even more hollow.
Then his gaze fell upon Boribori. Several months had passed since Boribori began training through sparring with him.
Ricart considered Boribori’s original swordsmanship sufficiently practical. But whether it would truly work in real combat was another matter.
In a real fight, what mattered more than skill itself was not panicking, not becoming afraid, and not letting one’s body freeze up. Ricart wondered whether someone so pure could really kill a person.
Boribori did not suit a sword, an object with its own chilling magical nature.
“Aren’t you nervous?”
“No. I don’t mind dying.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I already died when I left my mother behind. Now I only want to be helpful to you, Ricky. That’s all I think about. I won’t get in your way.”
“...Don’t say that.”
“Okay. Sorry. I just want winter to end soon.”
Ricart looked back at the snowy window and agreed.
“Me too.”
Boribori understood why they were doing this, and why they had to.
Watching students starve, grow weaker, and die beside them was truly difficult. What had those boys and girls done so wrong that they had to die?
But even beyond the Academy, many people across the Empire suffered and died from cold and hunger. That was the season.
Winter was cruel.
The silently falling snow was not only beautiful.
The spirit of death would surely be white.
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