WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 42

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Perhaps life was about carrying unbearable pain and intolerable sorrow as one kept walking.

They had to carry them. Not cast them away or turn from them, but carry them. Ricart and Boribori held that pain and sorrow dear.

And in proportion to their weight, in proportion to how much they tore and hurt, the boys would grow into stronger people.

But it took time for such things to take root within them and stand tall. Time to accept them.

Ricart and Boribori buried the Nameless One beneath the temple, lest wild animals come and tear at him. As for the Ernberg Five, it did not matter whether they were eaten or not.

Still, Hanet’s enormous corpse was so huge that it gave off a terrible stench as it rotted. They did not need to endure that.

After staying in the ruined village for several days, their food was nearly gone as well. It was time to leave.

On a bright day, the sky was blue, and the white clouds were as clean as pure cotton. The wind was somewhat cold, but with thick clothes, it was not enough to make anyone hunch over.

On such a day, Boribori sat with his knees drawn up on the temple floor, like a young beast unable to leave its dead father’s side.

He did not look gloomy or sad. Nor did he seem vacant. He merely stared ahead as though lost in thought.

Then someone tapped Boribori’s shoulder. When he turned, Ricart was standing there, ready to leave, his sword slung over one shoulder. Ricart tilted his head, telling him to come.

Without a word, Boribori put on his bag and quietly stood.

Outside the temple lay a lush field still damp with moisture. A few white and yellow flowers had already bloomed, though it was early.

A clear little stream ran through the field, formed by melted snow. Sunlight touched its surface and shattered into ripples as it flowed toward lower ground.

Ricart and Boribori, the two boys, walked along the stream.

“Hmm...”

A man with a neatly trimmed beard was carefully examining a sword, his brow deeply furrowed. His expression was quite serious.

The blade was about a meter long, with perfect balance. Not a single part of the edge was chipped.

It was superbly made, but that was not why the man frowned.

It was because of the faint blue sheen revealed when the blade was tilted slightly. The sheen was so mysterious that it resembled moonlight.

The man looked up and spoke. Two boys in red and dark brown cloaks were watching him intently.

“Where did you get this?”

“...”

The boys did not answer. Had he spoken too softly? That could not be it. Could they not speak?

The man turned his attention back to the sword. Then the blond boy abruptly took hold of the scabbard and held out his hand. He seemed to be asking for the sword back.

With visible reluctance, the man returned it. The boy slid the sword into its scabbard with unexpectedly practiced hands.

Slide. Click.

As the boys turned to leave the shop, the man called after them.

“W-Wait a moment.”

When the two boys turned back, he asked,

“How much were you hoping to get for it?”

“...”

Still, no answer. They really might not be able to speak. Two armed boys who could not speak. That was strange.

But that was not what mattered now. The weapons merchant considered whether to offer a pittance, give a fair price, or be honest with them.

The blond boy stared directly at him, as if studying the direction his heart would take through the conflict in his eyes.

In the end, the merchant chose honesty. Still, he could not help letting out a deep sigh.

“That sword, as far as I can tell, was made with a metal called jin silver mixed into it. Even a tiny amount makes it priceless. Besides, there are not many blacksmiths in the Empire who can work jin silver. They say Sword Masters are the ones who mostly use it. Apparently, it works well with mana. In other words, it is not an item I can properly pay for. If you want its true value, you’ll need to take it to a large city and auction it.”

The sword in Ricart’s hand was none other than Steiner’s. Ghost Sword hung at Boribori’s waist.

At the weapon merchant’s honest words, Ricart smiled faintly, placed a silver coin on the table to pay for the appraisal, and gave a small bow. Boribori awkwardly bowed as though copying him.

Then they left the weapon shop. For now, Ricart tied Steiner’s sword securely to his pack.

Though it was also a longsword, it was smaller than Ricart’s meteoric iron sword, so he did not seem likely to use it. The sword that fit one’s hand was the true fine sword.

Ricart and Boribori went around the city, buying supplies they needed.

Potatoes and sweet potatoes, dried food made from ground and steamed grains pressed together, smoked ham, firewood, and more.

Yet the two did not say a word while they shopped. If they needed to express something, they tapped one another, exchanged looks, or made simple gestures.

Was it because they had suffered such great sorrow after losing the Nameless One? No. It was simply closer to imitating him.

It was mourning shared by the boys, and half a game as well. Like a bet where the first to speak lost. They had never explicitly agreed to it.

So even without speaking, when their eyes met, they sometimes laughed for no reason. In doing so, the two boys learned the value of silence. There were things they could only hear and see once they became quiet.

Besides, not talking was not particularly inconvenient. They could communicate surprisingly well, and if they had to fight someone, they simply fought instead of running away.

Thus, Ricart and Boribori left the city and walked down the road leading south.

It was the road to the Academy.

Looking over the mountains, streams, grass, and trees, it felt as though they stood on the boundary between winter and spring. It was the end of one season and the beginning of another. Ricart disliked winter, but when he thought of the Nameless One, he could not simply hate it.

Regret and the joy of welcoming spring mixed together. It was not that his feelings were confused. Instead, they seemed to spread into a mysterious third color.

Then again, two of the Nine Swords of the Empire had died at once. One of them had been finished by Ricart’s own hand.

That was an achievement beyond belief, but Ricart himself had little interest in it. Whether people recognized it or not.

Fame was only fame. It was as light as a feather, without substance. Ricart knew that with time, it would scatter like sand before the wind.

There were many strong people in the world. Someone else would probably fill that place, then that person would fall to someone else. That was the fate of those who walked the path of the sword.

Then what was important? A harmonious family had given Ricart peace of mind, while the Nameless One had instilled in him faith in human will and an unbreakable spirit.

That was what mattered. And Ricart did not miss what mattered.

He had long mastered all that swaggering about with a sword. What he sought was something deeper and broader than fame.

Splash, splash!

As Ricart walked, lost in thought, he crossed a bridge and heard someone splashing roughly in the water.

He stopped and looked below. Some distance away, a figure in armor was floundering in the water.

No, perhaps not a knight. The figure was far too small to be one. Besides, the scabbard at their waist was empty, as though they had lost their sword.

More importantly, it was impossible to drown there. The river was not very deep.

In other words, someone in armor was flailing about in the water all by themselves.

Ricart and Boribori stood still and watched, wondering what the person was doing. Then, thinking they might need help, they went around the bridge and climbed down.

When they approached, they saw that the great helm on the armored figure’s head had turned sideways, seemingly blocking their vision.

By the time the boys came down from the bridge, the figure had made it to land. Though unsteady, they seemed to be regaining their balance, so the boys merely watched.

Then the figure flailed at empty air again and fell backward onto the gravel. Still seated, they slowly forced the helmet back into place and caught their breath.

But when the figure noticed the two boys staring down, they jerked in surprise and scooted backward.

“Eek!”

They dragged themselves away across the ground.

“D-Do not come any closer!”

Anyone could tell it was a young girl imitating an adult man’s voice. The boys had not intended to approach in the first place, so they only stood there and watched blankly.

“Hmm.”

Unable to understand what she was doing, Boribori made a thoughtful sound.

Ricart immediately pointed at him.

“Huh? You lost.”

“Me? Why?”

“You just said ‘hmm.’”

“That’s not talking.”

“You still lost.”

“Dad said ‘hmm’ before too.”

“Did he? Anyway, you lost, Bori.”

“...What happens if I lose?”

“I don’t know.”

The armored girl, still unable to get up, only blinked in bewilderment. She seemed at a complete loss over what the two boys were talking about.

In other words, neither side could understand the other. Why was the girl in armor floundering by the water, and why were the boys arguing over who had won or lost over something so ridiculous?

Still, from the girl’s perspective, the two boys looked rather unusual. They were better armed than expected, and their clothes were clean, so they did not look like bandits or robbers.

There were many children who turned to theft from a young age, but bandits usually lived hidden in mountains or forests and could not wash properly, so they tended to be filthy.

Ricart and Boribori had not spoken for several days, but they turned to the girl who had finally broken their silence.

Ricart said,

“Shouldn’t you dry your clothes and warm yourself first? It’s still cold. You could die.”

There were countless ways to die once one left home and entered the wild, not only from blades. Starvation was one of the most common, and hypothermia was another.

Anyone who spent just one night outdoors without travel supplies would learn how painful it was. Especially now, when winter had not fully passed.

To Ricart, the girl seemed to have nothing but her armor.

“Uh... uh...”

But pure kindness was rare in this world. She could not simply accept an offer of help.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Be careful. Let’s go.”

When the girl hesitated, Ricart turned to leave with a coolness that seemed almost coldhearted. The girl quickly called out to stop him.

Because she really could die.

“W-Wait!”

Ricart and Boribori had only just turned away when they looked back at her.

“Th-Thank you for your kindness, sirs. B-But I possess nothing at present. I-If you mean to take my body as payment, I cannot allow it. Please swear, in the names of God and the Empire, that you will not do so.”

She spoke like a knight from her grandfather’s day.

“Okay. I promise.”

Ricart had never entertained such a thought, so he agreed immediately. It was not difficult.

He held out his hand. After hesitating briefly, the girl took it and rose to her feet.

Standing, she was about the same height as Ricart, around 160 centimeters. Girls usually grew faster, but since she was as tall as Ricart, who was simply well developed for his age, she seemed to be around the same age as him.

“Let’s find somewhere to camp, even if it’s a little early.”

“Yeah.”

The two boys and the girl traveled together. Her chain mail made a clink, clink sound with every step. Her wet purple surcoat had no crest or emblem.

Since it was best to start a fire and dry off as soon as possible, they could not go far. They stopped at a suitable place in the woods near the stream.

A broad, large rock jutted out like a roof. They unpacked there and immediately lit a campfire.

The problem was that to dry herself, the girl would have to remove her armor and clothes.

She was awkward even sitting down, and once seated, she did not know what to do with herself.

She kept watching the boys nervously, while Ricart and Boribori stared at her so intently that it became burdensome. Even taking off her helmet took a while.

But when she removed it, a remarkably beautiful face was revealed.

Her blond hair was tied tightly back and somewhat disheveled. Damp strands clung to her face, but they did nothing to diminish her beauty.

Her eyes were blue as jewels, her skin white as snow without a single blemish, and her features were clear and striking.

Yet given the situation, her timid figure in the campfire’s glow looked pitiful.

Then the two boys said something incredible.

“If Erze saw you, Erze would have skinned you right away.”

“I thought that too.”

“...What?”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. We killed Erze.”

“...What?”

She had no idea what they meant, but it sounded terrifying. Boribori took out a towel and spare clothes from his bag.

“Want help taking off your armor?”

Ricart asked. The girl lowered her head in embarrassment.

“Y-Yeah...”

To her surprise, Ricart skillfully undid the armor’s fastenings and removed it in no time. Underneath, she wore a gambeson. Since it was stuffed with cotton, it became quite heavy when wet.

Ricart hung the armor on a nearby branch, then sat beside Boribori. The two boys turned their backs to her.

The girl had never experienced anything like this before, so she felt flustered, embarrassed, and confused. Her heart pounded as though it might burst, and she kept wondering whether this was really all right.

More than anything, she had never imagined changing clothes outdoors.

But Ricart and Boribori did not ask about her circumstances. They did not even ask her name.

In any case, the girl removed her clothes, dried herself with the towel while looking at the boys’ backs, and changed into Ricart’s clothes. Since they were similar in height, they fit her reasonably well.

“I-I’m dressed.”

Perhaps because she was so flustered, her manner of speaking kept shifting. Ricart and Boribori had not turned around once, like true gentlemen. Only then did they turn back.

“Feeling better now?”

Ricart asked. The girl sat with her knees drawn up and only nodded. Having overcome one major difficulty, she seemed slightly calmer. Her loose, wet blond hair fell down her back.

“If we’re going the same way, we can take you there. Where are you headed?”

The girl gazed into the campfire with strangely sorrowful eyes.

“Beringen Adventurer Academy.”

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