WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 6
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“Then I should be going, as I need to prepare the documents. The Order will probably send someone. As for the adventurer training center, well, I am not sure whether it would be better to go through the imperial family or contact them directly. Still, I will do my best to find a good place. Somewhere that will take special care of our brave Young Master Ricart. Ho ho ho.”
There were several adventurer training centers within the Empire. Most were funded by emperors, kings, or powerful nobles and operated by guilds.
It had not been long since the training of professional adventurers had been formalized, so each training center operated differently, and few had become fully established.
In any case, the two boys had made their choices. All that remained was procedure. In this age, people had to handle everything themselves.
“Travel safely. Give my regards to the Count.”
“I will never forget the kindness you have shown me. Take care as well, young masters. Ah, there is one thing I would like to advise you. Never believe what merchants say, and do not associate with spellcasters at all.”
“...Why?”
Bilter asked.
“Merchants are the sort who would sell their souls to demons for money, and spellcasters look down on others. They are selfish bastards with no sense of guilt. Their way of thinking is simply different. You will be better off having nothing to do with them.”
Leaving those final words behind, he put on a fur hat to keep his bare scalp warm and left the estate.
Though no one had told them to, Bilter and Ricart climbed the watchtower to watch Dr. Reno depart. The cold winter wind blew fiercely, but it did not discourage the boys.
When he neared the horizon and was almost out of sight, he raised a hand and waved broadly toward them. The two boys waved back just as hard.
After his visit, Bilter’s anxiety and irritation changed into excitement, anticipation, and a little fear.
Ricart, meanwhile, was personally curious about how the world had changed over the past hundred years. He was not nearly as excited as his brother Bilter.
About a month passed. The frozen ground began to thaw little by little as winter came to an end. When the villagers spread manure over the fields, the whole estate filled with the smell of dung.
Through that smell came an unfamiliar knight on horseback. He wore chainmail and a white surcoat, marked with a flame crest.
A helmet, shield, spear, axe, and other gear hung from his saddle. Their scratches and worn edges showed that they were not mere decorations.
It was said that one Flame Knight could take on at least forty Salaman. His gaze and bearing seemed to prove it. It looked as though an aura flowed from his shoulders.
When he entered the courtyard and swept his eyes over everyone present, there was something in his gaze that made people shrink back. The servants of Stormhertz all avoided his eyes.
He remained on horseback until Abelich, who looked unmistakably like the lord of the estate, emerged from the manor. Only then did he dismount. Then, with an air that could be seen as either arrogant or confident, he introduced himself.
“Edmund, senior knight of the Flame Knights.”
“I am Abelich, Lord of Stormhertz. Do the Flame Knights normally arrive without sending word first?”
“Your house submitted an application, and we accepted it. What further procedure is necessary? I did not come as a guest. Nor do I expect hospitality.”
“...”
“Who is the volunteer? I will take him at once.”
He had barged in and announced that he would take Bilter immediately. It was absurd enough to leave everyone at a loss.
Everyone unconsciously looked at Bilter. Bilter stared blankly up at the Flame Knight with an expression of shock. His excitement and anticipation seemed to collapse in an instant as fear grew stronger.
Then an unexpectedly young voice suddenly spoke.
“Who said anyone would treat you like a guest? This is Stormhertz, not your knightly order. If you enter someone else’s territory, you should show its lord proper respect.”
Everyone looked over in surprise. It was Ricart.
The knight named Edmund stared silently at Ricart, who was glaring at him, then gave a short laugh.
“So you are the volunteer? You have a promising look in your eyes. But do not be insolent. The Order will not treat you like a young master.”
“Hmph. Look at yourself. Aren’t you the one acting insolently after coming into someone else’s home?”
“...”
Everyone else was too overwhelmed by the unfamiliar knight’s presence to say a word, but Ricart, the smallest person there, fiercely argued back.
Yet his face was cute, his manner of speaking was mature, and his voice was young. His words did not carry much force.
Still, Ricart was not wrong. He had stepped forward because Edmund had seemed to disregard his father, brothers, and the people of his home.
“Ricky, enough. I apologize for my son’s rudeness. Edmund, you have done nothing wrong. As you said, we applied, and the Order simply accepted. However, the volunteer is not Ricky. It is my second son, Bilter. Wait a moment. I have something to give my son.”
Abelich stopped Ricart and went inside the manor.
When he heard Ricart was not the volunteer, Edmund looked a little surprised. He had rather liked the boy.
Whether it was venom or a confrontational nature, children with that kind of temperament tended to endure well.
Knightly orders, especially the Flame Knights, were among the harshest. No, they were without question the harshest, which was why the Empire’s finest fighting forces gathered there.
Intense training, strict discipline, and countless real battles where lives hung in the balance. No ordinary resolve or disposition could endure a place like that.
And failing to endure usually meant death. Once someone joined the Order, they could neither quit nor flee. Desertion was a serious crime under military law.
Even after Abelich went inside, Ricart kept his mouth tightly shut and continued glaring angrily at Edmund.
The glare of a ten-year-old could not frighten a knight who had lived through every kind of hardship, but Edmund felt a strange sense of unease from Ricart’s hazel eyes.
It was an instinctive warning of danger, honed in battle, though Edmund himself thought it could not possibly be true.
In any case, Bilter, standing beside Ricart, wore the frightened expression of an ordinary boy.
Edmund felt the interest Ricart had briefly stirred in him quickly fade away.
“Have you ever served as a squire?”
Edmund asked Bilter.
“...”
But Bilter seemed so dazed that he had not heard the question. Without taking his eyes off Edmund, Ricart poked his brother in the side.
“Ah! What, why?”
“He asked whether you have ever served as a squire.”
Ricart relayed the question in a whisper.
“S-squire? Well, I know how to maintain armor and weapons to some extent...”
“Any experience in battle?”
If they were unlucky, nobles sometimes fought in battle as early as fourteen. Great heroes often distinguished themselves in battle from a young age.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Bilter had no battle experience.
“N-no...”
“If you volunteered for the Order because you like the appearance of it, you would do well to abandon that expectation. If your house decided this regardless of your wishes, it will be easier to simply accept it. You cannot turn back now. From here on, there will be only service and devotion to the Empire. Do not think too much. It will only wear down your will. Just endure in silence.”
“...”
It sounded less like advice and more like a grim warning. Of course, life in the Order truly was grim.
Then Abelich emerged from the manor again. In his hands was a heater shield bearing the family crest.
The crest was a red field divided into four by white lines, granted by the Emperor.
“Take it. I hope this shield protects you.”
Bilter quietly accepted the shield with a heavy heart. Edmund watched the scene in silence, then mounted his horse without another word.
“Follow me. I will be going now, Lord Abelich.”
With that, he turned his horse and left the courtyard.
Bilter looked back and forth between his family and Edmund, letting out a confused sound. Once he left, no one knew when he would return. He might never return at all.
He felt that he should say something, but the words would not come. What was he supposed to say? Should he say goodbye?
Meanwhile, Edmund continued moving farther away, and Bilter had no choice but to start walking. Knights rode horses, while squires usually walked.
It was not easy from the beginning. The headquarters of the Flame Knights was at least a month away on foot.
Ricart watched Bilter leave until the very end. Bilter ran to catch up with Edmund, then walked again, over and over. And each time, he looked back countless times.
Then he disappeared beyond the horizon.
Even after Bilter left, nothing changed in Stormhertz. The fields were plowed, seeds were sown, weeds were pulled...
The older boys from the village, who had played with Bilter when they were young, tried hard not to show how much they missed him. Whenever Bilter came up, they would say this.
“It’s not like he went off to die.”
That was true. He had not gone off to die. And it had been his own choice. All they could do was believe that he would do well. Perhaps when they met again someday, he would be a dignified knight.
Ricart kept those feelings of regret and loneliness inside. And now it was his turn.
He spent his time wandering around the estate with a hunting dog that was not yet fully grown or trained.
He would sit in fields where fresh shoots were rising and watch the dog run around in excitement. When it came near and lay down, he stroked its head and back.
Now, simply running through the fields no longer made him laugh as it once had.
At sunset, he returned home with the dog, ate with his family, washed, and slept. That was his daily routine.
About a week after Bilter left, Ricart returned at dusk from another day outside with the dog. Graut, dressed to go out and pacing around the courtyard, spoke to him.
“Ricky, you came at just the right time. I was about to look for you. Go to the study quickly.”
Rather than thinking that the moment had finally come, Ricart remained as calm as ever. What was going to happen would happen.
When he entered the study, someone was sitting on the sofa. The person was slender, looked remarkably quick, and carried a leather bag slung across their body.
They were entirely different from Edmund, the senior knight. Sitting there and staring blankly at Ricart, they looked like an ordinary person with no imposing presence at all.
They did not look very old, perhaps around the same age as Graut, Ricart’s eldest brother.
After speaking with Abelich for a while, the courier looked at Ricart and spoke.
“Ah, I am a courier employed by the Imperial Guild Office. I came to deliver something. You are Young Master Ricart, correct?”
“Yes.”
The Imperial Guild Office? Was there such a thing? In any case, the courier took a cylinder of hard leather from their bag. Inside was a scroll sealed with wax, which the courier handed to Ricart.
Ricart broke the wax and unrolled the scroll. It was an academy admission permit. An academy? Admission?
Most of the permit, written in elegant script, praised the academy itself.
This academy carries on a long tradition, teaches ancient writing, survival methods and other martial arts, cultivates cooperation, and through competition, and so on...
<...We welcome Ricart to the Academy and wish martial fortune upon House Calderbern. May His Majesty the Emperor enjoy eternal health. Long live the Empire. - Beringen Academy ->
The edge of the permit was decorated with elaborate gold-leaf patterns, and the crests representing the imperial family and the academy were stamped together.
Ricart handed the admission permit to his father so he could look at it as well, then spoke to the courier.
“As I understand it, this was supposed to train professional adventurers.”
“Well, young master, I am only a courier, so I do not know much. But there are many people who do not think highly of the word adventurer itself, are there not? Academy sounds a little more respectable... I have not seen many places that openly use the word adventurer.”
“...In any case, this is an academy sponsored by the imperial family?”
“That is right. As far as I know, the guild operates it.”
“The Adventurer Guild?”
“Ha ha... Probably?”
“Which Adventurer Guild?”
“If it is Beringen Academy, would it not be the Beringen Adventurer Guild?”
Beringen was a place name. It lay in the northeastern part of the Empire, though it was not as far north as Haiden.
In fact, most adventurer academies were in the eastern Empire. That was because they were close to Fernland.
The ultimate goal of adventurer academies was to go to Fernland and find ancient relics or codices. Fernland was a kind of foothold city, while the areas surrounding it remained unknown territory.
Abelich silently read the admission permit, then asked the courier.
“It says he must enroll by March 14. Are you his guide?”
“No, my lord. I am only a courier. I can guide you as far as Rainfurt, but Beringen would be difficult. I have work of my own...”
The Flame Knights had sent Senior Knight Edmund to collect their volunteer. The academy, apparently, did not do the same. Ricart had to arrive by the appointed date on his own.
“The fourteenth is rather soon...”
Abelich fell into thought. As lord, he could not casually leave his estate, and the same was true of Graut, his heir.
Even if he sent someone else, it was the busy farming season, when many hands were needed. The estate was not wealthy, and being short even one person made a great difference.
In truth, the main house was paying the full cost of both Bilter joining the Order and Ricart entering the academy.
He could not send just anyone. Ricart needed someone who could protect him to some extent, but those people were especially busy at this time.
“If you go to Rainfurt, there is a branch of the Beringen Guild. Or he could travel with another courier going that way. Since it is a long journey, however, the fee would be a little...”
The courier said this as though they would not personally take Ricart there, but could arrange it for some money.
Abelich did not entirely trust the commoner before him. Still, the courier belonged to the Imperial Guild Office, which made them somewhat trustworthy.
“I am fine, Father. I will follow this courier tomorrow. Whether it is Billy or me, we are both leaving home all the same. All we can do is wish each other good fortune.”
Ricart spoke firmly. Abelich had nothing to say.
No matter how it was put, the other sons were being pushed aside so that the eldest legitimate son could inherit.
The main house had taken an interest and even paid the expenses, while his father had cared for him in his own way. It would be wrong to keep asking for more.
It was time for both Abelich and Ricart to steel themselves.
Abelich opened a drawer in his desk. From it, he took something wrapped in several layers of cloth and handed it to Ricart.
“This was specially made to order at the main house’s battle forge, not the blacksmith shop here. Take it.”
Just as he had given Bilter a shield, it seemed he had something to give Ricart as well.
Ricart accepted it and unwrapped the cloth. It was a dagger.
“It was made by melting down the spearhead you used to kill the boar. Fortune does not favor those who only talk. It favors those who act. I hope the luck that came to you will continue to follow you.”
Ricart drew the dagger. It was somewhat wider and longer than an ordinary dagger.
As he sheathed it again and wrapped it in cloth, a smile spread across Ricart’s lips.
“It was not luck, Father.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. I will use it well.”
Without saying more, Ricart tucked the dagger into his clothes.
Early the next morning, Ricart filled his stomach and left home with the courier. It was still before anyone else had woken. His father watched his departing son from the window.
Ricart would be lying if he said he felt no regret, but he tried to keep the things he treasured and missed only in his heart. Unlike Bilter, he did not look back even once.
On the road he chose for himself, there was no horizon to disappear beyond.
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