WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 67

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It was evening. The moon was half-hidden by clouds, as though draped in a cloak. The night was darker than usual.

The Beringen Guild building was quiet as well. Even with so many people gathered inside, it felt as though the sound of a pin dropping would ring out loudly.

They were boys and girls between twelve and sixteen years old. Their development varied greatly. Some students looked very young, while others were practically grown adults.

The students, each so different from the next, all looked at Ricart on the platform.

Ricart calmly received their countless gazes, slowly looking over them as though trying to meet every student’s eyes.

To them, he was a living legend. Whenever news of his exploits outside reached them, it filled them with pride.

A genius among geniuses. The Hero of Sigpringer. The one who had brought down the Ernberg Five. One of the Nine Swords of the Empire. Red Cape. The Tiger of Kaits.

Such an unbelievable legend had accumulated many titles, and his fame was spreading beyond Beringen and the north, throughout the Empire.

Perhaps not only the students, but everyone living in Beringen and Sigpringer took pride in him.

He could not have earned such a reputation through skill with a sword alone. His character was what lay beneath it.

Ricart always led the charge when attacking, and always covered the rear when retreating. He took on the most dangerous roles, and even then, rescued those without power.

There was no one else like him in the world. Even the rare, exceptionally noble wandering knights accepted payment to defeat villains. People praised them as great figures for that alone. It was that kind of age.

Yet the great Ricart had said he was disappointed in them. The students were shocked. They hoped it had been a joke.

The silence they themselves had created felt as though it might suffocate them. Yet no one dared to break it.

They believed Ricart alone had the right to break the silence.

The one who controlled silence controlled the situation. At first, Ricart had felt pressured by the crowd’s silence. Now, he was the one leading it.

Without rushing, Ricart looked at every student, one by one, from the far right to the far left. At last, he spoke.

“Is running around in gangs, threatening innocent people, and causing trouble what it means to break your chains? Anyone want to answer?”

“...”

No one answered. So Ricart pointed to a student he knew.

“You. You answer. Is that breaking the chains of oppression? Harassing barmaids, then gathering your numbers and rushing over whenever someone calls you out, is that breaking the chains of oppression?”

“...”

There was no way the student could answer. Looking ashamed, the student lowered their head.

“Why aren’t you answering? Then you. You answer. Can’t do it? Then you answer.”

Ricart pointed at students he knew one after another. Once again, no one could answer. They might have been ignorant, but they all honestly knew that what they had done was wrong.

Silence returned. Though he had not intended it, Ricart was naturally controlling the pace.

“I know you grew up being mistreated. You may have gone through cruel things at home that are hard to put into words. You must have wondered why you had to suffer like that, why your parents had brought you into the world if it was going to be this way. But I don’t know either. Someone tell me. Does anyone know?”

He was not doing it on purpose, but Ricart kept asking questions. The students gradually became absorbed, no longer simply admiring him but thinking for themselves.

And their hearts were stirred. They were children who had suffered more deeply than anyone while wondering why life was so painful and why they had been born at all.

But Ricart was not saying those things merely to sympathize with them.

“You know what? That pain will follow you for the rest of your lives. But does that mean it is right to surrender to it and live however you please? At least you have a choice. In every city, there are countless bastards pickpocketing or begging in the streets. But all you do is roam around in gangs and scare innocent people? If I were you, I’d be too ashamed to lift my head.”

Bastards were not found only among noble families. In an age without developed contraception, countless children were born outside marriage across every class and status. Children of monks, affairs, flings with travelers, and more.

Such bastards often wandered the streets instead of attending an Academy. When they grew older, they joined a thieves’ guild or formed criminal groups of their own.

But unexpectedly, Ricart was not simply shouting them down. He was fundamentally different from Carlich, who only incited people. He made them reflect, point by point, on why they had been wrong.

“No one in this world is perfect. That includes me. Anyone can make mistakes. But when you make one, you have to correct it. Maybe the resolve to correct yourself is the expression of the free will God gave us. Only then might the path to salvation open. That is what I think. Life is always a crossroads. You know it too. There is a right path and a wrong path. The right path is bothersome and difficult. The wrong path is fun and easy. So which path will you take?”

The earlier feverish excitement was gone. A solemn mood filled the room. It was neither staged nor forced. It was simply the sincerity born from a pure heart reaching them.

“If walking the right path is difficult, someone beside you can help. That is what a friend is. Someone who sets you straight when you stray down the wrong path, that is a friend. Someone who gives you strength when you are lonely and struggling, who trusts and supports you, that is a friend. I think those are the friends you should gain while attending the Academy, and the kind of friends you should become.”

The mood had grown beyond solemn, almost reverent. Ricart’s words had slowly seeped into the students’ hearts and touched their consciences.

And ever so gently, he planted a seed of hope. Without grand words, simply and honestly.

“Work honestly and train hard. Have fun when it is time to have fun, and step forward to help those in need. Then no matter how your families mistreated you, you yourselves will have acted nobly. Like the great heroes of the past, that is a pure heart. That is courage. And that is the path to fight without surrendering, to break the chains of oppression and persecution. It is written on the Academy gates, isn’t it? Discipline shall set you free. That probably isn’t what it originally means, but still, I believe in you. Because we are all students of Beringen Academy.”

Ricart calmly finished speaking and stepped down from the platform. Everyone’s eyes followed him.

For some reason, the students’ hearts had softened, and tears fell without them realizing it. Perhaps these words, rather than empty incitement, were what they had truly wanted to hear.

Clap, clap, clap, clap.

Someone began applauding, and the applause spread quietly. It was not loud applause from being swept up in the mood. Each person offered genuine praise and gratitude.

Carlich was among them. He shed more tears than anyone as he applauded. Watching him, it was impossible to tell whether he was innocent or cunning.

Still, he was young too. Intelligent but inexperienced, he had become overly fixated on Ricart’s words that at the Academy, they were all students.

“Ricky! I had no idea!”

Boribori ran over in tears like the other students and threw himself into Ricart’s arms. Marie approached and hugged him too. She held him tightly. Very tightly.

“What did you have no idea about?”

Ricart laughed in disbelief. They had not been traveling together for only a day or two, yet Boribori and Marie seemed newly moved. They too were children with deep wounds in their hearts. Wounds received from one’s parents in childhood often lasted a lifetime.

The heartfelt applause continued even then.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

And for some reason, Carlich came up behind Ricart and hugged him while crying too. Even Ricart could not bring himself to tell him to step back because of the mood.

The students had only needed a proper adult. Someone to guide them down the right path.

They had wanted that more than anything, though they had not realized it themselves. They did not know what was wrong, where their resentment came from, or how to ease their frustration and sense of injustice.

But the world was so harsh and dangerous that finding a proper adult was difficult.

Fathers drank, shouted, and beat their children day after day. Merchants cared only about money. Nobles treated even their children as tools for bloodlines and family power.

If some transcendent being had reincarnated Ricart, perhaps this was why.

More than someone with monstrous swordsmanship, perhaps the world needed someone who valued people’s hearts, gave them strength, and could guide them gently at times and firmly at others.

Still, as Ricart himself had said, he was not perfect. He too was someone who needed saving, and he was walking that path.

“Everyone, wait a moment. Stop clapping.”

Ricart spoke to the students after holding Boribori and Marie for a while.

“Let’s stop with the speeches now. Leave only the minimum number of people here, and let’s return to the Academy. It’s night, but we should be safe if we all go together.”

There seemed to be at least fifty people present. If they stayed together, robbers or bandits would surely not attack.

Ricart went upstairs and gathered his belongings. Then he led the students out of the guild building.

Walking at the front, he felt as though he were leading lost sheep home in the middle of the night.

Just then, the clouds moved aside, revealing the moonlight. The soft moonlight lit the path ahead of the students like the touch of a goddess.

Ricart had finally returned to the Academy. It was summer.

Because Beringen Academy stood on a mountain, the summer heat was not especially fierce. A cool breeze always blew, and the groundwater was cold.

The problem was that even the professors had been thoroughly drafted for the war effort, so there were no real adults at the Academy now.

With the students remaining only at the Academy, they were practically cut off from the world.

Ricart had no choice but to lead them in various activities. Otherwise, there was no telling what they might do.

He especially kept Carlich at his side. Carlich was highly capable, but he was also the most dangerous one.

“Ricky, Ricky, look at this. I made a schedule.”

Wearing the uniform he had paid to have made, Ricart sat on a breezy hill and accepted the schedule Carlich had prepared.

It was packed with times for sleeping, physical training, meals, writing, and activities such as cutting grass.

It also carefully detailed how to divide the students, who would lead them, and the order for gate duty and night watch.

“What if we divide them into classes? We might manage them more efficiently that way. It would motivate them too. What do you think?”

Ricart listened to Carlich while looking over the schedule. This bastard was seriously capable. It was almost frightening.

This felt like a true crossroads. If he grew well, he would become someone beneficial to the world. If he went wrong, he would become a villain without equal.

“I think it’s a good idea. More importantly, we need to prepare for winter. That is the most important thing.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been stockpiling supplies in the food warehouse ahead of time.”

“Really? That’s impressive. Honestly, I have nothing to say about things like this. You’re the best at it.”

“What are you talking about? Ricky! There is no one in the world better than Ricky! Not even me!”

Fuck. Ricart swore inwardly. Why was this outstanding talent not in his right mind? They said there was only a sheet of paper between a genius and a madman, but this was not right.

“Don’t worship people. That includes me.”

“Why, why would you say that? Are you abandoning me?”

“Abandoning you? Stop saying strange things. I’m begging you.”

People with healthy self-esteem might not understand, but no matter how intelligent someone was, if they lacked self-esteem, they tended to make others rather than themselves the source of it. And most of these children could not help having low self-esteem.

At this age especially, they needed idols. To Carlich, Ricart was an idol, perfection itself.

“But I think even your mistakes are part of your perfection.”

“...Ugh, you scare me.”

“Why? Me? Why? Don’t be scared, Ricky. I’ll do better.”

“It isn’t about doing better. You’re trying too hard. You are already a wonderful and capable kid. Trust yourself a little more and try to relax.”

“...How do I do that? I don’t really know.”

“To be honest, I don’t really know either. In the end, isn’t that something each person has to think through?”

“Even that sounds cool. I remember every single thing you say, Ricky.”

“...I can barely say anything around you.”

Carlich felt like Ricart’s greatest assignment during his time at the Academy.

He was not a bad kid, but he seemed lacking in some way. Yet he was far too smart for that. He was an impossible person to understand.

“Ricky!”

Boribori leaned out from the third floor and called down. Ricart looked up at him, then spoke to Carlich.

“I’m going. I’m counting on you.”

“Okay.”

Ricart stood and entered the Inner Castle. But he did not forget to say this.

“I’m always grateful to you, Kalli.”

Ricart tried to say good things to Carlich whenever possible. Things like, You are a good kid. You are wonderful. You are talented. Thank you.

It seemed like Carlich needed to hear them. He had suffered enough bad things already.

In fact, Ricart was the first person who had ever said such things to Carlich. At home, he had only been treated as a burden. A weirdo. A useless fool. Someone who only caused trouble.

But Ricart was the first person in his life to recognize him, embrace him, acknowledge him, and forgive him even when he made mistakes. And he was one of the current Nine Swords of the Empire. Carlich could not help seeing him as an idol.

In any case, Ricart entered the Inner Castle and went up to the third floor. In an empty classroom, he sat with Boribori and Marie and began writing.

Their goal was to finish it before graduation and leave it at the Academy. Though who would be able to read something written in ancient script?

Marie proofread Ricart’s swordsmanship manual and wrote a translation. She did not know much herself, but she learned things by asking Ricart questions as she worked, so she helped in the process.

Time passed that way. It was a cool summer.

And as the heat gradually faded, the war ended.

Dunkel returned, and everyone in the Viola Clan was safe. The children were safe too.

Ricart was nearing graduation.

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