WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 68

──────

Whenever an ending drew near, people were bound to look back. They reflected on every step they had taken.

Then things they had not understood at the time felt new, they felt embarrassed by their shortcomings, and they smiled at things that had made them proud.

Arno, Sandy, Boribori and his friends, the enemies they had met in Griffinswald, the senior adventurers, people from other clans, the Nameless One, the Ernberg Five, and the war.

Many days and nights had passed. They had said goodbye to spring, summer, autumn, and the harsh winter. Snow, rain, sorrow, and joy had all brushed past like the wind.

But they had not merely passed like the wind. Those moments would never return, yet they had clearly left something behind in their hearts.

If there had been holes somewhere in his heart, they seemed to have gradually filled them. To Ricart, the Academy was a precious place and a memory.

Before he knew it, the wind had carried in autumn. It was neither hot nor cold. Leaves fell one by one, and the grass in the fields ripened yellow.

Ricart finished writing Basics of Swordsmanship. It no longer felt as if there was anything to remove or add.

But when he looked at Boribori's book beside it, it was completely different from his own. First of all, there was an obvious difference in length.

Boribori's book was incredibly thick, and there were three translated volumes even thicker than that.

Ricart's book, on the other hand, was only around forty pages. Its translation was fairly thick, of course, but it still could not compare to Boribori's book.

Ricart silently looked at the heavy stack of books and spoke.

"Would writing that much really help? The longer language gets, the farther it strays from its essence."

"That again? We agreed to respect each other. I just want readers to find it easy to understand. Besides, I'm still lacking, so I plan to revise it little by little whenever I get the chance."

Boribori's book had been renamed from Bori Sword Art to The Canon of Swordsmanship.

It excluded his own unique swordsmanship and explained only the true basics in detail. Then it gradually advanced through each stage toward increasingly higher-level material.

Ricart felt uncomfortable as he looked at it, because Boribori's method seemed to be the right one.

Still, writing that much sounded bothersome, and he did not think his own ideas were wrong either. That was why it bothered him.

It was not as if he had put less thought into it just because it was short, nor had he spent less time on it.

"By the way, Marie isn't coming again today?"

Ignoring Ricart's occasional grumbling, Boribori continued writing in his book as he asked.

"I heard she went into the city this morning."

Resting his chin on his hand, Ricart looked out the window as he answered. The autumn fields turning yellow somehow looked lonely.

"Do you think she's hurting because we're leaving?"

Boribori knew that Marie had recently been deliberately avoiding Ricart. He and Ricart would soon graduate, but Marie had another year left. He could not know exactly how she felt, but he thought her heart must be unsettled.

"I don't think that's all."

"What else is there?"

"I don't want to ask about something she wants to hide. In the end, I don't know what it is either."

"Hmm... Your feelings haven't changed, Ricky? Marie's really pretty."

"Being pretty is different from that."

"Different how?"

"I don't know."

Ricart did not say more. Even someone all the students admired and looked up to like an idol apparently had things he did not want to talk about.

Perhaps Ricart himself carried deeper wounds than anyone else. He simply lived while holding them close.

"What if we don't even see her before graduation? I want to say goodbye, at least. It'd be a shame."

Boribori only wanted all the clan members to be well. Just as he had mediated between Ricart and Marie when things had once been awkward between them.

But as Boribori grew older, he came to think that people's hearts were truly complicated and difficult.

Even if one listened closely to Ricart and Boribori's conversation, it was no longer as simply childish as before.

Then, perhaps to change the subject, Ricart suddenly said,

"I should probably hide the original."

"Huh? Why? After going through all that work?"

"I wrote it in ancient script anyway. No one can read it. It's basically a treasure hunt."

"You're embarrassed, aren't you?"

"Hey!"

Laughing, Ricart made as if to smack Boribori. Boribori laughed too and hunched his shoulders.

Having spent so much time together, Boribori quickly understood Ricart's desire to hide it.

In any case, Ricart hid the original manuscript of Basics of Swordsmanship somewhere in the defense tower. He scraped dirt from between the bricks with a dagger, removed one brick, placed the manuscript behind it, and put the brick back.

After going through the trouble of writing it, what was he even doing? But Ricart convinced himself that he had only written it to pass the time in the first place.

He placed the translation flat on a bookshelf at the back of the writing classroom on the second floor. It had originally been used less as a bookshelf than as a place to stack scrolls. This place had once been a fortress, after all.

In an age when printing had not developed, books had to be made by hand. Ricart's book was the first to fill that shelf.

As he put the books away and gazed at them, it finally hit him that everything he had needed to do at the Academy was over.

He felt both relieved and sad. It was the feeling of looking forward to what came next while regretting what he would leave behind.

Ricart packed with Boribori and remained at the Academy, waiting only for the day they would leave.

In the meantime, he passed the time by playing with the kids or helping them with swordsmanship.

Then, one day.

"Rock, paper, scissors! Next!"

"Wow!"

Ricart shouted. He had thrown scissors against paper and won, then smiled and called for the next challenger as though it were only natural.

But this did not seem to be an ordinary game of rock, paper, scissors. Students were crowded around Ricart because he was currently on a fifty-six-game winning streak.

"He won again!"

"How is that even possible?"

The students found it amazing and were having a great time.

Then Boribori, who had been quietly watching from the top bunk, said one thing.

"Isn't that cheating?"

"What is?"

"Watching before you throw. Shouldn't you do it with your eyes closed?"

Boribori knew Ricart was winning by quickly noticing the tiny movements of his opponents' hands.

"That isn't exactly cheating, is it?"

"Wouldn't it be fairer with your eyes closed?"

"What? Ricky was watching the whole time?"

"Aw, that's no fun. That's unfair."

After Boribori stepped in, many students left as though the excitement had drained away.

Even if he had been watching, being able to do that was impressive. But the students were not very interested in that. They already knew how capable Ricart was, so the winning streak no longer meant anything.

Ricart had suddenly become a cheater. It was unfair, but he only laughed.

Still, how bored did he have to be to play something like that? Ricart climbed onto the bed and lay beside Boribori, who was reading an ancient book he had somehow found.

"What are you reading?"

"The heroic poem of Ilya the Dragon-Slayer."

"Isn't that a story everyone knows?"

Ilya the Dragon-Slayer was a tale of a hero that had spread throughout the world since ancient times, before the Empire. It was the sort of legend whose historical existence was uncertain.

"But it's different when you read it in a book. There are parts I didn't know."

"Like what?"

"Ilya was born to a poor farming family and was unable to walk from birth until the age of thirty. Then one day, his family hosted a pilgrim, and the pilgrim left them some oil. When Ilya drank it, he sprang to his feet and gained immense strength. After that, he swore to become a warrior for God and set out on an adventure. You know the rest, Ricky. He defeated giants, killed witches, and slew dragons."

"So the beginning was a typical missionary tale. I didn't know that was in there."

"Maybe. But who knows? It even says where Ilya was born and where Ilya died. We might get to visit one day. We could take in some of that energy."

Ricart snorted. He thought Boribori still had an innocent side to him. He was still a kid.

In any case, Ricart bothered Boribori while he read, and they traded pointless jokes.

After a while, a student called from outside.

"Ricky."

"Hm?"

"An adventurer came looking for you and Bori. They said to pack your things and come out."

Ricart and Boribori both thought at once that the time had come.

They neatly folded their uniforms on the bed to pass them on, gathered their gear and belongings, and went outside. To their surprise, the adventurer who had come for them was none other than Delphi.

"Huh?"

"Surprised?"

"What about the branch?"

"I hired some clerks now. The building isn't too hard to manage."

That was a relief, and Ricart and Boribori could only smile. They were happy simply because a friend had come from far away. The sadness of leaving faded a little.

Their steps were light as they crossed the courtyard, when Carlich came running after them and called urgently.

"Ricky! Ricky!"

Wondering what it was, Ricart turned around and saw a document in Carlich's hand.

"Ricky, take this."

"What is it?"

"A diploma. I made it. After Ricky, I'm going to give one to everyone when they graduate. It has meaning, doesn't it? It means they should be proud to be from Beringen."

Ricart looked over the document, but there was not much written on it. It simply stated that he had graduated from Beringen Academy. It had some gold leaf decoration, but it looked rather crude.

"What about mine?"

Boribori asked.

"Unfortunately, Ricky is the first."

"If I'm second, then I should get one too."

"Let's say you graduated first."

"...?"

It was ridiculous, but it was not that important. It was not a document with any legal power. Not yet.

Ricart smiled faintly and rolled up the document. As he tied it with a string and put it in his bag, he said,

"Take care."

"You can't forget us, Ricky."

"Even if I die, I won't forget. I'm going."

Ricart said goodbye with a smile. Carlich did not follow. He only stood there blankly and watched. The other students watched Ricart leave from the windows or from farther away.

Then Delphi headed toward the girls' dormitory and asked a female student passing nearby. She seemed to want to greet Marie before leaving.

"Is Marie inside?"

"Pardon? Oh, no. She went into the city this morning and hasn't come back yet."

"Is that so? All right."

Watching from behind, Ricart also felt conflicted in many ways. They belonged to the same clan, so they would meet again someday, right? Or maybe not? He did not know. Depending on how she sorted out her feelings, they might never see each other again. That was what romantic love was like.

His regret at leaving the Academy had faded, but now it seemed to deepen again.

They passed through the gate and descended the cliffside stairs. There was a railing now, so even if they missed a step, they would not fall off the cliff.

When they reached the bottom, autumn fields turning yellow stretched out before them. An unusually large number of purple gentian flowers bloomed along the road.

The wind was cool, though it sometimes felt chilly. The three walked along the road.

Then they spotted a girl standing in the road with her back to them. She held a sword in one hand. It was Marie. Her bright blond hair fluttered in the lonely autumn wind.

"Marie."

Delphi called to her. Marie was not startled. She slowly turned around and said,

"Could you let Ricky and me talk alone for a moment?"

Delphi and Boribori knew what things were like between them, so they did not ask why. They walked past Marie first and watched the two from a distance.

Ricart stood facing her from a short distance away, his sword slung over one shoulder.

"We can meet again, Marie. Don't take it so hard."

"No. It's not that. There's something I need to tell you."

"..."

"My name is Martelia. I am His Majesty Emperor Claudius's thirty-second daughter."

"...I see. I'm Ricart, the third son of the Calderbern family of Stormhertz. I wasn't trying to deceive you."

"Neither was I."

"Is that what was troubling you? The difference in status between us?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I can only gain true freedom if I defeat you, or seduce you and marry you. Otherwise, I have to live as a puppet of the imperial family until I die. But I like you. What should I do?"

Marie had not wanted to tell anyone in the world her secret. Above all, she had never wanted Ricart to know. Yet he was the only one she had told.

For her, it was practically a declaration of surrender. It meant she had made herself completely defenseless and vulnerable. Her heart trembled. Ricart's single answer was almost a matter of life and death for Marie.

But his answer was nothing but despair.

"...I'm sorry."

Marie's heart dropped. But it was not as if she had never imagined this outcome. So she did what she had to do next.

Marie drew Ricky, the Famed Sword.

"I'm sorry too. For being selfish. Draw your sword, Ricky."

Ricart quietly looked into Marie's blue eyes and said,

"You'll regret this."

"Even if I do, it can't be helped."

"All right..."

Ricart set down his bag, drew the sword from his shoulder, and took his stance.

Delphi and Boribori did not stop them. They only watched silently from afar.

For some reason, though, it felt as if one of them might die. What could they do? Boribori closed his eyes, while Delphi alone watched calmly.

The autumn wind blew. As the grass in the fields brushed together, Shhhhhhh could be heard.

Then, at some point, Ricart's eyes filled with killing intent. Marie reflexively sprang forward. It was as though she were rushing toward her death.

But Ricart did not swing his sword. He simply stood still with his eyes open. Marie's sword stopped at Ricart's arm. In the end, she could not cut him. The tip of her sword trembled violently.

But Ricart did not stop there. He suddenly grabbed Marie's sword with his bare hand and brought its tip to his own heart.

"Not there. Here."

Then he put force into it and tried to stab his own heart. Marie was horrified and tried to pull her sword away, but Ricart gripped the blade tightly and would not let go. Blood ran from his hand. The tip of the sword pierced his coat and drew closer and closer to his heart.

Marie's composure completely shattered in an instant, and she did not know what to do. If she used mana to pull the sword free, it seemed Ricart's fingers would be cut off. But if she let herself be pulled along, it seemed he would truly stab his own heart.

Even then, Ricart's hazel eyes did not waver in the slightest. They were calm to the point of cruelty.

Marie looked between her sword and Ricart with an expression close to tears. The boy had once told her that he could die for her. It had never been a lie.

At last, Marie pleaded.

"S-stop. Please stop. I'm begging you."

Only then did Ricart release the sword. Blood dripped from his hand. All strength left Marie's body, and she collapsed to the ground. She stared blankly at the earth.

As gently as placing a flower on her head, Ricart said,

"I told you that you'd regret it..."

Then he sheathed his sword, gathered his belongings, and walked past her. It might have seemed cold, but this was the best he could do.

Boribori hurried over, took Ricart's hand, and gave it first aid. It was not a serious wound.

Marie was more worrying than Ricart's injury now. But they could not approach her.

Marie sat there like a petrified statue. Ricart's heart was breaking too, but this was the time to leave. So he walked without looking back.

The lonely autumn wind blowing across the fields sounded like waves.

Chapter 13: Graduation. End.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried