WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 7

──────

* * *

A linen tunic, a belt, leather shoes, a wool coat and travel cloak, a dagger, and a shoulder bag. That was all Ricart had.

He no longer had a home to return to, nor any certainty that he would see his family again.

Seen positively, a new future and a new world lay before him. Seen negatively, he was setting out on a road of hardship unlike anything he had known in his life.

Having a past life was useful at times like this. Whatever he did, nothing truly frightened him.

Ricart crossed the border of Stormhertz, which he had never once left since being reborn, and walked all day apart from two brief rests.

Night fell early on the mountain pass, and the cool breeze began to feel chilly. The courier headed for a place to camp.

It seemed to be a spot frequented by passing travelers. It offered decent shelter from the wind, and a heap of black ash lay in a makeshift hearth made from large stones.

The courier skillfully struck flint against the dry branches and straw he had brought. Click, click. After blowing the flame into life, he piled on some nearby firewood.

Before long, the fire gained strength and began to crackle. Crackle, crackle.

Ricart sat down in a suitable spot and took out the travel rations wrapped in cloth in his bag.

His sister-in-law had made them by mixing grains, honey, salt, and other ingredients, then steaming and drying them.

They were hard enough that he had to gnaw at them with his front teeth or break them apart. Crunch, crunch. Then he softened them with saliva in his mouth. They were nutty, salty, and sweet.

The balance was so good that they were more than merely edible. They were a delicacy. He could feel his sister-in-law's care in them.

“Have you traveled before?”

The courier suddenly asked.

“No.”

“You can speak more casually. It makes me uncomfortable otherwise.”

“Really? All right.”

“That’s strange. These days, there are plenty of people who aren’t nobles but act like they are just because they have money. Yet actual highborn nobles tend to be polite.”

“I just do what my mother taught me. She told me to be respectful to adults.”

“Anyway, this really is your first time traveling?”

“It is. Why?”

“Well... you don’t look worried or anxious.”

It was an age when someone could be killed by bandits on the road and there would be no way to find the culprit. Human trafficking was common in the shadows, and nobles were often kidnapped for ransom.

Yet this ten-year-old was leaving home for the first time and setting out on a long journey without showing the slightest sign of worry or anxiety. Was he simply ignorant of the world?

Ricart only smiled faintly. He finished his food, then asked a question of his own.

“Is courier work worth doing?”

“Worth doing? Having work is a blessing. It solves the problem of putting food on the table. I’ve met a lot of people through this job, and even if I quit, I have connections that could get me into a few places. I may not look it, but I’m affiliated with the Empire. Hahaha.”

“That’s good.”

“By the way, are you planning to become an adventurer?”

“For now.”

“I don’t know. These days, even nobles become adventurers. Did you know? In the past, adventurers even delivered letters like I do. So if you think about it, I’m an adventurer too.”

“Adventurer or not, I don’t care what it’s called. What I care about is whether the war was worth fighting. The eastern expedition territory. It’s called Fernland now, isn’t it? Anyway.”

“...What? You’re interested in something like that?”

“It’s personal. I know you might not understand.”

The courier looked as though he truly did not understand. Still, what could he do when Ricart said that was what interested him?

“But the Academy doesn’t have a very good reputation. I don’t know if I should be saying this.”

“Why? Is there some problem?”

“There is, and there isn’t. I don’t know exactly what goes on inside. Still, it’s said that Academy students often die or end up half-crippled. I’ve seen it myself. The Academies act as if they have some blood feud. They don’t hesitate to spill blood. They fight each other until they’re battered bloody, make up, then fight again. You’re still young, Young Master, so you won’t be dragged into those fights right away. But once you’re older, who knows? If you ask me, I think the guilds are pulling the strings behind all of it.”

“You mean Academy students are being used in conflicts between guilds?”

“That’s what I think. In the end, adventurers have always felt a little unpleasant. The difference is that people used to look down on them. Now, they’re a little frightening.”

Though he was not that old, the courier kept talking about “back then” and “the old days.” Perhaps he was putting on airs as an elder in front of young Ricart.

So Ricart did not take his words to heart. But neither did he dismiss them. He simply accepted them as talk about how the world worked.

“There must be a reason. Whether it’s something ridiculous or something important.”

“Aren’t you afraid, Young Master?”

“Why? Do you want me to be scared?”

“Not at all. But if it were me, I’d go back right now, grab the lord by the trouser leg, and beg to be sent to a monastery. Being a monk is better than you might think. On weekends, you go to the village and have fun with innocent country girls. Even if you get one pregnant, you don’t have to take responsibility. You can drink, pay no taxes, and never worry about what the lord thinks.”

“The monks I’ve met weren’t like that.”

“With all respect, Stormhertz is a bit rural, isn’t it? People in the central regions also tend to be stubborn and narrow-minded. People in the west are passionate and open-minded. So you just need to join a monastery in the western region.”

“Really? Stormhertz is in the central region?”

“More like the south-central region.”

“Do I seem stubborn and narrow-minded to you?”

“Hahaha, not at all. You’re still young, Young Master. Anyway, once I save enough money, I’m going west and opening a winery.”

In truth, the courier had never been to the west. Delivering letters around the central region was all he had ever done.

He seemed to have heard stories from someone and built a dream around them. Open-minded beauties, good wine, fine weather, fertile land, things like that.

It was not a bad dream, Ricart thought. Whether grand, humble, or worldly, it would be enough if it gave the man a reason to keep living.

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Courier.”

“Arno. When I was young, they called me Rabbit’s Foot. I’m good at running away, you see. That’s why this job suits me. Did you know? Couriers take an oath, just like knights.”

“What kind of oath?”

At Ricart’s question, Arno suddenly straightened his posture and spoke solemnly.

“In the name of God and the Emperor, I swear that I will not drink while working, that I will not mistreat others, that I will deliver the mail no matter what happens, and that I will work honestly and diligently without opening its contents. Should I break this oath, I will become a criminal of the Empire and fall into hell when I die.”

It seemed excessive to make a mere courier swear such an oath, but this was a job that could not exist without trust.

That was why nobles entrusted letters to retainers or people they trusted, rather than handing them to someone from the Imperial Guild Office.

Still, the oath was clearly different from a knight’s. There was no mention of battle. Nothing grim about never retreating in combat or risking one’s life to defend one’s honor.

Even so, Arno seemed to have some sense of professional pride.

They would only be traveling together briefly, but after walking together all day and sharing a campfire that night, they could not help growing a little closer.

As a courier, Arno had traveled all over and heard many stories. He had plenty to talk about.

He seemed happy to have someone to speak with as well. A night free of loneliness deepened.

Early the next morning, they thoroughly extinguished the dead campfire by grinding it under their feet and set off. They crossed the pass and headed northeast.

Ricart was young enough that walking constantly should have tired him out, but he followed without complaint. Even without special physical training, he had spent his childhood running through forests and fields.

There was not much to do in the countryside, so he often had running races. Since all his opponents were older boys, Ricart had always been forced to push himself to the limit.

Yet no matter how exhausted he became, he would sleep through the night and wake up completely refreshed the next day. Then he would run around again.

Still, even if stamina was not a problem, travel was full of unexpected variables.

Because of his work, Arno often used shortcuts known only to those in the know. At the point where another mountain pass began, they encountered a group of people.

Carriages and wagons stood stopped by the roadside, while people had put up tents around them and were living there.

Some looked like newlyweds. Others looked like large families, from grandmothers to grandchildren and cousins. There was also a merchant and two armed people guarding him. In total, there were a little over twenty people.

It was strange to see such mismatched people gathered in one place, even to Arno, who delivered letters for a living. It was not somewhere anyone would settle down.

They stared blankly at Arno and Ricart as they passed along the secluded road.

“Hello. I’m a courier from the Imperial Guild Office. Are you holding a spring festival here?”

Arno approached them with an easy smile and asked what they were doing.

No one answered. As the awkward silence stretched on and Arno’s friendly smile began to stiffen, the merchant warming himself by a fire some distance away spoke.

“We’re waiting for people.”

“Really? Must be someone important. May I ask who you’re waiting for?”

“We’re not waiting for anyone in particular. We’re simply trying to gather enough people. But after waiting three whole days, all we’ve found are a young man and a little boy. It seems rather pointless.”

Arno looked at Ricart beside him, then turned back to the merchant.

“Gather enough people? Why?”

“The more people there are, the less likely bandits are to approach.”

“Bandits? There are bandits here?”

“Why else would I be sitting here wasting my time? Every day costs me money.”

The merchant pointed somewhere with a tilt of his head. There were several mounds of dirt, with crude wooden crosses stuck into them. They were freshly made graves.

While Arno had not traveled this road for some time, bandits had appeared.

Robbers and bandits were not particularly rare. It was an age when making a living was difficult and punishments were harsh, so many people chose to become bandits instead.

“Should we turn back?”

Ricart asked.

“As you saw on the way here, it’s the only road, Young Master. If we turn back, we’ll have a hard time meeting the deadline.”

The date Ricart had to arrive at the Academy was the fourteenth. Their departure had already been somewhat tight, and taking a long detour might mean missing the deadline.

Besides, Arno was not taking him all the way to his destination. They would need to find another guide in Rainfurt.

“If they’ve killed people, that means they’ve gone all the way...”

Arno muttered with a troubled expression. Rainfurt was just beyond this pass.

“It’s only early spring, so there must not be much trade traffic. Otherwise, the merchants could have gathered together and passed through. I don’t think waiting will help.”

Ricart spoke. The courier had no idea how a child knew such things, but he was right.

The merchant seemed to have reached the same conclusion. He had waited several days just in case, but Arno and Ricart were the only ones to arrive. He could delay no longer.

If he stayed, his provisions would only run out. In trade, time and distance were money. The faster goods traveled over a long distance, the more money they made. The longer a short distance took, the more money was lost.

Still, the merchant did not like the thought of taking the risk alone. He looked around at the others and spoke.

“You people will be caught by the lord and killed if you go back anyway. Wouldn’t it be better to risk your lives where there’s at least a chance of survival?”

Ricart did not know their circumstances, but the people who looked like ordinary commoners seemed to be fugitives.

“There are not so few of us now. If we wait any longer, your food will only run out. Let us make a decision. I will lead the way.”

He plainly looked as though he planned to spread the danger around and find a way to escape on his own. But everyone had the same thought, so there was no need to call the merchant cowardly.

True to his trade, he proposed something like a negotiation, and the word “food” moved the people. They took down their tents and prepared to leave.

There were only two armed people, and aside from Arno, there were only five or six adult men.

“Whether this is good luck or bad, it seems we have no choice, Young Master Ricky.”

“You can’t know luck by the result alone. You make it.”

“Is that so? It would be nice if we really could make luck. I’d make loads of it and become filthy rich gambling on dice. Stay close to me. I’ll try making some luck.”

“All right. Thanks.”

At the mention of dice gambling, Ricart laughed in disbelief as he answered. Then the two of them joined the group and climbed the mountain pass.

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