Ode of the Brave - Chapter 80

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 80

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Ricart liked the wind. He had always liked it, even before he was born.

Back when he tended sheep, he loved watching the wind sweep across the fields. Sometimes, at Stormhertz, he would stand alone and watch the wind blowing over the plains. It had been the same at the Academy.

That was why he sometimes thought that, one day, he wanted to build a small cabin somewhere in a cool, breezy field and live there.

He would tend a vegetable garden and raise sheep or some other livestock.

The wind blew. His hair fluttered. Before him stretched a cool field, with a tiny cabin far in the distance. It was the peaceful scene he had always dreamed of.

He did not know whether the wind came from the mountains or the sea, but it was wonderful.

But he was not alone. A woman stood with her back to the field, her beautiful golden hair streaming in the wind.

Ricart knew who it was at once. A smile formed on his lips without him realizing it. Twenty steps would be enough to reach her.

Then a roar loud enough to shake the valley came from behind him.

“Iron Reaper Ricky!”

Ricart turned his head. The whole world was engulfed in blazing red light, with countless corpses covering the ground. Fire and steel, blood and death.

Besprim, the legendary warrior of the barbarians, was clad head to toe in steel, crushing, smashing, and trampling every living thing.

That was not all. Every person in the world was desperately fighting every other person. Among them, he saw friends like Boribori, Volka, and Ice.

The world had split in two. One side was heaven, and the other was hell. Ricart stood exactly between them.

Where should he go? Why could I not cast aside my pain?

Then an angel's whisper reached his ears.

“Ricky.”

Ricart opened his eyes in bed. The morning sunlight filtering through the curtains was not blinding, but gentle.

Still, his heart pounded as though it would burst.

Once he recognized reality, it quickly calmed. His mind was peaceful. It had only been a dream.

Ricart rose and went to the washbasin on the table. He poured water from the pitcher, washed his face, then wet a towel and wiped his neck and body. The water was lukewarm rather than cold, which was just right.

Then he got dressed. He wore a silk tunic unlike anything he had ever worn in his life and fastened a calfskin belt around his waist.

The soles of his ankle-high boots had been made by layering several pieces of leather, making them slightly flexible yet extremely sturdy.

From head to toe, everything was new and made from the finest materials by the best craftsmen. The feel against his skin and the comfort of wearing them were wonderful. The Crown Prince had provided it all.

Ricart drew the sword propped against the wall and checked its condition. Then he checked his dagger as well before leaving both behind and walking out of the room. Carrying weapons beside the Crown Prince did not seem like a good idea.

He went to the dining room and had a simple breakfast of soft bread, cheese, ham, and milk.

Even the bread was no ordinary bread. It was made from finely ground flour and freshly baked at dawn, soft as down.

Most commoners ground grain by hand instead of using mills, so it was not finely ground. After sitting for several days after baking, the bread became hard as stone.

They had to soak it in water or saliva before eating it, and Ricart was used to that sort of bread.

Everything in the imperial palace was comfortable. Everything was easy. Nothing made life difficult. Ricart was not especially ascetic, but even he thought this was a bit much.

Without realizing it, he felt himself growing lazy and mentally weak. Perhaps this was one reason the Crown Prince and imperial princes had turned out the way they had.

After eating, Ricart walked down the corridor toward the Crown Prince's room. Each section of the corridor seemed to have a different theme, and the one leading to the Crown Prince's room was practically covered in gold.

There were sculptures boasting unbelievable craftsmanship and ancient relics preserved almost perfectly intact.

Not everything gilded in gold was solid gold, of course. Most was covered with thin gold leaf, so it had not cost as much as it appeared to. Still, it looked dazzling.

But even such splendor apparently became tiresome. The Imperial Knights standing throughout the corridor looked bored as they leaned carelessly against the walls or sprawled in chairs.

Except for those closest to important figures like the Emperor or Empress Dowager, not every Imperial Knight was skilled or disciplined. They were chosen more for their family background than their ability.

Even their horses and equipment were effectively loans that they had to repay from their wages or return later. Like at the Academy, most of them were second sons from noble families.

In any case, when they saw Ricart, they greeted him with their eyes. They had seen his duel with Liberio and respected someone brave and strong.

“May I come in?”

When Ricart asked the Imperial Knight guarding the door, the knight shrugged. His expression said, How should I know?

So Ricart knocked twice on the door.

“It’s Ricart.”

“Uh, come in.”

Hearing Crown Prince Nibelius's voice, Ricart carefully opened the large door.

Inside, a maid wearing a white hood to cover her hair was holding a small chamber pot and catching the Crown Prince's urine.

Ricart stood there blankly, watching. The Crown Prince and the maid were so used to it that neither seemed embarrassed. The sound of urine striking the pot could be heard.

Afterward, the maid shook him off and wiped him with a wet towel. Then she brought over a washbasin, washed his face, and even blew his nose for him.

Naturally, she dressed him as well. Only after fixing his disheveled hair did she bow her head, pick up the chamber pot and basin, and leave the room.

“You’re early today?”

“I came at the usual time.”

“Really? Then was the maid late? Should I punish her? What punishment would be good? How about making her eat a live mantis?”

It was absurd how matter-of-factly he said it, without a trace of malice. Fortunately, he tended to listen to Ricart.

“Please do not punish her.”

“Why? Grandmother said that people who do not do their jobs properly should be punished.”

The grandmother he meant was the Empress Dowager, the Crown Prince's great-grandmother and the mother of the reigning Emperor, his grandfather. She held the real power in both the imperial family and the Empire.

“If she did not seriously mishandle something, Your Highness should show mercy. If you point out and punish every little mistake, she will become less able to work, and that will inconvenience Your Highness in the end. She was probably more tired than usual today.”

“Hmm, I see. She might have been tired. All right. I’ll let her off.”

“That was a wise decision.”

Ricart sighed inwardly. Rather than teaching swordsmanship, he was doing something closer to disciplining a child.

The Crown Prince's father had died young, his grandfather was a womanizer, and the Empress Dowager saw even the Crown Prince as a tool for her own power. A child was probably easier to control.

Perhaps the Empress Dowager was the true cause of the imperial family becoming such a mess. She had pushed the proper members of the imperial family far away and filled the palace only with people she could control.

Meanwhile, Hellawman was doing his best to preserve the imperial family, but no one knew how long that would work.

One advantage of feudalism was that the country could muddle along even if its ruler was useless. Each lord ruled their own territory independently.

There were even many lords who did not care whether the Emperor was a womanizer or dead. What did it have to do with them?

Still, it was not good for the imperial family to falter. Once the bare minimum of oversight disappeared, the lords across the Empire might begin running wild as they pleased.

No one could predict what would happen. The imperial family could collapse and peace might continue without any trouble, or the entire Empire could truly be consumed by war.

Ricart only wanted the tournament to happen soon so he could take Marie and leave.

“Hey, Ricky.”

The Crown Prince held the sword made for his build and spoke hesitantly.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“C-can we rest today?”

“Yes, let’s. I am fine with that.”

Ricart was not especially talented at teaching, and even aside from talent, the Crown Prince had neither patience nor enthusiasm. Swordsmanship lessons were mostly pointless.

“Then I will be going.”

“No! Let’s do something else during lesson time.”

“What would you like to do?”

“Hmm... Didn’t you say you were curious about the Imperial Library last time?”

It had come up while they were talking about the Codex.

“I did.”

“I got Grandmother’s permission. Do you want to go?”

“May I?”

Ricart's eyes changed. Seeing that, the Crown Prince beamed. He wanted Ricart to like him somehow.

The Crown Prince proudly raised his chin.

“Of course. Grandmother always listens to me.”

“Haha, I envy you.”

The Crown Prince might have been a bit of an idiot, but Ricart did not dislike him.

Still, it was hard to excuse everything just because he was a child. Ricart had left home and lived on his own when he was the Crown Prince's age, and all his friends had done the same.

In any case, they skipped the swordsmanship lesson and headed together for the Imperial Library, which stood a short distance from the palace. The escort knights followed them, but they looked bored. They would probably rather have gone into the city.

The Imperial Library stood in a cool place to preserve books and scrolls, and the building looked like a temple.

A few librarians guarded it, and they were visibly flustered when the Crown Prince suddenly appeared. They were worried he might do something strange to the books, such as setting them on fire or tearing them apart.

But they had no power to stop the Crown Prince. They could only beg Ricart with their eyes to make sure the child did not do anything strange.

The Imperial Library had existed since the time of the first Emperor, who valued knowledge, and books had been collected and preserved there for centuries. Perhaps because it was such an old place, it truly felt sacred, like a temple.

Its interior was magnificent, and strangely, it remained cool regardless of the season.

Unexpectedly, Prince Bellator was already in the library.

He had been sitting on the floor reading a book, but he looked up when he sensed their presence.

“Your Highness.”

He rose and bowed to the Crown Prince.

“Uncle? Did you get Grandmother’s permission to come here?”

They were around the same age, but they were uncle and nephew. The nephew also held the higher position.

“Pardon? Ah, I have been coming here for a long time...”

“Huh? You should be punished for coming in without permission.”

Why did he mention punishment at the end of every sentence? Ricart stepped in to stop him.

“Reading books is something to encourage. He may not have received permission, but I do not think he needs to be reprimanded for it.”

“Right. If Ricky says so, then that’s how it is. That’s cool.”

“Since we are here, why not read with the prince? Since he has come here before, he probably knows many interesting things.”

Since the two were close in age, Ricart thought it would be nice if they became friends.

“Okay.”

Bellator looked bewildered, but he had no right to refuse.

“What were you reading?”

Ricart asked Bellator.

“Ah, this. A collection of ancient civil cases.”

Ricart was speechless for a moment. He did not know anything about such things either.

Ricart looked over the shelves. Every book was stored separately and laid flat. One title caught his eye.

<Telemos's Fables>

“This should do. Could you explain this to His Highness?”

Bellator stared at the book and spoke.

“Isn’t this too childish...?”

It needed to be childish, Ricart thought to himself.

“It should be suitable for reading together. It will be more interesting if you ask and answer each other about what you think.”

“Sure, I suppose...”

“Then Your Highness can read this with the prince. I will look for something to read as well.”

“Okay.”

Thinking things had worked out nicely, Ricart left the two together and asked a librarian where he could find Codices related to Sword Masters or mana.

They kindly pointed him in the right direction, and Ricart walked all the way to a secluded area, where he found several books.

It seemed that research into mana had been active in ancient times. Still, it was hard to know where to begin.

Ricart found the later volume of the Codex called The Boundary of the Sword Master, which he had seen before. He took it down and opened it. It was considerably thicker than the earlier volume.

As expected, its contents were full of ominous things. It described specific methods for cutting away the human heart.

There were inhuman methods such as offering up the person closest to you as a sacrifice through heretical rituals, torture, murder, and brainwashing.

It was enough to make him frown and made it difficult to keep reading.

But the effects seemed certain. A person apparently lost their sympathy, empathy, and compassion in exchange for awakening as a Sword Master.

Still, not just anyone could do it. The book said it could only be done by those who had reached the brink of becoming Sword Masters, met enough conditions, and chose it of their own free will.

The author said that Sword Masters were neither born nor made through training, but could only be wrought by fate. Therefore, the author claimed that their method was an art of controlling fate.

Art, my ass.

Suppressing the urge to burn the book, Ricart put it back on the shelf.

Yet although he had read it with disgust, he had been so absorbed that quite some time had passed. The Crown Prince and Prince Bellator had already left, and when Ricart went outside, the sun was setting.

Ricart realized what time it was and hurried to Irmin Castle. He grabbed the vines, climbed up, and entered through the window as though it were his own home.

Marie was sitting with her back to him, tilting her head as she brushed her long hair.

“Marie.”

When Ricart called out, Marie turned around.

“Huh?”

“I’m hungry. Give me food.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll bring it right away.”

Marie stopped brushing her hair, quickly twisted it up and tied it back, then laid out the food the maids had brought.

Ricart sat on the bed with a tray on his knees and gobbled down one thing after another.

“You didn’t eat?”

“Yeah, I went to the Imperial Library. I got so caught up reading that I lost track of time.”

“Are you still teaching the Crown Prince swordsmanship these days?”

“I am, but there isn’t much point. He did not seem to want to do it today either, so we went to the library. It would be nice if Bellator kept him company.”

“That smart prince? Was he the Fifth Prince?”

“Yeah. He seemed like something might be wrong with him too, but he is really smart. What was it? He was reading a book about civil cases or something.”

“It is strange. Law is something only people below us study.”

“Anyway, nobody has been bothering you, right?”

“Since then, it has been quiet. I watch the clouds drift by, listen to the birds singing, and wait for you to come... No, take that last part back. It was a lie.”

Marie had said without thinking that she waited for Ricart to come, then became flustered by herself. Ricart only smiled quietly and did not tease her.

This had become Ricart's routine lately. He spent time with the Crown Prince, then visited Irmin Castle and spent the rest of the day with Marie.

Living like this every day, everyone knew. Ricart and Marie were in that kind of relationship.

People assumed the two had fallen for each other while studying together at the Academy, but they did not gossip or speak badly of them. Still, they found Ricart strange.

They could not understand why he spent time with an imperial princess who offered him no benefit when he had already won the Crown Prince's favor.

Marie was, after all, the thirty-second imperial princess. Comparing her to the Crown Prince, first in line to inherit the throne, was unthinkable. It went against all common sense.

People tended to make up reasons for what they could not understand. They only thought Ricart was young and had lost his head over a woman.

“I’m late. Sorry. I’ll come early tomorrow.”

“No, it’s fine if you come late. As long as you come...”

It was a little embarrassing, but that was all right. They had confirmed each other's feelings.

Ricart told her all sorts of trivial stories so she would not get bored. Did she know people called the imperial princes fucking bastards? He thought the Empress Dowager might be the real problem. Things like that.

They laughed at the many stories, got angry together, and felt sorry for others. Before they knew it, stars had appeared in the sky.

After kissing her, Ricart climbed back down through the window. Marie watched from the window to make sure he got down safely, and kept watching until he was completely out of sight.

Part of her felt reluctant to let him go, while another part looked forward to tomorrow. When she opened her eyes in the morning, she felt excited. Every day felt like a dream.

But good times passed quickly, and the day of the tournament drew nearer.

Ricart's ability was already well established, but the thought of what might happen still kept them from sleeping well. All they could do was believe.

They would win. They would definitely win and return together. They both believed that.

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