WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 83
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The Emperor was dead. He had not died of old age, illness, or in battle. He had been assassinated.
The man at the pinnacle of all people, the protector of the Empire, had been assassinated. Of course, despite those grand epithets, he had in truth been a pathetic human being.
While Ricart and Marie escaped the storm of history raging around them, the Crown Prince and Bellator were somehow running through the alleys of a nearby city.
They were not alone. Everyone in the city was running about in a panic. Fear had spread so far that people seemed unable to think rationally.
Yet amid the chaos, some were seizing women and committing vile acts, while others looted.
Some were not even members of the religious order, yet murdered people out of grudges they had buried for years.
The chaos did not look likely to settle anytime soon.
“I told you not to follow me!”
Someone shouted irritably over his shoulder. It was the Third Imperial Prince. The Crown Prince and Bellator had simply run after him without knowing what was going on. The Third Imperial Prince himself did not even know where he was fleeing.
Though he had already reached adulthood, neither his mind nor his judgment had matured.
All he could think about was escaping. The assassins who had charged at him with fire in their eyes had terrified him.
Staying close to a guard would have been safest, but who could trust them?
When the final match of the swordsmanship tournament ended, those who suddenly attacked the nobles had been close to their victims for anywhere from a few years to several decades.
A nursemaid who had nursed them, a childhood friend, a butler whose family had served their house for generations, even the mistress they had regarded as nothing more than a toy.
When such people suddenly turned on them and began stabbing them, even guards at their side could not save them.
The Third Imperial Prince entered an even darker alley and threw open the door of what looked like a shed, hoping to find somewhere to hide. Inside, several men were committing a shameless crime.
“What!?”
A rough-looking man turned and shouted fiercely. The Third Imperial Prince froze in fear and shut the door again.
After wandering around without knowing where he was going, he somehow slipped into another shed. The stench of livestock dung filled the place.
The Crown Prince and Bellator followed him inside.
“Ugh, it stinks.”
The Crown Prince pinched his nose and frowned deeply.
“Keep it down!”
Perhaps because the situation was so urgent, the Third Imperial Prince scolded the Crown Prince without any of his usual manners.
And seeing the Crown Prince complain about the smell even now, it was hard not to wonder whether anyone could truly be this immature.
People continued running outside. At some point, the assassins became less of a problem than the groups taking advantage of the chaos to make a quick score. The city was practically under their control.
Screams could be heard. Pleas for mercy. Laughter.
In short, the whole place had gone mad.
The Third Imperial Prince was busy peering outside through a gap in the shabby door, while the Crown Prince kept fanning the air with his hand to disperse the smell.
Bellator, however, did neither.
He took a dagger from his clothes and drew it. Its sharp blade gleamed in the light entering through a crack in the shed. The blade’s shine reflected in Bellator’s eyes.
Bellator frowned for a moment at the glare, but he did not close his eyes or look away.
Waiting for his eyes to adjust, he silently looked down at the sharp edge. He remembered what Ricart had said.
‘When you face a desperate moment, a side of you that you never knew comes out. What matters then is not hesitating.’
If not now, I’ll never get another chance.
It was as though a devil were whispering in Bellator’s ear. It was the voice of his own heart, but devils lived in human hearts after all.
Bellator felt as if he could see Ricart’s final duel before him.
He had been told to cut open the stomach, so why did he stab the heart? Did he take a desperate gamble to kill him first in that brief moment? Even knowing the risk? I see.
In truth, Ricart had simply forced his way through the ribs with brute strength, but Bellator interpreted it differently. Still, it was not entirely wrong. A wound to the heart was more fatal than one to the stomach.
Bellator only thought that, if so, he too would accept the risk.
“Uncle?”
The Crown Prince turned toward Bellator, still holding his nose. Bellator looked away from the dagger he had been studying and spoke to the Crown Prince.
“Let’s do this, Your Highness. I’ll stab you in the heart. If I fail because your ribs block the blade, I’ll kill myself at once. If not, I’ll become Emperor.”
“...What?”
The Crown Prince was dumbfounded by the sudden, absurd words. But Bellator had no hesitation, just as Ricart had taught him.
He grabbed the Crown Prince by the shoulder, angled the dagger, and stabbed toward his heart, driving it in from slightly right to left.
The dagger passed perfectly through a gap in his ribs and pierced the Crown Prince’s heart.
Gasp!
The Crown Prince’s body stiffened at once. Even his throat locked up, so he could not scream.
His eyes widened to their limit. Bellator looked at them without emotion.
Then, as if laying him down, he slowly lowered the Crown Prince onto a pile of rotten straw reeking of dung.
Bellator immediately pulled out the dagger and approached the Third Imperial Prince, who was still busy watching outside.
“Brother.”
“Hey, I told you to be quiet! Stop talking to me!”
Ignoring him, Bellator wiped the blood from his hand across the Third Imperial Prince’s clothes and placed the dagger in his hand.
“Huh? What is this?”
The Third Imperial Prince asked, but Bellator gave no answer. Instead, he threw open the shed door and shouted.
“The Third Imperial Prince killed the Crown Prince!”
“What?”
“The Third Imperial Prince killed the Crown Prince!”
He shouted at the top of his lungs. The Imperial Knights, who had been frantically searching the area, heard him and rushed over at once.
Bellator stopped them and pointed to his elder brother, the Third Imperial Prince, who stood there blankly holding the dagger.
“His Highness the Crown Prince’s body is inside.”
He was astonishingly calm, and bold beyond measure. Ricart had said hands shook the first time, but Bellator’s did not tremble at all.
The evidence was obvious. No special skill was needed. All it took was resolve and the ability to act without hesitation.
In an instant, he went from fifth in the line of succession to second.
Bellator had four older brothers. The eldest had died young after leaving behind the Crown Prince. The second had left the imperial palace long ago and become a count. The third had now been framed for a crime he could never clear himself of. The fourth had lost his life amid the upheaval.
Now, all Bellator had to do was kill his second brother to become Emperor. Since that brother had been away from the imperial palace for a long time, Bellator believed he had the advantage.
That was what he thought. Bellator was clever, but he had yet to learn that the world did not always go as one wished.
Some exposed their filthy desires amid the chaos. Some used it as an opportunity. Others tried to escape its center.
Marie and Ricart belonged to the last group. But there was one problem.
Ricart was unconscious.
The poison was one issue, but he had also been stabbed in the abdomen, which was another serious problem.
Fortunately, they were near the tournament grounds, so Marie found a potion nearby. She poured it over his wound, held the rest in her mouth, then fed it to Ricart mouth to mouth.
Then she stole the first carriage she could find, laid Ricart inside, tied him down tightly with leather straps, took the driver’s seat, and cracked the whip.
“Hyah!”
Crack!
The two horses ran with all their strength, and the wheels raced over the paved road.
I’m done with that miserable family. Goodbye to the nobles, being a bastard, the imperial family, and this city. I’m free now. No matter what, I’ll survive and live with Ricky. No one can stop me.
Marie was almost beside herself. She clearly needed to calm down, but it did not seem like anyone could stop her.
Traveling by ship back to Ernberg would have been fastest, but the docks were overflowing with people, so it was better not to go there.
Besides, it would have been difficult to find a merchant ship heading directly to Ernberg.
She nearly hit several people as they ran wildly in every direction, but she skillfully left the city without injuring anyone.
Fortunately, as this was the Emperor’s city, paved roads stretched far beyond its limits, allowing her to travel without obstruction.
They moved farther and farther from the city in chaos. At the same time, the cries of hell grew more distant.
Before long, the sounds of nature became louder than the hateful sounds of people. Only Marie’s carriage raced along the road.
As the wind from the fields washed over her, the resentment that had filled Marie to the top of her head finally began to settle. The horses were exhausted too, white foam hanging from their mouths.
Marie stopped the carriage in the middle of the road. She climbed down from the driver’s seat, opened the carriage door, and checked on Ricart. She had tied him so tightly that he looked uncomfortable even while unconscious.
“Mmm...”
Judging from his groaning, he might regain consciousness if things went well. Marie shook him awake.
“Ricky. Ricky. Wake up.”
“Uhhh...”
Ricart seemed to open his eyes, but then they slowly closed again, and his head drooped.
Marie was startled and examined him closely. But it was not as if she knew what to look for. At least he was breathing. Perhaps the potion was making him sleepy. Thankfully, the wound in his abdomen had stopped bleeding.
Marie suddenly felt lost. She had come to Nibelungen by ship, so she did not know the way back by land.
And once the paved road ended, this carriage could go no farther. Above all, she had fled the city in such a hurry that she had not brought any food.
When she lifted the cloth covering the roof of the carriage, she found, to her great relief, a sack filled with carrots. They would have to make do with them until they found a village.
Marie fed several carrots to the horses and ate raw carrots herself, crunching through them.
Then she climbed back onto the driver’s seat and guided the horses forward slowly. Fields stretched all around them. All she could hear was the wind, clip-clop, clip-clop, and the wheels rolling.
Feeling as if there were only the two of them in the world gave Marie a strange feeling. She wished they could live forever somewhere with no one else around. But then the faces of her friends came to mind.
Carrying all sorts of thoughts, worries, and fears, Marie continued onward. Then, at some point, the paved road ended, and the carriage jolted violently.
She tried to be as careful as possible for Ricart’s sake, but the road left her no choice. Besides, this was the kind of carriage used in the capital or wealthy neighborhoods, not one suited for ordinary roads.
Still, she forced the carriage onward, and time passed until the sun began to set.
Now that she had gained some experience as an adventurer, Marie began looking for a place to camp in advance.
As the sun sank and night approached, she stopped the carriage beside a large tree. Marie first went inside and untied the straps that had bound Ricart so tightly.
Even though she had saved his life, she felt sorry. She thought she might have tied him up too tightly.
In any case, she laid Ricart down properly. Then she removed the horses’ harnesses, tied their reins to a branch, and fed them plenty of carrots.
But they had no water, the most important thing. Both people and horses were thirsty. They had no flint to start a fire, no cloaks to cover themselves with. They truly had nothing but a sword and carrots.
It was autumn, and the nights were cold. Marie’s dress was woefully insufficient against the chill. Worse, she had torn the skirt so badly that her underclothes showed, leaving her legs cold.
Marie went into the carriage and massaged Ricart’s arms, legs, and entire body to get his blood circulating.
As she did, something beyond Ricart’s will rose despite his unconscious state.
It was good that he was healthy, but Marie felt embarrassed for no reason. She had to keep resisting the devilish temptation to touch it just a little.
Marie sat Ricart up again and held him tightly against her chest. Thus, she endured the cold and kept night watch alone.
Marie’s heart pounded, and she was excited, but that only lasted for an hour or two. As the night deepened, she grew sleepy and exhausted. She had only just escaped after being driven to the edge mentally, and her mind and body were both spent.
Sword Master or not, she could not help being sleepy, hungry, and thirsty.
The night continued to deepen. Marie dozed off.
How much time had passed?
Something felt wrong, so she opened her eyes and saw a beggar-like man opening the carriage door and staring at her. Goosebumps rose across her arms and neck.
The carriage was narrow and uncomfortable, but Marie reacted quickly and skillfully. She drew her sword and stabbed the man in the face like lightning.
The blade pierced his skull at once.
As he fell, another man’s voice came from outside.
“W-What was that!?”
“See? I told you there’d be someone here!”
“Damn it!”
Marie quickly took her sword and stepped out of the carriage. She saw people untying the reins and stealing the horses.
Even as they fled, the horse thieves stared wide-eyed at Marie’s beauty and kept looking back. Whether they were checking if she was chasing them or trying to see her for a little longer, she could not tell.
Marie started after them, then stopped.
She had to protect Ricart.
The people who fled might return with their companions, so Marie quickly carried Ricart on her back and walked in the direction opposite from where they had fled.
She must have slept longer than she thought, because the sky was already deep blue. The autumn air was cold.
Now they had lost the horses and even the carrots. All she had left was one sword.
Beyond the countryside, cities, and places where people lived, it was no different from the wilderness. There was nowhere to get food, and without travel supplies, nowhere suitable to sleep.
She had reached superhuman levels of stamina and strength as a Sword Master, but people could not live without eating or sleeping.
At that moment, Marie could think only of heading north and finding water.
She reached the road with Ricart on her back and kept walking north. But there was truly not a single sign of people. No travelers, no merchants.
Did I take the wrong road? Does no one use this route? I have to meet someone. Either they can help me, or I can threaten them with my sword.
Did I leave the city too rashly? Should I go back even now? No, I’ve already come too far.
Countless thoughts ran through Marie’s mind.
She kept walking. For one hour, two, three, then six full hours. The sun hung high overhead.
It had already been a day since she had last had a meal, and she had only managed a little restless sleep.
Ricart was in bad shape, but Marie was nearing collapse too. Then, after walking with hope in her heart, she encountered a sickening despair.
The horse thieves appeared with their companions. They must have been following her for some time. They stayed at a distance and only watched her, but they did not seem to be hiding. They stared openly.
Some of them carried crude weapons. Two were even mounted on horses. They also had bows and crossbows.
Killing them would be easy, but Marie did not know if she could fight while protecting Ricart. So she made one choice.
She ran.
With Ricart on her back, she ran forward without looking back. The mounted men immediately gave chase, and the other bandits began running as well. Their intentions were obvious.
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
Hoofbeats sounded behind her. Marie desperately wished for a hill or a pass. Or at least somewhere she could hide Ricky.
God, please!
How long had she run? Her breath was caught in her throat.
Then, to her despair, someone on horseback came charging toward her from the front. She was caught between the rider ahead and the bandits behind.
Marie had no choice but to set Ricart down by the roadside and draw her sword.
Violet light flashed along the blade. But even a Sword Master would die if struck by a charging horse.
Yet something was strange.
The rider charging from the front wore chainmail, carried a shield and a spear, and looked more like a knight than a bandit. A white cross was painted on the red surcoat.
And he passed Marie instead of attacking her.
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
He charged toward the mounted bandits. They hurriedly pulled their reins, trying to turn their horses around.
But the knight closed the distance in an instant and pierced one bandit with his spear in a single blow.
Thud!
He immediately drew his sword, leaned down, and struck off another bandit’s head. The way he switched weapons atop the charging horse was as natural as a painting.
Thud!
The bandit impaled by the spear flew backward from the impact, while the headless bandit’s body swayed before falling beneath the horse.
The bandits running toward her saw this and fled in terror.
The knight did not chase them. He caught the reins of the two riderless horses and approached Marie.
He was a knight with a dignified face and a thick, neatly groomed beard.
“Do not come closer!”
Marie shouted like a cornered wildcat.
But the knight ignored her and approached at an easy pace. The autumn wind was cool.
Under the midday sun, he silently looked down at the boy lying beside the road instead of at Marie. Then he spoke.
“I am Abelich, lord of Stormhertz. Who might you be, Lady, to be running with my son on your back?”
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