WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 84
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Waking up could feel different every time. Sometimes you woke from a frightening dream and felt relieved. Sometimes a nasty nightmare left you in a foul mood. Sometimes you woke from a sweet dream and tried to invite sleep back, even though it would not come.
But perhaps the best feeling was opening your eyes naturally after a deep, dreamless sleep.
Without any fatigue at all.
Ricart opened his eyes that way.
Birdsong tickled his ears. Why was the bed so comfortable? And there was a familiar scent. It felt as though he had come home.
Home? Wait.
The first thing he saw was a wall, but when he turned his head, a familiar ceiling came into view.
There was no chandelier or anything like that, but the gaps between the stones and the shape of the ceiling supports were all too familiar.
It was not an inn, the Ernberg branch building, or his residence in the imperial palace at Nibelungen.
It was his room in Stormhertz.
What?
Ricart sat up. His belongings were gone, leaving the room looking a little bare, but it was undoubtedly his room.
Was he dreaming now?
But he quickly realized it was not a dream.
Marie was asleep right beside him.
She lay on her side with her hands clasped together, pressed close to him, breathing softly like a baby.
Her nightclothes were somewhat sheer, so Ricart squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.
It felt as if a devil had entered his head, but his final memories rushed back, drawing his attention elsewhere.
After winning the final match, everything in front of him had spun so badly that he did not know what happened. He thought he had heard screams, but his memories ended there.
Judging from the situation, Marie must have brought his unconscious body to Stormhertz.
The Emperor had imperial direct domains and satellite estates surrounding them. So Nibelungen and Stormhertz were close in one sense, yet far in another.
The Calderbern house had begun when Caldebert earned military merit under the sixth Emperor, Martellus II, and received land as a reward. Naturally, the Emperor could not grant land that did not exist, so he had carved it from an imperial direct domain.
In other words, the territory of the Calderbern Count's house was one of the imperial family's satellite estates. It was close to the capital, yet still far away. Marie had covered a considerable distance by carriage, but on foot, it took around three days.
In any case, Ricart's branch of the Calderbern family had settled in Stormhertz, a corner of the territory, through partible inheritance.
Their family name was Calderbern, while their hometown and official place of origin was Stormhertz. They were part of the same house as the Count's family, and Graut, the eldest son, had even married a daughter of the Count's house. They seemed like two separate families, but they were one.
They had even sworn an oath that if one branch's line died out, the other would continue the family.
Of course, the Count's house was the larger branch, but they were not lord and vassal. Still, they generally followed the Count's decisions whenever possible.
It was complicated, but simply put, outsiders saw them as a Count's house and something like its vassal baron.
Look closer, though, and they were simply one family.
What mattered was that Marie had unknowingly fled toward the territory of the Calderbern family and met Abelich, who had been patrolling the border.
It was like a gift from God, or a miracle.
Marie had not come here intentionally, but Ricart thought she had been very wise.
It was a good misunderstanding.
Ricart got his unruly lower half under control and rose from bed. He opened the shuttered window and braced it open. Fresh morning sunlight poured in, and the familiar land of his hometown spread out before him.
White smoke rose from the chimneys of every house, somehow looking delicious. The harvest had just ended, and the people of the estate were already busy threshing grain.
The cool autumn morning air brushed against his skin. Ricart took a deep breath without thinking, then stopped halfway through.
A pain like needles piercing his chest stabbed through him.
“Urgh!”
Ricart clutched his chest and grimaced. It seemed to be the poison.
He tried breathing deeply again, more carefully. Ordinary breaths were fine, but taking a deep breath caused pain.
It was truly vicious poison.
As deep as the grudge behind it.
Still, he did not feel discouraged. Being alive was enough. There was nothing he could do about it for now, so he pushed it from his mind.
Marie curled up from the cold, so Ricart closed the window again and tucked the blankets around her.
Then someone opened the door.
It was Aileen, his sister-in-law.
“Oh, sorry.”
“What? Ah, no. It isn't like that.”
Click.
Before he could greet her warmly, before he even had time to explain, his sister-in-law shut the door.
Ricart considered chasing after her to insist it was not what she thought, but gave up.
He did not care if she misunderstood anymore.
Still, it was awkward. He had only just come home after so long, and this was what happened.
His father seemed to have gone out on patrol early that morning, and his eldest brother seemed to be inspecting the estate as well.
He suddenly wondered whether his second brother, Bilter, was safe. But Bilter was truly at the edge of the world, so it was not easy to hear any news.
All Ricart could do was pray that he was well.
It had been three years since he left home.
And now he had returned.
Even the empty room looked different because of it.
It felt as though precious memories from his childhood were coming back to life. Nothing here had changed.
It gave him a sense of comfort.
Ricart was not reading or doing anything else to pass the time, but simply looking around the room and remembering the past was enough to keep him from feeling bored.
He found himself smiling for no reason. Then he missed his mother, worried about Bilter, wondered how much his nephew had grown, and thought about Butch and the people of the estate.
“Thinking about old times?”
Marie asked from beneath the covers. She had woken up at some point and lay there with the blanket pulled to her chin.
“Huh? Ah, yeah.”
“Your father seemed like a good person.”
“He's probably not very talkative. Didn't you see my brother? Or my sister-in-law?”
“I met them briefly. We didn't have time to talk much.”
“Really? Hmm... Want me to show you around the estate?”
“Yeah.”
Ricart filled a basin with water, washed quickly, and put on a clean set of clothes that had been neatly folded. They seemed to be his brother's clothes.
They fit perfectly.
His meteoric iron sword had broken, and only his dagger remained.
Just like when he had left this place.
Even though the meteoric iron sword had broken, its materials were so valuable that he could have had it repaired at a smithy or sold it for a high price.
It was a shame, but he did not dwell on it.
Marie wore a practical blue dress. It seemed to belong to his sister-in-law, but it was a little short because Marie was tall. The hem should have reached her calves, but it ended above her knees.
It did not matter that the fit was imperfect. This was not a city, so no one cared about fashion.
Marie gathered her long hair, twisted it into a bun, and finished making herself presentable. Then Ricart left the room with her.
No, before that, Marie called to him.
“Wait.”
“Hm?”
Ricart turned around, and Marie tugged him closer by his clothes and kissed him.
There was nothing embarrassing about it anymore. This much felt natural now.
They looked at each other with eyes shining like stars and smiled.
Then they opened the door again and left the room. The manor was not very large, so the hallway was short. They soon went to greet his sister-in-law in her room.
Aileen was sewing, while Ricart's nephew, dressed in girls' clothes, fidgeted beside her.
Dressing young boys in girls' clothes was both a tradition and a superstition. People believed it would help them grow up healthy and live long without constant illness.
Ricart had worn them too.
Until he was five.
Until the age of ten, boys wore boys' and girls' clothes freely. But from ten onward, they wore only boys' clothes. People expected them to become manly and do an adult's share of work.
And Ricart was doing the work of one person, no, more than that.
“Sister-in-law, I'm going to show Marie around the estate.”
“Oh? You're finished already?”
“What? Finished with what? No.”
His sister-in-law smiled as if she knew everything.
It wasn't like that, honestly.
“Say hello. This is your second uncle.”
His three-year-old nephew hid beside his mother, poked half his face out, and gave a quick bow. He did not seem scared so much as shy.
“You should greet him properly.”
“H-Hello. I'm Fwitswit.”
His nephew's name was Fritzlit. He had only recently begun speaking, so his pronunciation was not yet perfect.
“Hello. Call me Uncle Ricky.”
“I'm Marie. I'll be your aunt someday.”
Marie boldly introduced herself.
It was not wrong. She was supposed to become engaged to the winner of the swordsmanship tournament, and Ricart had won.
The family had also heard a brief explanation of what had happened yesterday, so they all knew about Marie.
Only Ricart felt awkward.
“Are you feeling a little better?”
His sister-in-law asked.
Ricart did not want to worry her, so he did not mention that his lungs were not well.
“Yes. You don't need to worry.”
“What about food? We should at least serve my future sister-in-law a proper meal.”
“Ha ha ha...”
“I’m fine. Ricky will take care of feeding me.”
“My, how improper.”
“What? I-I was improper?”
“I’m joking. Young Master Ricky has always been good at finding himself something to eat wherever he went.”
His sister-in-law seemed to want to keep teasing him. They had not been this close before, but perhaps Ricart had grown so much that she felt more comfortable speaking freely to him.
So she had a playful side.
Maybe she had wanted to be friends with Bilter and Ricart once they grew older. They had been children back then, after all.
“Your father and my husband will return around evening. You know that, right?”
No matter what happened, the whole family had to eat dinner together.
“Of course. We’ll be back by dinner.”
Then he took Marie's hand and left his brother and sister-in-law's room. There was nothing to see in the defensive tower attached to the castle, so Ricart went straight out into the courtyard.
There, village women were carrying all kinds of things around. Since this was a rural estate, there were no separate servants or hired workers. The women of the village came to help with odd jobs.
If there were not enough hands, even the lord's wife had to clean up livestock manure or carry things.
That was Stormhertz.
“Young Master!”
“Hello.”
“My, you've grown so much. And your bride is lovely too.”
No one disliked being called beautiful.
A bright smile bloomed on Marie's face.
“You are beautiful too, ma'am.”
“Ho ho ho. You are good at flattery.”
“By the way, is there anything to eat?”
Ricart asked.
“You aren't having a proper meal? You still go about picking things up and eating them here and there. There is fresh butter. The bread was baked recently, so it should still be soft.”
“I don't just pick things up and eat them. We’ll be going now.”
Ricart said with a smile.
When they went to the food storehouse, they found freshly delivered butter and bread.
Ricart sliced a large loaf with his dagger, gave some to Marie, and spread it generously with butter. Then they each took an apple and left the courtyard.
They wandered through the estate while chewing.
The houses stood scattered apart, and the fields, freshly harvested, looked like shaved heads.
There was much to do in autumn, so everyone seemed busy.
Still, they looked happy.
For now, there was plenty to eat.
“I’m jealous.”
Marie said as they walked together.
“Hm? Of what?”
“Everyone likes you.”
“When I was little, everyone called me gentle Young Master Ricky. I guess I was obedient. I didn't throw tantrums, cry, or cause trouble.”
“Really? That is different from you now.”
“Why? What am I like now?”
“You are incredibly stubborn.”
“You are the same, Marie. But we get along well.”
“True.”
It was strange that two stubborn people got along so well.
But in a way, they were not simply stubborn for no reason. They were usually gentle, but once they made an important decision, neither could be swayed.
“There is a place in those hunting grounds where I used to play as a child. Let’s go there.”
“Okay.”
Ricart and Marie crossed a field of autumn flowers and entered the forest. Before long, they reached a place where a small stream flowed.
It was where he had built a hideout and played with the older boys from the village.
But the hideout was still there.
The village children were nowhere to be seen, probably because they were helping with the harvest.
A crude yet charming little hut stood between large trees. Now, it looked just big enough for Ricart to squeeze into if he curled himself up tightly.
“Looks like children still play like this.”
As he spoke, a satisfied smile spread across Ricart's face.
“When the sun started setting after we played here, my eldest brother used to carry me home on his shoulders. We would watch the sunset over the fields.”
Those days came vividly back to him.
Bilter would beg to be carried too, but his eldest brother would say he was too heavy. Then Bilter would sulk.
Later, Bilter would say he would carry Ricart on his shoulders instead, only to find that he was too heavy to stand up.
Ricart felt warm inside, but also a little sad.
It was nostalgia. Longing.
Even though he had returned home, those days would never come again.
“Let’s go over there.”
“Okay.”
Marie followed where Ricart led, walking through his childhood.
Ricart rarely spoke of his hometown or family, so even small things felt special.
And Marie had grown up in a bleak, cruel, and harsh household, so it seemed even more special to her. Her wish had been to become free, after all.
She truly envied Ricart, but she also found herself drawn to him once more.
Seeing his happy childhood, even indirectly, made her feel that they could live happily together.
They could have children, raise them, grow old, and perhaps even face death happily.
Ricart and Marie wandered through Stormhertz that way.
When they were tired, they sat and rested. When they were hungry, they were offered soup or stew. They greeted familiar people they had not seen in a long time.
Everyone smiled brightly whenever they saw Ricart.
No one feared him for being a noble, nor did anyone treat him with uncomfortable formality. They all seemed to see him as their own child or younger brother.
To Marie, it was strange.
It felt like a dream.
Rural places were naturally closed communities with a strong sense of unity. When that went badly, it could become like stagnant water turning foul.
But Stormhertz had remarkably strong bonds and solidarity.
Because it was so closed off, even though Ricart had gained tremendous fame in the outside world, the people here only heard bits and pieces and assumed he must be doing well.
What mattered to them was living while preserving their own way of life.
Ricart preferred it that way.
He liked that they treated him as they always had.
The people of Stormhertz hoped they would never have to worry about their next meal. When someone struggled, they helped as if it were their own problem. When war came, they answered the call and fulfilled their duty.
They were simple people, but strong.
Perhaps such things had greatly shaped Ricart's inner self.
In his previous life, he had pursued death without destination, yet had been too busy struggling to survive on his own.
Before long, the sun began to set.
On the way back, Ricart suddenly squatted down and patted his shoulders.
“Get on.”
Marie let out a small laugh, but thought it sounded fun.
So she climbed onto Ricart's shoulders without refusing.
Ricart rose in one easy motion, as if he could not feel her weight at all.
“Ah! Tell me before you stand up!”
Marie nearly lost her balance, but grabbed Ricart's head and held on.
Ricart laughed as he returned to the castle.
The sunset over the autumn fields.
It was a perfect day.
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