WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 87
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Dr. Reno’s room in the family’s main residence was filled with strange and exotic objects.
It smelled like old wood as well. It was not an unpleasant scent. For some reason, it seemed to calm both body and mind.
Everything about it was fine, except Ricart, who had let himself be handled by a suspicious object he had never seen before, felt rather uncomfortable.
No, unpleasant.
Dr. Reno pulled open Ricart’s collar and pressed a thing called a stethoscope against his chest again and again. The cold touch against his bare skin felt unfamiliar and strange, making Ricart flinch.
“Take a breath. Slowly.”
Dr. Reno, with his round belly and thick beard, spoke with a serious expression.
Unpleasant or not, Ricart had come all this way, so he followed the doctor’s instructions. As he inhaled, his breath caught midway, and a pain like a needle stabbing his lungs shot through him.
“Again, slowly.”
Ricart faithfully obeyed. After several breaths, Dr. Reno spoke again.
“Could you force yourself to take one more breath past where it catches?”
This did not seem right, but Marie, standing beside him, gave him a look that told him to do as he was told. Ricart frowned, endured the pain, and forced himself to inhale all the way.
“Breathe out slowly.”
“Hoo...”
Dr. Reno listened intently to the sounds from inside Ricart’s body until the end, then finally removed the unpleasant stethoscope.
“Hmm... Fortunately, it doesn’t seem too serious. If the powder poisoned you, it was likely a poison from the rainbow moth family. With poison this potent, it was probably mixed with something else.”
“Then what about an antidote?”
Marie asked, but Dr. Reno wore a grave expression as he stroked his beard and shook his head.
“Only the person who made the poison knows the proper antidote. If we interfere carelessly, we could make it worse, so we can’t hastily make one. The Witches of Dawn might be different, but meeting them is as difficult as finding a dragon.”
Rainbow moths and Witches of Dawn. Ricart had never heard of any of it.
“It sounds like there’s nothing we can do for now.”
Ricart spoke. He was already thinking he should never have allowed anyone near his body.
“That’s not the case. Just a moment.”
Dr. Reno rummaged through a cluttered pile of objects and took out a small wooden box covered in dust.
In front of Ricart, whose lungs were already in poor condition, he blew the dust away, then opened the box. Inside were crystal-like pieces, dark and yellowish in color.
“This is agarwood incense used by the Salaman in their rites. They import it from the distant East as well, so it is quite precious.”
It was hardened agarwood resin. Dr. Reno picked up a piece, shaved a suitable amount onto a porcelain dish with a knife, and lit it.
It did not burst into flame. Instead, the ember slowly burned and gave off smoke.
A heavy, sweet scent quickly filled the room. It carried a strange sense of solemnity.
He held the porcelain dish beneath Ricart’s nose.
“Inhale it. Slowly and deeply.”
The foreign scent made Ricart uneasy about doing something he had never done before, but he followed the instructions. He slowly breathed in the smoke until it hurt.
At first, his chest ached, but gradually it became bearable. By the time the agarwood had burned away, the pain had vanished as if by magic.
“How do you feel?”
“Wow, what is this? I think I’m completely better.”
“No. It only eases the symptoms and pain. It does not heal your damaged lungs. Take this with you and breathe in the smoke every morning and evening. Then I believe you should look for a real treatment.”
Dr. Reno handed Ricart the small wooden box, then held out his hand.
At first, Ricart did not understand what it meant, but then he realized.
Money?
Nothing in the world was free. Even loyal knights sometimes left in the middle of war if their wages were not paid on time. In this age, contracts came before loyalty.
But Ricart had no money right now. This was an item from the distant East, and it could not be cheap.
“Ah, well...”
Just as Marie was about to say they would pay later, Dr. Reno tugged at his beard, grinned, and spoke.
“I’m joking. You are the young master, after all. I should give it to you for free. I’m not such a cold-hearted person.”
“Really? Why?”
Ricart had certain outstanding ways of thinking that went beyond his time, but there were clearly other ways in which he could not escape the ideas of his era.
So he was grateful, but he could not understand being given something for free in the purest sense.
“I did not guide your fate, young master, but I believe I served as a signpost at an important time. Whenever I heard news of you from afar, I felt anxious and proud at once. I simply feel grateful, so please consider this my return for that gratitude.”
Dr. Reno had certainly played a large part in setting Ricart on the path of an adventurer.
He had not shown it, but it seemed he had harbored guilt and regret somewhere in his heart. There was no need for that, since Ricart himself had made the decision.
Still, when Ricart adapted well and made a name for himself, Dr. Reno felt relieved and grateful.
Ricart had sensed it three years ago as well, but Dr. Reno truly was an admirable adult. In this harsh world, he was a rare person of character.
Ricart had not trusted the doctor at first, but now he was deeply moved.
“Doctor, if you ever run into trouble, don’t worry about money. Contact me anytime. I don’t know many things, but I can use a sword a little.”
“Ha ha ha. I only have small pastimes and occasionally run errands for the Count. I have no need for sharp blades. When someone is angry, I simply apologize. And if I do not voice other people’s shortcomings, there is no reason for them to bear a grudge against me. I only hope the young master and the Lady find good fortune on the path ahead.”
“Still, please take care of yourself, Doctor.”
“Ha ha, I will. By the way, recent events are truly worrying. I only hope the fire in the Imperial Capital does not spread too far.”
He meant the assassination of the Emperor, members of the imperial family, and many nobles.
“It is serious, but what can we do? A sword wielder like me can’t do much.”
“Even if you can’t do anything, you can still think. Who do you support, young master?”
“Support? Who? Of course the Crown Prince will succeed him. He has to. That is what Crown Prince means.”
“Huh? Haven’t you heard? It seems the Crown Prince died in the chaos as well. That is why the ducal house is in an uproar over whether to support the Second Prince or the Fifth Prince. That is also why the Count left in such haste for Broombeare Castle.”
They were currently at the Calderbern family’s main residence, a place Ricart had dreaded visiting. The Count was absent, leaving only the household staff behind, and Ricart had been relieved that he did not have to feel self-conscious.
But the Count had rushed away because the Crown Prince was dead.
Ricart was stunned for a moment. He had not interacted deeply with the Crown Prince, but he had still grown somewhat attached to him.
He was not overwhelmed with grief, but it was a shock.
Marie, however, seemed to feel differently. The Crown Prince had bullied her, after all.
“That little demon got what he deserved.”
“M-Marie. Even so...”
“If you hadn’t come when you did, Ricky, I would have killed him myself.”
Marie could be careless, strong-willed, and brave, but perhaps because of her bloodline and upbringing, she also had a cold side.
Dr. Reno broke into a cold sweat, apparently not expecting her to speak so harshly.
“H-ha ha ha... I suppose that is possible. In any case, with matters as they are, securing legitimacy will be important. I imagine legitimacy will go to whoever avenges the late Emperor.”
“What revenge?”
“The Church of Judgment. Wouldn’t whoever uproots it have the greatest chance of becoming the next Emperor? They say hundreds are hanged in the Imperial Capital each day. They are rooting out believers while trying to suppress the chaos.”
“...”
The Emperor had been assassinated. Of course, the Empire would not let it pass.
But when the imperial family was enraged, it was not only the Church that suffered. Everyone connected to it, along with countless innocent people, became victims.
There would probably be at least some procedure, but in reality, it was difficult to tell who was who. So they would round up everyone they suspected and beat them down. Like a wild storm sweeping through.
Ricart and Marie looked at each other. They knew who the other was thinking of without speaking.
Ice...
Ice was no longer a member of the Church, but neither had he fully cut ties with it. His heart had turned away, but his situation remained unclear.
“What is wrong?”
“Ah, nothing. It’s just... there must be so many people in the Church. Are they going to kill all of them?”
“Even after the next Emperor takes the throne, the Empire will likely continue its suppression for a while. One concern is that such things can drag on without purpose, and people grow bitter, making it even more horrific.”
“Ah...”
Had accepting Ice in the first place been a mistake? Should Ice report himself and say he had once belonged to the Church but no longer did? Ricart could not betray a friend. It was a difficult problem.
“You remember what you asked me before you went to the Academy?”
“What was that?”
“The Haiden Fields.”
The Haiden Fields were where Ricart had tended sheep in his previous life. They were where the purest person in the world sang of the stars, and where a life filled with sorrow came to an end.
They were also where endless hatred and rage toward the world had been born.
“Uh... I don’t remember well, but I suppose I did.”
“There are rumors that the Church’s holy land is there. I only heard it myself, so I do not know much. If someone found their base and rooted them out completely, they would achieve visible results. The suppression might ease somewhat afterward.”
“I see...”
At the forgotten mention of the Haiden Fields, Ricart felt so strange that he could not find anything to say.
It felt as though an echo from the past was calling to his present self.
Where are you going alone? Why are you the only one who gets to be happy?
Perhaps this was what Armand had meant when he said Ricart needed to face his past self.
Seeing Ricart grow gloomy, Marie assumed he was worried about Ice. She placed a hand on Ricart’s shoulder and comforted him.
“Let’s not give up. We did nothing wrong. That is what matters most.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Ricart forced a smile.
After exchanging a few final words with Dr. Reno, thanking him once again, and wishing each other good fortune, they said goodbye.
Ricart and Marie left the Count’s castle and walked to Rainfurt. They planned to take a boat from there straight to Ernberg.
The cool autumn wind did nothing to settle Ricart’s troubled heart. Even when Marie acted sweetly beside him, he did not feel like responding beyond forcing a smile.
The shadow of the past seemed deeper than he had thought, too deep to ignore.
The God of Judgment... What did I judge? When, whom did I judge? What had people seen in my past self?
The Demon Lord. The worst among demons. The worst among murderers. Yet, at the same time, a god who saved the powerless. There was no one in the world with a more dramatic duality than Ricky of the past.
Burdened by his worries, Ricart rented a boat with Marie in Rainfurt. They traveled upstream toward Ernberg when they passed a city burning in flames.
Had a war broken out?
Black smoke, lit from within by firelight, rose from all over the city. The people aboard the boat crowded onto the deck and watched the scene in trembling unease.
Yet the ones burning the city were neither soldiers nor bandits.
They were furious farmers and citizens.
They stormed the homes of city nobles and wealthy families, seized the masters and their households by the hair, and dragged them outside. Then they beat and kicked them to death.
Ricart could not hear what they were shouting, but it was clear they were cries pouring out everything that had built up inside them. Then they gnawed through the wealth accumulated by the rich like field mice.
The Church’s act of terror had been a trigger. It had given those who had been exploited and oppressed a reason to rise up.
The situation seemed more serious than Ricart had expected. This was not simply a matter of rooting out and suppressing the Church.
The heart of the problem was that not every territory in the world was as peaceful and pastoral as Stormhertz.
Most people lived in miserable suffering. Perhaps the Church of Judgment was the result of that suffering being condensed.
The flames consuming the city burned so fiercely that their heat reached even the boat on the river. The thick smell of burning was like the stench of a rotting monster’s heart.
And that scent seemed to arrest Ricart and pull him further and further into the past.
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