WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 88

──────

The scenes of people living their lives that Ricart saw from the boat were difficult to describe.

Under the cool autumn sunlight, some places were no different from hell itself, while others still went on with their peaceful daily lives.

Of course, even where life looked ordinary on the surface, a shadow of anxiety surely hung over it all.

That was why people locked their city gates tight, enforced strict curfews, armed themselves with swords and spears, and watched outsiders with suspicion.

Most trade had frozen over. But more people than ever were looking for adventurers.

Weapons merchants made fortunes, demand for iron rose, and robber barons prowled the roads like wolves, hoping to make a killing.

No great insight into the times was needed. No matter how ignorant they were, everyone instinctively knew what kind of situation they were in.

Every person for themselves.

Communities in every city and village drew close together. On a smaller scale, blood relatives clung to one another. On an even smaller scale, people could trust only themselves.

That was the kind of world it was becoming. The people of Ernberg had also drawn closer among themselves and become more hostile toward other regions.

At least, from the outside, nothing seemed seriously wrong yet.

“Is Count Reinhold all right with this? Hasn’t he said anything?”

Ricart asked Volka, who was rolling barrels and lining them neatly against the wall.

Count Reinhold was the lord of the territory that included Ernberg. Depending on which course the lord chose, the merchants, craftsmen, and other interest groups under him would either follow or leave.

In other words, how severely the Church of Judgment would be suppressed rested in his hands.

“The Count doesn’t seem to care much. The problem is headquarters.”

“Why headquarters?”

“They say they’re offering bounties whenever someone roots out and turns in a Church member.”

“They aren’t forcing us, right? We don’t have to do it?”

As Ricart kept asking questions whose meaning was obvious, Volka leaned against a barrel, planted his elbow on it, and looked at him.

“Ricky, I’m responsible for this branch. Our clan alone has ten people now. You don’t know the new arrivals, do you? And besides our clan, there are five more under me. That comes to nearly fifty people altogether. Some adventurers have families. Opportunities to make money like this are rare. Can I really tell them not to take them?”

Things were different from the past. It was no longer the time when they were simply happy to see each other, laughed together, trusted each other with their backs, and completed requests.

There were too many people depending on them now. Volka had to take responsibility for them.

“...Sorry. I didn’t think of that.”

“I’m not going to inform on anyone. I won’t abandon Ice either. Even if it causes losses, I’ll accept them. But if I have to choose, my decision is already made.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks. And congratulations.”

“For what?”

“I heard you got engaged to Marie.”

“Ah...”

Ricart gave a faint laugh.

“It was pretty tragic for an engagement ceremony.”

That incident had happened during the final match, so it had not exactly been a joyous engagement.

Volka nearly tore open the lid of the barrel he had brought over, filled a dirty wooden cup, and drank. Beyond the wall came the noisy voices of adventurers inside the branch building.

“But are you sure it was Rubens?”

“Marie said she heard it clearly. They were talking about Lorenz and all that.”

“Then it means war...”

The world was already in turmoil because of the Emperor’s death and the Church of Judgment, but adventurers had their own concerns as well.

They could not simply overlook the attempt on Ricart’s life. Not as branch chief, not as clan leader, and not as a friend.

For people who made their living by the blade, settling favors and grudges was more important than life itself. If they failed to settle a grudge, they would be finished.

Reputation mattered more than anything in this world. If someone acted like a coward, those beneath them would eventually leave.

“You must be busy enough already. We should find another way.”

It was a loud, busy time. Ironically, the more chaotic the world became, the more adventurers prospered.

But that was not entirely a good thing. More work meant more knife fights, and more knife fights meant a higher death rate.

Ricart had no intention of letting things go if he encountered the Rubens Guild, but he thought it would be too much to deliberately seek them out and start trouble.

Ernberg was only a branch, while their opponent was not a single clan but a guild. Their scale was different.

“No. They attacked you, so the answer is already decided. The question is how we do it, not whether we do it.”

But Volka spoke firmly, without the slightest hesitation.

The Viola Clan was already known across the north-central region as a legendary force of fighters. Ernberg was also the greatest force among the branches.

Perhaps because he had become the leader of such a group, Volka’s judgment and decisiveness had sharpened.

He had always possessed those traits, but he felt more grown up now. He gave off the air of an organization’s boss.

Ricart was thirteen years old. Volka was eighteen. A swordsman’s prime lasted from their late teens to their mid-twenties. After that, most either retired or died.

To survive into one’s thirties or forties and continue working as an adventurer was remarkable in itself. Dunkel was one such person, as had been the former Thorweil branch chief.

In any case, Ricart felt both proud and burdened by Volka’s words. Just as he had cared for his friends, they cared for him too.

The oath of vengeance they had sworn in Griffinswald faintly came to mind. Molty and Lara had retired early. Were the others doing well?

Volka gulped down lukewarm beer and spoke.

“Let’s do this. I think we should get Ice out of town for a while. Ice can see your vengeance through, Ricky. So talk to him properly.”

“I’ll go too.”

“Didn’t you say your lungs were bad?”

“I heard the person who made the poison has the exact antidote.”

“...”

Volka silently stared at Ricart.

“Why?”

“I used to think you were just brave. But now, I think you’re the type who doesn’t care whether you die.”

Volka still could not forget it. Back at the Academy, when they had gone out to support a request and Molty had fallen injured, Ricart had gone out alone to fight.

Volka had been so shocked that he thought Ricart was insane. But when Ricart returned after driving off the enemies, it had shattered his common sense.

Ricart was incredibly skilled, of course, but even so, his indifference before cold blades was strange.

“Is that so?”

Ricart did not care much about how others saw him, but sometimes other people could see things about him that he did not know himself. Since it was his friend saying it, perhaps Volka was right.

Still, he did not think too deeply about it.

“Watch yourself, if only for Marie’s sake. We aren’t knights. If things go bad, we can run.”

“Got it.”

“Rest as long as you want before you go. Marie will follow if you leave, and Bori will probably come too. Honestly, if it’s the four of you including Ice, taking down a whole guild probably won’t be that hard.”

Ricart, Boribori, Ice, and Marie were swordsmen on a different level from ordinary adventurers.

Their reputations were already widespread, and Marie’s fame had risen especially high lately. Perhaps she had left a deep impression on people during the Emperor’s assassination. People had begun calling her the Sword Witch.

She was also the first female Sword Master. Because of that, Marie was the idol of many female adventurers.

Volka did not order those four around in a one-sided manner as though they stood below him. Unlike ordinary adventurers, he managed them loosely.

And, when it came down to it, they were a group of four far more terrifying than the Ernberg Five had been.

Maybe it was because they were so strong that they could still remain friends.

“But don’t you need permission from headquarters?”

“Why would we need permission to take revenge? We should notify them.”

“...Is that really right?”

“If necessary, I’ll split from headquarters too. Not because of Ice, but because it’s necessary.”

“Uh... why?”

“It’s hard to explain. In the end, I don’t think I can stay beneath someone else for long.”

Volka seemed to have troubles of his own. He did not go into battle as often as before, but life as a manager did not seem easy either.

Perhaps life had been easier when he only accepted the work given to him and did not have to think about anything else. The shoulders of a man responsible for many people and households looked heavy.

He had his own path. Looking at Volka, Ricart suddenly remembered being ten years old.

Just as he had parted ways with his brothers at a turning point in his life then, it seemed that friends’ paths could diverge at this age as well.

It did not mean they would part because of hurt feelings. It simply happened naturally.

Would I eventually be left alone on the road of life? No, Marie is here. Like Volka said, is it time to be more careful? I don’t know. Life is difficult.

Ricart sat beside Volka, who had lowered his head.

“Give me a drink too.”

“Hm?”

“When I visited home, my brother taught me to drink. It didn’t taste very good, but I could handle it.”

“Really? Don’t tell me you drank wine?”

“How did you know?”

“Nobles always insist on drinking wine. It doesn’t even taste good. They say the north has always been for beer and the south for wine. I’ll teach you properly.”

For the first time in a while, a boyish gleam returned to Volka’s dull eyes. It was fun teaching a friend who knew nothing about alcohol.

“How are things with Delphi? When are you two getting married?”

“Marriage? All we have to do is swear before a priest. We could do it anytime.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Love? Come on! It’s loyalty, that’s all!”

“Delphi would be upset if she heard that.”

“There are so many things you know nothing about besides swords. Today, I’m setting you straight. I’ll teach you properly about alcohol and women.”

Volka spoke as if frustrated, while Ricart merely grinned.

One cup, then two. Beer with a sour smell went down their throats. The more they drank, the more pointless stories flowed out. They burst into loud laughter over the smallest things.

Perhaps that was what was good about having friends. Even empty conversations could fill the heart.

Ignoring reality was not good, but sometimes people needed to look away and clear their heads. Perhaps that was the appeal of alcohol. Sharing a drink with a friend made it taste twice as good.

The farther a lord was from the Imperial Capital of Nibelungen, the more lukewarm their response tended to be toward the Emperor’s death. Put simply, their attitude was, what does the Emperor’s death have to do with me?

But they could not escape the aftermath of that incident. Like an earthquake spreading from its epicenter, people followed one another’s lead, and peasant uprisings broke out everywhere.

In truth, peasant uprisings had existed for a long time. Some were small, while others were large. But this time was different because it seemed as though some force was leading them.

In any case, it had always been dangerous to leave populated areas, but times like these were far more dangerous.

Robbers did not walk around with the word robber written on their foreheads. Nor were they born that way.

In an age like this, when the timing was right, anyone could become a robber. Knights, soldiers, veterans, mercenaries, adventurers, merchants, even gentle farmers and woodcutters.

When meeting someone on the road, one could never afford to look weak. Robbers picked on people they could prey on. They did not rob just anyone.

Because of the situation, powerless people continued gathering around lords’ castles and Adventurer Guilds.

They were mostly elderly people, women, and children who had lost the head of their household. They thought those places were at least somewhat safe.

The Rubens Guild made money from such people. They charged them for space, forced women to sell their bodies, dragged the elderly away for labor and stole their wages, and sometimes sold the children.

Perhaps one could say they were making profit by putting people considered useless to work. But after the Emperor’s death, they had lost their restraints just like everyone else.

Adventurers had always claimed that they would not commit illegal acts. Now they no longer had to worry about appearances and did whatever they pleased.

The Rubens Guild had been pushed back by the Beringen Guild and had suffered at Ricart’s hands several times, so they were desperate to make up their losses.

That made them even more ruthless, merciless, and crazed. Strangely enough, even people who had not been cruel before could become addicted to cruelty once they started committing it.

Southwest of Beringen City, west of Griffinswald, and north of Rainfurt lay a small town surrounded by impressive reed beds.

It was called Zelle, a town with no trade worth mentioning, where people bought and sold surplus crops from nearby villages.

But now, people who were refugees in all but name had gathered there, building shacks and pitching tents in clusters around the town.

About one in ten was an adult man. The rest were all women, elderly people, or children.

Rural women caked powder onto their faces and tried calling customers over from outside their tents, but there were so few men that business was poor.

So they barely called out at all. They only sat there with gloomy faces and slumped shoulders. It was a tragedy where even women who had resorted to selling their bodies could not find anyone to buy them.

Then, in a place made lonely by autumn leaves, four outsiders appeared. Three were tall, while one was short.

They all wore long cloaks with their hoods pulled low, so their faces could not be seen. Judging by their builds, they looked like men.

The one in a red cape stood out in particular.

“Um... excuse me, gentlemen? No, princes? Could you look this way?”

“Over here! I-I’ll show you a hot time! I-I really will...”

“Please, look over here just a moment. A child is starving. Please.”

They were not professional prostitutes, so their calls were awkward. Some were not even calling for customers so much as begging.

But the four outsiders seemed uninterested in the women. They raised their heads slightly and looked around. Their attention settled not on the women, but on five or six adventurers near the makeshift red-light district.

Those adventurers had also been watching the suddenly appearing outsiders closely, planning to rob them if the chance came.

Anyone could see it was dangerous, but the four walked toward them without hesitation.

Sensing that something was off, the Rubens adventurers moved their hands to the hilts at their waists and held out their palms.

“Hey, stop. Don’t come any closer.”

The person in the red cape at the front stopped a short distance away.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“You don’t know who we are? We’re the Rubens Guild. There are a hundred swordsmen behind us. You’d better not try anything stupid.”

The red-caped figure removed their hood. Golden hair shone under the autumn sunlight.

It was Ricart.

Ricart calmly swept his gaze over the surroundings before speaking to the adventurers of the Rubens Guild.

“My lungs are bad because of you guys, so I can’t talk for long. I’ll let one person live, so you decide. Who lives, and who dies?”

No one answered. A strange silence settled over the place. Only the sound of reeds brushing in the wind could be heard.

Reeds that grew taller than a person never grew alone. They grew in great numbers along rivers and wetlands.

Their white feathery tips bent softly, as if bowing their heads. When the wind swept through, they only bent in its direction.

They might have lacked firmness, but even amid harsh storms, they retained their peculiar calmness. They almost seemed dignified.

At times, they seemed to reflect the human heart. They resembled those who had grown used to misery and lived weakly, swept this way and that.

The people living beside the reed beds were like that. They were helpless before merciless violence, but they kept living.

Yet there were people who did not belong with them or with the reeds. It was as though predators hidden in the reed beds had revealed themselves.

“But who should do it?”

Boribori spoke.

“It’s the first time, so we need to shock them. Bori should do it.”

“...I understand the shock, but why me?”

“Marie, block that side. Ice, that side.”

Ignoring Boribori’s question, Ricart openly gave orders in front of their opponents.

There were six adventurers, while the smaller group split up to make sure none could escape.

The Rubens adventurers guarding the makeshift red-light area felt both dumbfounded and uneasy.

Some frowned hard to look as threatening as possible. Some forced their faces stiff to hide their fear. Others simply thought Ricart’s group was arrogant. Each of the six felt differently.

“What is this supposed to be? What are you trying to do to us?”

“Who do you belong to? You dare lay hands on a guild!?”

“We tried to settle this peacefully, but I guess that won’t work!”

Like frightened dogs barking, the adventurers raised their voices. But none stepped within sword range.

Boribori drew his sword with a sulky expression. The Ghost Sword looked matte, almost as though it had been treated to dull its shine. Even in the sunlight, it reflected no light and looked somehow hazy.

“You’d better make sure your arms and legs are tied on tight. If you’re lucky enough to block even one, you’ll only lose your head.”

It was a terrifying statement that made little sense. But Boribori was not mocking them. It was a sincere warning. No matter whether anyone believed it, Boribori did not want to cut people into pieces either.

Boribori stepped forward and swung the sword in one hand. He was not a Sword Master, but the sheer amount of mana he possessed drew distinct black lines through the air.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Slice! Whoosh!

Characters were carved into the air in an instant, and everything in their paths was cut apart. Limbs, heads, and torsos pattered down. An enormous amount of blood spread across the ground.

The adventurers nearby felt their hair stand on end. Some collapsed to the ground.

It was such a brutal, shocking sight that even the women watching anxiously nearby felt their throats close up. Their neck muscles tightened as they let out strangled Ghk sounds.

After lightly stepping aside to avoid the blood, Boribori carved large characters toward the terrified, frozen adventurers.

The Ghost Sword swept once in each direction, left and right, then diagonally. It made several strokes before finishing with a dot.

Then the mangled human bodies came tumbling down.

“Wow...”

Marie, who had become a Sword Master, could not help but admire it. She knew Boribori’s swordsmanship well, but it was always strange and terrifying to watch.

One person remained alive, sitting on the ground and wetting himself. It was not a mistake. Boribori had deliberately spared him because Ricart had ordered it.

Boribori pulled over the hem of his cloak, wiped his sword, and sheathed it. Ricart, who had only watched from behind, then walked up to the survivor.

“I understand that you’re out of your mind right now, but I still want you to remember my words clearly. Go tell your Guild Master that Ricky has come. You can choose one of three things. First, your Guild Master dies as your representative. Second, your entire guild suffers devastating losses. Third, hand over the antidote. Go.”

After delivering his one-sided terms, Ricart emptied the cash box and scattered its contents across the street. The coins jingled cheerfully, but no one dared to pick them up.

Then Ricart left with his friends. Unlike when they had arrived, no one called after them.

Once again, only the sound of reeds brushing in the wind could be heard.

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