WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 99
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Traveling a long distance was truly exhausting and difficult.
Walking for a long time was hard enough, but there were also the difference between day and night temperatures, uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, thirst, and hunger. All of it had to be endured at once.
There were no maps. They did not know how far they were going, so they did not know how long it would take.
It was an age when many simple country folk believed they would die if they left their villages. Most people never went beyond the place where they lived for their entire lives.
Thus, going on a long journey meant preparing oneself for death.
In such an environment, children grew up quickly. They rarely cried or whined, because they unconsciously knew they might truly be abandoned if they did.
They knew the adults' patience was as dry as a river in the dry season. They also knew that once it filled a little, the adults would reach out a hand on their own.
Patience was armor that even a six-year-old child had to possess.
Hartmann's son Roy walked without complaint. No matter how tired he was, he had never shown it.
Instead, he wanted to grow up quickly so he could carry his sister's things, then grow more so he could carry his mother's things, then grow even more so he could carry his father's things. It only frustrated him that time would not pass faster.
There were things one naturally learned by following adults. Open ground had to be crossed as quickly as possible. Forests had to be traveled only along their edges. Mountain passes were difficult, but at least somewhat safer from mounted bandit gangs.
That was why they were crossing a difficult mountain pass even now. Naturally, the ox cart's wheels rattled more violently than usual.
Then, with a crack, a wheel came off.
The people looked over in surprise, while the ox kept dragging the cart for a while, unaware that it had broken.
“Whoa, whoa.”
“Damn it.”
The procession stopped. Roy thought the repairs would probably take a long time. He would get to rest.
Thank you, ox. For letting me rest.
Oxen had such pretty eyes.
The adults' expressions were grave. Putting the wheel back on would not solve anything. The axle itself had broken.
It had held up for a long time, really.
“Throw away what needs throwing away.”
Bremen looked over the scattered household belongings as he spoke.
“This is my wealth. I can't throw it away.”
Geyser frowned, sounding slightly irritated. His tone seemed to say, Who are you to tell me whether I can throw away my property?
Bremen had not grown old for nothing, and he did not waver easily.
“You won't starve to death without a few pieces of furniture. Since things have come to this, I recommend using them as firewood. It looks like we can make camp a little farther on.”
“...”
“If you don't want to throw them away, have your children carry them instead of the ox.”
One of the young men in the group spoke mockingly. He had no family and always stuck close to two friends around his age.
Geyser hesitated, unable to decide what to do. Hartmann, who had been watching from a short distance away, approached him.
“Is there anything you absolutely need to take? I'll help you.”
Hartmann's own load was far from light. Even so, he was saying that if there was something Geyser absolutely needed, he would carry some of it.
“...”
Geyser said nothing before calling over his three daughters and son. Then he threw out all the furniture and kept only necessities for living, such as tin pots, a ladle, bowls, sacks of provisions, salt, a tent, and blankets.
He loaded those things back onto the ox and decided to carry the rest himself.
“Could I borrow your axe?”
Hartmann lent him his woodcutting axe, and Geyser began splitting the furniture he had cherished for so long. But chopping wood was harder than it looked if one was not used to it, and he could not split it as well as he expected.
He only wasted his strength and panted heavily. Then Hartmann silently took back the axe and split every piece in a single blow, precisely along the grain.
Crack! Thwack! Crack! Crack!
Then he tied the pieces together with rope like actual firewood and placed them atop his own load. Once he put it on his back, the stack rose far above his head.
“Looks like we have another ox.”
Bremen smiled. Hartmann truly seemed like the very image of a strong, sturdy man.
The group set off again. Step by difficult step, they climbed the mountain pass.
Bremen had said they would find a campsite nearby, but even after crossing the pass, they walked for another two hours.
Only in the late afternoon, when the sun had already dipped low, did Bremen suggest resting at the foot of the mountain. No matter how strong he was, Hartmann set down his load and rubbed his shoulders.
Roy hurried over and began rubbing his father's shoulders. It did not really help much, but his son's earnest hands made Hartmann smile anyway.
“That feels good.”
The women gathered firewood, lit a fire, placed pots over it, and prepared dinner.
But here, the difference between those with families and those without became clear. Those with families each had a role, and they had a boundary around them.
For an unmarried mother with a child and no husband, moments like this were especially awkward. During the day, she could simply travel along with the others, but at night, being alone became obvious.
They were little things, but she did not have what everyone else took for granted. It made her feel small and ashamed.
So she would take poorly ground grain somewhere out of sight, soak it in water, and quietly eat it.
It was less a meal than a way to fill her stomach. Then she would breastfeed her son.
She was eighteen years old.
That evening, as she was about to do the same thing again, someone called to her.
“Ma’am, come eat with us.”
Dalia did not realize they were calling her and did not respond.
“Ma’am. Ma’am.”
Only when she realized someone was calling to her did she turn and see Hartmann's wife, Elia.
“Yes? Me?”
“Yes, ma’am. The soup is warm. Please try some.”
Dalia blinked with a dazed expression. She had received kindness like this so rarely in her life that she could not understand what was happening.
In the end, Elia had to stand and take her by the hand.
When Dalia sat down at one side of the campfire with a blank expression, Roy asked her, “What is the baby's name?”
“...Huh? Ah, Riche. His name is Riche.”
“Does it mean he will become rich?”
Roy's sister Beka asked.
“No... I want him to become a person of dignity...”
Dalia answered shyly. She knew that the word dignity did not suit a prostitute. But a mother wanted her son to be different.
“It is a lovely name.”
“What is your name, ma’am?”
“Ah, I'm Dalia.”
It was exactly the kind of name a prostitute would have. But Hartmann's family knew little about that sort of world, so they simply thought it was an exotic and pretty name.
Elia ladled soup from the pot and handed it to Dalia. In truth, it was little more than thin, pale porridge.
Dalia accepted the wooden bowl with both hands. After watching the others cautiously for a while, she took a sip.
It was warm.
As she felt the warmth, a tear rolled down her cheek before she knew it.
“From now on, eat with us.”
Elia spoke, but Dalia could not answer no matter how much she wanted to. Her throat was too tight. If she spoke, she felt she would burst into sobs.
Hartmann's family understood, so they did not say anything more.
The others simply watched as Hartmann's family showed kindness to the unmarried mother who had once been a prostitute.
They too felt something stir in their hearts. But the world was so harsh that they treated it as something passing and moved on.
Dusk settled, and full night arrived. People spread out their bedding in their own groups and tried to sleep, while the men prepared to take turns on night watch as they had arranged.
Then they heard someone approaching through the darkness.
At first, they tensed, but once they realized there was only one set of footsteps, they thought it might be a traveler.
But it was not.
It was a man in a leather outer garment, with a sword at his waist.
Even after seeing how many people were in the group, he showed no fear. Instead, he stared at them openly. Standing with his weight on one leg, he casually said, “You lot, right? The ones who killed Bilki.”
“...”
Some shrank back at the stranger's provocative attitude, while others tensed up.
“We don't know anyone like that,” Bremen said.
“Old man, I came here knowing everything. Someone in your group killed Bilki.”
It seemed that the man Hartmann had killed was Bilki. It was natural to wonder how the stranger knew, but asking around would have revealed it quickly enough.
More people knew than did not know that someone carrying an axe had followed Bremen.
“We said we don't know. Don't accuse innocent people for nothing. There are six men among us. If you want to fight, your side will have to accept losses too.”
The stranger gave a small laugh.
“Looks like this old man has truly lost his sense. But don't jump to conclusions yet. I came to make a very reasonable proposal. Hand over the one who killed Bilki, or hand over one woman, or give us one ox. Then we'll pretend none of this happened. You have three choices. An offer like this is rare. Pick whatever you want.”
“And if we refuse?”
“Unpleasant things will happen as soon as dawn breaks tomorrow.”
It was not a proposal. It was simply a threat.
Hartmann had remained silent, but he seemed unable to bear it any longer. Whether it was the right thing to do or not, his nature seemed unable to endure injustice.
“I killed him because he tried to harm my family. Why should we bargain?”
The bandit looked quietly at Hartmann and his family before answering.
“Your wife and children are alive, while our companion is dead. I would say that makes this offer very merciful.”
“Did he have a daughter?”
“What?”
“Did this Bilki have a daughter?”
“I don't know. Who knows where he spilled his seed?”
“Then there can be no bargain to begin with. Not unless his daughter suffers the same thing.”
“...Hm. Is that how it works? I don't know. Anyway, you have until morning. Think it over carefully.”
It was not an age when notions of fairness or justice had been firmly established. There was no use arguing.
The bandit walked away into the darkness and vanished from sight. An uneasy silence passed through the group. Only the sound of the campfire could be heard.
Bremen, their guide and a kind of leader, spoke first.
“I'll say this now. We will hand over no one.”
“How?”
“Because I promised every person here that I would take them to the Eastern Frontier.”
“What are you saying? That we should all die together?”
“There is no need to say that the woodcutter is the strongest among us. If we hand him over, we become weaker, and they won't leave a weakened group alone. Don't expect bandits to keep their word. Second, we can't hand over a woman. As I said before, I made a promise to everyone here. The least costly price is the ox.”
“Don't say such nonsense!”
Geyser shouted into the quiet night.
It was understandable. This was an age when an ox was more precious than a person's life. It was the greatest wealth a commoner could possess.
“Why not just hand over that whore?”
One of the three young men who always traveled together spoke.
Dalia froze in fear.
“I, I paid. I definitely paid.”
“Is there anyone here who didn't pay? But you're the most useless one. What you paid was simply the price for guidance. It wasn't protection money. Do you have money to buy supplies along the way? Are you going to keep mooching off us?”
“M-Money, I can... I can find a way to get it.”
“Sell your body when we reach a city? Right, a leopard can't change its spots. What kind of whore joins a traveling group?”
“Watch your mouth!”
Elia shouted.
She went this far for Dalia because over the last few days, she had seen how responsibly Dalia cared for her son. As a mother herself, Elia could not bear it.
In a way, Hartmann should have been responsible for the current situation. Yet no one suggested handing him over.
That was because a strong adult man was what the group needed most right now. No, men like that were desperately needed everywhere in those times. Healthy men died constantly in wars and all sorts of other conflicts.
When a crisis came, it was the nature of a group to sacrifice the weakest person first. It could not simply be called good or bad, because that was ordinary human nature.
Even so, there were always people who overcame it.
Such people were called heroes.
“Where is the shepherd named Ricky?”
A young voice cut through the adults' argument.
It was Roy.
A few people frowned, wondering why a little brat was butting in, while others clicked their tongues at the state of his upbringing.
But Bremen listened to Roy.
“Hush. Wait. Everyone, be quiet.”
After shouting at one another in the middle of the night, everyone fell silent for a moment. Bremen calculated the distance between their current location and the places where the shepherd he knew tended sheep.
A shepherd traveled over a wide area, so they would have difficulty meeting him unless they went to his home. But Bremen had only encountered him by chance in the past, and he did not know where the shepherd lived.
Still, Bremen thought there was no other way now. He would not abandon people, no matter what happened.
“Prepare to move. If we travel through the night, we may be able to find that shepherd.”
“Fuck, what the hell is that supposed to mean...”
Geyser could not believe that they had to place their final hope in some ridiculous shepherd. If they just offered up one whore, it would all be over.
But Hartmann's family agreed with Bremen first and began packing their belongings. Naturally, Dalia followed them, and since Hartmann seemed the most reliable, the three young men also decided to follow.
“Ah, Father...”
One of Geyser's daughters called to him.
Geyser cursed under his breath and packed his things.
Walking through the night without sleep was hardship beyond words. And even though they knew it could reveal their position, they had to carry torches as they traveled.
Before they had walked for even a few hours, the children began to tire. Hartmann threw away one thing after another and carried the children on his back. He even threw away precious food.
They had to survive first.
Elia also discarded household belongings and carried someone else's child. Dalia held her own son in front of her and carried another child on her back.
One might have thought it would be better to put them on the ox, but the ox was already loaded down with luggage.
It was a night march that would have been hard even for ordinary soldiers, and unfortunately, the bandits followed them.
As expected, they must have been waiting nearby. Perhaps they would have attacked whether the group offered them an ox or a woman.
Perhaps finding it difficult to fight in the dark themselves, the bandits only kept following at a fixed distance. For those being pursued, it was exhausting physically, but even harder mentally.
“Fuck. Fuck,” slipped from their mouths without thought.
At some point, they were so exhausted that they forgot their sense of time and simply kept walking.
Eventually, they reached the point where their legs moved on their own even as they nodded off. Whenever they closed their eyes for a moment and opened them again, unfamiliar scenery lay before them.
Then, after the dark night, day slowly began to break.
When they could barely make out their surroundings, the bandits behind them quickened their pace and charged forward.
Startled, Hartmann hurriedly handed the son he had been carrying to his daughter.
“No matter what, protect your brother!”
“Father!”
His daughter called out desperately, but Hartmann gripped his axe and faced ten-odd bandits.
Beka did not know what to do. Then Dalia grabbed her and pulled her away.
“Let me go! Father!”
But this was not the time to worry about her father. She needed to worry about herself more.
The bandits knew Hartmann was not easy to deal with. They only pretended to fight him while keeping him occupied at a distance.
The rest continued pursuing the others.
Only then did Beka start running. Her younger brother, who had woken up at some point, also ran across the field while holding his sister's hand.
“Wait! I surrender! I surrenderrr!”
Someone cried out in surrender. It sounded like one of the young men who traveled together.
“Not my ox! You bastards!”
As expected, the bandits were mainly after the ox.
Geyser tried to protect it until the end and was struck by a sword. Had he died? Or was he merely injured? No one knew.
Hartmann had tried to cover the rear, but when the bandits practically ignored him, he ran back and swung his axe wildly at those trying to steal the ox.
But the bandits released the reins and withdrew early. They did not foolishly fight him head-on.
These were not men who had committed robbery only once or twice.
The sky grew steadily brighter and turned a deep blue.
The frightened ox ran wildly, faster than people could. By now, the bandits could not decide whether to target the people or the ox.
As their goal wavered, their organized movements wavered too. They chased after everyone in disarray, but unfortunately, Beka and Roy had fallen farthest behind.
The bandits' hands drew closer and closer to the siblings.
Hartmann, desperately swinging his axe, saw them and shouted so hard it felt as though his heart would tear apart.
“Roy! Beka!”
Roy looked back as he ran.
The most terrifying hands in the world were close behind him.
Then he caught his foot on a stone and nearly flew forward.
Just as his face was about to strike the ground, someone lightly caught him.
Was it his sister?
No. The strength in that hand was far too steady to be his sister's.
The hand of the bandit reaching for Roy stopped.
Then his steps stopped.
The one who had caught Roy helped the boy back to his feet. In the distance, Roy saw several sheep.
When he looked up, a blond young man stood there in worn clothes, holding the sort of staff a shepherd would use.
The others also stopped running and looked back.
More precisely, they were looking at the shepherd.
“Close your eyes, kid.”
The shepherd kept his gaze on the bandit as he spoke to Roy.
Roy did as he was told and closed his eyes. Even in that desperate moment, while he was gasping for breath, he somehow felt calm.
The bandits had been chasing after them wildly, wondering why there was a shepherd here. They raised their weapons to threaten him, but unlike with Hartmann, they could not simply keep their distance and watch for an opening.
That was because the shepherd moved like the wind and closed the distance in an instant.
Whoosh!
The sound of a wooden staff cutting through the air rang out, and the bandit who had tried to seize Roy had his neck cleanly severed.
With his eyes still closed, Roy heard something heavy fall into the field, followed by the sound of a person collapsing.
There was no dying scream.
The people who had been chasing and fleeing stopped as if time itself had frozen. They stared at the shepherd.
And at the headless corpse.
He was not merely a shepherd who could fight well. He was a shepherd with skill close to magic.
The people were left dazed, unable to believe what they had seen.
But time had not truly stopped.
The sun was slowly rising.
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