The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

The Emperor was dead. He hadn't died of old age, nor had he succumbed to illness, nor had he fallen in battle. He had been assassinated.

The pinnacle of all men, the guardian of the Empire, had been assassinated. Of course, despite such grand titles, in reality, he had been nothing more than a unremarkable man.

While Ricardt and Marie had stepped away from the storm of history that was raging on, for some reason, the Crown Prince and Bellator were dashing through the alleys of a nearby city.

They weren't the only ones, people all over the city were frantically running in all directions. Fear had spread, robbing them of their ability to make rational decisions.

Amid this chaos, some seized the opportunity to commit rape against women or engage in looting.

There were even those who, though not affiliated with the Order, revealed long-held grudges and committed murder.

It seemed unlikely that the chaos would subside anytime soon.

"Stop following me!"

Someone shouted irritably while glancing back. It was the Third Prince. The Crown Prince and Bellator had blindly followed him without knowing what was happening. Yet, even the Third Prince himself had no idea where he was fleeing.

Though he was of adult age, his mental maturity and judgment were far from that of an adult.

All he could think about was running. The assassins who had charged at them with burning eyes had completely broken his nerve.

Sticking close to his guards would have been the safest option, but how could he trust them?

When the final match of the swordsmanship tournament had ended, the nobles had been suddenly attacked by those who, for years or even decades, had been close to their victims.

The wet nurse who had fed them as infants, childhood friends, butlers who had served their families for generations, and even mistresses they had regarded as mere playthings.

When such people suddenly turned and thrust their blades, even with guards nearby, they had been defenseless against the attack.

The Third Prince dashed into an even more secluded alley, frantically searching for a place to hide, and threw open the door of what seemed to be a barn, only to find rape being committed inside by a group of men.

"What the?!"

A rough-looking man turned around and shouted menacingly, and the Third Prince, startled, quickly shut the door.

He continued to wander aimlessly until, without knowing how, he stumbled into another barn. The stench of livestock manure filled the air.

The Crown Prince and Bellator followed him inside.

"Ugh, the smell."

The Crown Prince pinched his nose, his face twisting in disgust.

"Keep quiet!"

The urgency of the situation had stripped away all decorum, and the Third Prince snapped at the Crown Prince.

Even now, the fact that the Crown Prince was complaining about the smell made him seem unbearably immature.

Outside, people continued to run in panic. At some point, the assassins were no longer the biggest problem, it was the opportunistic mobs taking advantage of the chaos. The city was practically under their control.

Screams echoed. Pleas for mercy rang out. Laughter, too.

It was sheer madness.

The Third Prince was completely absorbed in peering outside through the gaps in the rickety wooden door, while the Crown Prince desperately fanned the air to dispel the stench.

But Bellator was different. He drew a dagger from his coat. The sharp blade gleamed as it caught the sliver of light filtering through the barn's cracks. The cold glint of steel reflected in Bellator’s eyes.

The sudden brightness made him squint for a moment, but he neither closed his eyes nor looked away.

He simply waited for his vision to adjust, staring intently at the razor-sharp edge. Ricardt’s words surfaced in his mind.

'When faced with a life-or-death moment, a side of you that you didn't know exists might emerge. What's important then is not to hesitate.'

If not now, there would never be another chance. Bellator could almost hear a devil whispering in his ear.

If not now, there would never be another chance. Words like a devil's whisper seemed to reach Bellator's ears. It was his inner voice, but devils do tend to dwell in human hearts.

Bellator felt as if he could see Ricardt’s final duel playing out before his eyes.

He said to cut the stomach, but why did he stab the heart instead?

In that brief instant, did he take a calculated risk to ensure the kill? He took on the danger knowingly. I see…

In truth, Ricardt had simply snapped the rib apart with brute force, but Bellator interpreted it differently. However, his interpretation wasn't entirely wrong, after all, the heart was more fatal than the stomach.

Bellator merely thought, Then I, too, will take the risk.

"Uncle?"

The Crown Prince, still pinching his nose, turned to look at Bellator. Bellator shifted his gaze from the dagger he had been silently staring at and looked at the Crown Prince.

"Let’s do this, Your Highness. I will stab your heart. If I fail because your ribs block the attack, I will kill myself immediately. If not, I will become Emperor."

"...What?"

The Crown Prince was dumbfounded by the sudden and absurd declaration. But Bellator, following Ricardt’s teaching, did not hesitate.

Grabbing the Crown Prince’s shoulder, he angled the dagger slightly and thrust it towards the heart, from the right side, pushing inward and across to the left.

And with uncanny precision, the blade slipped through the gap between the ribs and pierced the Crown Prince’s heart.

"Hggk!"

The Crown Prince's body stiffened instantly. Even his throat froze, preventing him from screaming.

His eyes widened to an extreme. Bellator gazed at them indifferently. Then, he slowly let the Crown Prince’s body collapse onto the pile of rotten straw, heavy with the stench of manure.

Without delay, he pulled out the dagger and approached the Third Prince, who was still fixated on watching the chaos outside.

"Brother."

"Hey, I told you to be quiet! Don’t talk to me!"

Ignoring his words, Bellator wiped the blood off his hand onto the Third Prince’s clothes, then placed the dagger into his hand.

"Huh? What’s this?"

The Third Prince asked, but instead of answering, Bellator abruptly threw open the barn door. Then, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"The Third Prince has killed the Crown Prince!"

"What?"

"The Third Prince has killed the Crown Prince!"

He cried out desperately. The Imperial Knights, who had been hurriedly searching the area, immediately heard the commotion and rushed over.

Bellator grabbed them and pointed at his brother, the Third Prince, who stood there blankly, still holding the dagger.

"Inside, you will find the Crown Prince’s body."

He was astoundingly calm. Incredibly bold. Ricardt had once said that the first time, his hands had trembled. But Bellator’s hands did not shake at all.

The evidence was clear. No special tricks were needed. All that was required was determination and action without hesitation.

With this, he had risen from fifth in the line of succession to second in an instant.

Bellator had four older brothers ahead of him. The eldest had died young, leaving behind the Crown Prince. The second had left the Imperial Palace long ago and become a Count. The third was now burdened with an inescapable crime, and the fourth had perished amidst the turmoil.

Now, only the Second Prince stood in his way. If he died, Bellator would become Emperor.

Since the Second Prince had been away from the Imperial Palace for a long time, Bellator had the advantage.

That was how he saw it.

Bellator was intelligent, but he had yet to learn the wisdom that the world did not always bend to one’s will.

Some took advantage of the chaos to indulge in their vile desires. Some used it as an opportunity. Others sought to escape from the center of the madness.

Marie and Ricardt were among those trying to escape. But there was one problem, Ricardt was unconscious.

It wasn’t just the poison- his abdomen had been stabbed, and that was a grave issue.

Fortunately, since they were near the tournament grounds, Marie was able to find a potion nearby. In a hurry, she poured it over his wound, then held the rest in her mouth and transferred it to Ricardt’s lips, making him swallow it.

Then she hijacked the nearest carriage, laid Ricardt inside, securely tied him down with leather straps, and took the coachman's seat herself before cracking the whip.

Snap!

The two horses galloped forward powerfully, and the wheels rolled rapidly over the paved road.

This was it. She was done with this wretched family. Nobles, bastards, the Imperial Family, this city, goodbye to all of it.

Now, she was free.

No matter what happened, she would survive and live with Ricky.

No one would stop her.

Marie was on the verge of losing it. She needed to calm down a bit, but it didn’t seem like anyone could stop her even if they tried.

Taking a ship back to Ernburg would have been the fastest route, but the docks were overflowing with people right now, so it was better to avoid them.

Besides, it wasn’t easy to find a merchant ship heading straight to Ernburg.

As people ran chaotically in all directions, she almost crashed into a few, but miraculously, she managed to avoid injuring anyone as she sped out of the city.

Fortunately, since this was the Emperor’s city, the paved roads stretched far beyond the outskirts, allowing her to drive the carriage at full speed without hindrance.

Bit by bit, the chaotic city faded into the distance. The deafening screams and cries grew fainter.

At some point, the sounds of people, disgusting, sickening human noises, were replaced by the sounds of nature. The only thing racing along the road now was the carriage Marie was driving.

As the wind swept across the fields, the fury that had surged to the top of her head finally began to subside. The horses, exhausted, foamed at the mouth.

Marie stopped the carriage in the middle of the road. Then, stepping down from the driver’s seat, she opened the carriage door to check on Ricardt. He looked miserable, tightly bound even in his unconscious state.

“Ughhh...”

Judging by his groaning, it seemed he might regain consciousness soon. So Marie shook him to wake him up.

"Ricky. Ricky. Wake up."

“Ughh...”

Ricardt’s eyelids fluttered open slightly before his head drooped again, his eyes closing once more.

Marie panicked and checked his condition. But she had no way of knowing what was wrong. At least he was breathing, that was a relief. Maybe the potion was making him drowsy? Thankfully, the wound on his abdomen had stopped bleeding.

A wave of helplessness washed over Marie. Since she had arrived in Nibelungen by ship, she had no idea how to get back by land.

On top of that, once the paved roads ended, the carriage would be useless. More importantly, in her rush to escape, she hadn’t packed any food.

She lifted the cloth covering the carriage roof and, by some miracle, found a sack filled with carrots. That would have to do until they found a village.

Marie grabbed several carrots, feeding them to the horses before crunching on one herself.

Then, she climbed back onto the driver’s seat and guided the horses forward at a slow pace.

All around her were open fields, the only sounds the rustling wind, the rhythmic clop-clop of hooves, and the steady roll of carriage wheels.

Marie felt strange as it seemed like they were the only two people in the world. If only they could live like this forever, just the two of them, somewhere where no one else existed. But then the faces of their friends came to mind.

Lost in a tangle of thoughts, worries, and uncertainties, Marie continued driving.

Eventually, the paved road ended, and the carriage began to jolt violently.

She did her best to be careful for Ricardt’s sake, but there was no avoiding the rough terrain.

Besides, this kind of carriage was made for the capital and wealthy districts, it wasn’t suited for country roads.

Still, she pressed on.

Time passed, and before she knew it, the sun was beginning to set.

Having gained considerable experience as an adventurer, Marie started looking for a campsite before nightfall.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the world into twilight, she stopped the carriage beside a large tree.

The first thing she did was climb inside and untie Ricardt.

Even though she had saved his life, guilt gnawed at her, she had tied him up too tightly.

Once she laid Ricardt down properly, she unhitched the horses, securing their reins to a branch and feeding them plenty of carrots.

But there was a problem, no water.

Both she and the horses were parched.

And there was no flint to start a fire, no cloak to keep warm.

Aside from her sword and a sack of carrots, she had nothing.

Now that it was autumn, the nights were cold, and Marie's dress was severely inadequate for fighting the cold. Moreover, her skirt was torn so badly that her undergarments showed, leaving her legs chilled.

Marie climbed back into the carriage and began massaging Ricardt’s arms, legs, and body to keep his blood circulating.

And as she did, despite being unconscious, something within Ricardt stirred beyond his will.

It was a relief that Ricardt was healthy, but Marie felt embarrassed for no reason. She had to keep resisting the devilish temptation whispering, Just a little touch...

Instead, she sat him up and hugged him tightly against her chest. Bracing against the cold, she kept watch alone through the night.

At first, her heart pounded with excitement, but that feeling only lasted for an hour or two. As the night deepened, fatigue set in, and exhaustion weighed down on her. She had barely escaped a relentless mental and physical ordeal, her body and mind were completely drained.

Sword Master or not, she couldn’t fight off sleep, hunger, or thirst.

And so, the night dragged on. Eventually, Marie dozed off.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a strange sensation jolted her awake.

Opening her eyes, she saw a filthy-looking man standing at the carriage door, staring straight at her.

A shiver ran down her arms and neck.

Despite the cramped and uncomfortable space, Marie reacted instinctively and skillfully. In a flash, she drew her sword and drove it straight into the man’s face.

The blade pierced his skull instantly.

As he collapsed, voices of other men were heard from outside.

"W-what's going on!"

"See! I told you there were people here!"

"Shit!"

Marie grabbed her sword and immediately stepped out of the carriage.

She spotted a group of men untying the reins, stealing the horses, and galloping away.

Even as they fled, they kept glancing back at Marie, their eyes wide with astonishment at her beauty.

Were they checking if she was chasing them, or did they just want one last look at her?

Marie hesitated, about to pursue them, but then she stopped.

She had to protect Ricardt.

Those men might return with reinforcements, so she quickly hoisted Ricardt onto her back and walked in the opposite direction.

She must have slept longer than she thought, the sky had turned a deep shade of blue. The autumn air was bitterly cold.

Now, she had lost the horses, and even the sack of carrots.

All she had left was a single sword.

Once outside villages or cities, the land was pure wilderness. There was nowhere to find food, nowhere to sleep unless one had brought proper travel supplies.

Even though she had reached the peak of physical strength as a Sword Master, she still needed to eat and rest, she wasn’t a god.

At this moment, Marie only had two thoughts: that she absolutely had to head north, and that she needed to find water.

She adjusted Ricardt on her back, made her way toward the road, and began walking north.

But there was no sign of civilization. No travelers. No merchants.

Had she taken the wrong road? Was this road not used? If only she could meet someone - she could either receive their kindness or threaten them with her sword.

Had she left the city too hastily? Should she go back now? No, it was too late for that. She had already come too far.

Marie’s mind spun with a thousand different thoughts.

Marie walked without rest. One hour, two hours, three hours, a full six hours. The sun was high in the sky.

It had been a whole day since her last meal.

She had managed to get a little sleep, but it wasn’t enough.

Ricardt’s condition was bad, but at this rate, Marie herself would collapse first.

And then, just when she thought she had a glimmer of hope, she was met with unpleasant despair.

The horse thieves had returned, this time with reinforcements.

She had no idea when they had started tailing her.

They kept their distance, watching her rather than attacking immediately. But they weren’t trying to hide. They were openly staring at her.

Some were armed, albeit crudely. Two were even on horseback. They even had bows and crossbows.

Killing them would be easy, but fighting while protecting Ricardt was another matter. Marie wasn’t sure if she could manage it. So she made a choice, she ran.

With Ricardt on her back, she sprinted forward without hesitation.

She ran straight ahead while carrying Ricardt on her back. Immediately, the mounted men gave chase, and the other bandits began running after them too. Their intentions were obvious.

Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop!

The sound of galloping hooves echoed behind her. Marie desperately hoped for a hill or a ridge to appear, something, anything. Or at least a place where she could hide Ricky. Please, God! I beg you!

She ran until her lungs burned, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

But then, despair. A rider was approaching from the front. She was trapped. No way forward, no way back.

Marie had no choice but to set Ricardt down by the side of the road and draw her sword.

A violet gleam shimmered along the blade. But even a Sword Master would die if struck by a charging horse.

Something felt off, though. The rider coming toward her wasn’t dressed like a bandit. He wore chainmail, carried a shield, and wielded a lance, his appearance was closer to that of a knight. His surcoat was red, emblazoned with a white cross.

And instead of charging at Marie, he rode straight past her.

Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop!

He galloped toward the oncoming bandits. The bandits panicked, yanking on their reins, trying to turn their horses around.

But the knight closed the distance in an instant and impaled one of them with his lance in a single strike.

Thud!

Without missing a beat, he drew his sword, leaned into his saddle, and struck another bandit’s head clean off.

His transition from one weapon to another, all while riding at full speed, was effortless, like watching a perfectly executed painting in motion.

Thwack!

The bandit skewered by the lance flew backward from the force of the impact, while the one who lost his head wobbled for a moment before toppling off his horse.

Seeing this, the remaining bandits shrieked in terror and fled.

The knight didn’t bother chasing them. Instead, he seized the reins of two now-riderless horses and turned toward Marie.

He was a stern-looking man, his well-groomed yet rugged beard adding to his dignified presence.

"Don't come any closer!"

Marie snapped, her voice sharp and venomous like a cornered wildcat.

But the knight remained unfazed, approaching at a leisurely pace. The autumn breeze was cool against her skin.

Under the noonday sun, he didn’t look at Marie right away.

Instead, his eyes were fixed on the unconscious boy lying by the roadside.

Then, he turned to Marie and spoke.

"I am Abelich, Lord of Stormhertz. Who might you be, my lady, running while carrying my son?"