The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

It was an era that had yet to conquer the darkness of the night. When darkness settled thickly, people believed that demons or monsters lurked beyond it. Of course, they did exist in reality as well.

Chilling folktales could be found in every region. However, they did not have the power to make the home of a brave knight tremble.

The only source of light in the dimly lit dining room was a few candles on the table. Because of this, the faces of those seated at the table were only faintly visible from the front.

Seated there were Ricardt, Marie, his father, his elder brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew.

There was no warm conversation. Everyone was solely focused on their meal, tearing bread to dip into soup, slicing salted meat, or eating it with butter. There were no utensils, only hands or knives.

Marie, feeling uneasy with the silence, rolled her eyes around, while the sister-in-law carefully fed her young son, tasting each bite before giving it to him. The young child, however, was solely fixated on his Uncle Ricky.

Compared to his stern father and grandfather, Fritzlit found his Uncle Ricky fascinating and likable because he would smile at him when their eyes met.

When the blond, chubby-cheeked, doll-like nephew beamed at him, Ricardt couldn’t help but smile back.

“I heard you were poisoned.”

Ricardt’s father, Abelich, remarked abruptly, wiping his hands and mouth as if he had finished his meal.

“Yes, well, I’m fine now.”

“That can’t be. I don’t know much about poisons, but if inhaling it through the air was enough to make you bleed, it won’t be something that heals easily. When you have time, visit the main house and see Dr. Reno.”

It was his way of showing concern. Ricardt nodded, acknowledging his father’s words.

Abelich, despite seeing his son after a long time, didn’t ask about his well-being or what he had been up to. He simply said his piece and stood up from his seat. As always.

“I’m tired, so I’ll be heading to bed early.”

It seemed like he was intentionally leaving to give them some space. After all, his presence would only make things uncomfortable.

He could have been more affectionate, but this was how the men of the Stormhertz Caldebern Family showed consideration.

They neither gave an overly warm welcome nor made him feel out of place. They simply treated him as if he had been there just yesterday.

Marie, however, was a different matter.

“Child, you are my son’s savior and his betrothed, so this house is now your home. Feel free to stay as you like. I will treat you as part of the family.”

This level of kindness was something that might only happen once in a lifetime.

“...Ah? Yes. Thank you.”

Marie, unsure if he was speaking to her, spaced out for a moment before quickly responding. She found the atmosphere of the household to be extremely heavy. It made her realize that, within this family, Ricardt was actually the bright one.

After Abelich left, the sister-in-law also stood up with her son.

“Fritz, shall we go to bed too? Say goodnight to your father, uncle, and aunt.”

“Mm... Good night.”

The little one adorably stood straight and bowed. Ricardt wanted to give him a gift, but he had nothing on hand. He'd have to send something later when he earned money outside.

As his sister-in-law took the tableware, Marie tried to help, leading to a small but warm-hearted scuffle.

"Oh no, it's fine."

“No, really, I’m an adventurer, so I’m good at this.”

Since Marie was a Sword Master, snatching up the tableware with swift movements was effortless for her. She smoothly took them away without making it awkward.

Eventually, only the eldest brother and the youngest brother remained in the dining room. Graut, as if winding down for the night, poured wine into a horn-made cup.

“Want a drink?”

“No. I don’t drink.”

“You left the estate and still don’t drink?”

"Just wasn't drawn to it."

“Then this is a good chance to start.”

Graut had already poured the drink and handed the cup over. Ricardt took it and had a sip, but all he could taste was bitterness, making him pull a dissatisfied face.

Graut smirked subtly, poured himself some wine into another cup, and took a sip.

“The Emperor is dead. Are you okay?”

Ricardt asked.

“Well, that’s for the main house to decide. We don’t really know,”

“The main house is following the Duke. Was it Brumber?”

Due to the feudal system, unless it was their direct lord, people didn't really care whether an emperor or king died.

The Caldebern Family had once received its territory from the Emperor, but they weren’t in a direct lord-vassal relationship with him. Instead, they followed Duke Brumber, a noble house of the Imperial Family’s collateral branch. The circumstances that led to this were somewhat complicated, but in the end, the Duke was a direct vassal of the Emperor.

In other words, the people directly affected by the Emperor’s death were kings, dukes, and powerful border counts. For a rural lord in a remote region, it wasn’t an issue to be overly concerned about.

Of course, if war broke out and figures like dukes or kings got involved, their vassals would be summoned en masse. But it wasn’t at that stage yet.

The Emperor’s death was a matter of how the great nobles would perceive and react to it.

Some might think, What does the Emperor’s death have to do with me? Others might see it as an opportunity. There were also those who, sensing the Imperial Family’s weakness, might attempt to declare independence.

For now, it was impossible to predict what would happen, and even if one tried, there was little to be done about it.

“Is the adventurer life treating you well? How was the academy?"

"If I had to give it meaning, it's helping troubled people and solving problems. Though in the end, everything gets settled with the sword. As for academy life, it wasn’t bad. For me, at least.”

“As expected, you’ve always been extraordinary since childhood. If that talent had been discovered earlier, or if you had been born a little sooner, how different would things be?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“Who knows.”

Graut looked somewhat bitter. It wasn’t surprising, he was taking on more and more responsibilities in managing the estate, and it was becoming an increasing burden.

Having to reprimand people, being strict, sometimes pushing them harshly, these things wore down the soul. There were many things one had to do, even if they didn’t want to, in order to protect and lead a territory.

There was a reason their father was so taciturn, and Graut was gradually becoming more like him.

“Is there something troubling you?”

“......”

Graut didn’t answer, but he clearly seemed to have something on his mind. Ricardt didn’t press him and instead drank his wine slowly, waiting.

“Don’t tell Father about this.”

“This brings back memories. We used to have so many secrets between us when we were kids. But Billy would run around telling everyone, calling them ‘secrets’. Then Mother would find out.”

Even as a child, Ricardt had never once betrayed a secret between his brothers.

Graut let out a short laugh, as if reminiscing about old times. But his expression quickly returned to one of worry.

After hesitating for a long while, looking somewhat embarrassed and reluctant, he finally spoke.

“You know the Adventurers’ Guild, right? Do you have any connections there?”

“...I do. At the Beringen Guild, at least. Why?”

“Is there... any way to lower the commission fees?”

"What's going on?"

Graut avoided Ricardt’s gaze and hesitated again before speaking.

“Father is against it. He says it’s our responsibility to handle our own affairs and that we shouldn’t seek external help.”

That sounded just like their father. But what was this all about? Ricardt waited for him to continue.

After drinking quite a bit more wine, Graut finally spoke.

“Because of the recent swordsmanship tournament, there are a lot of outsiders around. Most of them are just thugs. Driving them out or killing them is no big deal. But one day, a man showed up claiming to be the Emperor’s Constable. He demanded food or money, saying he needed to feed his soldiers. His attire, documents, and entourage all looked legitimate.”

As Ricardt listened, he had a rough idea of the situation but still felt uneasy.

“The Imperial Family has never directly interfered with us before. But the swordsmanship tournament is a real event, and things have been chaotic around here because of it. So, I thought this might be a special case. That’s why we provided the food.”

“But it turned out he was a fraud?”

In other words, they had been scammed. It was hard to believe, but there were always some audacious bastards out there, people bold enough to deceive nobles.

One of the most common scams involved selling fake holy relics, but this case was even more convincing.

“If that was all, I wouldn’t be saying this. But it turns out this guy swindled others too. And using those resources, he actually managed to form some kind of force. It’s just a ragtag bunch, so they won’t last long, but now they’re openly threatening us, demanding money. Of course, we ignore them. But the problem is, they’re wandering around claiming to be maintaining public order.”

It was obvious, they were using law enforcement as an excuse while actually committing robberies. And since they were operating outside the territory, the family couldn’t directly intervene.

If the Imperial Family were still stable, they would have crushed scum like this in an instant. But with the current turmoil in the Empire, expecting that kind of response was unrealistic.

Leaving these kinds of people unchecked would only let them grow in numbers. Eventually, they could become a force as uncontrollable as a swarm of locusts, raiding and looting everywhere.

It was already starting to feel like an age of chaos. Every kind of lowlife was crawling out of the woodwork.

What infuriated Ricardt the most, though, was that these bastards had dared to target his family and homeland.

“What’s his name?”

“Luizinant. His nickname is ‘Lucky’. Lucky Luizinant.”

“Sounds like a Western name.”

The pronunciation from the western regions was different, but in any case, it seemed like a shady character had traveled a long way to take advantage of the big tournament.

“Probably.”

Graut fidgeted with his empty cup, looking ashamed, perhaps for being scammed or for having to discuss this with his younger brother. Seeing him like that only made Ricardt’s anger burn hotter.

"Brother."

“Hmm?”

"Raise your head. Why do you look so discouraged?”

“......”

“Do you think I’m going to mock you? Or act arrogant just because I made a name for myself as an adventurer? I know running a territory isn’t easy. And in life, ridiculous things happen sometimes. So don’t let this get to you.”

Graut’s eyes widened.

He recalled how Ricardt had once rebelled a little before leaving home, but in his memories, his youngest brother was always gentle Ricky.

But now, the look in his eyes was that of a warrior.

“I’ve traveled enough to tell just by looking at people’s faces, whether their lord is ruling properly or not. And from what I saw, the people here seem content, which means you’re doing a good job helping Father. That’s all that matters. Don’t let a bastard like that shake you.

I’m leaving tomorrow. My friends will be worried, so I can’t stay long even if I want to. Don’t worry about the commission fee, I’ll handle it. You’ll hear good news soon, so don’t stress.”

There weren’t any reliable couriers to send a message, and if he had to arrange for one, he might as well return himself. So, Ricardt planned to head back to Ernburg as soon as possible.

Graut simply blinked, staring blankly at Ricardt.

"You've really grown up, haven't you?"

“Well, after eating by the sword for three years, I can’t still be a kid, can I?” (TL Note: "Eating by the sword" is a proverb that means living a warrior's life.)

Ricardt said with a grin. Graut still seemed unable to fully adjust to how much his little brother had changed and tilted his head slightly.

“Have you heard from Billy?”

Graut shook his head. Unfortunately, there was no news. Then, pouring himself another drink, he said.

“I guess I’m still not like Father yet. Anyway, what was the academy like? Tell me about it.”

"Forget the academy, have you ever seen a vampire, brother? How about the ocean? Honestly, even if I told you half of what I’ve seen and heard, you wouldn’t believe me.”

"Hey, are you treating me like a country bumpkin just because you've been away for three years?"

“Well, aren’t you?”

“This little-!”

“Hahaha!”

With the alcohol taking effect, the two brothers finally began to joke around. The slightly awkward atmosphere started to peel away.

The world was a harsh place, and it wasn’t uncommon for brothers to turn their swords on each other. But at the same time, nothing fostered a stronger sense of camaraderie than sharing the same blood.

Ricardt and Graut drank late into the night, sharing their worries and reminiscing about old memories.

When Ricardt woke up, he found his face buried in Marie’s chest. Startled, he shot up, quickly collecting himself. To clear his head, he opened the window. Morning had already arrived, completely. Damn.

His father and brother had likely already gone out on their morning patrols. That meant there was no time for a proper farewell.

They could have delayed their duties a bit to see their son off after such a long time, but that just wasn’t how this family operated. To them, providing fresh food and a warm bed was enough, there was no need for excessive sentimentality.

Sometimes, Ricardt could come across as indifferent to others, and perhaps it was all due to the way he was raised.

Work had to be done. If they missed each other, so be it. They wished each other well, and if fate allowed, they would meet again.

So, Ricardt didn’t feel the slightest bit disappointed. If anything, he was relieved that nothing had changed.

After waking Marie and washing up, he prepared for the journey. Just as he was saying his goodbyes to his sister-in-law and nephew, she suddenly called out to him.

“Oh, right! Here, take this. He told me to pass it to you. He sold the horses and bought this.”

It seemed Abelich had sold the two horses he had taken from the bandits when he met Marie. Since they were carriage horses, they were impractical to keep, costing more in maintenance than they were worth.

The item his eldest brother had left for him was none other than a sword.

Ricardt usually wielded longswords or greatswords, but this was an arming sword, often called a knight’s sword, a one-handed weapon. After all, knights were expected to always carry a shield.

The rounded metal pommel was engraved with their family crest, a cross, balancing the weight of the blade.

While it wasn’t his primary weapon, Ricardt was skilled with these types of swords as well. Carrying it as a secondary weapon on his waist would be more convenient than slinging his sword over his shoulder as he had done until now.

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.”

“And Father insists that you visit the main house first. He wants you to see Dr. Reno before anything else.”

Even if he wasn’t the affectionate type, his concern and care were clear enough. Ricardt smiled softly.

“Stay proud and brave wherever you go. Don’t let anyone push you around. And please take care of the young master, sister-in-law. May fortune favor you both.”

As expected of a woman from a knightly family, she didn’t bother with anything as sentimental as telling them to ‘stay safe’.

Ricardt ruffled his nephew’s hair one last time before saying his farewell.

“Take care, Fritz. We’re leaving. Let’s go, Marie.”

Fastening his new sword to his waist, Ricardt set off. He didn’t look back, not even once, almost to a cold-hearted degree.

But he had rested enough. He had gained what he needed, and there was nothing left behind that required his attention.

The only thing he had left behind was the promise of good news he had given his older brother.

Ricardt didn’t head to the main house first. Instead, he set out to find that bastard, Lucky Luizinant.

He had kept his composure in front of his family, but ever since last night, his killing instinct had been boiling inside him.

That wretched son of a bitch.

I’m going to kill him.

****

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