The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

It was a mountain pass where there was almost no grass and only shattered stones scattered everywhere. Was it a quarry in the past? Who knows. Anyway, it was a place where the crunching sound with every step was unusually loud.

The three swordsmen subtly widened their distance from each other. It seemed like they intended to surround Ricardt, but they were also wary of Ricardt's party in the distance.

However, from Ricardt's perspective, there was no need to wait. So, before they could form up, he swung his sword.

The flaming sword struck to the left and immediately slashed down to the right. The enemy on the left was decapitated, and the one on the right had both arms severed. What happened in an instant was like a burst of flame exploding all at once.

The one in the center quickly stepped back. Ricardt's gaze followed him precisely.

The man who had retreated far back seemed deeply shocked by the sudden development, his expression frozen.

The fact that he retreated in that brief moment showed he was no ordinary person. However, in the world of combat, skill was always relative.

"You......"

"Let's not make things more troublesome for each other."

Ricardt, confirming the kill with a decisive swing of his sword to the one writhing in pain with both arms cut off, said.

Two corpses, and blood soaked the barren gravel of the mountain. No blood clung to the blade, only the sacred flame blazed.

It was different from the subtle glow unique to a Sword Master. Ricardt’s sword burned fiercely with golden flames. The enemy who saw that directly with his own eyes was left speechless. What is that?

Step.

Ricardt took a step to finish things. Then the survivor immediately turned and fled.

Ricardt also ran to kill him, but instead of escaping along the mountain path, the man suddenly hurled himself off the cliff. What? Is he trying to kill himself?

Standing at the cliff's edge and looking down, he fluttered his cloak like a bird, lightly stepped on a protrusion of the cliff, and leaped again.

Ricardt was stunned. But even in his surprise, he picked up a stone at his feet and hurled it with all his strength at the fleeing man.

Then the fleeing enemy, who had been lightly stepping over the protruding rocks a few times, looked back.

To dodge the stone flying toward him, he twisted his body quickly, and so the stone Ricardt threw only hit his shoulder.

"Argh!"

With a short scream, he fell. But he had almost descended the cliff already, so he did not die.

He staggered to his feet, looked up once at Ricardt who was gazing down from above, then limped away. One of his arms was dangling.

Ricardt stared at the fleeing enemy with a bewildered face. What was that movement just now? It really looked like a bird flying. Is that possible with a human body?

Even Ricardt couldn’t pull off such a stunt, so he had no choice but to let him go. The enemy disappeared into the nearby forest.

"What a ridiculous guy. Jumping off a cliff like that."

Marie’s voice came from behind.

When he turned around, she was collecting two swords from the dead enemies. The two swords had hardly been used in the fight with Ricardt, so they were practically like new.

"No, he's alive."

"Huh?"

"He flew like a bird and just walked away. I did hit his shoulder with a stone, though."

"No way. Don’t joke with me."

Marie approached Ricardt with a look of disbelief. She looked down the cliff from beside him, and although the cliff wasn’t a bottomless abyss, it was high enough to be fatal if someone fell.

However, the body that should have been there was nowhere in sight. Ricardt and Marie looked at each other with bewildered faces. It was a strange event.

Still dazed, Ricardt returned to his group and informed them of the situation. Marie gave the two swords obtained from the dead enemies to Beka and Roy.

"As you saw, I killed two, but one escaped alive. If he brings reinforcements, we could be in danger. What should we do?"

"He didn’t seem like some ordinary bandit. Did you figure out who he was?"

Bremen asked.

"He’s from the Rubens Clan. Have you heard of it?"

Ricardt was well aware of them, but he didn’t know their recent situation. Just as the Viola Clan had changed a lot over the past four years, they too might have undergone some transformation.

At the mention of the Rubens Clan, Bremen’s face darkened.

"......Oh no."

"Why? What is it?"

"Each clan operates in its own way. As you know, the Viola Clan is serious-minded and doesn’t harass commoners. But Rubens? They’ll do anything for their influence and money. They buy and sell people, run brothels and gambling dens, assassinations, loan sharking... If you touch their business, no one survives. Not even nobles."

At this point, it was practically more accurate to call them a thief guild than a clan. Though their dealings were done in the shadows, if Bremen knew, it meant anyone who needed to know, already did.

In the end, it was a matter of choice. When one had power, it was a question of how to use it. During the days when the Imperial Family held firm control, they kept within some bounds. But now, it was as if the leash had come off, and they acted as they pleased.

"So once we cross this pass, we’ll be inside their sphere of influence, right?"

Marie asked.

"No. We're already in it."

"......"

"There’s a way back toward Beringen, but it’ll take a week. And that path isn’t safe either. If we want to withdraw, we’ll have to go back the way we came."

"Or we could move quickly and just pass through."

"Right."

It was one of two choices. Either retreat or advance. As always, it came down to choosing between the two.

They say a person must know when to advance and when to retreat, but if knowing that made life easy, it wouldn’t be such a problem. The trouble was not knowing.

Then Hartmann spoke. He usually just followed Ricardt or Bremen’s lead, but this was the first time he voiced his own opinion.

"Let’s move forward. If danger comes, I will protect my family. You and the lady, go ahead and crush the enemies without concern."

In truth, Hartmann knew it too. That Ricardt and Marie could take down most enemies on their own.

So if it were just Ricardt and Marie, there’d be nothing to worry about. But since the others were causing hesitation, he didn’t want to be a burden.

Ricardt hesitated, unsure if he should accept that sentiment or not.

"I can fight too. I won’t be a burden to you, Master."

"Me too."

Roy and Beka said.

Once someone learns a bit of athletics or martial arts, they naturally gain some confidence. These two seemed that way. And having obtained real swords, they looked a little excited.

Hearing his disciple's words, a smile spread across Ricardt’s lips. He roughly ruffled Roy’s hair and said,

"Don’t mess around. Stay behind your father."

"I'm a bit worried, but if you’ve all decided, I’ll go along."

"We should be prepared, but it might not turn into anything. He seemed to be in a hurry. They said they were looking for my friend."

"Hmm?"

Ricardt looked at Marie and said,

"Apparently Bori stole a secret technique from the clan."

"What?"

"If Bori did it, he must’ve had a reason."

"That’s true."

"Then since it's decided, let’s not delay and get moving."

In the end, Ricardt and his party crossed the mountain pass. Walking the downhill path was easy, but their hearts felt subtly uneasy.

The place they were walking through was called Pasina, one of the southeastern regions of the Empire. It was a basin, filled with many rivers, lakes, and cool forests. It had few plains, so it wasn’t suitable for farming.

There were many strangely-shaped rocky mountains that jutted out here and there, blending with the forests to create breathtaking scenery.

The party walked along the edge of the forest, following the river stream. From deep within the woods, the sound of a woodpecker echoed.

The river water, like a small stream, wasn't very deep but was clear enough to see the bottom. Minnows hid under fallen leaves and between stones when they saw people.

After following the river for about half a day, they saw a gathering of crows clustered by the riverside. As the group approached, some of the crows flew off with a flutter, while others didn’t go far, simply backing off and watching.

As they pushed through the curtain of crows, what came into view was, as expected, corpses. There were about a dozen or so, but none of them had intact limbs or heads. Judging by the level of decay and damage from animals, they hadn’t been dead for more than a few days. It was difficult to determine the cause of death.

“At the very least, they weren’t attacked by wild beasts. Their clothes are all stripped off. And there are no tools or items nearby that would suggest people lived here.”

Ricardt spoke. It meant they were killed and then completely looted. It wasn’t an act of vengeance, but a typical trace of robbery.

“The Pasina region has long been known for severe peasant uprisings. And right next to it is the Adeloron Kingdom. All those starving refugees and mercenaries... it makes sense.”

It meant this was a lawless zone, a place with no governance or control. The problem wasn’t the Rubens Clan, but the lawless ones. The Rubens Clan was just one among those outlaws.

Should they have taken another route? No, it would probably be the same anywhere. It’s just like that the path I walk is always the hardest.

Hartmann's family didn’t show much fear or trembling at the sight of the corpses. Because they had seen many before. They simply understood fully that they were now in a dangerous place.

The party replenished their water upstream from where the bodies were, and continued on their path. The curtain of crows once again covered the grotesque scene.

After walking along the river for about half a day, a city appeared. One might wonder if such a place could even be called a city, but in truth, it was more like a criminal city.

There were no city walls, not even a proper palisade, and most of the buildings were made of wood, giving the impression that the place had been hastily assembled.

It looked like a gathering place for fugitives, vagabonds, thieves, robbers, thugs, mercenaries, in short, everything rotten in the world.

And yet, surprisingly, there were people doing business even in a place like this. Mostly handling stolen goods, selling alcohol, or acting as pimps.

You might wonder what could possibly be found in a place like this, but surprisingly, wealth was abundant. Plundered goods from all over the place, that is.

Though it was lawless, there were still some unwritten rules. One part of the town was filthy, while another part was unusually clean. Here, the rich were kings, and money was god.

“It’s like we’ve arrived at the entrance to hell.”

Bremen said. He hadn’t come this way since his mercenary days long ago, so even he hadn’t known it had changed this much.

It seemed far too dangerous to pitch tents and stay here, so the party looked for a decent inn. Running an inn in a place like this meant offering at least some level of security. Of course, “some” didn’t mean “complete”.

But there was no need to search for an inn. Because there was only one.

A single massive building stood, like an enlarged version of a Nord-style longhouse, and nowhere else offered lodging.

There were multiple entrances, and people came and went constantly. Around it were others sprawled out, drunk or beaten, looking like they were waiting to die.

There were so many bizarre people around that no one paid the party any attention.

Not sure if they were even allowed to go in, they just entered. As expected, it was packed and noisy. People were drinking, singing, shouting, it was chaos.

On one side, an impromptu fighting pit had broken out. No one stopped the brawlers, money was being wagered, and if someone lost consciousness, they were just thrown outside. Dead or not, no one cared.

In the center was a long charcoal brazier, and people were grilling anything and everything on flat stones or iron plates laid over it. Mostly meat, vegetables, and fruits, but there were also some items of completely unidentifiable origin.

There were no staff. Everyone managed the fire and brought their own food themselves.

The mixture of appetizing and nauseating smells was dizzying.

But inside the building, there was a bar-like area, and the people gathered there had a noticeably different atmosphere. They had a sense of ease, and clearly seemed to be the ruling group here.

Ricardt and the party pushed their way through the crowd and made their way toward them. Just in case, they pulled their weapons close to their bodies.

Ricardt took the lead and approached the people near the bar.

“Who’s the owner here?”

“......”

At that, the people sipping their drinks or playing cards turned their heads and looked. No one answered.

“Do you have a room that can accommodate seven people?”

Ricardt asked again. Then, a man with narrow, sly eyes responded.

“Well, that’s how you should’ve asked in the first place. Why are you looking for the owner? Around here, running your mouth carelessly can get you badly hurt.”

“I’ll handle that myself, so don’t speak carelessly.”

“Huh, so you know how to use a sword?”

“Just enough to protect myself. Just tell me the price.”

“Let’s see... are those people behind you part of your group? Oh, wow, one of them’s really pretty. The other one’s decent enough to use too. Is that the kids’ mom? Lend me those two for about three days and I’ll give you a room for free.”

“......”

Hartmann gripped the axe wrapped in cloth tightly, but Ricardt, as if he had eyes on the back of his head, raised a hand without even turning around to stop him.

Thugs always had a way of scratching at a person’s nerves just to see how they’d react. Like a shark nudging an unfamiliar creature to see if it’s prey or not, testing whether someone would back down or not, whether they were easy prey.

But Ricardt, being born of a knightly family, could not tolerate insults. It wasn’t about not being able to control his anger, it was simply the proper way to act. If someone insulted him, it was practically a duty to risk one’s life to defend one’s honor.

Especially insulting Marie right in front of him, it was no different from declaring oneself an eternal enemy.

“Oh ho, hey guys, look at this one. He’s even thinking about drawing his sword, huh?”

As Ricardt gave him a cold glare, the man with the narrow eyes turned to his companions and spoke. The nearby thugs scowled and fixed their gazes on Ricardt.

It was their way, provoking with words, then pressing with force. Most people couldn’t hold their composure at this point. They’d either smile awkwardly, freeze up in silence, or slink away.

But Ricardt did none of those three. He didn’t smile servilely, didn’t leave the spot, and didn’t stay silent.

“If you say one more word, I’ll kill you.”

There was no need for any more words. That was the end of it. Unlike the opponent who blabbered on sarcastically, Ricardt’s words carried a direct and explicit intent.

By this point, the atmosphere shifted. Though the large hall was still loud and noisy, the area around Ricardt grew quiet.

Marie, having caught on quickly, pulled the children back. With glances and gestures, she signaled to Bremen and Hartmann. If anything happened, they were to fight with their backs to the wall or head outside.

With Ricardt coming out this strong, the man with the sly eyes now had to make a choice, either back down a little or keep pushing. He too was feeling the pressure.

He wracked his brain, trying to come up with something to say that would barely scratch the edge of provocation while still saving his pride. He couldn’t take too long, or it would look like he was scared.

Pretending to be unfazed, he thought hard and fast and came up with:

“......One word.”

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Before the last syllable even left his lips, a flash of light cut through the air. Half of the man’s skull was sliced clean off. His tongue and lower teeth were now completely exposed to the world.

His body remained in the same pose, with one arm still resting on the bar. Despite losing half his skull, he slowly tilted and collapsed.

Ricardt’s scabbard at his waist was now empty. It wasn’t until the man hit the floor and blood began pooling that his companions realized Ricardt was holding his sword.

“Y-You bastard...!”

“Boys! Ret got hit!”

The surrounding companions finally realized what had happened, their eyes wide in shock. They began fumbling for their weapons or tried to attack Ricardt. They didn’t charge directly, instead trying to surround him first.

But as Ricardt’s sword flashed like lightning, several of them sprayed blood from their necks all at once. Each of them was of different height and at different distances.

Without stopping, Ricardt leaped onto the bar with his sword still in hand. His red cloak fluttered, and the food and drinks on top crashed to the floor with a tremendous clatter.

Ricardt kicked a wooden bowl hard. With a pop!, the bowl flew and struck someone square on the crown of the head. At the same time, he lowered his stance and swung his sword left and right in quick motions, and each time, three or four people collapsed with a thud.

It looked like some kind of magic. No one saw him draw the sword, no one saw him swing it, no screams were heard, just people collapsing, spraying blood.

Only then did the enemies, horrified, scramble away from Ricardt. Some fell to the floor, others were pushed back against the walls, all looking up at him in shock.

Standing atop the bar, Ricardt realized something had changed. He turned to look around, wondering what it was, and it was silence.

The interior of the building, which looked several times larger than a longhouse, was deathly quiet. Just moments ago, it had been as loud as a market square.

Everyone was staring at Ricardt. Their gazes were like those of an audience watching an actor on stage.

Ricardt spoke to the audience. He didn’t even have to raise his voice, everyone could hear him clearly.

“I asked who the owner is here.”

Then someone opened the door behind the bar and stepped out. Ricardt turned to look at him. He, too, looked up at Ricardt. Their eyes met.

After a brief moment of silence, the man spoke.

“Uh... there’s not really an ‘owner’ here, you know? The back room is reserved for whoever’s the strongest around here, and well, for now, I happen to be the strongest.”

Ricardt was both dumbfounded and speechless. A hollow laugh escaped him, because the one claiming to be the strongest was none other than Bori.

****

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