The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

Long ago, there were times when people had to unite their strength. This was during the invasions of the Salamans and Orcs, or the invasions of the Nord people.

The numerous tribes, divided into dozens or even hundreds, combined their strength to fight, endure, and sometimes accept the challenges to overcome the crises.

Thus, they ultimately survived and formed the Empire.

Among those many tribes, the Nibelung tribe played a central role, and the current Imperial Family, Nibelunger, means descendants of Nibelung.

The Empire did not have an official capital. Rather, wherever the Emperor resided functioned as the capital.

The Emperor's city, Nibelungen, was historically significant as the place where the Nibelung tribe had lived in the past.

However, throughout the Empire, there were many cities as old as, or even older than, the Emperor's city.

For that reason, the Emperor's city was not the largest, most populous, or most magnificent city in the Empire. It was merely one of the many well-developed cities.

Nevertheless, since it was the residence of the King of Kings, it served as a central administrative hub to some extent, had more stable public order compared to other cities, and enjoyed an abundance of resources.

One unique feature of the city was that it had no defensive walls. This was because it was believed that the surrounding imperial domains and the territories ruled by the Emperor's relatives would serve as its walls.

Nibelungen was a place with a hunting ground as large as an average small-to-medium domain, a main river winding around the city, vast farmland, and neatly arranged buildings that left a strong impression.

Like any other city, even the Emperor's city had a livelier nightlife in its entertainment district compared to the daytime.

However, in the middle of the day, when the nightlife had yet to begin in earnest, a certain carriage drawn by two horses entered the entertainment district.

The carriage rolled down the paved road, passing by grand and splendid buildings, and eventually stopped in front of a shabby brothel.

When the coachman announced their arrival, the carriage door opened, and an old man stepped out.

For an old man, his skin was clean, his posture was upright, and his gaze was sharp. The sword hanging from his waist suited him well.

The old man was none other than Hellauman, the Court Count of Kelbron and the Emperor's Champion.

With a familiar steps, he entered the brothel called 'The Virgin's Secret'. Inside, furniture, curtains, and carpets were used in an attempt to decorate the interior, but they couldn't hide the cheap atmosphere.

Several prostitutes with caked-on makeup and unkempt hair wandered about, and upon seeing Hellauman, they neither greeted him nor showed him any courtesy. Their expressions suggested that they had seen him more than a few times.

Hellauman, for his part, ignored their presence as if they didn't exist and simply walked to the innermost room.

Standing outside the closed door was a man with a sword at his side, who glanced at Hellauman with an indifferent expression. He was also one of the Emperor's Champions and a close bodyguard.

"Is His Majesty inside?"

"Yes."

"Has he not risen yet?"

The bodyguard shrugged in response. Only then did Hellauman let out a small sigh. Even a Sword Master, with his highly trained mind, seemed to find it burdensome.

Without knocking, he opened the door. There, on the bed, lay the Emperor, naked and sprawled out like a corpse. This man was none other than Claudius, the 9th Emperor of the Empire, also known by the nicknames Virile Emperor or the Playboy Emperor.

On the large bed, aside from the Emperor, there were also three women. However, all three women were far too crude and unattractive to be in the Emperor's embrace.

This was because Emperor Claudius was indiscriminate when it came to women. He had once said that he was tired of beautiful and well-proportioned women.

Among the countless women he had bedded was even a great-granddaughter of Hellauman. The Emperor embraced women regardless of their status, beauty, or age.

Emperor Claudius didn't even know that his daughter, Martellia, existed in this world. Her registration in the family records was merely an administrative process, not a decision he had made.

If anything, it was astonishing. No one knew just how many illegitimate children he had; only God would know.

Hellauman nudged the prostitutes awake with his foot. Truly, it was absurd for a Court Count to personally wake up prostitutes. Even more ridiculous was the fact that the women couldn’t wake up immediately.

They squirmed and tossed around for quite some time before sluggishly getting up, and even then, they openly displayed irritated expressions upon seeing Hellauman.

The prostitutes hastily gathered their clothes and began leaving the room, but one of them had the audacity to slap the Emperor’s buttocks. Claudius flinched in surprise, his body jerking as he lay face down, and grumbled.

“You crazy bitch. I told you I don’t have the energy right now.”

Hellauman silently looked down at the Emperor and spoke.

“Your Majesty, it is me, Kelbron’s Court Count.”

At that, Claudius remained still for a moment before furrowing his brow and voicing his irritation.

“Ah, damn it… Why must you barge in at such an embarrassing moment?”

“It is already midday, Your Majesty.”

“Then come at night, why don’t you?”

“…Her Majesty the Empress Dowager is looking for you.”

The Empress Dowager referred to the Emperor’s mother. Since the Emperor behaved in this manner, it was the Empress Dowager who governed the state affairs.

“Why? She’ll just do whatever she pleases anyway.”

The Emperor covered his lower half with a blanket and sat up, leaning against the bed. His messy hair and unkempt appearance bore no resemblance to the dignity of an Emperor.

“Attending to your duties and receiving envoys are among Your Majesty’s important responsibilities.”

“So, you’re telling me to play the role of a scarecrow?”

“No one would dare treat Your Majesty as a scarecrow.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me. Unless, of course, my mother is an exception?”

Hellauman swallowed down the words that rose to his throat: That’s because you’re incompetent and keep causing trouble.

“An envoy from the Kingdom of Adeloron has arrived. A rebellion demanding royal authority has broken out, and they are requesting Your Majesty’s protection in accordance with the sacred vassal contract and marriage alliance. No matter how much authority Her Majesty the Empress Dowager holds, this matter requires Your Majesty’s personal presence.”

“Adeloron? Where is that again?”

Even though there were only five kingdoms within the Empire, the Emperor didn’t even know where the Kingdom of Adeloron was located.

“If you ride at a steady pace, changing horses along the way, you can reach it within three days by heading southwest from here.”

“Then it’s quite far, isn’t it? What does that have to do with us? Isn’t that what vassals are for? To govern their territories properly?”

Hellauman was so dumbfounded that he couldn’t think of a response.

“Maintaining the Empire’s stable peace is the most important duty of an Emperor, Your Majesty.”

"Ah, yes, that again. Duty, obligation. I’m so sick of hearing about it. You just said no one dares to treat me as a scarecrow, yet this invisible ‘duty’ of yours is doing exactly that. Fine, then. Let’s do it this way. Send your brilliant Sword Masters to crush the rebels. Problem solved, right?”

“……”

“I am giving my order as Emperor. So stop bothering me and handle it yourselves.”

“…Rebellions have a way of spreading like a plague, Your Majesty. Even if it’s far away, if not suppressed early, disloyal factions across the Empire might rise in response. Furthermore, recently, the heretical cult known as the Order of Judgement has been expanding its influence. If this is not properly addressed, the vassals may begin to doubt Your Majesty’s authority. A tower built with great effort can collapse in an instant. If such a situation were to arise, would Your Majesty be willing to don armor and endure the wind and rain at a military encampment?”

“So what do you want me to do? Are you just making excuses because you don’t want to go, Court Count?”

"Please receive the envoy and formally announce the mobilization of troops. At least say that much."

“I refuse.”

“……”

Even a Sword Master who had lived over a century had limits to his patience. Hellauman no longer wanted to exchange words.

He had served under five different Emperors before this one. Some commanded their vassals with overwhelming charisma and conquered unknown lands. Others, with sharp intellect, established stable governing foundations. Even those who lacked such qualities at least managed to protect the Imperial Family.

The remaining two Emperors, despite their shortcomings, at the very least understood the responsibilities of an Emperor and made an effort.

Claudius couldn’t do anything. No, he didn’t know how to do anything. He had no ambition. No willpower.

“...I will take my leave.”

Hellauman lowered his head and exited the room, which reeked of a vulgar and unpleasant stench.

As he firmly shut the door, the Emperor’s bodyguard, who was also one of the Champions, spoke.

“Elder, you’ve gone through a lot.”

In truth, Hellauman had been more or less retired for some time. However, he had recently been summoned back to the Imperial Family by the Empress Dowager, and upon his return, he found himself facing problems beyond his ability.

A Sword Master was neither a politician nor a soldier. He was akin to a strategic and tactical weapon, a diplomatic tool used to threaten, coax, or negotiate with vassals.

But no matter how powerful a weapon, it became useless if the one wielding it was in such a pitiful state.

Moreover, there was an even bigger reason why the Emperor’s Champions couldn’t act recklessly, they didn’t trust each other.

If one of them were to act crazy and harm the Emperor, who would stop them? Only the other Champions could. Thus, if even one Champion left their post, the balance of power would collapse.

It was a kind of dilemma. The Champions were the Emperor’s most powerful weapon, but they were also his greatest threat.

In reality, the Imperial Family only appeared problem-free because Hellauman had protected it over the long years.

It was ultimately the Emperor’s responsibility to control the Sword Masters, appease them, draw out their loyalty, and handle them appropriately.

“I leave His Majesty in your capable hands.”

Hellauman patted the shoulder of the Champion he could trust the most. The man nodded in acknowledgment.

Hellauman left the cheap brothel and climbed back into the carriage. At the crack of the whip, the horses began to gallop.

Inside the slightly rattling carriage, Hellauman fell into deep thought. Truthfully, his loyalty to the Imperial Family wasn’t particularly strong.

Outwardly, he acted as though he was devoted, but his relationship with the Imperial Family was purely based on mutual interests. To Hellauman, the most important things were himself, his family, and his sword.

The title of Court Count was a hereditary rank responsible for managing the Emperor’s direct domains. However, if something were to happen to the Emperor, it would inevitably cause problems for both him and his family.

Now, though, he could hear the sound of the Imperial Family shaking. With an Emperor like that, the reason was obvious without needing to think deeply.

But he was no schemer. He had no thoughts of doing anything to the Emperor or the Imperial Family. All he wanted was to prepare, even if only a little, for the possibility of what if.

Hellauman’s carriage crossed the drawbridge and entered the Imperial Palace. He disembarked and headed to his office. On the desk lay a sealed scroll marked with a seal.

Breaking the wax seal and unfurling it, he found it was a message from the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild. It reported that Ricardt and Ice had completed a high-level request by eliminating a high-ranking vampire.

“Hmm…”

Hellauman’s gaze lingered on the name Ricardt for a while.

Ever since he killed the Clan Master Lorenzo, Ricardt had been building an unbelievable track record as an adventurer. He had performed outstandingly in the Guild War and now had even killed a high-ranking vampire. That cunning monstrosity was a foe even Hellauman would find troublesome to face.

It was remarkable. Remarkable and remarkable again. That innate combat sense and bravery of his. And yet, it felt like such a waste. The boy had no mana.

Hellauman rolled up the scroll and pulled out another document from among the pile of scrolls stacked on the shelf. This one was a list.

It detailed Sword Masters hidden by the various kingdoms and great nobles, as well as senior adventurers belonging to various adventurer guilds across the Empire.

There were more than he had expected. It was as if they were intentionally avoiding showing themselves to the world. What could they be aiming for?

All these names were both threats and tools to the Emperor and the Imperial Family. If handled well, they became tools. If handled poorly, they became sharp blades that could cut their wielder.

It was practically impossible for the four Emperor’s Champions to suppress all of these individuals. Yet, increasing the number of Champions too much was also not an option, it was simply too dangerous.

Balancing the scales of power and maintaining equilibrium was an incredibly difficult task.

Among all these names, however, Hellauman found Ricardt particularly appealing.

Though it was unfortunate, Ricardt’s lack of mana imposed clear limitations. Even so, his skills and nerve were undeniable, making him seem easy to manage. Useful enough to be effective, but not threatening.

"It's about time for some new blood."

Hellauman muttered to himself, lost in deep thought. He decided that he would send two of the Emperor’s Champions to the Kingdom of Adeloron.

If they performed well in battle, it would be a good outcome. If they died, he would simply select new Champions to replace them.

They wouldn’t die immediately upon arrival, so while they were deployed far away, he planned to cultivate new talent. Naturally, Ricardt was at the top of his list.

Thinking of Ricardt seemed to untangle the knot of issues that had been frustrating Hellauman.

As one knot unraveled, another did as well, and his thoughts connected one after the other. As he pondered, he came up with a particular plan.

It was to host a swordsmanship tournament. The tournament would serve as a pretext to eliminate those who needed to be removed, nurture those worth fostering, and observe those worth keeping an eye on.

And as the prize for the winner, he thought an engagement to his fifth-generation granddaughter, Marie, would suffice.

What else was the purpose of having so many illegitimate children? It was for moments like this.