The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

Time had passed since Ricardt completed the special commission and returned to Ernburg.

The withering grass had dried up even further, the leaves clinging to the trees had all turned to fallen foliage, and snow blanketed all of these skeletal remains.

The wind whipped like a lash. In the harsh and merciless winter, it felt as though all humans became wretched slaves.

Yet, the movement of the celestial bodies was indifferent not only to humans. Winter, too, was slowly and surely brought to an end.

Before long, rain fell instead of snow. Spring had arrived. The snow that had accumulated throughout the winter gathered like war captives into the rivers and was driven out to the sea.

As the weather began to ease, people began to move little by little, much like sprouting buds. And so, once again, life was lived with effort and resilience. That was life, that was existence.

However, a swordsman sharpens his sword when there's nothing to do. While others cultivate life, they make their living dealing in death. Winter did not mean they had rested completely.

Of course, there were chores like clearing snow from roofs, chopping firewood, or repairing and maintaining buildings. But ultimately, their livelihood mostly came from wielding swords.

Even so, the Beringen Adventurers' Guild, Ernburg branch, was not a source of fear. It was closer to being familiar and trustworthy.

Moreover, its reputation in the surrounding areas was solid, thanks to its swift, precise, and high-quality work. A nearly perfect completion rate for commissions, with full refunds in case of failure.

In particular, Ricardt, along with Ice and Boribori, was called the "Three Swordsmen of the Violet" and had no rivals across the Siegfringer region.

Thus, commissions specifically requesting these three had to come at a high price.

But that didn’t mean Ricardt’s life had changed dramatically. Even though he had completed a special commission and was a swordsman difficult to rival, he didn’t live an extraordinary life.

Like everyone else, he lived in step with the seasons. On a larger scale, not much had changed. He simply went about his days quietly or enjoyed moments of joy with his friends.

Really? Was that truly the case?

On the surface, nothing may have appeared to change, but deep within his heart, a seed planted by Armand had begun to sprout. Face yourself. Even if it tears your heart apart.

Ice smiled more often these days, and Volka, jokingly, said that a handsome guy with a good personality was too much and told him to go back to the way he was.

In contrast, Ricardt spoke less and smiled less than before. It wasn’t that he was gloomy. Nor was he in a bad mood.

Even he didn't know why. Boribori said that Ricky must be growing up.

Who knows? The answer may lie within him, but it was impossible to find, or perhaps he was unconsciously avoiding it.

In any case, whenever the seasons changed, rain always fell. From winter to spring, and from spring to summer.

Though the ears of grain hadn’t fully ripened yet, the green barley fields and wheat fields spread wide across the outskirts of Ernburg. They were slowly, ever so slightly, beginning to turn golden.

Around that time, documents arrived from the guild headquarters. They thought it would be the usual wanted posters, but there was one special document mixed in.

It announced that the Empire’s Swordsmanship Tournament would be held in the fall. It was written that the winner would receive a huge sum of prize money, land, and the honor of becoming a member of the Imperial Family.

Becoming a member of the Imperial Family meant none other than an engagement to the thirty-second Princess.

Martellia von Nibelinger.

As soon as he saw that name, the seed planted in Ricardt’s heart began to sprout little by little.

“Eh? Marie was a Princess?”

Boribori, riding the clan’s prized donkey along the embankment path, widened his eyes in surprise.

Ricardt, now much taller, was walking beside him. The two were on their way back to the branch after completing a commission.

“You didn’t know? You were there with me back then.”

“Back when?”

“At graduation.”

“Oh, back then? But we were so far away I couldn’t hear what you were saying.”

“Anyway, that’s how it is.”

“Then Ricky, you’re going to participate in the tournament, right?”

“...I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Marie’s too pitiful otherwise.”

It wasn’t typical for a commoner to feel sorry for a princess. But Boribori, who had witnessed her struggles up close, was different.

“Maybe this is how it’s meant to be.”

“What is? Your connection with Marie?”

“Yeah.”

“Ricky, you’re seriously cold-hearted. I know how stubborn you can be, but this isn’t right. You’ll only end up making both you and Marie miserable.”

“Life is inherently miserable. Occasionally, you get brief moments of happiness. If you desperately chase happiness, you just end up more miserable.”

“No. I don’t think so. Look at me. Do I seem miserable to you? Or happy?”

Boribori, who had endured more misfortune than anyone else, understood well that happiness and unhappiness depended on one’s mindset.

“You just don’t think much about anything.”

“What? That’s too harsh, Ricky. I’ll have you know, I’ve studied a lot!”

In fact, Boribori had read many books and studied diligently. His level of knowledge was actually higher than Ricardt’s.

“So, you’re not going to go?”

“I told you, I don’t know yet.”

“Hmm, I see. Looks like I’ll have to give you a little push.”

“Hahaha, do I look like the kind of person you can push around?”

“I’m not alone. If I tell the others, they’ll all tell you to go.”

“...Everyone’s that interested in me and Marie?”

“Of course! You two fit so well together. Honestly, Marie kind of seems like a female version of you. You’re so alike.”

"What? A female Ricky?"

“Yeah, she doesn’t bully the weak, stands up to the strong, seems clumsy but is actually clever, has a kind heart but can also be cold when needed. And most of all, you’re brave, but Marie is even braver than you.”

“...”

Was that really how others saw them? Ricardt suddenly found himself reflecting on Marie. Her shy smile came to mind, lingering before his eyes.

“And isn’t this just too much? A tournament prize? What, is Marie some kind of object? You know better than anyone that she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.”

In truth, from ancient tribal societies onward, it had been a long-standing tradition to marry off daughters to skilled wandering warriors, making them sons-in-law. This was a way to protect the family and, by extension, the village.

That tradition had evolved, and it wasn’t unheard of for princesses to be married off to the winners of jousting tournaments.

For knights, it was an opportunity for social advancement, and for kings, it was a way to secure military strength. It wasn’t just romantic, it was driven by mutual interest. Perhaps it was a characteristic of warrior cultures.

So, while it was shocking for the Imperial Family to host a swordsmanship tournament and betroth the winner to a princess, it was not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

However, people weren’t fools. They knew the Emperor was a libertine, had countless illegitimate children, and was simply tossing one of his lesser daughters down the hierarchy as a token gesture. The thirty-second princess, no less.

Even so, it was still considered an honorable matter. Even on her maternal side, Marie’s lineage was without fault, and the land included as part of the prize was quite enticing.

Of course, Ricardt had no interest in any of that. It was just that Boribori’s words felt like a hammer striking his head.

Why should Marie be treated like this? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

“You’re right, Bori. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Hehe, see? I’m not as clueless as you think!”

With a laugh, Ricardt roughly tousled Boribori’s hair.

“Yeah, I’ll admit it. You’re better than me this time.”

Boribori, who Ricardt had practically picked up off the streets and raised, had now grown into someone capable of thinking for himself and even offering advice and guidance to Ricardt.

What’s more, he was now a renowned swordsman throughout the central and northern regions of the Empire. Of course, he had also unintentionally earned the notorious nickname of the “Mad Limbs Severer”.

When they returned to the branch, it was bustling with adventurers. Being the most prominent branch in the Siegfringer region, and with flagship adventurers like Ricardt, Ice, and Boribori, it naturally drew a large crowd.

Volka had another responsibility, to distinguish between the capable and the unworthy while recruiting new members for the Viola Clan and to manage the other clans. He was now both the branch manager and the clan master.

Ricardt, though not intentionally, had somewhat closed-off relationships. He wasn’t cold, but he rarely engaged in deep conversations with anyone outside of his friends.

As a result, he often didn’t know the names of, or recognize, people who were part of the same Viola Clan. He would just shrug it off as unimportant.

Surprisingly, there were many who admired Boribori. His kindness and willingness to generously share his swordsmanship and combat experience earned him many followers.

In contrast, Ricardt exuded an untouchable aura that made people hesitant to approach him.

Ice, though he had improved compared to before, still maintained a cold demeanor toward strangers, so he didn’t attract much company either.

The Ernburg branch continued to function steadily in this manner. The world was overflowing with problems, which meant commissions never stopped coming in. It was a business that couldn’t fail.

At any rate, Ricardt gave a report to Volka about his progress and told him about the swordsmanship tournament and Marie. His friends all responded in unison:

"Why aren't you going?"

As Boribori had predicted, Ricardt was practically pushed out the door.

Still bewildered, he packed his gear and belongings and boarded a merchant ship. As the ship set off, Ricardt took a look back at the city of Ernburg. It was small but bustling with life.

But the ship was heading for larger waters, toward a place where the turbulent currents could be deadly.

Although the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament would be held in the fall, Nibelungen was already bustling with outsiders from all over the Empire, even though it wasn’t autumn yet. Most of these outsiders were swordsmen.

As a result, incidents and accidents occurred daily. Fistfights were common, and outside taverns, duels over pride, which was deemed more important than life, were a frequent occurrence.

The Imperial Knights had stepped in to try to maintain order, but enforcement was spotty at best.

This was because things often ended more cleanly when one side simply died. Meddling in fights only risked more trouble breaking out elsewhere, which was an even greater hassle.

Thus, knights and soldiers limited their efforts to protecting the locals. In effect, outsiders from other regions received no protection and had to fend for themselves.

This chaotic situation created a windfall for undertakers, priests, and grave robbers, all of whom were enjoying an unexpected boom in business. Meanwhile, even more outsiders continued to flood into the city, pushing it past its capacity.

Ricardt disembarked and stepped into this tumultuous city. His belongings were modest: a single sword, a dagger tucked into his chest, and a few other items.

As the river breeze brushed past him, Ricardt took in a quick view of the city. It was a quaint and beautiful place. Across the river lay a forest, and the paved roads were wide and spacious.

There were no city walls, so the wind moved freely throughout. Moreover, the presence of a functioning water supply and sewer system meant that the city didn’t have the typical stench associated with urban areas.

The Emperor’s castle stood atop a hill and was smaller than Ricardt had expected. However, the actual residence of the Imperial Family was located a bit farther from the city in a separate palace.

The castle had been used as a residence in ancient times, but it was no longer suitable for living quarters and was now effectively operated as a military barracks.

Ricardt strolled along the main street. As it was the capital, wealthy individuals were abundant, and carriages occasionally passed by. Consequently, horse manure was scattered here and there on the road.

Someone was collecting the manure into sacks, not a cleaner, but someone planning to sell it as fertilizer. Thanks to such efforts, the city remained relatively clean.

After roughly mapping out the city’s layout, Ricardt wandered in search of lodging. But as soon as he veered off the main street, he began to feel stares from various directions.

These weren’t the gazes of thieves eyeing his money or equipment. Rather, they were provocative stares.

In a situation like this, there was only one way to survive: by lowering your eyes and avoiding confrontation.

But Ricardt didn’t do that. He simply stared back blankly. What? What are you going to do about it?

Fortunately, it seemed the locals didn’t pay him much mind. It was easy to tell outsiders from locals at a glance, whether it was their attire or the subtle air about them.

Ricardt approached a man carrying an oak barrel and asked,

“Excuse me, could I ask you something? Where can I find a decent inn around here?”

“An inn? They’re probably all full by now.”

“Huh?”

“The expensive inns near the Imperial Palace are all taken by famous swordsmen. As for the rest, well, they’re already filled, even at inflated prices. If you head that way and leave the city, there’s a tent village. But let me warn you, it’s dangerous there. With sword fights breaking out constantly, how could you get proper sleep?"

The residents of Nibelungen were generally kind. However, kindness didn’t necessarily solve problems.

“Oh... I see. Thank you.”

“Best of luck to you. I hope you achieve good results.”

Ricardt thanked the citizen and turned away.

Still, it was a troubling situation. Where was he supposed to go? Should he return to the ship, leave for now, and come back later for the tournament?

He figured he might as well register while he was already here. With that in mind, he approached an Imperial Knight who was standing by the roadside, joking around with some soldiers. The knight was wearing chainmail over which a white surcoat was draped.

"Hello."

When Ricardt addressed him, the knight, who had been chuckling, stopped laughing and turned toward him with a serious expression.

“I’d like to register for the tournament. Where should I go?”

The knight gave Ricardt a quick once-over and, without saying a word, gestured with his chin toward the hilltop castle.

As Ricardt bowed and was about to leave, the knight called out to him.

“What’s your name? You look young.”

“Ricky. I’m an adventurer.”

“...Ricky? Don’t tell me you’re that Ricky, the one with the red cloak?”

“People seem to call me that.”

At this, the knight looked slightly surprised but then broke into a grin.

“It’s an honor to see you in person. Follow me.”

With that, he began walking toward the Imperial Palace, gesturing for Ricardt to follow.

“We were instructed to provide special treatment for distinguished guests. You should’ve informed us in advance.”

“Is that so? I didn’t know.”

“Let me give you some advice. If you stay at the palace, it’s best to only sleep there at night. During the day, you might get harassed by those fucking bastards.”

“F-fucking bastards? What do you mean?”

Ricardt was taken aback by the knight’s sudden profanity, and a sense of foreboding crept over him.

“You must’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? About the womanizing Emperor. Even that bastard has an official Empress, of course. And her children, they’re the fucking bastards I’m talking about.”

Ricardt could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was this man really referring to the Emperor’s sons, the princes, as fucking bastards?

The knight seemed to have not even an ounce of loyalty to the Emperor or the Imperial Family. It was clear he only did his job for the paycheck.

There was a limit to how pathetic things could get. The Emperor himself was the one who had destroyed the authority of the throne. Who else could be blamed?

It wasn’t a matter of a year or two, it had been decades of disgraceful behavior. No wonder even the subordinates thought, What a moron.

“Be careful of the Empress Dowager. And honestly, just stay out of sight of anyone in the Imperial Family. Nothing good will come of it. If you happen to win, sell off your land immediately, pocket the money, and leave. Trust me, that’s the best outcome. What kind of succession rights could the thirty-second Princess possibly have? If anything, they’ll use her as an excuse to drag you to battlefields all over the place.”

It was an extremely cynical piece of advice.

“...”

Ricardt was speechless. He couldn’t think of anything to say in response. All he could think about now was Marie.

Wasn’t the Emperor supposed to stand at the pinnacle of all humankind? What kind of mess was this Imperial Family?