The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

The best nerve stabilizers are sleep and time. Sleep relieves stress, and time dilutes pain.

Therefore, for stress and pain that are far too great, sufficient rest is essential.

Then, to reduce the stress and pain of someone who killed his own brother, how much sleep must he get, and how long must the years pass.

Ricardt stood with one arm extended and the other hand holding that arm, looking down at a puddle. It was a posture that seemed slightly hunched.

The clouds in the sky were reflected in the puddle, and I could see my own image. Since the color of my eyes could not be distinguished, I looked even more like Vilter. A breeze blew and the water rippled briefly.

At times, people are bound by the past and cannot move toward the future. Conversely, because they are human, they look back on the past, realize what they did not know back then, and move forward into the future.

The beautiful memories remained as they were, and when I thought of Vilter, all that came to mind was the boy who used to smile brightly, who was prickly toward everyone except me.

Strangely, there was no hardened knot in Ricardt’s heart. There was nothing heavy, rough, sharp, or pointed that had nowhere to be released.

Whether this mental state was because of the light that had poured down from the sky or something else, I did not know, but what was certain was that it was not something that had appeared from nowhere, but something that had all been within my heart.

Behind hatred, there was love. Behind pain, there was healing. Behind revenge, there was forgiveness. Behind sorrow, there was joy. These things did not exist separately but were all mixed together and bound as one.

Therefore, which aspect one looks at and which choice one makes was the free will bestowed by God. Because there is free will, humans suffer at the crossroads of choice.

Of course, the current Ricardt could not smile broadly and act as if nothing had happened. With a heart that quietly shed tears, he kept all of it within his chest.

Two things that sprout from the same stem sometimes grow in completely opposite directions. Only the choices and paths were different. Vilter did not resent me, and I did not resent him either.

If there is an afterlife, Billy would meet Mother first. Ricardt thought of Vilter in his childhood, smiling while being held in his mother’s arms.

That quiet awakening led Ricardt into a deeper, broader, and higher mental world.

It was like the bold yet tranquil state of mind of a hero who stands against the Demon King to save the entire world.

“Commander.”

Someone called out from behind Ricardt. From the voice alone, he thought he knew who it was.

When Ricardt turned around, Raimund was standing there with the cluttered interior of Karagosa Fortress as the background.

“Did you not say you would call me Ricky? Ray.”

“That is no longer possible. You know that.”

Ricardt looked around the cluttered Karagosa Fortress. The disorder was due to the fact that they were in the middle of sorting out the belongings of the Order of the Flame Knights that had accumulated over many long years.

As an organization that had existed for hundreds of years, there were many items that were like relics, and accordingly, there was much that needed to be disposed of. Especially since they would be traveling a long distance.

Old solid wood furniture, holy relics, weapons and armor, and other strangely shaped items. They did not dispose of everything and took some with them, but if something seemed cumbersome, they sold even holy relics.

As Ricardt saw it, holy relics were things like the shinbone of a prophet whose authenticity could not be verified, burial shrouds, foreskins, and such.

Even the holy relics he had brought to headquarters after much hardship at Edmund’s request turned out to be the finger bone of some unknown person.

It was a world filled with truly many fake holy relics. However, those fakes had existed for so long that they sometimes became relics in their own right, but anything large and heavy Ricardt had ordered to be disposed of.

To sell holy relics? In the past, it would have been an order he would not have followed. However, now it was different. The knights of the Order of the Flame Knights accepted Ricardt’s words almost as if they were the will of God.

“We searched the surroundings thoroughly, but we could not find your friend. There was testimony that he left the camp at night on the eve of the holy duel, but……”

Raimund said.

Ricardt was not the type to hold back someone who was leaving, but regarding Hashim, an inexplicable sense of regret remained.

I want to tell him that I am fine, to the very end, the one who worried about me. For Ricardt, it was difficult to even dare to understand his final repentance and the sacrifice he made for my sake.

Many people loved Ricardt. At birth, his mother. While growing up, his brothers. At the crossroads of life, his father. Friends who shared hardship and joy, and Marie.

And there were also those whom he could dare to call teachers. Nameless One, Armand, and Hashim.

Ricardt felt that he had incurred many debts. That sense of indebtedness did not pressure or suppress him, but instead became the foundation that helped him grow into a more mature adult.

He was eighteen years old. By the standards of the era, it was an age at which one should confidently fulfill the role of an adult, but whether he was also an adult mentally was perhaps another question altogether.

A strong mentality and a gentle heart. Possessing those and advancing steadfastly, living on.

Ricardt descended from the fortress riding the Red Comet. Once down from the fortress, it was crowded with people, and he could see soldiers belonging to the knight order haggling intensely with merchants.

It was bargaining to sell goods at even a slightly higher price and to buy them more cheaply.

However, when Ricardt revealed himself, everyone removed their hats and knelt on one knee as if paying respect to a king. As though a ripple were spreading, every person knelt down.

Ricardt, wearing comfortable everyday clothes with only a single sword at his waist, looked at them and then spoke to a nearby unfamiliar merchant.

“I will not say anything about leaving yourself a profit. However, I hope you do so with a conscience.”

He then spoke to the knight of noble origin as well.

“Gather King Santonio’s army. Now it is time for you as well to go where you belong.”

“However, there are many soldiers who wish to follow you, Commander.”

“Do not expect something like salvation from me. I am not a saint. If there is salvation, it already dwells within all of you. If I do not keep my promise with King Santonio, I would be nothing more than a liar. In that case, it would be even harder to expect salvation from me. Is that not so?”

“What you say is true, but still... I am also somewhat reluctant...”

For those who had seen the pillar of light with their own eyes while fully awake, it was in truth difficult not to follow Ricardt. In a world where religion was rampant, it was only natural that leaving the side of one chosen by God was not easy. If one stayed close, one could go to heaven.

“Very well. Then let us do this. I will atone for all the sins you have committed up to now. Instead, live good lives from now on. Will that suffice?”

Ricardt was not a liar, but if it was not with bad intentions, and if it was necessary in a situation like war, he would simply lie.

It was somewhat contradictory, but circumstances differed from moment to moment. In matters like this, he was rather shameless.

Since Ricardt went so far as to say this, the noble knight reluctantly accepted it and gathered the soldiers.

The soldiers all looked at Ricardt with expressions that were both fearful and desperate, and someone reached out a hand to try to touch him.

When one person did so, everyone else also reached out their hands, and it was as if a flower made of human arms had bloomed with Ricardt at its center.

When his path was obstructed, Ricardt stopped for a moment and spoke to the soldiers.

“Brothers, even though I am a foreigner, you bravely fought without running away and followed me. I will never forget the valor of the men of Sinatria for the rest of my life. Where there is meeting, there is inevitably parting, so do not grieve too much. I hope that salvation dwells within your families, your friends, and yourselves. I heard the words of God, and He said so.”

Ricardt spoke with a mixture of sincerity and lies. Of course, he had never heard any words of God.

Ricardt thought that the words of God were something that spoke persistently through one’s life. Whether to listen attentively to them or not ultimately depended on the individual.

However, such complicated and profound thoughts would become long-winded and not intuitive if put into words, so he had simply lied. The soldiers were ignorant, and if something was even slightly abstruse, they could not understand it.

And that lie worked astonishingly well, and many soldiers were sobbing here and there.

It was not so much that they were moved by Ricardt’s words, but that some sense of guilt they had been carrying, or hardened knots within them, had been released. Each soldier had a life of his own. Living was suffering. For everyone.

The road opened again. Ricardt rode his horse forward, and the soldiers followed behind him.

It was about a day’s distance from Karagosa Fortress. It was the very place where Vilter had ascended. Because he had ascended, Vilter had no grave.

However, word was circulating that people were making something to commemorate him.

At the place where Vilter had ascended, King Santonio was on horseback with a small number of guards. He kept looking around restlessly, as if searching for something.

When Ricardt appeared over the ridge together with the soldiers, he turned his head to look. It was near sunset, and between the two of them shone the parting glow of the setting sun.

Ricardt slowly guided his horse toward him and called out to him with a gentle smile. With the name they had agreed to use when they met again.

“Sancho.”

When he was called by a nickname rather than my king or Your Majesty, a smile appeared even on the face of the dignified man.

“It seems God has nothing to say to me.”

It seemed that King Santonio had heard news that a miracle had occurred here and had come hoping to hear the voice of God himself.

“Just wait a moment.”

Ricardt put on a deliberately grave expression and tilted his ear toward somewhere. After a brief pause, he spoke.

“Hmm. God says that those strange clothes do not suit you very well, Sancho.”

“What? Hahahaha.”

At Ricardt’s joke, King Santonio threw back his head and laughed heartily.

Ricardt gave kind words to the soldiers and light jokes to a new friend. King Santonio did not dislike that either.

“When do you plan to depart?”

“I am trying to reduce the number of people as much as possible, but it is not easy.”

The knight order alone had as many as one thousand knights, and the number of auxiliary troops or regular soldiers was five thousand. Taking this massive force all the way to Adeloron was not easy.

“Up to Orsello, load the supplies onto ships. It will be much faster. If you speak to the Count of Valencia, he will lend you a fleet.”

Ricardt had already planned to do so, but he simply nodded as if in agreement.

Santonio asked.

“How far is it to Adeloron?”

“Well, I did not come by normal means either.”

"Will we ever see each other again?"

"As long as we are alive, what would be impossible?"

“Haha, that is true. But then... what did God really say?”

This time, Santonio asked rather seriously.

“It seems you are curious about that as well, Sancho. He said nothing. He only showed me. If that was truly God."

"What did He show you?"

“That this world is already filled with salvation. That our foolishness, our pain and suffering, are merely part of a journey. Therefore, no matter what happens, there is no need to despair. If it is hard and difficult, it is fine to rest for a while. That is what He showed.”

“Hm... hearing that makes it somewhat better, at least.”

Santonio was a lonely and burdened man, torn between the responsibilities of a king and his personal ambitions. Like a poor porter carrying a heavy load, he too bore his own burdens.

Because Ricardt and King Santonio were destined to be far apart, it was unclear whether they could truly become friends. If they had lived in the same region, might they not have become lifelong rivals.

Even so, it was not that they felt no pang of parting. Thinking about it, it was strange. Because they were distant beings, they could be close, and once they had grown close, they had to become distant again.

Looking back at the setting sun, Santonio said.

“For now, have the soldiers disperse and set up the barracks. At least for tonight, there will be no such thing as sleep for you, Ricky. Between friends, alcohol cannot be missing.”

“I have tasted the liquors of many regions, so let us see how good the alcohol here is.”

“Haha, my friend Ricky. I am a king. I have already tasted every good liquor in the world, but there has never been any finer than that of Sinatria.”

Like any man, Santonio was full of pride when it came to alcohol. All the more so because it was his homeland and because he himself was the king.

Tents were set up, and Ricardt drank with Santonio all through the night.

Indeed, the alcohol of Sinatria was exquisite in taste. It was wine mixed with things like lemon, apple, and orange, and it had a strong sweetness. When drunk together with fatty meat and fish, it went down smoothly.

King Santonio truly drank well, and Ricardt, burning with determination, faced him in his own way.

They burst into loud laughter over trivial stories, and Santonio even cast aside the dignity of a king and made ridiculous expressions.

Thus the night grew deep. It was the first and last drinking bout.

Ricardt rose from his seat only after quite some time had passed since the morning sun had risen. His mouth was parched, and his head was dizzy.

At that moment, King Santonio entered the tent carrying alcohol and olives.

“One must defeat alcohol with alcohol.”

It was dreadful, but it was a kind of consideration. It was extremely strong, yet when he ate an olive, a salty and nutty aroma spread sharply, whetting his appetite. Even though he had eaten and drunk like that the night before.

Before long, the king’s cook brought out the meal. Instead of meat, there was only soft bread, soup, and fruit.

Ricardt ate breakfast together with King Santonio following the previous night. However, this time, rather than merely laughing and reveling, the conversation was serious in its own way.

“The western part of the Empire has been divided into two countries since ancient times. Strictly speaking, there are three, but to put it simply, there is the Cape Kingdom and the Basque Kingdom. When countries are close together, they naturally become enemies, and it is the same for them. However, as you know, Ricky, both of them dismantled the branches of the knight orders and confiscated their property. The journey back will not be easy.”

“It does not matter.”

“I do not doubt your combat power, but do not forget that throughout history, many heroes have fallen victim to the three-inch tongues of politicians.”

Ricardt nodded as if in understanding. It looked somewhat careless, but it was a fact he fully recognized.

Santonio gazed quietly at Ricardt as he ate, then spoke.

“In my lifetime, if I accomplish the great task of unifying Sinatria, let us meet again then, Ricky.”

It was something difficult to achieve within one lifetime. Perhaps it might be possible. No one knew.

“I wish you good fortune in battle. Take care of yourself.”

Ricardt and Santonio finished their meal and went outside. In front of all the soldiers, they shook hands and embraced as their shoulders touched.

It was the formal transfer of the army he had borrowed from him. For two leaders to meet and conclude matters so peacefully was something difficult to find in history.

As promised, Ricardt brought down Leonia Fortress, occupied Valencia, achieved a great victory against Sultan Yusuf, and in the end even handed Karagosa Fortress over to King Santonio.

With this, he had kept a promise made man to man. In a way, it was an ending so beautiful as to be unrealistic and beyond common sense.

King Santonio returned, leading his army. Ricardt saw him off from horseback, then returned to Karagosa Fortress to prepare for a long journey.

To Adeloron. At last.

They gathered supplies, reorganized the organization, and even abandoned the name Order of the Flame Knights. From now on, it was the Order of the Steel Knights. A steel sword born from flame and tempered with a brother's blood.

However, whether traveling by ship or by land, especially if moving with an army, it was unclear how long it would take.

Along the way were countless kings and lords, unknown regions, and villains and heroes, and there was even the Emperor.

The plan to traverse the Empire from west to east, from one end to the other, was reckless and nearly impossible, but the newly reborn knight order was ready to follow Ricardt with unbreakable faith, without a shred of doubt.

Even if hell awaited at the end of his path.

The knight order headed toward the Empire. The Empire that had used them like dogs for hundreds of years and then discarded them in the end.

Since they had even changed the name of the knight order, they had no particular intention of wielding a blade filled with vengeance. However, whoever stood in their way would have to endure a storm of steel.

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