Warrior's Ballad
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Chapter 80
🕑 Added 2025-01-25 13:32:03 +0000 UTCTranslator: Willia
Ricardt liked the wind. Since long ago, even before he was reborn.
He enjoyed watching the wind blow across the fields during his days as a shepherd, occasionally gazing at the breezy fields alone even at Stormhertz, and the same held true during his academy days.
Because of this, he often thought about building a small hut in some cool field someday and living there.
Tending a vegetable garden, raising livestock, be it sheep or something else.
The wind blew. His hair fluttered. A cool field, a tiny hut in the distance, and a peaceful scene from his dreams came into view.
He couldn’t tell if the wind was coming down from the mountains or sweeping in from the sea, but either way, it felt good.
But he wasn’t alone. A woman stood on the field with her back turned, her beautiful blonde hair fluttering in the breeze.
Ricardt immediately knew who it was. Without realizing it, a smile crept onto his lips. If he walked about twenty steps, he could reach her.
But at that moment, a loud shout boomed from behind, loud enough to shake his skull.
“Iron Reaper Ricky!”
Ricardt turned his head. The world was engulfed in a blood-red glow, with countless corpses covering the ground. Fire, steel, blood, and death.
Vesprim, the legendary warrior of the barbarians, clad entirely in steel, was smashing, crushing, and trampling everything alive.
But that wasn’t all. Every human in the world was locked in a desperate struggle against every other human. Among them, Ricardt caught glimpses of friends like Boribori, Volka, and Ice.
The world was split in two. One side was heaven, the other side was hell. Ricardt stood precisely in the middle.
Where should he go? Why couldn’t he let go of the pain?
At that moment, the whisper of an angel reached his ears.
“Ricky.”
Ricardt opened his eyes on the bed. The morning sunlight streaming through the curtains wasn’t blinding but soothing.
Yet his heart pounded as if it were about to burst.
It soon calmed down as he came to grips with reality. His mind was at peace. It had only been a dream.
Ricardt got up from his bed and approached the washbasin on the table. Tilting the kettle to pour water, washed his face, and soaked a towel to wipe his neck and body. The water wasn’t cold but lukewarm, just right.
Afterward, he dressed himself. He donned a silk tunic he had never worn before and fastened a belt made of calf leather around his waist.
The soles of his ankle-high boots were made by layering multiple pieces of leather, making them slightly elastic yet very durable.
From head to toe, everything was made of the finest materials and crafted by master artisans, all brand new. The texture against his skin and the fit were exceptional. All of this had been provided by the Crown Prince.
Ricardt pulled out the sword propped against the wall to check its condition. After inspecting the dagger as well, he decided to leave them behind for now and stepped out of the room. Carrying weapons while standing beside the Crown Prince didn’t seem appropriate.
He headed to the dining hall, where he had a simple breakfast of soft bread, cheese, ham, and milk.
Even the bread wasn’t ordinary. It was made from finely milled flour, baked fresh at dawn, and was as soft as feathers.
Most commoners ground grain by hand instead of using a mill, which meant the texture was coarse, and once baked, the bread became rock-hard after a few days.
Because of this, it had to be softened with water or saliva before eating, and Ricardt was used to that kind of bread.
In the Imperial Palace, everything was comfortable, and everything was convenient. There was no hardship to be found. Although Ricardt wasn’t particularly ascetic, he felt that this was excessive.
Because it made him feel like he was becoming lazy and mentally weak without even realizing it. Perhaps the way the Crown Prince and the Imperial Princes turned out had a lot to do with this environment, he thought.
After finishing his meal, Ricardt walked down the hallway toward the Crown Prince’s room. The hallways were decorated with different themes in each section, and the one leading to the Crown Prince’s room was literally gilded from floor to ceiling.
Exquisite carvings boasting unbelievable craftsmanship and ancient relics preserved almost perfectly in their original form were on display.
The gold-coated decor wasn’t entirely made of solid gold but was instead covered with thin gold leaf, so it hadn’t cost as much as it seemed. Still, outwardly, it appeared dazzlingly extravagant.
However, even such grandeur seemed to grow tiresome eventually. The Imperial Knights stationed here and there in the corridor stood with indifferent expressions, leaning crookedly against the walls or slumping lazily in their chairs.
Not all Imperial Knights were exceptionally skilled or disciplined unless they were the closest confidants of important figures like the Emperor or the Empress Dowager. This was because selections were made based more on lineage than ability.
To make matters worse, even their horses and equipment were technically on loan, meaning they either had to pay for them out of their salaries or return them later. Much like the academy, most of the knights were second sons from noble families.
Regardless, the knights greeted Ricardt with a nod as he passed. They had seen his duel with Liberio, and it was a gesture of respect for someone courageous and strong.
"May I go in?"
Ricardt asked the Imperial Knight standing guard at the door. The knight shrugged, his expression seeming to say, How should I know?
So Ricardt knocked lightly on the door.
“It’s Ricardt.”
“Oh, come in.”
Crown Prince Nivellius's voice came, and Ricardt carefully pushed open the large door.
Inside the room, a maid wearing a white headscarf to cover her hair was holding a small chamber pot and receiving the Crown Prince’s urine.
Ricardt stood frozen, watching the scene. Neither the Crown Prince nor the maid seemed embarrassed, as if this was a perfectly normal routine for them. The sound of urine hitting the pot echoed softly.
Afterward, the maid shook him off, wiped him with a damp towel, and brought over a washbasin to wash his face and even blow his nose.
Of course, she dressed him completely as well, finishing by smoothing down the Crown Prince’s tousled hair before bowing her head and leaving the room with the chamber pot and basin.
“You’re here early today.”
"I came at the usual time."
“Really? Then was the maid late? Should I punish her? What kind of punishment would be good? How about making her eat a live mantis?”
He spoke casually, without a hint of malice, and Ricardt was exasperated. Fortunately, the Crown Prince generally listened to what Ricardt had to say.
“Please don’t punish her.”
“Why not? Grandma said to punish anyone who doesn’t do their job properly.”
By “Grandma”, the Crown Prince was referring to his great-grandmother, the Empress Dowager, mother of the current Emperor and the true power behind the Imperial Family and the Empire.
“If the mistake isn’t significant, you should show mercy. If you nitpick every little fault and impose punishments, people will become demoralized and unable to perform their duties properly. In the end, it will only inconvenience Your Highness. She was probably more tired than usual today.”
"Hmm, I see. She might have been tired. Alright. I'll let it go then."
“You’ve made a wise decision.”
Ricardt sighed inwardly. His role was less about teaching swordsmanship and more akin to raising a child.
The Crown Prince’s father had died young, his grandfather was a playboy, and the Empress Dowager treated even the Crown Prince as nothing more than a tool for her power. After all, a child was easier to manipulate.
Perhaps the root cause of the Imperial Family’s dysfunction was the Empress Dowager herself. She had driven away competent members of the family and filled the palace with people she could control easily.
Meanwhile, Hellauman was doing his best to maintain order in the Imperial Family, but no one knew how long that could last.
One of the strengths of feudalism was that the country could function relatively well even with an incompetent ruler, as the various nobles governed their own territories autonomously.
In fact, there were many nobles who couldn’t care less if the Emperor was a playboy or even dead. They would simply think, What does that have to do with me?
However, if the Imperial Family were to falter, there would be serious consequences. Without even the minimum oversight, the nobles across the Empire might begin running rampant.
What might happen next was anyone’s guess. The Imperial Family’s downfall could lead to either a period of sustained peace or the entire Empire plunging into chaos and warfare.
Ricardt simply wanted to complete the tournament as quickly as possible and leave with Marie.
"Hey, um, Ricky."
The Crown Prince nervously held the sword made to match his physique and hesitantly began to speak.
“Yes, you may speak.”
“W-Would it be alright to take a break today?”
“Yes, of course. That’s fine with me.”
In truth, Ricardt wasn’t particularly talented at teaching, and the Crown Prince lacked not only talent but also patience and enthusiasm. Swordsmanship lessons were more or less a futile effort.
“In that case, I’ll take my leave.”
“Ah, no! Let’s do something else for the duration of the lesson.”
“Something else?”
“Um... Didn’t you say last time that you were curious about the Imperial Archive?”
It had come up while talking about the Codex.
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, I got permission from Grandma. Want to go?”
“Is that really okay?”
Ricardt’s expression shifted, his eyes lighting up. Seeing this, the Crown Prince smiled brightly, he wanted to win Ricardt’s favor, no matter what.
The Crown Prince lifted his chin proudly and responded.
“Of course. Grandma listens to everything I say.”
“Haha, I envy you for that.”
Though a bit absurd, Ricardt held no ill feelings toward the Crown Prince.
That said, it wasn’t easy to just brush everything off as a child’s behavior. At the Crown Prince’s age, Ricardt had already left home to live independently, as had all of his friends.
Regardless, for today, they decided to forgo swordsmanship lessons and headed to the Imperial Archive, located a bit away from the palace. Several escort knights accompanied them, though they seemed visibly bored. They likely wished they could go to the city instead.
The Imperial Archive, designed to preserve books and scrolls, was situated in a cool location and resembled a temple in its architecture.
A few librarians guarded the archive, and they were visibly flustered when the Crown Prince appeared out of the blue. This was because they worried he might do something reckless, set fire to the books or tear them apart.
But they had no power to stop the Crown Prince. They could only plead silently with Ricardt through their eyes, imploring him to keep the Crown Prince from causing trouble.
The Imperial Archive had existed since the time of the first Emperor, who placed great importance on knowledge. For centuries, it had been a place where books were collected and preserved. Perhaps due to its long history, it exuded an almost sacred atmosphere, much like an actual temple.
The interior was truly magnificent, and curiously, it maintained a cool temperature regardless of the season.
Unexpectedly, however, Prince Bellator was already there.
He was seated on the floor, engrossed in a book. When he sensed the presence of others, he looked up.
“Your Highness.”
He rose to his feet upon seeing the Crown Prince and bowed his head.
“Uncle? Did you get Grandma’s permission to be here?”
Though they were similar in age, Bellator was the Crown Prince’s uncle, and the Crown Prince held a higher rank.
“What? Ah, I’ve been coming here for a long time…”
“Huh? If you enter without permission, you’re supposed to be punished.”
Ricardt stepped in to intervene, wondering why the Crown Prince seemed so fixated on punishments.
"Reading books is something to be encouraged. Even without permission, I don't think it's something that needs to be reprimanded."
"Right. If Ricky says so, then that's how it is. Because that's what's cool."
“Exactly. Since we’re already here, why not read together with the Prince? Since he’s been coming here for a while, I’m sure he knows about many interesting books.”
Given their similar ages, Ricardt thought it might be good for the two to become friends.
“Alright.”
Bellator seemed a bit flustered, but he had no authority to refuse.
"By the way, what were you reading?"
Ricardt asked Bellator.
“Oh, this. It’s a collection of ancient civil case precedents.”
For a moment, Ricardt was at a loss for words. He had no knowledge of such topics.
Instead, he began to browse the shelves. All the books were stored individually, laid flat. Among them, one title caught his eye: Fables of Telemos.
“This seems suitable. Could you explain this to His Highness?”
Bellator glanced at the book and commented.
“This seems a bit childish…”
Childish is exactly what’s needed, Ricardt thought to himself.
“It’s perfect for reading together. Asking and answering each other’s thoughts as you go will make it more enjoyable.”
“Well, I guess…”
“In that case, Your Highness, please read this with the Prince. I’ll go look for something to read myself.”
“Alright.”
Ricardt saw an opportunity to leave the two together and went over to a librarian to ask where the Codex, particularly any volumes related to Sword Masters or mana, might be located.
The librarians helpfully guided him, and Ricardt walked to a secluded corner where he found the books he was looking for.
<Magnus Family’s Basic Swordsmanship Manual>
<Classifications of Mana Utilization>
<The Effects of Personality on Mana>
<Properties of Mana by Color>
<The Essence of Mana>
<Critique of the Mainstream Mana Classification System>
It was clear that ancient research on mana had been quite active. However, it was difficult to decide where to begin reading.
<Beyond Sword Master’s Threshold - by Rusteth>
Ricardt was able to find the next volume of the <The Sword Master’s Threshold> Codex he had read before. So he picked it up and opened it. It was quite thick compared to the previous volume.
As expected, its contents were filled with ominous things, describing specific methods for severing the human mind.
It detailed horrific practices, such as sacrificing one’s closest person through heretical rituals, torture, murder, and brainwashing, inhumane methods that made Ricardt frown.
It was so disturbing that he couldn't help but frown and found it difficult to continue reading.
Yet, the effectiveness of these methods seemed undeniable. By forsaking emotions like sympathy, empathy, and compassion, it appeared possible to awaken as a Sword Master.
However, it wasn’t something just anyone could achieve. The book stated that only those on the verge of becoming Sword Masters, who met certain preconditions and acted with voluntary intent, could undergo the transformation.
The author claimed that being a Sword Master was neither a matter of talent nor training but something shaped solely by fate. Accordingly, he referred to his methods as “the art of mastering fate”.
“Art, my ass,” Ricardt muttered inwardly, barely resisting the urge to burn the book. He returned it to the shelf.
Despite his disgust, he had been so engrossed in reading that a significant amount of time had passed. By the time he stepped outside, the Crown Prince and Prince Bellator had already left, and the sun was beginning to set.
Realizing how late it was, Ricardt hurried to Irmin Castle. He climbed up the vines, entered through a window as if it were his own home, and found Marie brushing her long hair with her back turned.
“Marie.”
Hearing her name, Marie turned around.
“Huh?”
“I’m hungry. Feed me.”
“Hold on, I’ll get you something right away.”
Marie stopped brushing her hair mid-stroke, roughly tied it up, and quickly set out the food the maids had brought.
Ricardt sat on the bed, placed the tray on his lap, and began eating hungrily, picking at a variety of dishes.
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
“No, I was at the Imperial Archive. I lost track of time while reading there.”
“Are you still teaching swordsmanship to the Crown Prince?”
“I do, but it’s pretty meaningless. He didn’t seem to want to do it today either, so we went to the archive instead. I’m hoping Bellator will entertain him.”
“That smart prince? Wasn’t he the Fifth Prince?”
“Yeah. He seems to have his own issues, but he’s incredibly smart. He was reading some book about civil cases or something.”
“Laws are usually studied by subordinates, though. That’s unusual.”
“By the way, no one’s been bothering you, right?”
“Since that incident, it’s been quiet. I’ve just been watching the clouds drift by, listening to the birds chirping, and… waiting for you to come… No, forget the last part. That was a lie.”
Marie, flustered, realized she had accidentally admitted to waiting for Ricardt. Embarrassed, she tried to cover it up. Ricardt, however, only smiled softly without teasing her.
This had become Ricardt’s daily routine: spending time with the Crown Prince during the day and visiting Marie at Irmin Castle to spend the rest of the day with her.
Since this had been their pattern for a while, everyone knew about it. People assumed that Ricardt and Marie were in a romantic relationship.
Having attended the same academy, it seemed natural that they had fallen for each other, so no one gossiped maliciously about them. However, many people found Ricardt puzzling.
Despite gaining the Crown Prince’s favor, Ricardt chose to spend his time with a princess who offered no political or material benefits, and people simply couldn’t understand why.
Marie was ranked thirty-second in line to the throne. The idea of comparing her to the Crown Prince, who was first in line for imperial succession, was inconceivable and beyond the bounds of common sense for most people.
When people encounter something they can’t understand, they often create reasons to justify it. In this case, they simply concluded that Ricardt was young and blinded by his attraction to women.
"It's late. Sorry. I'll come early tomorrow."
“No, it’s fine. Even if you come late… as long as you come…”
It was a little awkward, but it was okay. They had already confirmed each other’s feelings.
To keep her entertained, Ricardt brought up all sorts of trivial stories. He talked about how people called the princes fucking bastards, how he thought the Empress Dowager seemed to be the real problem, and other such topics.
They laughed at various stories, got angry together, felt sorry together, and before they knew it, stars had appeared in the sky.
Ricardt kissed her before climbing back down through the window. Marie, as always, watched him descend safely, standing by the window until he disappeared completely from view.
She felt a mix of longing and anticipation for tomorrow. Each morning, she woke up with excitement. Every day felt like a dream.
But good times always seem to pass quickly, and the day of the tournament was drawing near.
Ricardt’s skill was well-known, but the thought of what if made it hard to sleep. In the end, all she could do was believe.
He would win. He would absolutely win and take her with him. They both believed in that with all their hearts.
