The Warrior’s Ballad

Chapter 67

Translator: Willia

It was evening. The moon was half-covered by clouds, as if it wore a cloak. Because of this, the night was darker than usual.

The Beringen Adventurers' Guild building was quiet. Despite being filled with so many people, it felt as though the sound of a pin dropping would echo loudly.

They were boys and girls between the ages of 12 and 16. Their levels of physical development varied - some looked very young, while others appeared nearly full-grown adults.

The diverse group of students all looked toward Ricardt, who stood on the platform.

Ricardt calmly received their numerous gazes, slowly scanning across them as if trying to make eye contact with each student.

To the students, he was a living legend. Every time news of his exploits outside reached them, he instilled them with pride.

A genius among geniuses, the hero of Siegfringer, the one who defeated the Ernburg Five, one of the Empire's Nine Swords, the Red Cloak, the Tiger of Kaitz.

Unbelievable legends trailed him, along with countless titles, and his fame had spread beyond Beringen and the North to the entire Empire.

Perhaps this was why not only the students but also the people of Beringen, and even those of Siegfringer, viewed him with pride.

He couldn’t have gained such renown simply by being skilled with a sword. It was because his character formed the foundation of everything he did.

Ricardt always led the charge during attacks and covered the rear during retreats. He took on the most dangerous roles, and even amid those perilous moments, he would rescue those who were powerless.

There was no one else like him. While rare, even the noblest wandering knights would only slay villains for money. Even those actions were enough for people to call them great and praise them. That's the kind of era it was.

But now, this great Ricardt had told them that he was disappointed in them. The students were shocked. They hoped he was joking.

The students felt as if they were suffocating in the silence they had created themselves. However, no one dared to break it.

This was because they believed that in this moment, the only one with the right to break the silence was Ricardt.

The one who controls silence controls the situation. Ricardt, who at first had been pressured by the crowd's silence, now took control of it.

Without rushing, Ricardt scanned all the students from the far right to the far left, looking at each one individually before finally opening his mouth.

“...Is running around in groups, intimidating innocent people, and acting like thugs what it means to break the chains of oppression? Would anyone like to answer?"

“...”

No one answered. So Ricardt pointed at a student he knew.

“You. You answer. Is that breaking the chains of oppression? Harassing tavern waitresses, and when they say something, gathering numbers and rushing in as a mob - is that breaking the chains of oppression?"

“...”

There was no way the student could answer. The one who was singled out bowed his head in shame.

“Why isn’t anyone answering? Then you. You answer me. Can’t do it? Then how about you?”

Ricardt pointed out students one by one, students he knew personally. But once again, no one could answer. Though ignorant, deep down they all knew their actions were wrong.

Silence returned again. Ricardt hadn’t planned it this way, but he was naturally adjusting the tempo.

“I know you grew up oppressed. You must have endured unspeakable cruelty at home. You must have wondered, why do I have to suffer like this? Why was I even born? But I don't know either. Can someone tell me? Does anyone know?"

Though he wasn’t doing it intentionally, Ricardt continued to ask questions. Gradually, the students were no longer just gazing at him in admiration; they began to think, slowly being drawn in.

And their hearts began to move. Because they were children who, more than anyone else, had agonized deeply over why life was so painful, why they were born at all, and were consumed by such torment.

But Ricardt hadn’t said those words simply to sympathize with them.

"You know what? That will haunt you for your whole life, tormenting you. But is it right to give in to that and live recklessly? At the very least, you have a choice. No matter which city you go to, the streets are full of countless bastard children pickpocketing or begging. And the best you can do is roam in groups, intimidating innocent people? If I were you, I'd be too embarrassed to even lift my head."

A bastard child wasn’t just limited to noble families. In an era where contraception wasn't developed, countless illegitimate children were born across all classes and social statuses, children of monks, products of affairs, fleeting encounters with travelers, and so on.

Such children were often destined to wander the streets, never setting foot in an academy. Once they were old enough, they’d join thieves’ guilds or form their own criminal organizations.

Yet now, surprisingly, Ricardt wasn’t simply berating them. He was fundamentally different from Karllich, who only provoked them. Ricardt carefully laid out why they were in the wrong, encouraging them to reflect on their actions.

"There's no perfect human in the world. I'm the same. Everyone can make mistakes. But when you make a mistake, you have to correct it. The determination to fix what’s wrong, that’s the expression of the free will granted by the God. And it’s what opens the path to salvation. That’s what I believe. Life is always about choices. Deep down, you know it too. There’s the right path, and there’s the wrong path. The right path is inconvenient and hard. The wrong path is fun and easy. So, which path will you choose?”

The earlier enthusiastic atmosphere was now completely gone, replaced by solemnity. It wasn’t staged, nor was it forced. It was simply a truth conveyed with pure sincerity.

“If walking the right path is difficult, I can help from beside you. That’s what friends do. Friends are the ones who set you straight when you stray down the wrong path. Friends are the ones who stand by you, support you, and lend you strength when you’re lonely or struggling. You should gain such friends at the academy, and you should also strive to be such friends.”

The atmosphere was no longer just solemn; it had become nearly reverent. Ricardt’s words slowly seeped into the students’ hearts, touching their consciences.

And ever so gently, he planted the seeds of hope. Without grandiose expressions, just simple, honest words.

“Work honestly and train hard. Play when it’s time to play, and step up to help those in need. No matter how much your family oppressed you, through your own actions, you can act nobly. Just as the great heroes of the past did, that is the very definition of a pure heart and courage. And that is the way to fight without surrendering, to break the chains of oppression and persecution. It’s written on the gates of the academy, isn’t it? 'Discipline shall set you free'. Though the original meaning might be different, anyway, I believe in you. Because we’re all students of Beringen Academy.”

Ricardt finished speaking calmly and stepped down from the platform. All eyes followed him.

For some reason, the students’ hearts felt soft, and before they knew it, tears streamed down their faces. Perhaps this was the kind of speech they truly longed to hear, not some provocation, but these words.

Clap, clap, clap.

Someone started clapping, and the applause spread gently. It wasn’t the loud, meaningless noise of people swept up by the mood. Each and every clap was sincere, a tribute and a thank you.

Among them was Karllich. He was crying harder than anyone as he clapped. It was hard to tell whether the boy was naïve or cunning.

But in the end, he was just a child too. Intelligent but inexperienced, he’d become overly fixated on Ricardt’s earlier words: “At the academy, we’re all equal.”

“Ricky! I didn’t even realize!”

Boribori, like the other students, burst into tears and threw himself into Ricardt's arms. Marie also approached and hugged them. She hugged tightly. Very tightly.

“What didn’t you realize?”

Ricardt let out a baffled laugh. They had spent more than a day or two together, yet Boribori and Marie seemed moved anew, as if they were hearing such words for the first time. They, too, were children with deep emotional wounds. The scars inflicted by parents during childhood tended to last a lifetime.

Even amidst all this, the genuine applause continued.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

And for some reason, Karllich also began to cry and hugged Ricardt from behind. At that moment, even Ricardt couldn’t bring himself to tell him to step back, overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

All the students had ever needed was a proper adult. Someone to guide them toward the right path.

They had yearned for this more than anyone, though they didn’t realize it themselves. What was wrong, where their resentment stemmed from, or how to resolve their frustration and injustice, they didn’t know.

But the world was so harsh and cruel that finding a proper adult had become nearly impossible.

Fathers spent their days drinking, shouting, and beating their families. Merchants cared only about money. Nobles used even their own children as tools to strengthen their bloodlines and family power.

If some transcendent being had reincarnated Ricardt, it might have been for reasons like this.

More than monstrous swordsmanship, the world needed someone who valued people’s hearts, who could offer strength and lead others, sometimes gently, sometimes firmly.

However, as Ricardt himself had said, he wasn’t a perfect person either. He, too, was someone who needed salvation, someone who was walking the path toward it.

“Everyone, hold on. Stop clapping for a moment.”

After holding Boribori and Marie for a long while, Ricardt addressed the students.

"Let's stop the speeches now. And let's head back to the academy now, leaving only the minimum number of people here. Though it's night, it won't be dangerous if we all go together."

Since there appeared to be at least 50 people currently, if they stayed together, there surely wouldn't be any risk of bandits or thieves attacking.

Ricardt went up to his room, packed his belongings, and led the students out of the guild building.

Walking at the very front, he looked as though he was guiding lost lambs home in the middle of the night.

At that moment, the clouds parted, revealing the moonlight. The soft, silvery light illuminated the students’ path as if it were the touch of a goddess.

Ricardt finally returned to the academy. The season was summer.

Because Beringen Academy was located atop a mountain, the oppressive summer heat wasn’t as intense. Cool breezes always blew, and the groundwater was cold.

The problem was that even the professors had been recruited for the war effort, so there weren’t any true adults left at the academy.

In such circumstances, staying at the academy felt like being completely cut off from the world.

With no other choice, Ricardt had to organize various activities for the students. Otherwise, there was no telling what kind of trouble they might cause.

He kept Karllich especially close. This kid was undeniably talented but also the most dangerous.

“Ricky, Ricky, look at this. I made a schedule!”

Ricardt, wearing the uniforms he’d commissioned with his own money, sat on a breezy hillock and looked over the schedule Karllich had handed him.

It was tightly packed with activities like sleeping, physical training, meals, writing, and grass-cutting, all organized by time slots.

It even detailed the distribution of personnel, the supervisors for each group, and rotations for gatekeeping duties and night watch.

“How about splitting them into two groups? That way, we can manage everything more efficiently. It might also encourage a bit of healthy competition. What do you think?”

As Ricardt looked over the schedule, he listened to Karllich’s suggestions. This kid’s talent really is something else. It’s almost scary.

This seemed like a critical point. If raised well, Karllich would grow into someone who benefited the world. If raised poorly, he’d become an unrivaled villain.

“It looks good. But more importantly, we need to prepare for winter. That’s the most critical thing.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve already started stocking up supplies in the food storage.”

“Really? That’s impressive. Honestly, I don’t have much to say when it comes to this stuff. You’re the best at it.”

“What are you talking about! Ricky! There’s no one in this world greater than you! Not even me!”

'Ah, fuck.'

Ricardt couldn't help but curse internally. Why did such an exceptional talent have to be so out of his mind? They say there’s only a thin line between genius and madness, but this felt like a step too far.

“Don’t idolize people. That includes me.”

"Why, why are you saying that? Are you abandoning me?"

“What? Abandon you? Don’t say weird stuff like that. Please, I'm begging you."

People with healthy self-esteem might not understand, but no matter how intelligent someone is, if their self-esteem is low, they tend to draw their sense of worth from others rather than themselves. And most kids had low self-esteem.

Especially at this age, idols were essential. For Karllich, Ricardt was an idol, the epitome of a perfect human being.

“But I think even your mistakes are part of your perfection.”

"...Whew, you scare me."

“Why? Me? Why? Don’t be scared, Ricky. I’ll do better.”

“It’s not about doing better or worse. You’re already excellent and talented. Just trust yourself a little more and try to relax.”

“…How do I do that? I don’t know how.”

“To be honest, I don’t really know either. In the end, it’s something each person has to figure out.”

“Even that sounds so cool. You know, Ricky, I remember every single word you say?”

“…I can’t even speak freely with you.”

Karllich felt like Ricardt’s biggest challenge during his time at the academy.

The kid wasn’t bad, but he seemed a bit off at times, though he was far too smart for that to be the case. He was truly a difficult person to grasp.

“Ricky!”

Boribori leaned out from the third floor and shouted. Ricardt looked up at him and said to Karllich,

“I’m heading off. I’m counting on you.”

“Okay.”

Ricardt got up from his spot and headed toward the main building. But he didn’t forget to say,

“I’m always grateful, Kali.”

Ricardt always tried to say kind things to Karllich. Words like, You’re a good kid, You’re excellent, You’re talented, Thank you.

Because Karllich looked like he needed to hear those words. He seemed to have had more than enough of the bad things in life.

In fact, Ricardt was the first person to say such things to Karllich. At home, he had always been treated like a burden - called a nuisance, a useless kid, a troublemaker.

But Ricardt was the first person in his life to recognize him, embrace him, acknowledge him, and forgive him even when he made mistakes. On top of that, Ricardt was one of the Empire’s Nine Swords. How could Karllich not see him as an idol?

Anyway, Ricardt headed inside the main building and went up to the third floor. In an empty classroom, he sat with Boribori and Marie to begin writing.

His goal was to complete the manual and leave it at the academy before he graduated. It was written in ancient text, so no one would understand it, but still.

Marie helped Ricardt proofread and write a translated version of his swordsmanship manual. She wasn’t exactly knowledgeable herself, but by asking Ricardt questions as they worked, she was learning and helping at the same time.

Thus, time passed. The summer breeze was cool. And as the heat gradually subsided, the war finally ended.

Dunkel returned, and the Viola Clan had all survived. So had the children.

Ricardt’s graduation was approaching.