The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

Becoming a branch head was neither simple nor straightforward.

First, one had to establish a contract with the guild, which was similar to a vassalage contract.

Since transportation and communication were underdeveloped in this era, a branch head wielded nearly independent authority within the branch, but was obligated to provide supplies and military force as needed to address guild-level issues collectively.

Conversely, the guild was responsible for providing initial settlement funds to the branch head and had a duty to protect the branch. In other words, it was a mutual, bilateral contract.

Secondly, branch heads needed to localize in their respective regions. This was the difficult part.

They first had to present gifts and tributes to the lord of the area to obtain the so-called business rights, then either cooperate with the existing local powers or, if necessary, fight them to establish a foothold in the region.

Although the Beringen Guild had already formed a basic contract with the Duke of Siegfringer, being a feudal society, the branch still had to establish separate contracts with the duke’s vassals.

Once the business rights were secured, competitors eliminated, and the foundation successfully laid, personnel management became essential.

The clan of the branch head, who had signed the branch contract with the Guild Master, was commonly referred to as the 'core clan'. However, to operate the branch, the core clan alone was not enough.

They needed to recruit adventurers and manage them to ensure they completed requests without causing trouble.

Gathering competent and reliable people was difficult in itself, and managing them effectively was an exceptionally challenging task. This was because all sorts of complex issues inevitably arose at this stage.

Therefore, if necessary, one had to expel, coax, threaten, or even eliminate them.

All of this responsibility fell on Volka’s shoulders. Ricardt and his friends were tasked with helping him so that the branch could stabilize and run smoothly.

“Simple, right? First, go present gifts to Count Reinhold. Since the contract with the Duke is already in place, he’ll accept it without issue.”

Though it was far from simple, Sally spoke as if it was. Unknown to them, she was actually the Deputy Master of the Beringen Guild.

Seated opposite her at the table were Ricardt and his party. But for some reason, they were looking at her with a slightly dazed expression. This was because a mountain of plates was stacked in front of Sally.

“What? Haven’t you seen a person eating before?”

Sally said, accepting another plate brought by a server. On the plate was a whole boiled chicken. The server’s expression wasn’t much different from Ricardt and his friends.

“...No. You’re quite a big eater, but you manage to keep your figure well.”

Delphi said.

"That's because I move around a lot. That bastard Dunkel hasn't moved at all since becoming master. He's totally lost his touch."

She grumbled while tearing into the chicken with her hands. Was this her third chicken already? Is that even possible?

Ricardt looked at her with a somewhat dumbfounded expression, then gestured to Volka that it was time to go.

“Well then, we’ll be taking our leave.”

"Yeah yeah, be careful out there. Not just with work, but there are still hostile guilds lurking around."

“Yes, you too, Sally.”

Ricardt and Volka each picked up a chest and left the inn. Although the chests weren’t large, they were quite heavy, filled with silver coins. It was the initial settlement fund provided by the guild.

The two headed to the stable attached to the inn, draped a cloth over a donkey, loaded a chest on each side, and tied them securely with ropes.

Boribori stroked the donkey’s head, feeding it a carrot, and said,

“Let’s go, Magnoli.”

Magnoli was the donkey’s name, a variation of 'Magnolia'. (TL: Magnolia is a flower)

Of course, the name was something Boribori had given whimsically. As the clan's first asset and the top item on their asset list, it held a special meaning for the other friends as well.

Boribori gently took hold of the reins and led the donkey. Magnoli began to follow, clip-clopping along.

The Viola Clan’s destination as they left the small town was none other than Ernburg.

Ernburg was the base of operations and primary activity area of the Ernburg Five.

It felt symbolic somehow. Since Ricardt had been the one to eliminate them, it almost seemed like a trophy.

At the same time, it was also the closest location to Lutzerat, a hostile guild. This area was a kind of frontier and, effectively, the current front line.

Establishing themselves there was the Viola Clan's assignment and mission. And it was also the dream that the five of them, none of whom were even twenty yet, were working to achieve.

“Ah, so you must be the boy hero with the red cloak. Then, does that make you the Five Body Part Slicer, Boribori?”

A man with impressively curled mustaches at both ends said while stamping a red wax seal with his ring. This man was Count Reinhold, the Count of Nordrhein, which included Ernburg.

“No, Boribori, the Five Body Part Slicer is him.”

The Count was looking at Volka when he spoke, but Volka corrected him while pointing at Boribori.

"Eh? This innocent-looking boy? Somehow gives me chills. To think he enjoys dismembering people with such an innocent face."

“I don’t enjoy it…”

“Well, anyway, I’ve received your gifts. You have permission to conduct business in Ernburg. However, I won’t be protecting you. What I mean is, I've also given permits to other guilds for money. You’re free to clash with each other, but don’t cause trouble for innocent people. I’ll overlook some of it, but you all know well enough, so I won’t add anything more.”

On the Count’s desk was a chest filled with silver coins. Half of the initial settlement funds had gone to him as a gift.

In this era, there wasn’t really a concept of 'bribes'. Offering a gift, or tribute, to secure a business license was a common practice.

However, there was no set amount, and if a lord didn’t want to grant it, no amount of money could change his mind. Fortunately, Count Reinhold was relatively laid-back.

Honestly, it was convenient for him to have a reliable adventurer guild in the region, especially since it was essentially free money.

The guild could help maintain public order, and he could assign troublesome tasks to them. Mobilizing the military or hiring a mercenary band was a burden even for a count.

It wasn’t cost-effective either. Who would fully arm their soldiers and deploy them on horseback just to catch a single fly?

Moreover, since there was no need to manage them, the relationship between adventurers' guilds and noble lords was similar to that of crocodiles and plover birds.

“Still, taking down the Ernburg Five was like pulling out a sore tooth. For Red Cloak's sake, I’ll tell the mayor to find a good building for you. Do you have anything else you wish to discuss?”

Volka looked around at his friends, then spoke to the Count.

“No, we don’t.”

“Good. I wish you luck. You may go.”

Ricardt and his group, now holding the all-important business permit, left Count Reinhold’s castle.

The castle, built ages ago and expanded and renovated over the years, was quite grand. It couldn’t even be compared to the castle in Stormhertz, Ricardt’s hometown.

Even a lord residing in a castle like this found it difficult to mobilize an army. This was an era where lords had to arm themselves and fight personally.

Magnoli the donkey carried their now lighter load and began walking towards Ernburg.

Since it was a day’s journey from the Count’s castle to Ernburg, the group had to camp out along the way. The difference between having a donkey and not was significant here.

With the extra travel equipment, they could set up a decent tent, bring along a pot, ladle, and utensils, allowing them to eat a wider variety of food.

Moreover, with spring nearing its end, the weather was mild. While it was still chilly at night, it was nothing compared to winter’s bitter cold.

In the north, the grass grew short, but the trees were thick, straight, and tall, mostly fir trees.

Though it wasn’t quite a full tent, their tarp could still block the wind and rain. By hanging the durable fabric on branches, pulling the ropes taut, and securing the stakes, there was enough space for all five of them to fit inside comfortably.

They lit a fire in front of the tent and fed the donkey dried bean stalks and similar scraps. One person washed the pot and fetched water from a nearby river, while another cut fruits and vegetables, preparing ingredients.

The five of them really felt like a family. Ricardt and Marie worked together preparing what they considered a feast, looking almost like a young married couple.

"Did I slice it too thick?"

Ricardt asked, cutting a turnip. Normally, he wasn’t picky about his food, but now that they were cooking, he couldn’t tell if he was doing it right.

“Give it here. I’ll do it.”

Marie said. She took the turnip from Ricardt and, without even using a cutting board, expertly sliced it with a sharp dagger, then tossed the pieces into the pot with a 'plop, plop'.

From the way she handled it, Ricardt could tell Marie probably wasn’t sure about what she was doing either. Her bangs kept falling down, obstructing her view, so he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Ricardt had no idea that such a casual, thoughtless gesture could make Marie’s heart flutter.

Despite coming from a noble family, Marie didn’t shy away from hard work. She didn’t seem to mind if her appearance got a bit disheveled either.

Even with messy hair, clothes that sometimes slipped and exposed a bit of side, or dirt and stains on her face and clothes, her appearance never lost its charm. In fact, she seemed to shine even more.

As for the meal they were making, it was, to be honest, a bit of a mishmash. They were just throwing whatever they had into a single pot and boiling it all together. Perhaps they could at least appreciate that they were getting a balanced mix of nutrients.

In any case, they ended up making a strange concoction that was neither soup nor porridge and each scooped out a portion to eat. Surprisingly, it tasted decent enough.

“So, what’s the plan from here?”

Delphi asked, blowing on her spoonful of the mishmash stew before taking a sip.

“We’ll meet the mayor and establish our branch first, right?”

Volka responded, as if it was obvious.

“No, that’s not what I meant. That’s just procedural stuff. What I mean is, do you think our enemies will just leave us alone?”

“…True. That’s going to be troublesome.”

In the Kaitz Highlands, their enemies had been clear and visible. The problem there was their numbers, but at least they knew who to fight.

Here, however, it was different. They had no idea when, where, or how many enemies might appear.

"There's a way in times like these."

Boribori suddenly declared confidently, surprising everyone. When they all turned to look at him, he grinned and shouted,

"Ricky-ricky, help!"

Ricardt couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. What's with 'Ricky-ricky' anyway?

“I don’t have any sure method either. The best way would be to completely wipe out the enemy's base. Whether it’s Brabant or Lutzerat, if we stormed their headquarters and killed everyone, that’d solve things cleanly. But since that’s not realistic, we should gather information first. Figure out who our enemies are and how they operate.”

"Should we visit the thieves' guild?"

“That’ll be tough.”

Boribori replied.

“Why?”

“Because we already destroyed all of them last winter.”

“Hmm…”

In fact, going around and wiping out various criminal organizations had been an unbelievable accomplishment, mostly thanks to the help of Nameless.

He was an excellent vanguard, so as long as they backed him up, he could charge through and decimate most groups. Volka had a similar charging style, but he couldn’t compare to Nameless.

“We need to build our own network and forces first. Let’s start by gaining the help of the locals. I heard Ernburg has a renowned stonemasons’ guild. How about we reach out to them?”

There were all kinds of guilds in the world. Guilds were essentially associations of people in the same trade, banding together to protect their interests.

Naturally, they were established based on local areas and wielded considerable influence within those regions.

In this era, whether in business or anything else, one needed to have enough strength to defend themselves, so even guilds of merchants and artisans couldn’t be underestimated.

In particular, the Blacksmiths' Guild and the Stonemasons' Guild were known for their grueling and labor-intensive work, so much so that many of them could be as intimidating as professional fighters.

"But don't thieves' guilds just grow back like poisonous mushrooms no matter how many times you eliminate them?"

Delphi said.

“That’s true, but do you think they’ll look favorably on us?”

Ricardt was doubtful, especially given what they’d done last winter. He didn’t mind working with the Thieves’ Guild if necessary, but they weren't people worth getting involved with.

"I'll handle that. I roughly know how to deal with it."

Volka said. While he didn’t have Ricardt’s strategic mind, Volka was better at handling people. He knew how to coax, persuade, and intimidate when needed.

He would show strength to those who respected power, soothe those who needed calming, and pay off those motivated by money. The ability to use the right approach for each person was a skill in itself.

When this went wrong, problems arose, but Volka had been adept at it since his Academy days. He had a knack for helping students find jobs and would step in to handle troublesome situations, so he had built up plenty of experience.

“Once we secure a building for the branch, let’s split into two teams. One team will guard the branch while the other operates outside. Volka and Delphi, and me with Bori and Marie. We’ll divide up that way.”

“Sounds good. But five people is a bit tight.”

Volka said, sucking on his fingers after finishing his meal.

The Viola Clan members were all highly skilled fighters, but they still needed manpower to get things done.

One of the branch’s main roles was to recruit and lead capable and trustworthy adventurers.

With the core clan at the center, they could potentially expand to oversee multiple clans, dominating the region and possibly even surpassing the guild headquarters.

But with just five people, as Volka had pointed out, it was a tight situation.

At least they had the advantage of Ricardt and Boribori’s reputation, which gave them some initial leverage. They’d seen that earlier when they met Count Reinhold.

If they’d tried to establish a branch from scratch, bashing their heads against the wall every step of the way, it would’ve driven anyone insane. Nothing would work out, from one to ten.

Perhaps Ernburg might become their second home. Though they had been born elsewhere, they’d have to treat this place as their final resting ground.

Because the most important thing in establishing a branch was blending in with the locals and sharing life’s ups and downs with them.

If they couldn’t integrate with the local community, they’d remain outsiders, and there were limits to what outsiders could achieve.

It might seem insignificant, but in critical moments, the local community would either drag you down or lift you up.

Ricardt wondered that perhaps it was human destiny to leave one's birthplace and choose the land where one would be buried.

Living and dying in one’s birthplace wasn’t a bad thing, but he found it meaningful to bestow upon others the familial affection and local attention that one had received like nutrients from their hometown.

They were all, in one way or another, abandoned children. There had been people like them in the past, and there would always be more in the future. Was there anything more meaningful than gathering together, supporting each other, and holding each other up?

Human relationships could sometimes feel like a terrible burden, but as they had learned from Nameless, only people could ultimately save each other.

Ricardt looked up through the tangled branches of the forest and saw stars shining in the night sky. The stars were the same as they had always been, but the feelings they evoked were different.

Suddenly, he could almost see himself growing older over the years, plowing fields together with his friends. And beside him, Marie was smiling.

Could I really attain that kind of happiness? An anxious shadow fell over the vision, casting doubt. In the end, Marie was the brave one, while he was the coward.

Feeling a pang of guilt, he chose not to voice an apology, as he’d decided long ago. Instead, Ricardt sat close to Marie, wordlessly gazing up at the stars together.

Ricardt often said that there’s no need to get sentimental, but perhaps he was the one who fell into sentimentality the most.

His first friend, Caldebert, had once told him he had the qualities of a poet. Strangely enough, the only person who truly knew Ricardt’s sentimental side was a friend from a hundred years ago.

A poet’s soul walking the path of the sword. Perhaps he was distancing himself from happiness out of fear of unhappiness.

I am a coward, Marie. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Ricardt thought to himself as he felt a gentle weight rest on his shoulder.

Night deepened. As the darkness grew, the stars shone even brighter.

But just as the quiet night was settling everything into silence, Ricardt, who was sleeping close to his friends, was suddenly awakened by a strange, discordant sound coming from afar.

Volka, who was on watch by the campfire, turned his head towards the direction of the sound.

"Did you hear it too?"

Ricardt asked. Belatedly realizing Ricardt had woken up, Volka replied,

“It was the sound of swords clashing.”

Clang......

Even before Volka finished speaking, another metallic sound echoed from the distance.

“Wake the others. I’ll go check it out.”

Ricardt said as he rose and grabbed his sword.

“Got it. Be careful.”

Volka responded, not bothering to stop him. He knew from experience that it was hard to imagine anyone could be a match for Ricardt.

Without donning his cloak or even fastening a belt around his waist, Ricardt held only his sword in one hand as he walked towards the source of the sound. Since this was a fir forest, there were few shrubs or undergrowth to get in his way, though visibility was low.

As he walked deeper into the dark forest, the sounds of people became clearer. He could hear the thudding of running footsteps, shouts, and the final cries of those who were dying.

Ricardt kept his distance, intending only to assess the situation, but suddenly, someone came rushing towards him.

He prepared to draw his sword in a flash, but then stopped short as he caught a glimpse of the person’s face in the faint moonlight. Astonishingly, it was Ice.

Ricardt and Ice collided, their bodies brushing against each other. With a dull thud, they both tumbled to the ground, rolling over once or twice. Ricardt quickly got up and grabbed hold of Ice.

In Ricardt’s arms, Ice looked up at him with trembling eyes. His face was contorted, as if he was about to break down and cry, unable to utter a word of recognition.

Ricardt, equally shocked, found himself at a loss for words. The state Ice was in was almost unrecognizable; whatever he had been through, it had clearly taken a toll.

He was emaciated to the point of being skeletal, and his once beautiful silver hair had lost its luster, now brittle and lifeless. He looked like a wounded deer being hunted, fleeing desperately for its life.

Ricardt had only heard rumors of Ice’s remarkable exploits, but he had never imagined that Ice would end up in such a state.

So this is what it means to feel a whirlwind of emotions. In that brief moment, Ricardt felt an overwhelming rush of mixed feelings.

Ice had ended up like this because the guild had relentlessly pushed him, to the point of cruelty.

Dunkel had already made up his mind about Ice. Either he’d leave on his own, or he’d die on a dangerous mission. He pushed Ice to the brink with ruthless assignments. Despite his outstanding abilities, Ice was treated as a discard by the guild.

Ricardt recalled Dunkel’s words echoing in his mind.

'It’s best not to get too close to him. Sooner or later, he’s going to part ways with both the guild and you guys. That guy’s obsessed with becoming a Sword Master for the sake of the Order.'

So what? Ricardt thought. If he were the type to be swayed by words like that, he would never have made friends in the first place. And he hadn’t forgotten the promise he had made to himself.

“Even if you abandon me, I won’t abandon you, Ice.”

Ricardt spoke as if he were making a solemn vow. Then he stood up, drawing his sword.

Seeing the boy act with the same unwavering resolve as always, Ice finally let his tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer.