The Warrior’s Ballad

Chapter 2

Translator: Willia

In one Empire, there were five kingdoms, four merchant republics, and hundreds of small territories and noble families.

Among those hundreds of noble families, the Caldebern family had its roots in the Adeloron Royal Family, and the branch founder was the heroic knight, Caldebert. The family’s name signified his descendants.

Caldebert earned merit on the Eastern Expedition and was granted a fief by the emperor, and 100 years have passed since then.

This also meant that it had been 100 years since the empire’s first Sword Master appeared.

If one kills a few people, they are merely a murderer, but if they kill hundreds, they are a hero, if they kill thousands, they are a conqueror, and beyond that, they become a god.

In an era when thunder and lightning from the sky or floods destroying lives were considered the will of the gods, the first sword master was regarded by people as a kind of natural disaster or divine warning.

People remembered that past of steel and blood in that way. Divine judgment, punishment, and retribution against those who sinned regardless of their status.

And people believed that he would inevitably return one day. Whether he would bring salvation or destruction upon his return was unknown.

However, unlike ignorant commoners, powerful figures like the emperor or kings seemed to perceive that past a bit differently.

They considered the first sword master not as a harbinger of salvation or doom, but as a strategic weapon.

If only they could obtain that overwhelming strength. If it became theirs…

While some things had to change with the times, there were also values that needed to be upheld.

Heavy cavalry was still powerful on the battlefield, and the duty of knights was not yet over.

Nobles had to protect their territories and fulfill military service according to their contracts with their liege lords.

To uphold honor as a noble meant not avoiding battle. They must not succumb to unjust threats, and they had to consider courage as the greatest virtue, even at the cost of their lives.

There were still many who lived with such values. Being a noble implied being a warrior in that era.

The Caldebern family divided its land as generations passed. Back then, the custom law was still that of divided inheritance.

Now, when not even a small patch of land was left, the Caldebern family lived in a small manor called Stormhertz.

It was the time when the hot summer had passed and the weather was starting to get chilly. The harvested fields were resting, with large piles of dry straw scattered around.

However, Lord Abelich still had work to do. The Caldebern family’s residence in Stormhertz was bustling from the morning despite the chilly air.

The lord’s attendants were running around, preparing various things, and judging by the equipment, they seemed to be going hunting. Nets, crossbows, excited panting hunting dogs, and boar-hunting spears.

Lord Abelich of Stormhertz was on the family’s most valuable asset, a robust brown warhorse, watching his attendants prepare the equipment. Then he noticed something important was missing.

“Where is Ricky? Where is Ricky?”

“He’s probably holed up somewhere quietly daydreaming.”

His eldest son, clad in tough leather armor, replied indifferently as he stood next to his father.

“Boar hunting is a duty and important event for our family. Ricky is now 10 years old, so he must participate. Find him.”

Hunting was not merely a leisurely activity for nobles. Moreover, boars ruined fields and dug up graves, so they had to be eliminated.

A stray goblin that separated from its group could be driven away by any strong adult man, and wolves, having a sense of caution, would run away if threatened, but boars were different. Their recklessness would not stop unless they were killed.

And at 10 years old in a noble family meant that it was time to start raising boys and girls distinctly differently.

Until then, children were raised without distinction, but from the age of ten, they began to distinguish between boys and girls by their hairstyles and clothes, and boys participated in hunting or practiced martial arts.

It was an era that believed that boys were raised by their mothers, men were raised by their fathers, and warriors were raised by fate.

However, when the eldest son, who had received orders from his father, naturally looked at his younger brother, the second son, his gaze carried a silent command: You go and find him.

But the younger brother only pretended not to notice his older brother’s gaze. This annoyed the eldest, Graut, whose eyebrows twitched.

“Hey.”

“Father gave the order to you, brother.”

“And now I’m ordering you.”

“Why should I listen?”

“Because I am the eldest, and you are the second son.”

Whether one was born first or second was not something that could be changed by effort. It was not something they chose either. However, they could not escape from that strict framework.

The second son, Vilter, was fourteen and would be an adult next year. Like boys nearing adulthood, he was becoming somewhat rebellious as time passed.

Originally, the three brothers had been close, but it was unclear when and why their relationship began to deteriorate.

“I swear, I’ll leave this damn house one day.”

Vilter said loudly enough for his father and brother to hear, then moved away.

The taciturn father ignored him as if he hadn’t heard, the older brother frowned, and the other attendants just smiled as if it was cute.

However, Vilter searched the watchtower attached to the mansion, the barn, and everywhere else but couldn’t find the youngest. He even asked his sister-in-law, whom he didn’t really want to face, but she didn’t know either.

“Isn’t he in the underground tomb? He might still miss your mother.”

His sister-in-law, who was embroidering a cloak with a young maid, suggested. The lady of the house had died of a fever two years ago.

“If he’s not there, then he must have followed her.”

“Please don’t say such things. He’s only ten years old. You should take good care of him. I’ll help too. By the way, is it really okay for me not to go?”

“Father told you to stay in a warm place. But that’s not out of concern for you, but purely because of the baby in your belly.”

Even if it wasn’t wrong, there are words one doesn’t want to hear. Vilter’s tone was always like that—crooked and thorny.

However, despite being not much older than him, his sister-in-law just laughed it off.

It was precisely this that Vilter disliked. Everyone treated him like a child.

Or perhaps, the source of his irritation, which Vilter himself didn’t understand, was the feeling that the family was being taken away from him. That this family, his family, was becoming his brother’s. There was no place for a second son.

Vilter left the room, which used to be his mother’s and was now his sister-in-law’s. He then went down to the underground tomb as she had suggested.

From the moment he started descending the stairs, the eerie feeling unique to underground spaces brushed his nape. When he reached the underground, it was filled with utter darkness.

But in the distance, there was a faint light, like a delicate candle flickering in the heart of the underworld.

Under a torch hanging on the wall was the youngest brother. He was staring at something, looking as if he was standing at the boundary between the living and the dead.

“Ricky!”

Vilter’s shout echoed in the underground space. The younger brother, whose baby fat hadn’t yet disappeared, turned to look at him.

It was Ricardt, the third son of the Caldebern family, with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Ricky was his nickname.

Vilter approached his brother. The eyes of the younger brother, who looked up at him intently, appeared green, blue, or brown depending on the angle of the light. Now, due to the torchlight, they appeared reddish and blue.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know we have a hunt today?”

“Just… I just came down here. Today is the day mother passed away.”

In front of Ricardt was a stone coffin with the image of the deceased carved on the lid. It was his mother’s coffin.

“You remember things like that? Now that you’re ten, don’t you think you should accept it more maturely? And shouldn’t you start worrying about your future?”

At ten years old, one was not just a mere child anymore. It was an age where one was expected to start proper knight training or take on responsibilities of a man. For commoners, it was even harsher.

At his brother’s scolding, Ricardt lowered his eyes and kept silent. Vilter felt a pang of guilt and his heart softened.

Ricardt spoke.

“Growing up in mother’s arms felt like having everything. So, I don’t really worry about the future.”

Vilter didn’t understand what his younger brother was talking about.

“…I can’t tell if you’re an old soul or just slow. People are waiting outside. Let’s go.”

Vilter roughly tousled his brother’s hair and took his hand.

“Okay.”

Ricardt, led by his brother’s hand, left the underground tomb as if crossing the boundary from the afterlife. When they climbed the stairs, the deep navy blue light of early morning enveloped them.

When they stepped into the courtyard, the people who had already finished their preparations were waiting for them.

“Did it take this long just to find one kid?”

Graut, the eldest brother, spat out an unpleasant remark.

“Then you should have gone to find him.”

“You little… I’ll let it slide this time.”

Recently, the first and second sons quarreled almost every time they made eye contact. Abelich easily subdued his two sons.

“Enough. Ricky, stay close to Billy. It’s your first hunt, so just watch from a distance. Butch, take care of the two boys.”

“Yes, my lord.”

After giving simple instructions, Abelich spurred his horse and galloped out of the courtyard alone. The colorful feathers stuck in his hunting hat fluttered wildly in the wind.

The clop-clop sound of hooves quickly faded away.

The rest of the group followed on foot. Although Lord Abelich soon disappeared over the hill, it didn’t matter as everyone knew where to gather.

The hunting party consisted of a dozen able-bodied men from the village and a few people similar to retainers.

They were similar to retainers because they were not paid separately but were granted tax exemption instead. They were a kind of independent farmers.

One connection to the family went back to the great-grandfather’s time, while the others had been associated with the family since the grandfather’s time.

Since it was a poor territory, there was more reliance on loyalty than money. The noble family was the center around which several households were united. This was also a microcosm of the feudal society centered on the emperor when greatly expanded.

In case of war, the lord played the role of a knight and officer, the retainers acted as non-commissioned officers, and the rest were a kind of soldiers. In other words, they were the basic unit in battle.

And hunting was also combat training. It wasn’t just about having many people rushing at the prey.

They had to move in an organized manner, and for that, they had to be coordinated.

The series of processes—tracking, chasing, and finishing off the prey—occurred in a large area where they couldn’t see each other. It was about knowing the direction of the sounds, how someone they knew would act.

It wasn’t something that could be done in a day or two. It was taught from father to son, and then from son to grandson. It was both combat training and field education.

Ricardt was participating in such field education for the first time. Yet, the boy showed neither excitement nor fear. He remained as indifferent as usual.

The people carrying various equipment walked ahead, and Ricardt followed Butch with Vilter.

It was the farming off-season. The air was slightly chilly, and the grass in the fields was turning yellow and dry. The trees were adorned with colorful autumn leaves.

“Ricky, have you ever seen a wild boar?”

Butch asked. Butch was the son of one of the ‘retainer-like people’ and had grown up with the lord’s sons in the village, making them close friends.

Several boar-hunting spears were slung over his shoulder, with long and broad blades almost the size of a human face. Anything less would be unable to pierce the tough hide of a boar.

“I’m not sure, have I seen one?”

“Didn’t you see one about two years ago? Weren’t you there?”

“He was by his mother’s side because she was sick.”

Vilter corrected Butch’s inaccurate memory.

“Ah, right. Don’t be too nervous, Ricky. We’ll set up camp and live there for a while. Three days if it’s short, up to two weeks if it’s long. You’ll probably see a dead boar. It’s not dangerous.”

Ricardt simply smiled slightly at the words not to be too nervous.

At the words not to be too nervous, Ricardt just smiled faintly.

“When I saw it then, it was docile. Why do adults unnecessarily scare us by saying it’s dangerous?”

Vilter said in his characteristic grumbling tone, sweeping the grass in the field with the stick he was holding.

“It is dangerous. Even animals value their lives. Once they start rampaging, it’s truly dangerous.”

“Butch, have you ever seen a boar rampage?”

Vilter asked.

“No, I haven’t. But Rian’s father got gored by a boar and died. It was when I was young, so you wouldn’t know.”

“Well, people die from all sorts of things. I’ll probably go that way too someday.”

It was a world where death was close, from his mother to Rian’s father. Disease, unexpected accidents, war, and starvation.

Stormhertz was relatively better off in terms of food. It wasn’t abundant, but they could scrape by feeding the current number of people.

“By the way, are you practicing swordsmanship, Billy?”

“No. I don’t want to go into combat. I’m not the eldest son anyway. Why should I bother?”

“Still, isn’t it good to practice swordsmanship? It’s not something you can learn just because you want to. At least for self-defense… Alright, I won’t nag. So, do you have any plans? When the young master becomes the lord…”

“When my brother becomes the lord, what? Are you saying I’ll be kicked out of here?”

“Well, these days, they don’t divide the inheritance equally. How about swallowing your pride and getting some support now?”

“I don’t want to beg my brother for anything.”

“…You’re something else.”

In the past, it was a principle to divide land or property equally among the children, but not anymore. Because dividing it weakened the family’s power, the inheritance culture of giving everything to the eldest son was becoming established.

Therefore, if one wasn’t born as the eldest legitimate son, life became somewhat harsh. In noble families, they often sent sons other than the eldest to monasteries or knight orders early on.

This was because in noble families, siblings could be the greatest allies but also the worst enemies, and if the succession structure wasn’t stable, retainers or vassals could waver. Splitting into factions for the highest power had to be avoided at all costs.

Still, some managed to succeed by becoming bishops or abbots.

In the case of knight orders, it was honorable but very dangerous and tough. It involved disciplined group living, strenuous training, battles, and there was no special treatment just because one was a noble.

In short, if one wasn’t born as the eldest legitimate son, they had to solve their living problems on their own. After all, Caldebert, the founder of the Caldebern family, was also someone who made his way on his own.

Vilter, being fourteen years old, had grown up in the family for quite a long time. But with his brother getting a wife and soon having a child, it was time for him to start looking after his own life.

If he were a daughter, could she stay at home a bit longer? Or what if the baby died right after being born?

All these were pointless thoughts. In any case, it was the same that he had to leave soon because he was of age.

Vilter couldn’t help but feel complicated these days. He had to be prepared to live on his own from now on.

In such circumstances, there was someone in a similar situation. It was his younger brother, Ricardt.

Maybe it was because he was still too young to understand, but when Vilter looked back at his younger brother, he had the same indifferent expression as always. Sometimes he seemed like an old soul, at other times, he was whimsical, gentle, and kind—his dear younger brother.

Ricardt walked, looking at the ground, then up at the bright blue sky, then off into the distance… He seemed to be without a care in the world. Should he painfully but sternly wake him up to reality?

While Vilter was lost in thought, Ricardt, looking into the distance, raised his hand and pointed.

“Isn’t that a wild boar?”

Both Butch and Vilter turned their heads simultaneously to look in the direction Ricardt was pointing. In the distance, near the edge of the forest, a boar was running wildly.

“Uh? Yeah, it is.”

Lord Abelich was chasing it on horseback. But something was off. The boar turned slightly and started running in their direction.

At first, the three of them stood there dumbfounded because of the distance, but when they realized it was heading towards them, Butch and Vilter’s hair stood on end, and their minds went blank for a moment.

Suddenly, the situation became urgent. The hunting dogs, freed from their leashes, barked frantically.

“Woof! Woof!”

“Butch! Butch! Protect the young lords!”

Among the people ahead, Butch’s father shouted urgently as he rushed back. Protect? How?

“Uh…”

The boar was getting closer. When it was far away, they hadn’t realized, but its size was enormous. Its height seemed higher than Ricardt’s head. It was also fast.

Frightened adults threw spears from afar, but they only cut through empty air.

“Butch! Butch!”

Butch could barely hear his father’s voice. He was frozen in place. Vilter was the same.

At that moment, someone snatched one of the spears Butch was carrying and shoved him aside. Butch fell sideways into the dry grass. He saw Ricardt.

The young boy, who still had baby fat, held the spear backward, placing the shaft on his shoulder and pointing the tip at the charging boar.

He spread his legs wide and shifted his weight forward, almost as if he was about to fall forward.

Before anyone could react, the massive boar charged at the child.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Thump!

Ricardt flew backward, rolling across the grass. Butch and Vilter, standing right next to him, didn’t understand what had happened and just stood there, stunned.

“Ricky! Ricky!”

Lord Abelich ran urgently to the fallen Ricardt.

He quickly dismounted and checked on his third son. To his surprise, the young boy was conscious, lying on the yellow, dried grass and looking up at the sky. His palm was torn, and blood was flowing.

Abelich’s heart sank, and without realizing it, he pulled Ricardt into his arms.

“L-Lord… my Lord.”

Someone called from behind. Abelich instinctively turned his head.

Then he saw the boar, dead, with the spear precisely pierced through its forehead. What?

No one said a word. Only the sound of the wind and dogs barking could be heard in the field.