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Chapter 61: Final Night in Braggs Part 3
Freya fell silent.
Her thoughts seemed to drift for a moment before she raised her head again, her honey-brown eyes glistening like polished gemstones. The young female knight hesitated briefly, then slipped the ring from her finger and extended it toward him. "Brandon, take this ring. Out there, you’ll need it more than I do."
Brandon paused, his gaze falling on the fireball spell ring. Its ruby sparkled brilliantly in the candlelight.
He glanced at Freya, who turned her face slightly away, murmuring, "This ring was always yours... I... I just borrowed it for a while. You remember, don’t you?"
At that moment, the bartender with whom Brandon had been chatting earlier stood up, clapping the young man lightly on the shoulder. With a knowing grin, he said, "Looks like you’ve got some business to attend to. I’ll leave you to it and come back later to tell you about the legend of that goblet." With that, he picked up his glass and tactfully retreated to the other end of the bar, striking up a conversation with a group of drunken mercenaries.
The ponytailed knight noticed the exchange and instinctively closed her mouth, unable to find the words.
But Brandon simply shook his head and smiled—a faint smile that couldn’t quite mask the warmth swelling in his chest. As he looked at Freya, he felt once again the weight of what it meant to have a companion. He had only left her a message, yet this stubborn girl from Buchi, after meeting Roma, had insisted on seeing him one last time.
He understood that this wasn’t just about returning a ring—it was an act laden with concern.
Freya’s mind, however, was in turmoil. She clenched her fists tightly. When she first heard that Brandon and the others were leaving, she hadn’t thought twice—she had rushed out impulsively, driven by the childish desire to see them all one more time.
Now, as she calmed down, she could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
She had been grappling with a question ever since: Could she really go alone to Eruin’s Royal Cavalry Academy, leaving everyone behind—especially Brandon? Did she truly possess the strength to protect little Phineas, to protect them all, as Brandon had once encouraged her to?
Freya felt overwhelmed by uncertainty and doubt about the future. Brandon had become her lifeline, but now, when faced with the opportunity to cling to him, she found herself too afraid to reach out.
The young female knight stared at the hem of Brandon’s cloak, lost in thought.
Of course, Brandon saw right through her. Her emotions were as plain as day. Smiling faintly, he reached out and accepted the ring. Freya blinked, startled. "You… you’re taking it?"
"Of course," Brandon replied with a chuckle. "How could I refuse a gift from Lady Valkyrie?"
Though he knew Freya wouldn’t face any real danger at the Royal Cavalry Academy, every ounce of strength mattered now. Still, he wouldn’t have accepted the ring merely to reassure her if he didn’t believe it would serve a purpose.
"Valkyrie?" Freya tilted her head, puzzled.
"In my homeland, there’s a tale about the Valkyries. They are legendary warriors, resplendent on their steeds, one hand holding a swallow-tailed banner, the other gripping a sword, leading their people to victory and safeguarding their nation." Brandon’s gaze softened as he spoke, though his thoughts drifted to another story of a Valkyrie.
In the tumultuous final days of the First Era in Vonder, under the gray skies of Magerfort, a female general rode atop her beloved steed, Silver Sand. She was shorter than many soldiers, her long ponytail trailing behind her—a familiar sight that inspired trust and hope. That woman was Freya, the guardian of Eruin, the Valkyrie.
Brandon remembered how she had ridden slowly past each of them, clad in gleaming silver armor, surveying her troops beneath the drizzling rain. At the time, her forces consisted of barely a hundred cadets from the Royal Cavalry Academy—many of them children of nobles, some of whom would later become their fiercest adversaries. Yet, they followed her faithfully, their white cloaks billowing in the wind as they appeared before the dispirited remnants of an army.
When despair and defeat had consumed them, when the players—their avatars in this world—had lost all hope, believing Eruin to be doomed against the might of Madara, these young knights emerged like a ray of pure light slicing through the storm clouds.
Brandon would never forget the scene. The female general’s first words still echoed in his memory:
"Soldiers, turn back and fight with me. Let us defeat Madara together."
"Forgive me if I cannot fully comprehend your cold, hunger, fear, and suffering. But I see in your eyes the same desolation that weighs upon my heart. Our homeland has fallen, and if we retreat, the undead will overrun our lands. We are defeated, no matter how we try to deny it."
"We did not choose this fate, and this despair suffocates us. Is this truly where our road ends? Soldiers, no! Turn back, for we still have one chance. Let me lead you into battle once more."
"Trust me."
She placed her hand over her chest.
"I will fight alongside you."
"I will bear all responsibility for what comes next."
"Follow me, and let me fall before you. Let this promise ignite the courage within every man here—"
That was the first time the silver lily shone on the battlefield, and the legend of the Valkyrie began to unfold in Eruin—a tale that moved countless players to tears. To the players of the Eruin faction, this name carried far more weight than most NPCs. It was she who pulled them from the brink of despair, granting them honor and pride. She became their banner, the source of their pride, and they fought for her because they believed in their own honor.
The anthem of Eruin, written by an obscure player on a forum, was sung by thousands:
We are proud sons of Eruin.
Even in defeat, we shall not bow our heads.
Our courage is etched upon our blades.
Our faith is the flag we defend.
The blood of Eruin flows toward the horizon.
What we yearn for—
Is the day the silver lily rises again.
What we yearn for—
Is the unbroken faith of Eruin.
When we die, our voices shall echo—
Echo across this land.
They shall speak—
This is our homeland, the land we love.
Brandon lowered his head, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up again, he saw Freya murmuring softly, "How can I ever measure up to the legends, Brandon? I’m just a clumsy girl trying my best."
Yes, your best effort is the very root of this legend.
The young man gazed at her, admiring her earnestness. No matter how small the task, this girl from Buchi poured her heart into it. Perhaps she didn’t yet realize her potential, but one day, like gold glinting in riverbed silt, her brilliance would shine forth.
He smiled. "Just think of it as a dream."
Freya looked at him, nodded, and asked, "Is this the legend of the Highland Knight?"
Brandon nodded.
Freya fell silent again. After a long pause, she whispered, "Is there anything else you want to tell me, Brandon?"
"No… Wait." Brandon hesitated, then called her back. After a moment’s thought, he asked, lowering his voice, "Freya, what do you think of Eruin?" His gaze swept across the tavern, ensuring no one was eavesdropping.
"Eruin? What about it?" Freya blinked, caught off guard.
"If we liken a nation to a person, Eruin is like a dying old man, ravaged by illness," Brandon replied.
Freya froze.
She was no longer the naive captain of the militia she had once been. Having witnessed the corruption among the nobility, she harbored deep concerns about the ruling class. Yet, she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the problem.
Was this simply the way things were meant to be? Or had something gone terribly wrong? The uneasy girl consoled herself with the belief that where there was light, there would always be darkness. Perhaps everything would work out in the end—this was just another cycle of history. But deep down, she wondered if her worldview had been too naive all along.
Brandon’s words shattered her comforting illusions, leaving only the harshest truth.
For a moment, Freya couldn’t find the words.
"Listen to me, Freya," Brandon said, his voice heavy with hesitation. He feared influencing the path this Valkyrie would walk in the future. Yet, he ultimately decided to speak his mind. Because Freya wasn’t just the Valkyrie—he saw her as more than a shadow of legend. She was someone he trusted, someone he leaned on.
In this world, Brandon had no true family. Freya, too, had lost the parents who raised her. In a way, they both needed each other. Since that night in Green Village, Brandon knew their bond could never be severed.
Like two fragile souls leaning on each other in the dark, Brandon couldn’t imagine navigating this world without the people of Buchi. For Freya, it was the same.
"Eruin may never return to its former peace. Only drastic change can save this nation. Of course, such upheaval might tear it apart. But those of us born in this era can only strive to mend it. I don’t know how many can see this truth or understand what I mean. But Freya, do you?"
The young female knight stared at him, nodding instinctively despite her confusion.
"Do you now understand why I urged you to join the Royal Cavalry Academy?"
"But I…"
"Freya, do your best."
"I don’t know if what you say is true, Brandon, but I want to believe you," Freya said, her voice trembling with unease. "But my mind is so scattered right now. I’m scared. Can’t we, the people of Buchi, change anything?"
"That’s why I’m doing my best too, Freya. I need your help."
The girl looked at him, pausing. "What… should I do?"
"If anything happens, support Princess Grifine wholeheartedly. I’ve heard she’s renowned for her wisdom. If anyone from the Colcova dynasty can lead this nation out of its plight, it’s her." Brandon thought for a moment. "At the academy, I believe you’ll have the chance to meet her."
"Brandon, how do you know so much?" Freya blurted out. "Are you joking with me?"
"I wish I were. But when you’re thrust into the role of a chessmaster, whether you like it or not, you begin to see the entire board. You’ll understand someday, Freya." Brandon smiled. "Don’t worry too much. We’ll meet again. And Freya, remember what I said—I’ll always have your back."
The young female knight lowered her head, pondering his words. Finally, she whispered, "I understand. Then… I’ll go now."
Freya’s voice sounded as lonely as a solitary migratory bird. As she turned to leave, Brandon felt a sudden urge to call her back. But he restrained himself. Freya had her own path to follow, and he couldn’t be selfish.
Yet, just as she reached the door, she stopped and turned around. "Brandon?"
"Yes?"
"Please… take care of Roma. She’s my best friend."
With that, she walked out of the tavern without looking back, leaving Brandon alone to ponder the meaning behind her final words. But in the end, the young man simply shook his head and lifted the goblet from the bar.
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