Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V2C129

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Chapter 129: My Friend, Part 1

"Your Highness, the enemy numbers are too great. Please retreat for now."

The voice of Sir Beninger carried through the air, earnest and tinged with urgency. The situation was dire—steel bolts struck the iron plates embedded within the carriage walls, each impact resonating like thunder. Assassins poured forth from every corner of the surrounding forest. Even Princess Grifine herself had not anticipated such a perilous ambush on her own lands in Grafe, the most dangerous since she began her flight.

But the young woman’s lips remained pressed into a thin line, her pale silver eyes fixed forward as she replied, "There is no need. I shall wait here for my knights to arrive."

"Your Highness—"

"Beninger."

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Thank you." Her tone was soft but firm.

The voice outside fell silent. The young man turned his head, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his chest brimming with unyielding courage.

As always, the half-elven maiden wore her favorite silvery-white gown, her hands folded neatly upon her lap. Even now, her posture was more impeccable than that of the most fastidious noblewoman. Every detail of royal etiquette emanated from this princess of Eruin, a living testament to the ancient family's dignity. To even the most critical of nobles, she was the brightest jewel atop the crown of Eruin.

In the eyes of this princess, the sole heir to Eruin’s throne sat across from her in the carriage, trembling with fear.

"Sister..." Obergu VII’s only son, Haruze, whispered timidly.

The girl shot her younger brother a cold glare.

"Haruze, take your sword and turn it around."

Though Haruze usually obeyed his stern sister without question, he hesitated this time. Trembling, he flipped the blade over carefully. Engraved upon its scabbard were delicate words:

Call my name Courage.

This motto of the Colcova royal family—and of the half-elven princess herself—was meant to inspire valor. Yet upon Obergu VII’s son, it seemed an ironic mockery. Clutching the hilt with both hands, the boy looked up at his sister helplessly, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of their situation.

Seeing her brother’s distress, even Grifine could not help but sigh. Her heart softened involuntarily, and she spoke gently: "It’s all right. I am here. Sister will protect you."

The boy wiped his tears with his sleeve before nodding resolutely.

Silence enveloped the carriage once more.

Outside, the sounds of battle seemed to fade.

---

At Bastar Royal Cavalry Academy, whether on the training grounds, in classrooms, or along corridors, everyone rose from their seats and gazed out arched windows toward the spectacle unfolding beyond.

Freya stood transfixed, her eyes locked onto a single pillar of silver light piercing the heavens. Beneath the vast sky, stretching beyond mountains to meet the horizon, the light resembled the fabled Tower of Babel from ancient myths. Clouds swirled outward in concentric layers, forming radiant fish-scale patterns across the sky. The sight transcended mortal description, evoking a primal awe that stirred the depths of the soul.

What’s that?

Clad in her training gear, Freya absently held her ponytail with one hand, forgetting to let go. Her face reflected the colors of the clouds as she stared motionlessly. Marsha Almighty, what message does this portend?

The academy’s training ground began to fill with people. Gasps erupted, whispers spread, and rumors flew as though the end of days approached. Heads tilted skyward, breaths caught in throats; murmurs grew into a cacophony. Instructors sent to restore order soon joined the throng, shaking their heads in disbelief at what they beheld.

"I think that is... a resonance reaction." someone ventured.

"What?" Freya turned to see a young man addressing her, his hazel eyes bright with curiosity. The second son of Earl Beckberg felt his pulse quicken—here was an opportunity. Female knights in training were rare at Bastar, making them coveted prizes among the male-dominated ranks. Freya, with her striking appearance and lack of influential lineage, was considered particularly desirable prey in these games played by upperclassmen.

Unaware of the game, Freya nonetheless sensed an inexplicable increase in attention, which unsettled her. Still, something about this golden-haired young man intrigued her enough to ask further.

"A magic energy reaction," he replied smoothly, flashing his best smile. "But one so powerful? Unheard of."

Freya's heart gave a slight flutter, and for no apparent reason, she was reminded of a certain night in the Valley of the Golden Magic Tree. She couldn’t help but wonder how that young man was doing now. Shaking off the thought, she quickly looked away to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. Gazing once more at the fading silver column, she steadied herself and asked, "Where is that place?"

"That direction? Jandel, I believe."

"Jandel..."

Instinctively, Freya pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat strengthen with each thud. "Brandon, is that you? I miss you all so much..."

The young man interpreted her flustered demeanor as a sign of his charm taking effect. "An unsophisticated country girl," he mused internally, maintaining a gentle smile while preparing to say more. But just then, the sharp toll of bells rang out across the field, interrupting his flirtation.

All eyes reluctantly shifted from the southern sky to another part of the grounds. The silver bell atop Bastar’s administration building rarely sounded except during celebrations or emergencies. What could have happened? Was it related to the earlier phenomenon?

A squadron of cavalry entered the field, dispersing the crowd. Leading them was a young woman clad in a purple tailcoat uniform, riding confidently before halting her steed. With chin slightly raised, she addressed the assembly: "All knights in training, regardless of year, prepare for departure. You have three minutes to ready yourselves for combat."

Her low, raspy voice swept through the crowd like a chilling wind, leaving everyone momentarily stunned.

Combat preparation? What kind of combat? Surely not a drill—it wasn’t testing season yet—

"A preparatory year…" the young man muttered.

"What?" Freya blinked, staring at the dark-haired rider who sat ramrod straight atop her horse like a spear. Turning to the young man behind her, she sought clarification.

"She is a knight in training in her preparatory year, which is essentially equivalent to the reserves for the Black Cavalry or Royal Guard. So while they’re called knights in training, they’re effectively soldiers. Her name is Nimuesis, daughter of Lady Miller. Or perhaps you’d understand better if I said Lady Miller is Duke Rhun’s sister, widowed after her husband died in the Ten Years’ War. Nimuesis is her only child." He paused, adding gravely, "She’s a prodigy of Bastar Academy. But then again, anyone admitted to the preparatory year isn’t exactly ordinary."

Nimuesis. Freya committed the name to memory. Smiling gratefully at the young man, she said, "Don’t put yourself down. You’re impressive, knowing so much."

The young man hesitated, surprised by the sincerity in her gaze. For a fleeting moment, he felt genuinely moved.

But the sentiment passed quickly.

Chuckling inwardly, he thought smugly, “Once you taste my prowess, you’ll know just how formidable I truly am.”

---

Silver-armored elven cavalry stood silently amidst the trees, facing the somber forces of Duke Rhun. No breeze stirred the forest, leaving banners drooping listlessly. After the clouds parted, afternoon sunlight bathed the scene, casting solid beams of light that illuminated crests of lilies and charging wolves. Save for the occasional sneeze or snort from a warhorse, the woods were utterly silent.

An awkward stillness reigned.

Macaro, Liwutz, Buga, and the grim-faced Earl Baeli faced Minnis and the helmeted commander of the Silver Elves, whose expression remained inscrutable beneath her pointed helm. Neither side spoke.

Only Brandon sat calmly in the center, confident that Aloz was nearby. With Minnis present—and the underdeveloped dragon-girl in tow—he doubted Earl of the Violet could find cause to trouble him. Observing the rows of silver-clad elves, he pondered their intentions. The Silver Elves had adhered to an ancient prophecy for centuries, refraining from returning to the mainland. Why now? And why break their vow?

The answer eluded him—for now.

Project Update: Volume 2 is now fully translated! However, as I'm currently focusing on stacking chapters for Volume 3, the release of the remaining chapters in Volume 2 will slow down a bit.

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