Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V2C140

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Chapter 140: The Whisper of Hope, Part 3

“My lord, they’ve already left the castle. Why don’t we just—”

The man lowered his voice. “Though he’s a viscount, his family’s influence likely doesn’t reach this far south. If I’m not mistaken, that man hails from Baltar—the northernmost border of the kingdom.”

“Fool.”

Despite his seething anger, Baron Grudin’s mind remained clear. He spat in disdain, sneering, “Who would we send? That man is at least Gold Rank. Did you not hear what that skeleton said? The red-haired woman beside him is likely of similar strength. Are you trying to make my troubles worse?”

“My apologies, my lord. I didn’t think it through.”

“Then why don’t we seal the gates and trap them here?” another male concubine suggested cautiously.

Grudin took a deep breath and promptly kicked the man out of the room. “Are you an idiot? Who could possibly contain them? Shall I send you instead?”

The concubine yelped, scrambling to his feet and shaking his head frantically. Though he didn’t fully grasp the implications of Gold Rank strength, he knew well enough that going himself would be suicide.

“Why don’t we let those skeletons handle it? Didn’t they sign an alliance with us?” the remaining concubine chimed in smugly, glancing at his humiliated companion before bowing even lower.

But Grudin shook his head dismissively. “Them? They won’t lift a finger. Madara has just signed a truce with Eruin. They won’t risk offending another noble family right now. I don’t know why their commander is still lingering here, but I doubt he’ll leave anytime soon.”

What he didn’t say aloud was that their alliance was purely one of convenience. This covert pact held no public weight. Its true purpose was for Earl Jandel to leverage Madara’s presence to suppress the kingdom’s southern legions and further consolidate his own power.

That was the real significance of this agreement.

Of course, there was no need to explain such intricacies to a mere concubine. Grudin stretched his neck and touched the wound on his cheek, his voice laced with bitterness. “But this isn’t over. I’ll make sure that man pays dearly. My father may not approve of starting a war with another house, but as for the people around that Viscount Stingham—I’ll see how long he can protect them.”

He sneered and immediately ordered, “Bring me paper and pen. I’ll write to the Earl at once.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The concubine obediently bowed, preparing to carry out the command. But just then, the study door opened silently, and a shadowy figure slipped in, speaking in a low tone:

“My lord, the matter on Kerry’s side has been resolved. I’ve just received their message via carrier pigeon—”

Grudin paused, recalling the task. He nodded, grinding his teeth. “Perfect. Send that along with the letter to my father. I’m sure he won’t refuse such a modest request.”

Turning back, he noticed the figure still standing there and asked impatiently, “Anything else?”

“My lord, the city seems a bit unstable. I’m worried about those mercenaries…” the figure murmured.

“Don’t concern yourself with them. Though Madara’s skeletons won’t help us deal with that accursed viscount, they won’t allow rabble to threaten me either. I understand this better than you do.” Grudin waved a hand dismissively. “Now go. If those mercenaries don’t know their place, I’ll teach them a lesson.”

The figure nodded and silently retreated.

---

Meanwhile, though Antietta had hoped the rest of the day would pass peacefully, some things in this world are beyond human control. The noblewoman from Braggs never anticipated that events would spiral out of her expectations from the very beginning.

After clashing with the local lord, Cold Fir City was no longer safe. Brandon, though unafraid of Grudin’s retaliation, couldn’t ignore the possibility of Madara striking from the shadows. They had crossed paths once in Ridenburg and again in Braggs, where they were targeted by Enstallone. Brandon might still be on their assassination list.

Kabirus might restrain himself for now, respecting the guise of Viscount Stingham, but that identity was only a facade. It could deceive for a time, but not forever.

Leaving Tonygel as soon as possible was the wisest choice.

Yet barely three hours after departing the city, they encountered a cavalry unit sent by Grudin—

---

Kerry Nailhammer was equally surprised. But the cavalry captain, whose face resembled a hyena’s, was astonished by his good fortune. His greedy eyes roamed over the women in the group. By Marsha’s grace, he had never seen such fine specimens in this region.

The few beauties in the territory belonged to the lord, and he dared not entertain inappropriate thoughts about them. The rest were either emaciated peasants or tavern prostitutes.

Never had he seen women of such beauty and refinement.

Kerry couldn’t help but rub his eyes, half-believing he was dreaming. He imagined the rewards he’d receive if he presented these women to his lord. Of course, keeping one for himself wasn’t entirely out of the question. He licked his lips subtly, scanning the group blocking the road—mere mercenaries, in his eyes.

He had dealt with mercenaries before. Hadn’t the lord’s previous mistress been the sister of a small mercenary captain? And hadn’t he personally disciplined those insolent fools?

Kerry mentally counted their numbers—just over ten. Though mid-tier Iron Rank fighters might pose a challenge, they were laughable against his hundred-strong cavalry. He grew more certain that fate had handed him a generous gift.

His hand rested casually on the handle of his warhammer as his gaze settled on the young man leading the group.

A young noble?

Out traveling nobility weren’t uncommon in Vonder, but those venturing into the wilds of Tonygel were usually naive idealists.

Did they truly believe their noble titles would protect them everywhere? The cavalry captain smirked, licking his lips, and barked:

“Who are you?”

His hand never left his weapon, his raspy voice as memorable as a broken bellows. “Do you not know where you are? Carrying weapons in violation of the ban—surely you’re nothing but—”

He meant to call them “bandits roaming the wilds,” but his words caught in his throat. The young man had given him a peculiar look, as though regarding a fool.

“Aren’t you from Green Village?” Brandon ignored the question, asking instead.

Kerry hesitated but quickly recovered.

“You insolent whelp! Do you know who you’re speaking to? We are Grudin’s peacekeeping cavalry. I suspect you’re bandits. Drop your weapons and surrender immediately!” he snarled. “Otherwise, when I give the order, you’ll have no time to regret it.”

“So?” Brandon asked coolly.

“So what?” Kerry failed to detect the suppressed killing intent in Brandon’s tone—or perhaps, accustomed to bullying others, he never imagined mid-tier Iron Rank mercenaries would dare resist him. Behind him stood over a hundred cavalrymen—not ceremonial soldiers, but bloodthirsty warriors recruited from the ranks of mercenaries.

Feeling smug, he declared, “However, I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourselves.” Pointing with his left hand, he divided the group. “The women stay. The rest can leave.”

Antietta, standing behind Brandon, felt no anger at these words. She was all too familiar with the arrogance of private armies. Still, she sighed.

Didn’t this man realize he was walking straight into danger?

She glanced at Brandon.

The suppressed fury Brandon had carried since leaving the baron’s castle finally erupted, radiating outward.

His right hand slid off the scabbard, dropping to his side. Tilting his head, he spoke slowly and deliberately: “I remember you asked who I am, didn’t you?”

Kerry blinked, wondering if the man was deranged. Still, the “battle-hardened” noble cavalry captain instinctively tightened his grip on his warhammer, sensing something amiss.

“Cavalryman, have you ever heard a story?”

“A story?”

“The Tale of No Wit and Discontent.”

This time, not only Kerry but also Antietta, Tiger Finch, and the others were taken aback. Famous bedtime stories in Vonder were few, but none had ever heard of one called No Wit and Discontent.

What kind of title was that?

While they were surprised, Kerry was livid. Believing he was being mocked, he growled, “Sorry, I haven’t heard it, nor do I care for children’s tales. Don’t try to stall. I’ll count to three. This is your last chance—”

He turned his horse and shouted, “One!”

But Brandon shook his head. “No need to count.”

Raising his head, he continued, “What I want to say is, my name is Discontent—”

With a flick of his hand, everyone saw only a blur before hearing a sharp crack of breaking bones. The cavalry captain’s neck snapped, his expression frozen in shock as he toppled from his horse with a thud.

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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