Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V2C145

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Chapter 145: The Whisper of Hope, Part 8

As Brandon softly murmured his apology, the argument inside the longhouse escalated—

Bang! A young man slammed his hands onto the wooden table, veins bulging. “I refuse!” His eyes were red with anger as he shouted through gritted teeth, “Funiya is just a child—Sally’s daughter! And we are the men of this tribe, men! Are you really going to rely on trading a child’s life to survive?”

“Can you live with that?”

“Can you?!”

The young man's roar echoed through the longhouse. For a moment, everyone exchanged glances, no one daring to respond. Bolton stood silently with his arms crossed, while the elder sighed deeply, raising his weary, clouded eyes.

Everyone took a deep breath.

“Who is that?” Brandon asked, looking toward the longhouse.

“Big brother Torr,” the little girl replied softly in Elvish, her voice like silver bells chiming in the forest clearing.

Brandon nodded.

The longhouse fell silent for a moment.

“Enough,” the gaunt middle-aged man sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Torr, you’ve said enough. Don’t hurt everyone further.”

“Uncle Cliff…” The young man clenched his fists tightly.

“It’s enough. We all understand—but we are Senians. Do you understand what that means? Life and death are not choices we make for ourselves.”

“Torr, do you remember those who froze to death in the forest?” the middle-aged man asked in a low voice.

The young man faltered, unable to speak. He bit his upper lip, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath, blinking away tears. “Of course… my father…”

“He sacrificed himself so you could live, child,” the elder sighed.

“I know.”

“We all have,” the middle-aged man replied. “So consider our position—and the position of those who have already died.”

“In our Senian legends, there is an ancient song sung in the forest. Our ancestors’ spirits watch over us from within these woods. They fought, bled, and sacrificed generation after generation—not for us to throw it all away in a moment of rashness.”

“Do you understand?” he asked, emphasizing every word.

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Someone was quietly sobbing.

“I… understand.”

“But must we always live like cowards? What’s the point? Lady Nyia once said that merely living isn’t enough.” The young man turned away, wiping his eyes and choking back tears. “Does survival justify abandoning everything?”

“At least while we’re alive, there’s hope,” the middle-aged man shook his head. “If I can’t see that hope, Torr, I at least want to leave it for you.”

The young man lowered his head.

“Elder, make your decision,” the middle-aged man turned back.

A flicker of sorrow passed through the elder’s eyes. After a brief silence, he spoke: “Very well. But none of us has the right to ask another tribesperson to die for us. I suggest we ask Funiya herself.”

“But there’s never been such a precedent,” someone murmured.

“That’s because those who made decisions before were either men or elders of the tribe. I trust they had the wisdom to understand their choices,” the elder replied, lowering his gaze.

The crowd fell silent.

“But Funiya is just a child. What does she know? Are we really going to leave the fate of the tribe in the hands of a child? That’s too reckless.” Another voice protested.

The middle-aged man’s expression darkened.

“But now, you’re relying on a child to save yourselves, aren’t you? Even if it’s out of desperation, shouldn’t you feel ashamed?” He turned back, glaring at the sea of faces in the longhouse, his voice rising in anger.

“It’s easy to say that, but there’s never been such a precedent. Besides, Funiya is the elder’s granddaughter…” someone muttered under their breath.

The words rippled through the room like a stone dropped into water. The crowd fell momentarily still. Torr, who had just lowered his head, froze, then whipped around like an enraged lion, staring at the person who had spoken.

Torr couldn’t believe someone would think this way at a time like this.

“True, she’s not your daughter, so maybe you don’t care about sending her off to save your own skin, huh?” The young man roared, unleashing his pent-up fury. “You bastard—you don’t deserve to call yourself a Senian. Now, get out!”

His piercing glare caused the other man to pale and take a step back.

“W-what are you talking about? I’m just suggesting a possibility—it doesn’t mean it’s true…” the man stammered. “Besides, how do you know the elder doesn’t think the same? Are you the elder?”

The elder glanced at them, saying nothing.

The young man clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, ready to explode. But just then, a small, fragile voice pierced the brief silence:

“Stop arguing—.”

The door had been pushed open at some point.

Funiya stood in the doorway, wearing her linen dress. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists, and with all her strength, she shouted with her eyes squeezed shut—

“Everyone, stop arguing…”

She opened her eyes, her deep green irises filled with pleading. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at everyone through tear-blurred eyes, whimpering into the longhouse: “I’m sorry, Father, Grandfather, I’m sorry… It’s all my fault…”

For a moment, the longhouse was silent except for Funiya’s sobs.

The middle-aged man fell silent. Silently, he stood up, walked slowly to Funiya, knelt down, and embraced her gently. “I’m sorry, Funiya. We’re terrible, so terrible…”

In the center of the crowd, Bolton suddenly buried his face in his hands and burst into uncontrollable sobs.

At that moment, no one spoke. Everyone was at a loss for words.

Only the elder’s gaze shifted toward the outside of the longhouse—

The old man slowly rose to his feet, bowed slightly toward Brandon outside the door, and said, “Forgive us for this spectacle, sir.”

Brandon rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching them all without a word.

In that moment, he didn’t know how he felt. He simply couldn’t bring himself to speak. His hand gripped the sword hilt tightly, his knuckles cracking, as if only this could ease the weight in his chest.

He watched silently as the elderly Senian elder rose solemnly, his face resolute, as if making a great decision. Slowly, he knelt before Brandon, bowing deeply with his forehead touching the ground:

“Sir, please help us.”

“I know we have no right to burden you with this, but…”

The elder’s voice trembled with emotion, tears streaming down his face.

Everyone fell silent. Every gaze in the room was fixed on Brandon.

The young man looked at Funiya’s tear-streaked face, at Bolton’s uncontrollable wailing, and felt a deep sigh rise in his chest. This was the essence of parting and loss. He couldn’t describe the feeling—it only left him suffocated.

He parted his lips, as if about to speak.

But at that moment, he felt a warm, soft hand firmly grasp his own. Startled, he turned to see a pair of dark, beautiful eyes.

Those eyes held both compassion and unwavering resolve—

It was Antietta.

She had followed him after all.

And though the noblewoman couldn’t bear to witness this scene, though she hesitated and wavered, in the end, she took a deep breath and gently grasped Brandon’s hand.

She shook her head lightly.

“Sir Brandon,” she began, each word feeling like a blade piercing her heart. She bit her lip and forced herself to continue, syllable by syllable.

Brandon looked at her.

Everyone else looked at them.

“Are you trying to convince me, Antietta?” Brandon asked.

Antietta said nothing, only gazed at him.

“Can you bear it?” Brandon asked.

Antietta bit her lip. She looked at everyone in the room—the elder’s sorrowful, clouded eyes; the father’s self-loathing, pained gaze; Funiya’s helpless, pitiful expression; and the despairing, pleading looks of everyone else.

With each glance, her complexion grew paler, as if drained of blood.

But her grip tightened, her knuckles turning white.

“You can hate me if you want, Sir Brandon,” she whispered, taking a breath and shaking her head. “I won’t allow it—I absolutely won’t let you do this. Sir Brandon, you know what stepping forward means. Grudin, Madara, the Jandel family—an endless tide of enemies. If you agree to this, it means certain death.”

“I know. Perhaps you don’t care, Sir Brandon. Because you are the bravest, most honorable knight Antietta has ever known. Like the noble heroes from ancient times I read about in books, I thought they were just legends, but you showed me otherwise…”

“But I care.”

“Because of that, I can’t stand by and watch you throw your life away. Even if everyone hates me for it, I don’t care.” She looked up at him, her voice firm and resolute.

Brandon fell silent. He had never expected Antietta to feel this way. He glanced at the noblewoman, lowered his head, and murmured softly:

“Thank you.”

He closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, then opened them again. Squatting down, he patted Funiya’s head, stood up, and turned to leave.

“Sir Brandon?”

Antietta froze.

Everyone else sighed softly, watching the young man’s retreating figure. Their hopes dwindled, but they understood Antietta’s words. They had no right to demand a stranger risk their life for them.

What right did they have?

Moreover, it was clear the young man was troubled. He cared about them. No one had ever cared about how the Senians lived, yet they saw anger and sorrow etched on his face.

It wasn’t pity or charity—it was empathy.

When the young man turned his head, everyone instinctively clenched their fists. It wasn’t anger—they shared his deep sorrow over their fate.

Lady Marsha, Goddess Nyia, haven’t the punishments you bestowed upon the Senians been enough?

“Let’s go, Antietta.”

Brandon didn’t look back, his voice low.

Antietta snapped out of her daze, releasing her grip and exhaling softly. Yet inexplicably, as she watched his departing figure, a small sense of loss welled up in her heart—as if she had personally buried something precious.

The noblewoman lowered her head, pressing a hand to her chest.

Behind her, Funiya’s sobs continued to echo.

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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