Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C2

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Chapter 2: The Letter, Part 2

"The Silver Elves?" Brandon leaned back, resting his chin on one hand. "Of course, but their friendship is one of my last cards to play. I’ll avoid using it unless absolutely necessary." He glanced at Antietta. "Anything else?"

Antietta observed the faintly yellowed parchment beneath Brandon’s pen. Most paper in Tonygel came from the southern region of Goran Elsun, where a tree called 'Duvegin' grew. Known as the "gold-bearing tree," its bark was processed into fine sheets that were exported to wealthy provinces like Ampersal, Sifah, or Colcova. But with the looming civil war, this trade had been severed. The thought made her blink, linking the current situation to the broader turmoil. "Sir Brandon," she began, lifting her gaze, "you wish to—" She paused, frowning slightly. "Even if Princess Grifine is in a precarious position, she may not see us as worthy allies. Moreover, the royalists are unlikely to risk offending Earl Jandel."

"Right on point, Antietta," Brandon said, folding the second sheet of parchment and crumpling it into a ball. He tossed it aside. "But what if instead of leveraging allies, we shift the burden?"

"Shifting the burden?"

"This letter," Brandon explained, "is indeed addressed to Her Highness Grifine Colcova Odysseus. Its purpose is to give us breathing room amidst the suffocating pressure we face." He slid the quill and parchment toward Antietta. "You write it."

"A letter to the princess?" Antietta took the pen and paper, drawing a breath before pressing the nib to the page. "What should I say?"

"The format is up to you, but here’s the content," Brandon snapped his fingers. "Dated the 17th day of the Month of Autumn's Wane, written in the Barony of Cold Fir, Tonygel—To Her Highness Grifine Colcova Odysseus. During the battle two nights ago, Madara’s undead army, under Enstallone’s command, bypassed the Southern Four Provinces and launched a surprise attack on Cold Fir. This resulted in significant casualties and the honorable death of Baron Grudin. As a Frontier Knight passing through, and as the Lord of Valhalla, I have taken it upon myself to temporarily oversee the defense of this region. After a night of fighting, the undead forces have been repelled. To prevent further incursions, I will assume temporary control of both military and administrative duties here until Your Highness appoints a new governor."

He paused, watching Antietta’s quill scratch across the page like a whisper in the room.

"Continue," he instructed. "In this letter, I also question Earl Jandel’s responsibility for concealing the presence of Madara’s undead army in the south and allowing them to pass through the Four Provinces without notice. Additionally, I seek Her Highness’s understanding and include a magic stone recording the battlefield imagery as proof of my claims."

Antietta looked up, startled. "A magic stone? Where did that come from?"

Before Brandon could answer, three sharp knocks echoed from the door.

"Enter," Brandon called. The door opened to reveal Fleur, the elder sister of the Wild Elf twins. She scanned the room briefly before approaching Brandon. Placing a grayish-white orb etched with intricate patterns beside him, she stated matter-of-factly, "The item you requested, my lord." Today, Fleur wore fitted leather armor paired with simple trousers, her golden hair braided neatly behind her head. She exuded an air of quiet competence.

"Checked thoroughly?" Brandon asked.

Fleur nodded.

Antietta recognized the orb immediately—it was a magic stone, crafted by Buga’s craftsman wizards using arcane techniques. Originally, these stones were quartz capable of recording images for a short period, but the Silver Folk enhanced them with magical arrays, allowing data to be preserved for decades. Though not rare, Antietta studied Brandon closely. "Sir Brandon prepared all this even before yesterday," she thought. "Impulsive he may be, but reckless? Never."

Brandon secured the orb and turned to Antietta. "With this letter, it’s up to Princess Grifine how she reacts. But she’s no fool—I trust she’ll make good use of this opportunity."

"You know the princess well?" Antietta probed sharply.

"She left the treacherous waters of Colcova alone, traveled thousands of miles back to her territory, and allied with the royalists to oppose her own brother. Does that sound immature or indecisive to you?" Brandon replied. "And remember, she’s barely sixteen. Even her advisors won’t miss the implications behind this letter after years of court intrigue."

He took the parchment from Antietta and flicked it lightly, the pages rustling. "Earl Jandel straddles the line between factions—the local lords, the old royalists, the new. Everyone would welcome a wildcard like us to pressure him. It doesn’t matter whether the contents of this letter are true; what matters is how convincing they appear. For the royalists, this letter becomes leverage to force Jandel’s hand."

"In times of weakness, becoming a pawn isn’t a bad strategy," Antietta mused, frowning. "But if Jandel fully aligns with the royalists, we’ll become expendable."

"Not so simple," Brandon shook his head. "Jandel’s a cunning fox, cautious by nature. He won’t easily bend to anyone’s will. When pressured, his anger turns to caution. At the very least, this buys us time. And with time comes opportunity. In the end," he waved the letter, "power decides fate."

Antietta glanced at him, then lowered her eyes. Privately, Brandon claimed to be just a Frontier Knight, yet his knowledge of noble traditions and personalities suggested otherwise. Only those raised in such circles could possess such insight. Though mysteries about him unraveled piece by piece, Antietta became increasingly certain there was more to his story.

She wasn’t alone—most who followed Brandon likely felt the same.

"But we killed his son," Fleur interjected, puzzled. "Is that just forgotten?"

"For an established noble, power and status outweigh progeny," Antietta replied calmly. "Grudin wasn’t Jandel’s only heir. Still, for the sake of family honor, he won’t let this go unpunished. Sooner or later, we’ll face Jandel’s forces."

Brandon nodded. "A pawn must prove its worth. We need to show the princess that we can pressure Jandel. Without the ability to stand our ground, no one will gamble on us."

"Gambling?"

"Like a bet," Brandon explained. "A skilled gambler relies on more than luck."

Both girls nodded, signaling understanding. But Brandon set the letter aside, opening a drawer to retrieve another. "Also, Antietta, copy this letter as well."

Antietta blinked in surprise.

"It’s for Retto and the others. A confrontation with Grudin’s retainers—and perhaps Earl Jandel himself—is inevitable. Right now, the mercenaries outside are all I have, and their loyalty is uncertain. I dislike relying on unpredictable factors, so I need them to abandon their plans and regroup with me here."

Antietta unfolded the letter, scanning its contents. Surprise flickered in her eyes. After a moment, she looked up. "What about the villagers from Green Village? How do you plan to handle them?"

It was a question Brandon had been pondering. He sensed the werewolves were willing to follow him but hesitated due to their low social standing. Still, he didn’t care about such distinctions. With over three hundred people in Green Village, many possessed iron-rank strength thanks to their natural resilience and harsh upbringing in the Black Forest. Regardless of other considerations, they represented a formidable force.

"Eruin won’t readily accept Senians," he replied. "For now, they’ll return to Green Village. When I find that place, I’ll need a large population—"

"That place?" Both girls stared at him blankly.

"A realm called Valhalla," Brandon tapped the desk. "You’ll understand soon enough. By the way, Antietta, what’s the deal with those druids? I haven’t asked you yet."

"It was coincidence," Antietta admitted. "I didn’t expect them when I rallied the villagers. But I think—" She paused, looking at Brandon.

"They’re searching for Funiya."

"Funiya?"

Brandon frowned slightly.

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