Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C11

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Chapter 11: The Territory Part 5

The dungeon fell into a silence so profound that the faintest sound would have echoed. Fleur, her notebook clutched tightly to her chest, eyed the old man with suspicion, while the others were momentarily struck dumb.

“So it really is the …” Beru murmured, taking another step back. “How is this possible? How could it be…?” He paused, his voice trembling. “ once said that if his descendants ever forgot their honor, the Lionheart Sword would vanish alongside it. Our loyalist cause has been about reclaiming that lost glory. But why would the Lionheart Sword bind itself to your fate?”

“Lord Beru,” Brandon said, slipping the back into his robes. He studied the disheveled old man before him, struggling to reconcile this frail figure with the image of ’s chief craftsman. Yet, the forum posts he’d read assured him that Beru’s knowledge was genuine. Though eccentric, the man had already demonstrated remarkable insight. For a royal craftsman to understand was unexpected, even for someone like Beru. “You know something about the Lionheart Sword, don’t you?”

Beru hesitated, his thoughts reeling. Finally, he steadied himself and spoke. “This is a secret. My family swore an oath—”

Brandon waved dismissively. “I can guess what you mean. I know the has long served the crown. But Eruin’s founding king, Eck, once swore an oath upon this sword. He declared that breaking it would cause the sword to abandon its bearer. Yet, when the sword returns, so too will Eruin’s glory—regardless of who wields it or when it appears. The Lionheart Sword is forever tied to this kingdom’s destiny because it carries King Eck’s will. Thus, it chooses the one who will restore its honor.”

He paused, his hazel eyes locking onto the elder. His meaning was clear—Beru was a loyalist, but their efforts weren’t merely about restoring monarchical supremacy over the nobility. To reclaim lost glory, they must follow the path walked by King Eck. Only the fire of the ancients could cleanse this land and breathe new life into the old kingdom. Though unspoken, Brandon had offered Beru a choice.

There was one thing Brandon didn’t say aloud: from this moment forward, he stood on the same path as the resolute and courageous princess. In the previous timeline, she had failed. This time, he would personally clear the thorns from her path, and Eruin would rise anew from the flames.

It was as though history split before him into two diverging lines. One led to burning palaces and cities, the kingdom collapsing under the weight of suffering, the land consumed by eternal darkness. The other path remained unknown—a road fraught with peril, its thorns soaked in blood. Yet, even in the deepest darkness, there was a glimmer of hope.

The old man lowered his head, hesitating for a long while. Finally, he relented with a sigh. “You’re right. No matter who holds the sword, the ancient legends do not lie. I never imagined Eruin’s path to glory would return through fire. Perhaps we’ve grown too corrupt.” He raised his head, his cloudy gaze meeting Brandon’s. “You may know that some families in Eruin boast histories stretching back centuries, but not all noble lineages trace their roots to King Eck’s era. The , the Colcova dynasty—all have risen and fallen, creating and destroying noble legacies.”

He paused. “But there are lesser-known families, hidden from the world, whose lineage stretches back to ancient times.” A note of pride crept into the craftsman’s voice. “The Hust family is one such lineage. Though obscure, our ancestors served as both attendants and blacksmiths to King Eck. Generation after generation, we have served the crown. The crafting of the is our invention. Later, we pledged allegiance to , and so it remains to this day.”

Brandon nodded. He already knew much of this history, but at least now he was certain Beru wasn’t lying.

“In truth,” Beru continued, his voice growing softer, “my ancestor was not only King Eck’s attendant but also one of the five companions who retrieved the Lionheart Sword from . Many do not know the sword’s true nature. Most legends claim it is one of Cruze’s four holy relics. But few realize that those four relics were originally one.”

A flicker of understanding passed through Brandon’s eyes.

“So?” he prompted.

“When combined, the four relics form —the . Known to the world as the , it was the weapon of . A true .”

Brandon staggered slightly, his voice faltering for the first time. “Lord Beru, could the resonance between the Philosopher’s Tablet and the Lionheart Sword indicate a divine artifact reaction?”

“Impossible,” Beru replied firmly. “Though the Lionheart Sword is a holy blade, it is still only a . The gap between divine artifacts and Fantasy Artifacts cannot be overstated. Though I’ve never encountered a divine artifact myself, ancient texts make it clear that the difference is incomprehensible.”

“What if,” Brandon pressed, “the Lionheart Sword, burdened by centuries of causality and King Eck’s vow, has ascended to become a divine sword?”

Beru shook his head again. “I advise you to abandon these fanciful notions. Once you witness the disparity between a divine artifact and a Fantasy Artifact, you’ll see how naive such thoughts are.” As he spoke, the craftsman exuded an unwavering confidence. Yet, he quickly remembered his imprisonment for offending Grudin and bowed his head in contrition, regretting his earlier tone.

Unfortunately for him, his efforts were wasted.

Brandon had no interest in such trivialities. Instead, he felt the room spinning as realization dawned. Now he understood why he had experienced a divine artifact-level resonance with the Lionheart Sword. It hadn’t been just the Lionheart Sword—it had been the Rod of Flames. Recalling Beru’s earlier prophecy, Brandon could now piece together what he had unwittingly done.

The Rod of Flames.

The resonance had been with the Rod of Flames, the very sword once wielded by King Geert of Flames—the Flame Blade, Odysseus. Brandon groaned inwardly. What a cruel joke. In Amber Sword, he had never heard of Odysseus reappearing, nor had the Lionheart Sword left any trace of its existence. If Beru’s account was accurate, then history must have shifted somewhere.

But where?

Brandon rubbed his temples. “Enough,” he said, shaking his head. “This topic ends here. Lord Beru, I trust you won’t let these words leave this dungeon.” He paused. “And I assume you wouldn’t want everyone to know that the Lionheart Sword has chosen me, correct?”

The craftsman stared at him, puzzled. The Lionheart Sword symbolized Eruin’s legitimacy, and with King Eck’s vow, Brandon could easily declare himself king. Indeed, during the early days of the Colcova dynasty, the sword’s name had been invoked to legitimize their rule. Yet most people were unaware that the Lionheart Sword had been lost. Publicizing this fact would undermine the monarchy’s authority. Why, then, was this young man suppressing such information? Beru couldn’t fathom it.

“Could he truly support the princess?” Beru wondered. When he had been imprisoned, the current was barely twelve. He couldn’t begin to guess Brandon’s origins, but regardless, he regarded Brandon’s claims with cautious skepticism.

In the end, the old man nodded. No matter what, he couldn’t allow harm to come to the monarchy’s reputation. He had devoted his life to House Colcova, and his most passionate years had been spent as a loyalist. Even in defeat, he harbored no regrets. Therefore, despite Brandon’s persuasive reasoning, Beru remained steadfast. Still, he hoped against hope that Brandon would keep his word—that he would aid the princess.

If the Crown Prince was backed by and the shadow of the Sifah dynasty’s restoration, then the princess was the sole legitimate heir of the Colcova dynasty.

Thus, Beru had no choice.

He exhaled deeply and bowed his head. “I will gladly share the crafting secrets of the White Lion Armor. However, if you wish to train light infantry swordsmen, equipment alone will not suffice. While the White Lion Armor is central to this unit, it is not everything.”

Brandon’s face was obscured by the torchlight’s shadows, but a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. “The —an Eruin tier-one unit. They gained fame in the against the Cruze Empire, renowned for their speed and defensive capabilities. Their core strength lies in the exceptional abilities of the White Lion Armor. Yet, this armor draws inspiration from the design principles of the , does it not? Moreover, though the White Lion tactics are complex, they are far from irreplaceable.”

The elderly craftsman’s jaw dropped. “You… you know of the White Lion tactics?”

Brandon glanced at him. “Hardly worth knowing. These tactics are considered subpar. When King Eck broke away from Cruze, he did so with the backing of . Without their support, do you think Eruin could have matched Cruze? Had Eck not vowed to remain within the Temple of Flames’ influence, it might have escalated into a war between two temples. The first Holy War might have occurred centuries earlier.” He chuckled. “Still, the played dirty. Both the White Lion Armor and its tactics pale in comparison to their original forms. They turned what should have been a tier-three unit into a tier-one.”

Beru’s expression shifted. He had heard whispers of these secrets, but hearing them recounted by this stranger felt surreal. “You mean…”

“The original White Lion Swordsmen were modeled after the Wind Elves’ , one of their Royal Guard units. Over time, the concept was diluted almost beyond recognition.” Brandon smiled again. “Though the White Lion tactics are among Eruin’s greatest secrets, they hold little value to me. If Lord Beru can forge a batch of White Lion Armor in the shortest time possible, I’ll give you a surprise.”

As he spoke, Brandon smirked inwardly. Though the White Lion Swordsmen were considered low-tier, finding someone within a hundred miles capable of teaching their techniques was virtually impossible. Not just in , but across the entire southern kingdom, such expertise was exceedingly rare. After all, these secrets belonged to Eruin’s royal family—not something casually shared. Much like Beru, who owed his presence here to mere chance.

“A surprise?” Beru asked, unable to discern Brandon’s feigned mystery.

“Naturally.”

Beru frowned. “Very well,” he said. “But the White Lion Armor is, in fact, an enchanted suit of armor—”

“You mean special materials?”

The old man nodded.

“What’s missing?” Brandon asked.

“As far as I know,” Beru replied, “Tonygel lacks , doesn’t it?”

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