Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C3

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Chapter 3: The Letter, Part 3

Just as Brandon began to mention Funiya, the door to the room was abruptly pushed open without warning. The young lord paused mid-sentence, irritation flickering in his eyes at the rudeness of the intrusion. He turned his head to see three faces at the doorway, the most striking of which belonged to a man with dark, weathered skin and sharp, angular features. His sunken, pale gray eyes were framed by stark white brows, and his braided hair hung in stiff locks down his back, resting on a thick bearskin coat.

"Sir, you cannot—" one of the mercenaries who had been forced into the room began, but his words died on his lips as he turned to face Brandon, his expression apologetic. "My lord, they—"

Brandon waved him off dismissively. Then, raising his gaze, he studied the towering druids standing motionless in the doorway. He recognized one of them immediately—Andrew, an elder of the Witherwood Council. Behind him stood two younger figures, Red and Ram, both from the newer generation of forest dwellers.

The mercenary closed the door behind him as he left, leaving the room in silence. Andrew’s hawk-like eyes swept over the chamber, taking in its dim, crimson-tinged decor—a style favored by Baron Grudin. The lingering scent of battle clung faintly to the thick carpet, causing the druid elder to wrinkle his nose slightly.

Once the guards had departed, Antietta rose sharply, her petite frame radiating indignation. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice firm despite her small stature. "How dare you barge in here uninvited!"

Brandon sighed inwardly. These men of the wilds clearly lacked any understanding of civilized etiquette. Still, he gestured for Antietta to calm herself, his attention drawn to Funiya, who peeked out shyly from behind the towering druids. Her cascading emerald-green hair, vibrant with life like fresh ivy, always struck him with its otherworldly beauty. She offered him a timid smile, and his expression softened slightly.

"So," he said, addressing the druids directly, "what is the meaning of this?"

He already suspected their purpose: they had come for Funiya. The druids of the Amber Sword were a unique faction within the Black Forest, bound by ancient pacts with Nyia, the goddess of the forest. They lived beyond the borders of civilization, documenting the influence of Magic Moon on untamed lands and monitoring the growth of the Black Forest itself. While some druids occasionally warned nearby villagers of impending monster surges, the Witherwood Council was not known for such benevolence. Their presence here could only mean trouble—and somehow, it involved Funiya, a girl who seemed oblivious to the weight of the world around her.

"Lord Stingham," Andrew replied stiffly, his gravelly voice carrying an air of finality. "We have come to take Funiya with us."

Brandon wasn't surprised. "Explain yourselves," he said, glancing toward Funiya. The girl avoided his gaze, lowering her head and nodding slightly. Something about her demeanor unsettled him.

"So," Brandon pressed, his tone measured, "why are you here with me?"

"It is as follows, Lord Stingham," interjected one of the young men behind Andrew. "Though we sought permission from Funiya, her father, and the elders of Green Village, she insisted that she would not leave without your consent."

"Is that so?" Brandon looked down at Funiya.

"Yes," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible.

The young lord studied her, then shifted his gaze back to the druids. A growing sense of unease gnawed at him. "Then explain yourselves fully," he said, frowning. "Leave nothing out."

"Funiya has asked us to form an alliance with you, Lord Stingham," Andrew stated flatly, his pale gray eyes boring into Brandon as if dissecting a mere cog in Eruin's decaying noble system. "We understand that you incurred significant trouble saving her," he continued, each word deliberate and weighted. "After consideration, we find such an arrangement acceptable—but with conditions."

"Hold on," Brandon interrupted, raising a hand. "I have no interest in trafficking lives. You will explain everything from the beginning."

A tense silence fell over the room, drawing curious glances from both Antietta and Fleur.

The three druids exchanged glances before Andrew finally spoke. "Very well. This matter begins with our departure from the forest—an event prompted by a revelation." At this, Brandon's brow twitched slightly, but he remained patient, listening intently.

"The prophecy foretells the birth of a child who carries the will of Lady Nyia," Andrew continued. "This child, destined to be born upon this land, is believed to be none other than Funiya."

"Revelation?" Brandon echoed softly. In the world of Vonder, where gods manifested as laws yet retained the ability to intervene in mortal affairs, revelations were divine messages meant to shape history. But as he glanced at Funiya, skepticism crept into his thoughts. Druids did not invoke Nyia's name lightly—unless these were impostors. Yet their authenticity was undeniable; Brandon's trained eye could easily discern genuine druidic magic.

The news took him aback. If Funiya was indeed chosen by fate, she might very well be one of the Chosen Ones. He recalled Grudin's actions against her and wondered if Madara's undead forces had also received guidance from this same revelation. Perhaps even the baron himself had learned of it through those skeletal ranks. Suddenly, the pieces began to fit together. Earl Jande's connection to Madara went deeper than mere mutual exploitation—it hinted at something far more intricate. And if this revelation tied both druids and undead forces, it suggested complexities far beyond Nyia's domain alone.

The forest goddess and the undead were irreconcilable foes,. And the only being Brandon could think of that had ever protected Madara was the Dragon of Darkness.

The situation grew increasingly convoluted.

"How can you be certain," Brandon asked, his tone serious, "that the prophecy refers specifically to Funiya?"

"We have methods of confirmation," Red answered promptly.

"Methods?"

Andrew nodded, then bowed deeply to Funiya, his hulking frame awkwardly bending like a lumbering bear. "Lady Funiya, may I ask you to turn around?" he requested respectfully.

The girl complied obediently, turning her back to Brandon. With delicate hands, she parted her flowing hair, revealing a mark on the nape of her neck. It was a leaf-shaped pattern, branching out from a thumb-sized emerald embedded in her skin.

At the sight of the mark, Brandon nearly leapt from his chair. "Nyia's sacred insignia!" he exclaimed under his breath, gripping the edge of the table instinctively. "Oh my god! The daughter of the forest!"

Andrew gave Funiya a nod, and she let her hair fall back into place before turning to offer a shy smile. But the druid elder’s expression remained grave.

"Lord Stingham," Andrew addressed Brandon solemnly, "you know this legend?"

"You mean the Maiden of the Woods?" Brandon managed to compose himself, nodding slowly. "Allow me to introduce myself properly—I am not truly Viscount Stingham; that identity was merely a ruse to deceive Grudin. You may call me Brandon. I am a Highland Knight, and the mage squire you met earlier, Chael, serves under me." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "During my studies under Master Wizard, I learned much—including tales of the Maiden of the Woods."

His half-truth served its purpose. The druids exchanged knowing looks, accepting his explanation without question. Wizards were renowned for their vast knowledge, making this cover story all the more believable. Besides, Chael would never contradict him.

But when Brandon added, "The Maiden of the Woods is the key to unlocking Valhalla," the druids' expressions shifted dramatically.

"Valhalla?" Andrew nearly lunged forward to seize Brandon by the collar, but stopped himself just in time, remembering the young man seated before him was no ordinary individual but a formidable golden-rank warrior. Recovering his composure, he asked cautiously, "Lord Brandon, are you saying Valhalla is connected to the Maiden of the Woods? That mythical realm spoken of only in legends?"

"You don't know?" Brandon frowned. The Maiden of the Woods was Nyia's chosen, the forest’s daughter, and the sole inheritor of Valhalla’s bloodline. Given their ties to this lineage, he found it hard to believe the druids were unaware. Nevertheless, he shook his head. "Valhalla is no mere legend. It has always existed within this forest." He raised his gaze. "What puzzles me is how you, who have lived here for generations, remain ignorant of its existence."

The druids exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves briefly before falling silent. Finally, Ram spoke up. "In this region, Valhalla has long been regarded as a myth—a tale claiming it was one of the first sanctuaries created by Lady Marsha. Such ancient history defies verification. However, legend holds that Valhalla contains a 'Primal Ember.' Should it be reignited, the entirety of the Black Forest south of Tonygel would transform into a bastion of order." He swallowed nervously. "If true, the work of countless druids across generations would finally bear fruit, and we could offer a worthy report to Lady Nyia."

"So," Brandon concluded, studying them closely, "this is the significance of the revelation."

...

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