Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C36

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Chapter 36:

“?”

The young woman seated on the stone bench stared at her closest confidante in astonishment. The half-elf princess before her was a vision of ethereal grace, her long silvery hair cascading loosely over her regal gown like moonlight spilling across velvet. Her slender frame seemed fragile, almost doll-like, but her pale silver eyes betrayed no such weakness—only calm resolve. Though she appeared delicate, this girl was renowned among noble circles for her unyielding spirit.

At her side hung a short silver sword adorned with an emerald, seemingly more ornamental than practical—a lady’s dagger meant for self-defense or worse. Yet harbored no doubts about its efficacy; she had seen the princess disarm grown men with it. Indeed, Grifine's skill with a blade was legendary within the royal court. Few knights could match her, let alone best her.

Margadal pressed her hands against her knees, envy stirring within her heart. She too was a princess, hailing from the , and had known Grifine since childhood. They were inseparable companions, sharing secrets and laughter through the years. But while Grifine carried herself with effortless strength, every movement radiating independence, Margadal felt trapped by the rigid etiquette drilled into her since birth. Though well-read, cultured, and admired as a paragon of virtue among Vonder’s noble daughters, she despised the praise that came with it.

She yearned for freedom—for a life of her own choosing—but even she did not know what that life might look like. Duty weighed heavily upon her shoulders. The Manticore Duchy was but a small realm in northern , and her fate, like fine thread, had been woven long ago.

“Why have you summoned me to Ampersal, Grifine? Is it because of the war?”

The half-elf nodded slowly.

From beyond the balcony erupted a roar akin to crashing waves, as knights clashed in mock battles below. Yet the din faded quickly, leaving the two friends undisturbed.

“Has the situation truly grown so dire?” Margadal whispered.

“What do you think, Tini? My brother moves faster than I anticipated. The dukes have formed their coalition, though still hesitates. Still, I suspect he will make his decision soon.” Grifine spoke with measured calm, as if discussing someone else’s affairs entirely.

“There may yet be hope, Grifine,” Margadal ventured.

“It is not so simple, Tini. Anlek has always hungered for power. He must choose: stand with my brother, or with us. Either way, he seeks legitimacy.” Grifine paused, her voice softening. “I would not oppose a marriage alliance, but I fear it might doom .”

Her friend fell silent, gazing at her steadily. Both knew better than to doubt one another’s resolve. For if they faltered now, they would cease to be who they were born to be.

“Actually, the one I’m truly concerned about is the ,” Grifine lowered her voice, her tone tinged with unease. “If Duke Anlek is a looming storm cloud in the northern skies, threatening to unleash chaos at any moment—well, he could yet be swayed to our side, provided the winds shift in our favor. He need not remain an enemy; alliances are forged from necessity as much as loyalty. But the Earl…” She paused, her silvery eyes narrowing slightly. “I fear that man carries a dagger behind his back, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.”

A spark of intrigue lit Margadal’s brown eyes. “I’ve heard something recently, Grifine. You might find it interesting.”

“Go on, Tini.”

Leaning closer, Margadal continued, “A friend of mine sent me a magical missive from Jandel. It seems the Earl faces unrest in his lands—rebellion, perhaps. If true, he may be too preoccupied to meddle elsewhere.”

“Is this friend of yours affiliated with the Temple?” Grifine asked sharply.

Margadal gave a slight nod.

Grifine studied her friend intently. Though lacking elven blood, Margadal’s beauty rivaled her own—yet theirs were worlds apart. Where Grifine exuded icy elegance, Margadal glowed with a soft, radiant warmth, her golden hair haloed as though kissed by perpetual sunlight. She was called the frowning angel for good reason; such loveliness was rare among mortals, evoking tales of ancient queens whose beauty toppled kingdoms.

Yet those same queens often met tragic ends—a thought that made Grifine frown briefly before banishing it from her mind.

Margadal, devout and pious, stood close to the , maintaining deep friendships with clerics across its many regions. Her piety earned her the nickname “Nun Princess” among nobles, and even the himself had praised her unwavering faith. This devotion shielded her from unwanted advances, for where kings inspired admiration, the divine commanded reverence.

“Tini,” Grifine said suddenly, “do you remember a jest we once heard during our lessons on royal protocol? That no lord in Eruin can claim true rulership without quelling at least one rebellion.”

Margadal smiled faintly, recalling simpler days. “It holds true everywhere, Grifine.”

“Yes,” the silver-haired princess agreed. “So let us not rely on others’ misfortunes. Perhaps the Earl will find himself distracted, but we must act regardless.”

“And how may I assist, Grifine?”

“I need you to leverage your ties with the Temple. Persuade Ampersal’s merchants to deny the coalition passage southward.” Grifine’s tone turned grave. “Though falls under the Temple’s protection, greed may sway them. I trust you to handle this delicately.”

“I know the regional cleric overseeing Ampersal. I can try.” Margadal pondered a moment. “When should I depart?”

“No rush,” Grifine replied. “Once you leave here, the dukes will hear of it soon enough. This mission is perilous, Tini. Consider carefully. Though you are my dearest friend, I would not see you endangered.”

“Precisely because of that, I must help you, Grifine.”

“Thank you.” Grifine glanced toward the balcony, where cheers erupted once more, signaling another victor. Her silver gaze flickered. “Let me assign escorts to ensure your safety. Several trusted companions shall accompany you, Tini.”

“I want ,” Margadal said slyly, revealing a playful side reserved only for Grifine. “Not only is she skilled, but she keeps me company.”

Grifine chuckled. “You waste no time claiming my finest knight. Very well, though she is far pricklier than I. Take care of her, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Margadal winked.

In truth, the three had been childhood friends, each knowing the other’s quirks intimately. Nimuesis, despite her aloof demeanor, was no hothead.

As another wave of cheers drowned out their conversation, signaling the tournament’s final rounds, Grifine rose. “Come, let us see which promising youths shall join you on this quest.”

Margadal smiled and followed.

---

The second round was about to begin.

wiped her sweaty palms against her uniform, her heart pounding wildly. Had the crowd looked closely at the girl from Buchi’s countryside, they would have seen her cheeks flushed crimson, like ripe apples. Sweat dripped from her pointed chin, soaking through her tunic. Exhaustion gnawed at her after countless duels, yet she had fought her way to prominence, drawing attention from all corners.

Still, Freya knew she was not alone in her achievements. On other fields, and three others also shone brightly among the new recruits. Compared to them, she felt painfully ordinary.

Breyson, for instance, had defeated a higher-ranked opponent in just three strikes during his last match. Watching him fight, Freya realized how much he had matured. Gone was the impulsive youth; in his place stood a warrior whose sword sang with brilliance.

Freya imagined the dazzling talent that guided Breyson’s blade, knowing instinctively that this arena was his rightful stage.

But what of her own path? Uncertainty clouded her mind.

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