Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C84

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Chapter 84: 's Letter

In that moment, time seemed to freeze.

The young viscount was drenched in cold sweat, straining every ounce of willpower to force out a single sentence: “What… do you want?”

The jade-armored knight pointed at the long, wrapped bundle strapped to ’s back. His meaning was clear: The sword.

“This sword is what you told me to retrieve!” Teste gasped, his breaths growing heavier with each word. By the time he reached the last sentence, the young viscount was nearly shouting.

Never in his life had Teste been so humiliated. He felt like a puppet being toyed with, utterly powerless. The thought of continuing this charade with this monstrous figure repulsed him. Death by the knight’s blade would be preferable to enduring such degradation. Yet, glancing at the nearby stone statue of the cavalry captain, Teste couldn’t suppress a shudder.

The jade knight’s expression remained inscrutable—though, given the cold, unyielding mask, no emotion could be discerned anyway. Once more, he pointed at the bundle on Teste’s back and then tapped his own chest.

Teste understood. The knight wanted him to hand over the sword.

But what kind of joke was this?

If he surrendered the sword, how would he explain himself to the other members and elders of the ? This mission had earned him their attention, which was why an entire squadron of elite cavalry had been dispatched to protect him. Now, not only had he lost the knights, but he might also lose the very item they were sent to safeguard. If held accountable, regardless of his status as a "Holy Son," he would face severe consequences.

After all, he wasn’t the only Holy Son.

Teste panted heavily, his red-rimmed eyes glaring fiercely at the jade knight, searching for any sign of weakness. Alas, the icy helmet betrayed nothing.

The young viscount hesitated, torn between defiance and submission. He harbored no illusions about what would happen if he refused—the knight would turn him into stone without hesitation. Yet, Teste couldn’t help but wonder why the knight had spared him repeatedly. There was no reason to leave him alive when the knight could easily kill him and take . Why give him a choice?

Was it mere amusement? That seemed unlikely.

With lingering doubt, Teste reluctantly made a difficult decision. Slowly, he reached behind his back, untied the bundle, and tossed it to the knight.

“Why don’t you kill me?” he asked simultaneously.

The jade knight bent down to pick up The Lionheart Sword, showing no concern for the possibility of an ambush—or perhaps he simply didn’t care. This display of confidence forced Teste to swallow hard, though he ultimately suppressed any urge to retaliate. The knight’s overwhelming power left him no room for resistance. He had tried before, only to suffer a crushing defeat—a memory that still haunted him from the island at the center of the lake.

Then, the jade knight raised his head and looked at Teste.

“You rebel against fate, yet bow to another master?” the knight asked.

This was the first time Teste had heard the speak. The voice reverberated beneath the helmet, its tone impossible to place—neither male nor female, neither young nor old.

“What master?” Teste frowned, a flicker of irritation sparking in his emerald-green eyes.

The young viscount had thrown caution to the wind. At this point, death seemed inevitable—and he no longer cared about the Ouroboros Society’s punishment. Handing over the sword here and now was his only chance to understand why this monster had relentlessly pursued him.

“To defy the world is understandable, but to willingly become a pawn is sheer folly,” the jade knight replied.

“You mean the Ouroboros Society?” Teste asked. “I’m using them just as much as they’re using me.”

“Weakness,” the jade knight muttered, turning toward the river with The Lionheart Sword in hand. Without another word, he walked to the stone bridge and cast the sword into the icy waters below.

For a moment, Teste thought the knight had gone mad. But almost immediately, he calmed himself. What did it matter if the knight was insane or not?

Yet, the knight’s final words echoed in his mind: Weakness. Teste admitted to himself that yes, he was weak. But as he chuckled bitterly, he couldn’t help but dwell on how he would face the Ouroboros Society’s retribution.

He raised his head to look once more at the source of his troubles.

But the jade-armored knight had vanished without a trace.

---

For Freya, a girl from the countryside of , time at the seemed to pass more quickly than elsewhere. It felt as though the golden-red leaves had only just appeared on the trees yesterday, yet now the branches stood bare.

During a break between training sessions, the future sat alone on the stone steps, lost in thought. Resting her chin on the hilt of her sword, she hugged the blade close and gazed absently at the dark green silhouette of distant mountains beyond the academy walls. When she noticed the barren trees, it struck her that winter had arrived—nearly half a year had passed since she came here.

Freya reflected on how her life had changed. From initial discomfort to gradual adaptation, her mental shift had made her oblivious to the passage of seasons. Summer’s lush foliage, autumn’s fiery hues, and winter’s stark emptiness—all had slipped by unnoticed. Her days had become monotonous, akin to those of an ascetic scholar. To grow stronger, she had abandoned nearly all other activities. Her routine revolved around training, resting, and repeating endlessly. The future Valkyrie pushed herself to the brink, driven by a singular goal—

Though she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was for the people of Buchi or simply to meet the expectations of a certain young man. Every time she recalled ’s gentle and concerned gaze, her heart raced, leaving her breathless and tense.

Sometimes, she felt ashamed of herself, yet she couldn’t escape his shadow.

“Brandon… Brandon…”

She murmured his name absentmindedly, unaware that someone had approached. Startled, she looked up to see , the black-haired female knight, standing before her with a stern expression. Freya’s face flushed crimson.

Flustered, she stood up, unsure what to do with her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Nimuesis tilted her head, studying her.

“N-nothing…” Freya stammered, avoiding eye contact. She doubted even she believed her own words.

But this time, the usually strict knight didn’t scold her for lacking vigilance. Instead, she stepped closer and placed a cold hand on Freya’s forehead. The intimate gesture stiffened Freya, who nearly bolted—but she froze upon seeing the deep concern in Nimuesis’s dark eyes.

“Homesick?” Nimuesis asked in a low voice, her expression unreadable.

“No…” Freya shook her head, then nodded. Realizing she needed to play along to avoid awkward explanations, she cursed herself inwardly. Freya, you idiot. You can’t even lie properly, unlike that guy who lies without batting an eye.

Seeing the young woman drift off again, Nimuesis sighed, guessing what occupied her thoughts. Without prying further, she reached beneath her cloak and produced a letter.

“A letter for you.”

“From Brandon?” Freya blurted out, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her slip.

A faint smile crossed Nimuesis’s otherwise stoic face—a rare sight that caught Freya off guard. “So his name is Brandon, huh? Lucky guy.”

“L-lucky? What do you mean?” Freya mumbled, her ears burning. In a barely audible voice, she tried to defend herself, but quickly accepted the letter with great care.

Just then, the sound of carriage wheels broke the silence, rumbling along the main road outside the academy. Given the season, few travelers returned this way. Both women turned instinctively toward the noise.

They watched as a white carriage emerged from the morning mist, gliding silently into the academy grounds. It rolled past them and disappeared deeper into the compound, heading toward the princess’s residence—a restricted area guarded by royal knights.

“That’s…” Freya whispered.

Nimuesis studied the coat of arms on the carriage, its prominent Violet unmistakable. After a moment, she remarked, “Someone from . Another lucky one.”

Her tone carried a hint of displeasure.

“Why?” Freya asked, puzzled.

“It’s nothing,” Nimuesis said, shaking her head. Her long, beautiful black hair, which Freya admired so much, swayed gently. “Focus on your own path, Freya. You’ve improved greatly. Don’t lose heart.”

“T-thank you.”

Nimuesis paused, then added, “By the way, has Earl Beckberg’s second son bothered you again?”

Freya blinked, recalling the incident. After Nimuesis warned her, she had cut ties with him. However, he retaliated by gathering a group to harass her. Somehow, Nimuesis found out and personally intervened, delivering a harsh lesson. The earl’s son nearly faced expulsion from the academy as a result.

Though the matter was eventually dropped, Freya suspected it was due to some form of compromise. Still, she was deeply grateful. After all, she was merely a commoner.

But why bring it up now?

She looked up at Nimuesis, confused.

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