Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C86

Please support the translation by reading the translation and commenting on otakutl official site.

Thank you.

Everyone from Otaku Translation

Chapter 86: Omens of War

This was the battlefield from over ten days ago.

The air still carried a faint scent of gunpowder—even in winter, the corpses had been meticulously cleared away under Brandon’s strict orders. The spread of disease was no laughing matter, and despite the cold weather, the young man wasn’t willing to take any chances.

Now, aside from the bloodstains on the open ground, only scattered fragments of armor and weapons amidst the grass served as evidence of the brutal battle that had taken place here.

Gray-black birds—thrushes or crows—swooped low over the battlefield. The northern winds grew harsher, and the weather became increasingly dry and cold with each passing day.

Lacking the means for proper rituals, Brandon resorted to simpler methods to dispose of the bodies.

The black columns of smoke rising into the sky were proof enough. The plumes drifted over the forest canopy, resembling an apocalyptic scene. As scouts from Palas cautiously entered the old battlefield, each instinctively glanced toward the dark pillars of smoke on the southern horizon.

They crouched down, inspecting the site carefully, then stood up and exchanged uneasy glances.

These scouts were spies sent by Palas. Since hearing of Sir Minty’s crushing defeat, they had hurried here day and night. At first, they didn’t believe it—how could a mob have such strength?

But when they passed through Sir Minty’s former territory, they were astonished to find it occupied by another group. Some of them recognized these newcomers—it was the Amber Sword mercenary company. Months earlier, this band had led a group of refugees across the border, claiming they were venturing into the wilderness to settle new lands.

Their last known whereabouts were at Gris Port, but who could have guessed they’d return here?

Yet the scouts’ confusion had a simple explanation. Brandon knew Sir Minty would march against Cold Fir Territory. So, anticipating his move, he instructed Copper Dragon Retto in letters to druids to cross the Patton Wasteland immediately after Minty departed and seize his stronghold.

Poor Sir Minty never imagined a mob would dare such audacity. From the very start of the conflict, the knight suffered a severe blow. Of course, he remained unaware until it was too late—he ended up as Brandon’s prisoner.

The scouts, however, were oblivious to these details. Relying on their instincts honed by years of espionage, they pieced together the presence of forces. After hastily leaving Minty’s territory, they traveled south under cover of darkness, crossing the Gris River to reach this recently blood-soaked land.

What they considered a “great battle,” Brandon dismissively referred to as a “village-level skirmish.”

Having witnessed real warfare, Brandon never doubted his ability to defeat Sir Minty. This confidence allowed him to entrust command to Frein and Clenia.

Still, Brandon understood that tougher battles lay ahead.

And one end of the fuse leading to that conflict rested in the hands of these scouts infiltrating his territory—

“The rumors are true.”

One scout straightened after examining the area and addressed his companions. “Sir Minty has been defeated—and utterly crushed.”

Silence fell among them.

Though they had already anticipated this outcome, news of Sir Minty’s catastrophic loss had spread along both banks of the Gris River. It wouldn’t be long before it reached Lord Palas.

But confirming the news firsthand still sent shivers down their spines.

All eyes turned to the most experienced veteran among them. After a moment’s thought, he spoke:

“Delivering this message is our top priority. Something feels off. In all my years as a scout, I’ve never heard of rebels being so formidable.” He glanced around. “This was an ambush.”

“An ambush?”

“I heard Captain Karglis participated in this war,” another scout interjected. Karglis was Sir Minty’s son—if your memory serves, you might recall this young man once served under Palas.

But there was more to it than that.

Karglis hadn’t exaggerated his abilities. Palas, having no heir of his own, treated the young man as his own son, imparting all his martial knowledge. Karglis did not disappoint; his performance in battles against mountain tribes earned him high regard among Palas’s ranks.

Even when Karglis decided to join Princess Grifine’s cause, it was with Palas’s blessing. Though Palas remained loyal to Earl Jandel outwardly, his heart leaned toward the royalists. He hoped his protégé would help restore Eruin’s rightful lineage.

After speaking, the scout added hesitantly, “How could Captain Karglis fall victim to an ambush? Under his leadership, we never fell for the cunning tactics of those mountain folk.”

The scouts fell silent. The situation was baffling.

But the veteran waved his hand. “Here’s my suggestion: we split into two groups. One will deliver the message to Lord Palas, while the rest of us press on to Cold Fir City to investigate further.”

“That’s too risky,” a younger scout protested.

“No scout worth his salt avoids risk,” the veteran replied firmly. “I’m the highest-ranking here, so follow my orders. You all head back—I’ll take two volunteers with me.”

After hearing the command, the scouts exchanged glances. They weren’t worried about danger—they were Palas’s elite. But since heading south, the entire affair had carried an air of mystery, making them hesitate for the first time.

---

The scouts argued outside the forest, while within, Frein and Clenia exchanged a glance. Then they turned to see a young man in a red robe sitting on a nearby rock. Beside him stood Tagib, the chieftain of the cave dwellers, looking somewhat apprehensive as he regarded Chael.

The young mage’s magic completely masked their presence; even the most skilled scouts couldn’t detect them. At this distance, Frein wasn’t entirely confident those seasoned scouts wouldn’t sense something amiss.

During his time with the Karasu Cavalry, Frein had encountered many military scouts and occasionally acted as one himself. But scouts as seasoned as those outside were rare, found only in the most elite units.

Top-tier professionals.

What surprised Frein more, however, was Chael’s identity. Having come from Karasu, he was familiar with the enigmatic Highland Mages. He was certain Chael belonged to their kind—they shared the same aura, the scent of highlands and the Black Tower.

He’d heard Brandon called a Highland Knight, and now he began to believe it. But a Highland Knight with a master-level mage as his retainer?

What kind of existence was that?

While Frein’s thoughts churned, Clenia redirected her gaze from the forest edge. “They’re bold.”

She meant the scouts outside.

The scouts had split into two groups: one heading to Cold Fir City, the other preparing to return north to Palas. They parted ways at the forest’s edge, their figures soon vanishing down opposite ends of the road.

“Hmm.” Chael watched their departure, raising an eyebrow—a gesture eerily reminiscent of Brandon. To the young mage, Brandon was the epitome of an ideal master: inscrutable, seemingly omniscient.

Lately, Chael had been consciously imitating Brandon’s every move, bordering on obsession. But he chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Karglis? I didn’t expect that kid to be so renowned among Palas’s scouts. He keeps clamoring for a duel with one of you. Don’t you two have any thoughts on this?”

Frein and Clenia’s expressions turned awkward.

During the ambush against Sir Minty, Karglis had caused them the most trouble. His battlefield judgment was impeccable, earning Frein’s admiration. Had they not captured Sir Minty alive, Karglis might have carved a path through their lines.

It was Chael who had mocked Tiger Finch, Frein, and Clenia when they assured everyone there’d be no issues, only for things to go awry. Had Chael intervened personally, Karglis wouldn’t have stood a chance, wings or no wings.

But because of this, the young man remained defiant. Though he refrained from childish declarations of revenge, he continued to demand duels with Clenia, Tiger Finch, or Frein from his dungeon cell.

Unfortunately for them, Karglis’s swordsmanship was exceptional. Clenia, intending to teach him a lesson, ended up humiliated. Since then, Tiger Finch, Frein, and Clenia avoided the dungeon altogether to escape further embarrassment.

When Chael mentioned to Brandon that there was a youngster in need of discipline, he was referring to this very youth.

Seeing the two leaders exchange awkward glances, the young mage smiled faintly and shook his head. “So, how do you plan to handle this?”

He gestured toward the forest’s edge.

“How should we handle it?” the silver-haired middle-aged man asked, looking at Chael.

The trio seemed to overlook Tagib, much to the chieftain’s displeasure. It was his people, after all, who had discovered the infiltrating scouts and alerted the humans.

But Chael hadn’t forgotten the cave dweller leader, who had endured hardships lately. He nodded to Tagib first. “Of course, credit goes to Tagib for this discovery. As for what to do next—the ones heading toward our territory must be captured. What happens after that is up to the lord.”

Tagib puffed out his chest proudly.

“And the others?” Frein frowned, sensing Chael intended to let the returning scouts go.

Chael nodded. “Let them go. That’s the lord’s order.”

The young noble’s intentions?

Frein and Clenia exchanged glances. What was he planning? Allowing the scouts to return would surely alert Palas. What would happen next was anyone’s guess.

But Chael offered no answers. He simply looked up at the sky, thinking, It seems my lord is planning something big this time.

Please rate or leave a review for this novel at

https://www.novelupdates.com/series/the-amber-sword/

If you would like to support this translation, you may choose any one of the options below.