Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C102

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Chapter 102: Tonygel and the Young Lord Part 2

“You think it’s good?” Brandon suddenly asked.

His question was directed at Frein and Clenxia, who stood nearby in the mist, rubbing their hands together and exhaling visible clouds of breath as they quietly conversed. Since Yuta’s departure, these two leaders—already acquainted before meeting the young lord—had grown closer. Yet, oddly enough, prior to knowing Brandon, Frein and Clenxia had barely tolerated each other. Such is the peculiar nature of human connections.

At the young lord’s query, a brief silence fell over the group. But it was Roma who broke it first. Bundled up in a thick winter coat, her small hands encased in deerskin gloves, she still couldn’t hide the flush of cold on her cheeks—or the faint redness at the tip of her nose.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Roma said innocently, puffing out a cloud of warm air. She turned to look at Brandon with wide eyes, as if seeking his agreement. “Don’t you agree?”

The group of minor mercenary leaders immediately echoed in agreement.

“Indeed,” Clenxia chimed in smoothly. “Better than expected, though delayed. If I may speak frankly—I participated in the middle stages, and none of us were truly familiar with this kind of work. Lady Antietta has done remarkably well. Not perfect, perhaps, but certainly surprising.”

Flattery, after all, is universally appreciated. Even the noblewoman couldn’t help glancing at the silver-haired man with a mix of disdain and reluctant admiration. Though outwardly dismissive of his compliments, inwardly, she acknowledged them. Over the past month, every minor decision had been fraught with unforeseen challenges, yet handling those crises had made her increasingly adept.

“It is surprising,” Frein added tersely, ever concise.

But the noblewoman’s gaze instinctively sought her lord. In her heart, his opinion outweighed all others combined. For the first time, she felt her pulse quicken, fearing even the slightest hint of dissatisfaction from him. Instead, she caught Brandon openly admiring her, his eyes brimming with approval. Startled, she blinked back an unexpected sting of emotion. It was as though all her struggles over the past months had finally found validation.

She sniffed softly and turned away, determined not to cry in front of everyone. At least, she reminded herself sharply, she was Brandon’s chief advisor—his second-in-command and the de facto overseer of the territory’s affairs. She couldn’t afford to embarrass him.

As she shifted her head slightly, Metissa discreetly handed her a silk handkerchief. The Silver Elf’s movement was so subtle that almost no one noticed. Antietta hesitated, then accepted it with quiet gratitude.

Brandon, of course, observed the exchange. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath, shaking his head.

“Before coming here,” he began, “I mean, that night…”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, everyone recalled the electrifying evening when, spurred by a young man’s impassioned words, they had slain a legitimate lord of Eruin. No one had imagined such a thing possible—whether driven by provocation, persuasion, or coercion—but there was no turning back now.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, a month had passed. Yet instead of crumbling under the weight of their actions, they stood united before the newly completed walls—a symbol, however faint, of something greater.

Perhaps under this young lord’s leadership, they were no longer mere rabble.

And if their leader exuded such confidence, why should they doubt?

“To be honest,” Brandon continued, “I never gave much thought to what I’d do here. Perhaps in your eyes, I’m simply a noble, lofty and distant. But that’s not how I see myself.”

He spoke earnestly, though how many believed him was another matter entirely.

“I came here to inherit a piece of land far to the south—a legacy from my ancestors,” he said, half-truths mingling with conviction. “I didn’t plan to kill anyone or seize another’s domain.”

“But my education taught me this: the purpose of nobility is to lead people out of hardship because we are better educated, more capable, and because it is our duty. Power and responsibility go hand in hand.”

“You know this saying well.” Brandon nodded. “Yes. These are the words of King Eck.” His gaze swept across the gathered crowd, finger pointing emphatically at each person. “Nobility means responsibility. Strength means responsibility. Power means responsibility.”

Antietta’s gaze lingered on him, a strange light glimmering in her eyes.

What captivated her most in this young lord was his pursuit of the spirit of the late king, the lost glory of Eruin. To her, it carried a fatal allure, something that burned and shone in a maiden’s eyes.

Snow began to fall.

At first it was little more than a whisper, faint and unnoticed, like icy rain brushing across their faces. Yet gradually the flakes grew soft and feathery, drifting gently down. In Tonygel, the snows were never heavy; a true blizzard was unknown here.

One by one, the people lifted their heads to the sky.

“Until now,” Brandon went on, his voice steady amidst the profound silence, “I’ve never been a lord, nor have I governed any territory.”

“Lady Antietta hasn’t either.”

“And neither have you.”

“As I’ve said,” he spread his arms wide, letting snowflakes settle on his shoulders, “we’re not so different. Each of us is learning—to face whatever comes our way.”

“All of it.” His tone grew firmer. “Everything unfamiliar to us, everything we share, and everything we fight against.”

“Maybe we stumble, unsure and clumsy,” he waved a hand dismissively, “but that’s not the issue.”

“The real question is—” His voice rose, piercing through the cold air as his gaze locked onto every face. “Do you have the courage to stay? To face what lies ahead? To realize that while our actions may seem insignificant—”

“They shine with the glory of a bygone era. Do you see it? That’s the wings of Eruin.”

“King Eck’s words foretold this—ignore the darkness, act without shame, and hold fast to your dreams.”

“Whether it’s honor, promises, the duty of a man, or the obligation of a lord to his people,” Brandon declared, “it’s all the same. Like I stand here now.”

“This is my answer to your doubts.”

“How long will we keep running?”

He pointed at each familiar face—Clenxia, Frein, Chael, even the numerous mercenary captains.

“I ask you!” His voice rang out, his breath dissolving into a faint white mist that haloed his features, making him appear both divine and enigmatic.

“One day, if you become new nobles of Eruin, will you remember this day? Will you remember what I’ve told you?”

“Will you carry these words with you: Nobility means responsibility?”

The young lord’s proclamation cut through the winter chill, resonating with undeniable force.

Yet it left behind only silence.

Frein could scarcely believe what he’d heard. The implications of the young man’s words were too vast—and too daunting—to contemplate. The former cavalry captain of Karasu glanced stiffly at his companions. Clenxia, too, seemed lost in thought, his heart pounding wildly.

He understood perfectly what Brandon meant.

By those words, the young lord was declaring openly—

From this day forward, you belong to me.

You are my vassals.

Gather beneath my banner.

Share in my triumphs and trials.

You are my knights.

Wield my sword.

Expand my borders.

For the first time in decades, Clenxia—a veteran of the mercenary trade—felt a surge of fervor ignite within him. The opportunity he’d waited years for seemed tantalizingly close.

And he wasn’t alone.

Every mercenary present felt the same stirring.

Perhaps only Metissa and Cinnabar remained unmoved; for them, following this young lord was enough. As for Roma, she needed no further consideration—away from her aunt, Brandon was her entire world.

Chael smiled silently, as if privy to Brandon’s thoughts all along.

Only Antietta drew a sharp breath. Among the assembled crowd, she alone grasped the deeper meaning behind Brandon’s words.

This young man intended to rewrite the rules of Eruin.

To infuse fresh blood into its decaying aristocracy.

Antietta wondered if she’d misheard. How could a virtually untested noble harbor such grand ideals and convictions—perhaps already transformed into a force capable of shaking hearts?

Yet, she understood.

Even glimpsing the outline of this vision, she found herself ensnared by its dream. Her lips parted slightly, drawing in a shaky breath, but for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Antietta stood frozen, overwhelmed.

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