Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C98

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Chapter 98: The Maiden’s Thread, Part 5

Cinnabar was saved.

It was nothing short of a miracle—

The room, which had been filled with tension and despair, gradually grew lively as the reality of her survival sank in. No one had truly believed Brandon could pull her back from the brink of death. Yet once again, their enigmatic young lord proved himself capable of the impossible.

Antietta, after countless moments of marveling at his abilities, reaffirmed her belief that Brandon was indeed unstoppable. She withdrew her gaze from him, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. But when she saw Cinnabar cradling the golden apple with trembling hands and offering a weak smile upon noticing her stare, Antietta couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

"This foolish girl," the noblewoman muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She knew without a doubt that Cinnabar would now devote herself entirely to Brandon, even if it meant selling her soul to repay him.

When Chael revealed the apple’s identity as the legendary Golden Apple, the shock was universal. Cinnabar, in particular, looked as though she’d been struck by lightning, frozen in place. The apple nearly slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the floor, only for Metissa to catch it just in time. Had the apple fallen, it might have gone down in history as the first Golden Apple ever damaged by clumsiness.

But watching the red-haired girl clutch the apple like it was the most precious treasure in existence, Antietta knew there was no saving her now. She sighed deeply.

Like Metissa, Antietta was sharp enough to recognize the depth of Cinnabar’s dependence on others. This seemingly strong-willed girl lived for the approval of those around her. Yet Antietta understood the tragedy of such an outlook. In a world where self-reliance was paramount, few spared more than a fleeting glance for anyone else.

And as for nobles like Macaro, their steps never paused unless driven by personal gain. Cinnabar’s efforts were destined to go unrewarded. Had she possessed the same clarity as the other members of the Gray Wolves Mercenary Company, she might have fared better emotionally. But Cinnabar was who she was—both fragile and resilient in equal measure.

Antietta glanced at Brandon once more, grateful that her lord was an exception to the norm.

Kind, compassionate, and deeply humane, Brandon’s every action seemed out of sync with the aristocratic world he belonged to. Yet to claim he wasn’t noble? Antietta couldn’t reconcile that notion. Outside of nobility, she had never encountered someone as knowledgeable or as dignified as Brandon.

Everything about him pointed to his noble lineage—and not just any lineage, but one steeped in history and significance. This became evident when they interrogated Kulan, the elderly swordsman captured from the mines.

As the acting overseer of Cold Fir Castle during Brandon’s absence, Antietta had been among the first to interact with the old guard captain. She recognized him immediately—or rather, she recognized every one of Earl Jandel’s most distinguished knights. These were details every noblewoman knew. But something about Kulan’s demeanor toward Brandon raised her suspicions.

There was no mistaking it: the old swordsman knew Brandon. And not in a casual way—he spoke of Brandon’s elders with reverence, hinting at their extraordinary stature. Though these fragments of information might seem trivial to others, Antietta pieced them together effortlessly.

Brandon’s identity was becoming clearer. He hailed from an ancient, if obscure, family—a rare breed among nobility.

Sometimes, Antietta wondered if fate itself had favored her, allowing her to meet Brandon in that dark room in Braggs and become his trusted advisor. To this day, she had no regrets, only gratitude for the fortune of serving him.

Still, as she glanced at the golden apple in Cinnabar’s hands, a flicker of envy stirred within her.

That was no ordinary apple—it was a mythical artifact said to alter the destinies of individuals and nations alike. Until now, Antietta had dismissed such tales as mere legend. Yet here it was, tangible proof of miracles.

She couldn’t help but speculate: if Brandon possessed such an apple, why hadn’t he used it to secure allegiance from the most powerful factions? It was priceless—a key to unlock the favor of kings, emperors, and high priests. With it, Brandon could ascend to titles like Earl, Marquis, or even Duke. Even the Emperor of Cruze or the High Priest of the Temple of Flames might bend to his will.

Yet Brandon hadn’t pursued any of that. Instead, he used the apple to save a girl he’d known for mere months. True, Cinnabar was a gold-rank warrior, but Antietta understood the apple’s worth far exceeded that. Multiply her value by a hundredfold, perhaps, and it might come close.

To Brandon, however, the reasoning was simpler. He understood the dangers of wielding such power recklessly. While Antietta assumed his noble lineage shielded him, Brandon knew better. He had no intention of mingling with Eruin’s decaying aristocracy; his goal was to reshape the nation’s destiny, not collude with its corruption.

With his knowledge of history, Brandon could have secured a comfortable life. But comfort wasn’t his aim. Witnessing figures like Macaro and Grudin only reinforced his resolve.

As for the golden apple, Brandon held it in little regard. If it took ten or even a hundred apples to cure Cinnabar, he wouldn’t hesitate—if he had them.

But Antietta and Cinnabar didn’t see it that way.

The latter sat dumbfounded, cradling the apple. She understood its value all too well, having witnessed Liwutz, Macaro, and Buga’s covetous gazes during negotiations.

She pondered: in the eyes of leaders, who held greater worth—the apple or herself?

The answer came swiftly. Even a hundred versions of herself wouldn’t outweigh the apple in Macaro’s eyes.

Yet why had Brandon chosen differently?

Cinnabar didn’t understand. She stared at him, puzzled, while he conversed with Metissa and Chael, showing no sign of turning back.

“My lord,” Metissa began, voicing her concerns. “I think I understand your intent—to use the apple’s immense power to replenish Cinnabar’s lost vitality… but…”

The Silver Elf princess frowned. “This feels somewhat like drinking poison to quench thirst.” She used a phrase unique to her people, though Brandon grasped the meaning.

“It’s the only option available,” Chael interjected. “A temporary solution is better than none. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll find another way in the meantime.”

The young wizard chuckled, glancing mischievously at Cinnabar. “Though using a golden apple for this purpose might infuriate those who crave it.”

“This is…” Chael searched for the right words. “…quite the waste of resources.”

Cinnabar instinctively lowered her head. Now that she thought about it, using a mythical apple on her did feel extravagant. Even in her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined such a thing.

Seeing her reaction, Chael realized his blunder. “Lady Cinnabar, don’t misunderstand me—I’m not saying it’s wasteful! It’s just… well, considering the apple’s value, I recall my lord once saying something fitting for this situation.”

All eyes turned to him.

Chael shrugged sheepishly. “Alright, alright. What I mean is—if this apple counts as payment, then Lady Cinnabar might need to ‘repay’ it with her entire being.”

“Repay with my entire being?” Cinnabar blinked, confused.

“You know what I mean,” Chael grinned, backing away as Brandon swung his sword hilt toward him. But as a wizard, he stood no chance against a swordsman of equal rank at such close range. Mid-sentence, he collapsed with a yelp, clutching his stomach.

Brandon, annoyed by his loose tongue, ensured the blow would leave Chael writhing on the ground for several minutes. Metissa, observing the scene, wore a rare expression of smug satisfaction.

Cinnabar, finally understanding Chael’s jest, hugged the apple tightly, her face flushing crimson.

Brandon, concerned she might dwell on such thoughts, reassured her. “Ignore him. If you truly wish to repay this investment, then live well. Remember my words—you’re one of my most valuable fighters.”

He took a deep breath. “Soon, Tonygel will face a great battle.”

Cinnabar nodded vigorously, too embarrassed to lift her head.

Before Brandon could say more, Metissa tugged at his sleeve. Turning, he saw the Silver Elf princess frowning.

“My lord, since the apple only offers temporary relief, do you have a real solution in mind?”

Brandon hesitated, about to shake his head, when Otaris’s voice echoed in his mind:

“I’ve thought of something, young one.”

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