Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C114

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Chapter 114: The Border of the Black Forest Part 1

As Kulan puzzled over Brandon’s peculiar proposal, Antietta and Cinnabar arrived at an abandoned estate near Cold Fir City. Their carriage drove deep into the estate grounds, where several mercenaries were already waiting to greet them. Stepping down from the carriage, their eyes immediately fell upon a noisy group of young men gathered in a nearby clearing.

This estate had been renovated just weeks ago. The crumbling walls had been replaced with wooden fortifications, expanding its size significantly. Red pines now lined the perimeter, promising lush greenery by next year to obscure the estate entirely from prying eyes.

Hidden sentries were stationed among the pine trees, coordinating with visible guards atop the wooden walls. This was a well-defended location—Brandon’s chosen secret camp and future training ground for the White Lion Infantry.

The estate was divided into two sections. The southeastern quarter served as dormitories for Brandon’s mercenaries and adventurers. These individuals would protect and maintain order until the first batch of White Lion recruits matured. Depending on Clenxia’s loyalty to the group, Brandon might eventually integrate them into the new legion or transfer them elsewhere.

Overseeing this operation was none other than Clenxia, the silver-haired, middle-aged mercenary commander. Initially suspicious of being reassigned out of Cold Fir City, Clenxia quickly realized this wasn’t a demotion but a vote of confidence. His demeanor shifted accordingly, managing camp affairs with meticulous precision. Brandon’s judgment proved accurate—while Clenxia’s combat leadership was mediocre, his organizational skills in logistics were unparalleled.

The camp’s efficiency spoke volumes. Discipline reigned supreme; the guards exhibited few traces of their former bad habits, despite most having been mercenaries or adventurers only a month prior. Of course, exceptions inevitably existed.

After stepping down from her carriage, Antietta stood beneath the shade of a red tree, with Cinnabar silently guarding her side. The evergreen hardwoods native to Tonygel provided a dark green canopy even in winter, casting Antietta in a somber hue as she observed the commotion unfolding before her.

There were about sixty young men in the clearing. Mercenaries maintained order on the training field, but these youths—mostly locals unaccustomed to such settings—whispered excitedly upon spotting a noblewoman descending from a carriage.

"Look, a noble lady!"

"What’s a noble doing here?"

"Is she the lord’s daughter?"

"Don’t be ridiculous—he’s much too young."

"Then perhaps his fiancée?"

"That’s more plausible."

The murmurs reached Antietta’s ears, but she remained impassive, glancing briefly at Cinnabar before returning her gaze to the scene.

These youths were part of Brandon’s grand plan—the foundation of the White Lion Infantry. Building a formidable army required time, so Brandon aimed to cultivate a core group of young men who would become the backbone of the legion—both officers and personal knights loyal solely to him.

Most hailed from nearby regions: tenant farmers’ sons, artisans’ apprentices, or small merchants’ children. Some came from local estates, descendants of gentry, mercenaries, or adventurers. Their common trait? None older than twenty, with some still in their teens. They were blank slates, malleable and full of potential.

They stood there, whispering anxiously, curious yet uncertain about the future. Having arrived only three or four days ago, they’d undergone minimal training. Perhaps they’d already felt the sting of a whip wielded by mercenaries to enforce discipline, but their youthful naivety and restlessness remained palpable.

Only a handful—those from mercenary or gentry backgrounds—appeared composed, standing apart and drawing Antietta’s attention.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Children of nearby estates," a nearby mercenary replied.

"Estate children?" Antietta raised an eyebrow. Descendants of gentry didn’t typically end up here.

"They ran away."

Ah, thrill-seeking noble offspring. Antietta studied them intently. Her question—"Have they been investigated?"—was rhetorical. Once here, retreat was impossible. These youths would soon enter the Black Forest, regardless of their motivations.

Antietta hoped they wouldn’t regret their choices.

She pulled out her pocket watch—a modest silver-plated gift from Brandon. Though inexpensive, she cherished it dearly and handled it with care. Flipping open the cover, she noted the time nearing eleven in the morning.

Looking up, she saw a mercenary approaching. He stopped before her, saluted with a hand to his chest, and said, "We’re ready, milady."

Antietta nodded. After another salute, the mercenary returned to the group.

Taking a deep breath, she blinked slowly as four large wagons rolled into view. Unlike the ornate carriages of nobility, these utilitarian vehicles resembled oversized, crude versions designed for hauling goods.

The mercenaries paid no heed to their origins. After assigning numbers, recording names, and issuing tags to the youths, they herded them onto the wagons. The tags, modeled after Shafrend’s worker cards, were wooden but bore Tama-enchanted magical imprints detectable via enchanted red crystals carried by key personnel.

While Brandon’s crystal was permanent, others required periodic replacement.

As the last youth boarded, the clearing fell silent, as if the earlier chatter had been an illusion. Only then did Antietta exhale softly. Turning to Cinnabar, she said, "Let’s board our carriage."

"Aren’t we traveling with them?" the redhead asked.

"We’ll take a different route," Antietta replied calmly. "Lord Brandon’s movements must remain secret. No one should see our carriage."

Cinnabar nodded, quietly admiring Antietta’s meticulousness.

"Do you want to go?" she asked, following closely behind.

"What?"

"The Black Forest."

Antietta paused but offered no reply.

---

At the Border of the Black Forest—

Brandon stepped down from the carriage, stretching lazily under the afternoon sun. Gazing upward, he watched sunlight filter through rows of black pines, forming radiant halos above their tips. Sparse rays illuminated patches of grass below.

Behind him came a grumble: "I knew you had ulterior motives."

Turning, Brandon saw Kulan descend from the carriage, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Since leaving Shafrend’s silver mines, the elder rarely donned full battle gear. Today, however, he wore longsword, shortsword, dagger, shortbow, and quiver—more adventurer than traveler.

Inhaling deeply, Kulan savored the crisp forest air, though damp and cold, tinged with the fresh scent of vegetation. Lowering his gaze, he stomped his boot into thick moss, startling worms and insects beneath.

"Centipedes, scorpions…" the old man muttered, shaking his head. "What a wretched place."

"I heard you fought beyond civilization’s borders during the November Wars," Brandon remarked casually.

"Don’t remind me," Kulan groaned. Those battles forced soldiers into the Black Forest, a desperate tactic born of sheer desperation. Both sides slaughtered without restraint, like cornered beasts clawing at each other’s throats, neither strong enough to deliver the killing blow.

The carnage defied imagination. Entire regiments often dwindled to mere dozens—or fewer. Battlefields became seas of corpses, stretching for miles.

Brandon understood and let the topic drop.

Next, Karglis leapt off the carriage last, dragging poor Mordain, the apprentice elementalist, from the driver’s seat.

"Let me go!" Mordain protested loudly, though physically no match for a trained swordsman like Karglis.

Ignoring him, Karglis surveyed the surroundings, inhaling deeply. "So this is the Black Forest?"

"Not satisfied?" Kulan sneered.

"It looks similar to the forests of Halager Mountain," Karglis mused aloud, peering into the shadowy depths.

"Hmph. Let’s hope you don’t regret this," Kulan muttered.

"Regret?" Karglis grinned. "I had doubts at first, but not anymore. Entering the Black Forest for adventure—I can’t believe I never thought of it before!"

"That’s because you were just a little madman until you met this bigger lunatic," Kulan thought sourly, shooting Brandon a sidelong glance.

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