The Warrior’s Ballad
Chapter 100

Translator: Willia

For a human to embrace the heart of a god was like suffering from an illness. One could feel an overwhelming sorrow for the world.

So Ricardt, in order to recover, left the mundane world with Marie and spent his time herding sheep. He would fall asleep watching Marie at night, and when he opened his eyes in the morning, Marie was there.

But in reality, it was more like simply passing the time. They did their chores, held hands and walked across the fields, watched the sunset, and that was all.

With no purpose, no regrets, they just lived, savoring each and every moment.

Occasionally, when they encountered travelers, they would offer them food and the barn. If the traveler turned out to be a bad one, not a decent person, they would kill him. That was their only connection to the world.

Then one day, uninvited guests came.

“I asked you to keep it a secret......”

Ricardt said to Bremen as he drove the sheep into the barn.

There weren’t many sheep, four or five fully grown ones and two or three lambs. The lambs and their mothers were separated and placed into the pen.

It was because, surprisingly, sheep didn’t have much maternal instinct. Other than feeding time, it was better not to keep them together.

After putting the sheep in the barn, Ricardt turned back to Bremen. At eighteen, Ricardt was now a full-grown adult in anyone’s eyes.

He seemed to be over 180 centimeters tall, his frame had matured, and his shoulders were broad. The forearms exposed from rolled-up sleeves weren’t monstrously thick, but they radiated solid strength.

“I’m sorry about this. But I couldn’t just stand by and be robbed by bandits.”

“That’s true.”

Ricardt looked toward the barn. Inside were the wounded and a few others, while the rest sat outside under tents. From the looks of it, they weren’t planning to leave after just a day or two. They would wait until the wounded recovered.

Marie came out of the barn after treating the injured. She wore an blue dress and had her hair covered with a white cloth. Covering her hair meant she was married.

She approached, wiping her hands on the stained apron she always wore. Even though she had washed her hands, traces of blood weren’t completely gone.

Standing before Ricardt, Marie was also tall, only slightly shorter than him.

“How is it?”

“Fifty-fifty.”

Ricardt asked, and Marie replied. It was a dry exchange. Fifty-fifty meant the chances of survival and death were equal.

Marie leaned crookedly against the pen’s fence, resting her elbow on top, and asked Bremen. Her mannerisms had become, how should one put it, rougher compared to before.

“It’s been about half a year? What happened to the people who went with you last time?"

“They all died.”

“Attacked by bandits?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“They killed each other. Discord visits both the strong and the weak alike.”

“......”

Both Ricardt and Marie knew the world was in turmoil, but hearing it directly didn’t feel pleasant.

“Where did you say you were taking those people at the time?”

Ricardt asked.

“Eastern Frontier.”

“......Frontier? Not the Eastern Expedition Territory?”

Ricardt tilted his head, not quite understanding right away.

Since they hadn’t spoken much during their first meeting, Ricardt only now learned where Bremen was leading the people.

“The expedition was a hundred years ago. Now it’s a frontier. A refuge for the weary and worn, a place of salvation, and the last hope.”

“That place? I find that hard to believe.”

In Ricardt’s memory, the Eastern Expedition Territory was hellish to the point that it shouldn’t even exist in the world. And yet now it was supposed to be a place of salvation and last hope?

It was hard to believe, and at the same time, he felt a sense of curiosity, along with a thought, how could that be, is that really possible?

“Whether you believe it or not, more and more people are heading there. And most of them die on the way.”

“......Have you been there, grandfather?”

“No.”

“Then isn’t this a scam?”

Ricardt had always been somewhat that way before, but now he spoke very directly.

“Because they all died before reaching Rottweil. Have you heard of the Gate of Giants? You have to pass through there to reach the frontier. If the group doesn’t fall apart by the time we get there, then and only then will I finally be heading for the Eastern Frontier.”

Ricardt was well aware of Rottweil. Back when he was a student at the academy, it was the city he reached after passing through Griffinswald. Was it Alter? The branch manager of the Beringen Guild had been there.

He had once taken on a mission there to chase down a deserter, and meeting the deserter had been a mentally challenging experience.

A towering mountain range stretched from north to south, dividing the unknown land from the Empire. Even though it was summer, the wind blowing down from the mountains was cold.

“In any case, I’d like to ask a favor, if I may. I’ll talk to the group and try to get you at least a calf in return.”

It seemed he intended to pay that way since he had no money at the moment. Of course, Ricardt was not someone who would take money for something like this.

“It’s fine. It’s not something troublesome or difficult. Right, Marie?”

Marie nodded repeatedly.

Watching the couple, Bremen felt a strange sensation. It was like... they felt beyond the realm of ordinary humans.

This couple helped people without emotion, and also killed people without emotion. They were not ordinary individuals.

Above all, Ricardt’s incredible skill was far from normal. To decapitate a person with a wooden stick?

Regardless of whether one’s skill was good or bad, the question was whether that was even possible.

So he was curious. About the story of the young man standing before him.

“May I ask what you did before becoming a shepherd?”

Then, the young couple smiled at the same time. A smile full of meaning. Now, all the hardship and suffering they had endured could be replaced with a single smile.

Of course, it hadn’t all been difficult. If it had, they probably wouldn’t have made it this far.

“Well, you know? Many heroes in ancient times came from shepherding backgrounds. People don’t realize it, but this job is tougher than it seems. Your stamina and fighting skills naturally improve.”

That was true. If you left sheep to graze in one place, they would eat even the roots, leaving the land barren. So they had to keep moving constantly.

Shepherds walked across mountains and fields all day long, and when encountering wolves or bandits, even if they couldn’t defeat them, they had to possess enough strength to at least survive.

Either break through the enemies and run to the village to raise the alarm, or deal with them alone. In his past life, Ricardt usually handled things alone because the village was too far away. With just one staff.

Perhaps it was back then that he had become accustomed to fighting alone.

More than anything, shepherding required a strong sense of responsibility. If one had the mind to, stealing a few lambs was not difficult.

As Ricardt gave a sly answer, Bremen laughed awkwardly.

“Ha ha... I see. That’s right. I’ve heard about that, too.”

“In any case, I won’t take money, so stay as long as you like. If you help out with a few chores while you’re here, that’s enough.”

There was plenty the people could help with, repairing the barn, fetching water, and more.

Ricardt had just returned after spending a few days roaming the fields, so he went into the hut to rest.

In a way, it was incredibly lucky. To have met Ricardt at just the right time, in this vast field, when they needed him. When you think about it, the world was full of miracles.

Ricardt and Marie trudged toward the hut, and the people stared at them. They were clearly aware that they were uninvited guests, and, having nothing to offer in return, they looked uneasy and awkward.

Ricardt gave them a smile to let them know it was all right.

Then near the hut, he stripped off his shirt and scooped water from a rainwater jar with a gourd to wash. Under the sunlight, his firm muscles gleamed.

After that, when he went inside the hut, Marie was removing her headscarf. As she tidied her slightly tousled hair and turned around, her beauty still dazzled the eyes, even though she had lived as a village wife.

If there was one eternal truth for Ricardt, it was that Marie was the most beautiful woman in the world. Ricardt held her face and kissed her.

After taking care of what needed to be done, Ricardt, with his characteristic objectivity, began to reflect on the present. More precisely, the words "Eastern Frontier" weighed on his mind.

Naturally, those hellish days came back to him, but his heart was not troubled. He only felt a faint sorrow when he thought of his first friend, Caldebert.

If there was one thing he regretted now, it was that he hadn’t stayed by Caldebert’s side just a little longer.

In any case, no matter how much one tries to escape from the world, perhaps a person can never truly be separated from it.

From the start, it wasn’t out of disgust or disillusionment with the world that he distanced himself from it. Perhaps he had just worn himself out by running blindly forward without ever looking back.

The heart of a god. Well, Ricardt didn’t want to be bound by such a grandiose concept.

Four years. If he had truly been ill in some way, that should have been more than enough time to heal. Now, he even found it strange to think, was I really sick?

Leisurely herding sheep and feeling Marie’s skin was a wonderful remedy. There was nothing better for calming the body and mind.

And yet now, his heart kept drifting far off to the east.

The place once covered in fire and steel, blood and death, was now said to be the final hope for people. Just how much had it changed for that to be true...

It wasn’t even a nap, more like a deep morning sleep. When he finally woke up, it was afternoon.

When he stepped outside the hut, a blue sky, warm sunlight, and a cool breeze greeted Ricardt. But even this scenery, seen every day, began to lose its wonder.

Two cows lazily grazed on the field, and the calves didn’t wander far from them.

Children played by climbing on the cows or petting the calves. The slightly older ones took turns looking after the wounded, and helped Marie move things around.

Hearing the sharp crack of splitting wood, Ricardt turned his head and saw a man with an axe chopping firewood. It seemed to be his way of repaying the favor of being allowed to stay.

They weren’t bad people. They seemed simple and honest. Of course, if they were abandoning their homes and heading to that faraway place, the stories buried deep in their hearts were surely dark.

Incidentally, in Bremen’s group, three young troublemakers had been captured by bandits, so only three adult men remained. One of them was critically wounded and near death.

On top of that, between Bremen and Hartmann, Bremen was an old man. Realistically, Hartmann was the only one capable of fulfilling the role of a man.

Ricardt could tell just by looking, without needing to hear their stories, how vulnerable this group was. All he saw were children and women.

Feeling a presence behind him, Ricardt turned around and saw a boy, about eight or nine years old, standing hesitantly with his hands hidden behind his back.

“Do you need something?”

“N-no, it’s not that, I just... this...”

The boy shyly held out something he had been hiding behind his back. It was a flower crown, decorated with red, yellow, and white spring blossoms.

Ricardt suddenly thought of Boribori, who had loved flowers, and a smile came to his face without him realizing. He wondered if he still liked them?

“I’m sorry. I don’t have anything else to give...”

“What are you talking about? It’s a wonderful gift.”

Ricardt took the flower crown and put it on his head. Surprisingly, it fit well on his head; the boy must have observed Ricardt's head size from a distance.

When Ricardt gladly accepted the gift, the boy visibly relaxed, his tension easing.

“What’s your name?”

“Roy.”

“I’m Ricky. Nice to meet you. Stay here as long as you want and don’t worry about bothering me.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Roy, still feeling a little shy, ran over to his father. Hartmann, who had been chopping wood, was watching and, as his son came running, put an arm around him and gave Ricardt a slight bow.

Ricardt returned the bow and headed to the barn to release the sheep. Then, with staff in hand, he made his way into the field.

By the time Ricardt returned in the evening, the wounded man had already passed away. He had three daughters and one son. But the children did not cry in front of their father's grave.

It wasn’t because they weren’t sad. It was simply that they lived in an era where death was familiar, they had always lived with the knowledge of it. Children of this era understood well that death was never far away. Moreover, the man had been seriously injured, so it hadn’t been unexpected.

Above all, the fear and anxiety of how to live from now on pressed down on any sorrow.

The next day, Bremen’s group packed up their tents and prepared to leave. They didn’t beg Ricardt for more kindness, but simply expressed their gratitude for what he had done and set out on the road again.

Ricardt stood with Marie, quietly watching them leave. Most likely, they would die. They would fall to violence that would strike suddenly, leaving no room for discord to even take root.

Marie spoke.

“Shall we follow them?”

“...Yeah. Let’s do that.”

It didn’t require any grand decision. To bring four years of shepherding to an end.

Just as they had once left the world behind without hesitation, now they would walk back into it just as simply.

Ricardt and Marie entered the hut, pulled up the wooden floor, and took out the gear they had buried long ago.

The Holy Sword. Ricardt’s sword was wrapped in cloth. He hadn’t looked at it even once since the day he last used it. The hilt and guard were rusted and worn, nearly unusable. He would need to get them replaced at a forge.

However, the blade, perhaps imbued with magic, remained startlingly sharp despite never being maintained.

Meanwhile, Marie had changed into a travel-ready outfit that suited her well, but Ricardt had grown so much that nothing fit him anymore. Of his old belongings, the only things he could still bring were the sword and the red cloak.

A red cloak over shabby shepherd's clothes, it looked ridiculous, but there was no helping it.

The young couple gathered their things and headed to the barn, where they simply released the sheep into the fields. They could have easily taken them to a nearby village or city to sell, but they didn’t.

Ricardt just watched the sheep as they wandered into the field. Seeing him, Marie said,

“Ricky, standing there like that... you kind of look like a wizard.”

It was absurd, but also understandable. Dressed in shabby clothes, wrapped in a red cloak, holding a sword in one hand and a staff in the other, it was indeed a ridiculous sight.

To make it even more so, Marie had, at some point, placed the flower crown on Ricardt’s head. With his appearance now thoroughly comical, Marie laughed out loud to herself.

Ricardt laughed too and said,

“Let’s go.”

And so, Ricardt, leaning on his staff, walked alongside Marie toward the people setting off on a long journey. His red cloak fluttered in the wind.

Chapter 20 - The Shepherd Who Carried a Sword. End.

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