TL: TAS’s next chapter ETA is next weekend. Things are going kind of smoothly for me in terms of art practice, and I’ll be putting more hours into it for the time being. When we get into Brendel’s next battle arc, I’ll up the translation rate.
Also this is the final chapter for this arc. Next chapter will be the start of Lord Brendel’s territory-acquiring arc.
Chapter 132 – The end of Summer
Count Barre stood in Brendel’s path.
[The hell?] Brendel gave him a wide berth as he walked past the smiling man.
“Ser Brendel?” Count Barre called out to him in a solemn voice when he realized Brendel was avoiding him.
“What is it?” Brendel snapped with a displeased tone. He was in a rush to find the Nightsong Tiger to get the details from him about Amandina.
“Even though our viewpoints differ our goals seem to align. At the very least, I am certain that you are not on the side of our enemies, are you not?” Count Barre spoke in a rush, not giving Brendel the chance to cut him off. “Naturally, we have our own thoughts on restoring the kingdom, but surely there is no need for us to draw our swords at each other’s throats. I agree that Makarov’s actions are a little overbearing, but he’s a only a human who’s acting with limited resources.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Would you be willing to join us? If you hate our actions, then why not take control of the situation? I hope to have an outstanding youth like yourself on our side.” Barre invited Brendel with sincere words, as though he had forgotten the unpleasant exchange between them.
[That’s something the Count Barre I know would do.]
Brendel had actually given them enough leeway on this issue and avoided having an all-out battle with them, precisely because they were on the same side. If these people were against the crown, then he would have redeemed the Silver Elves’ promise and killed them immediately.
Because of Makarov’s plans, he and his men were put into danger. Romaine and Amandina were still nowhere to be seen. If he lost his temper and waged a battle to get Makarov’s head as an act of revenge, then duke Arreck might take the opportunity to capture the princess’s land in the nearby area. Freya might even be in danger because of that.
[It looks like he’s smart enough not to talk about the Golden Apple anymore, so I’ll put it aside. But joining your group is an absolute joke.]
“No,” Brendel looked at the count and shook his head. His reply was cold and hard, surprising the count with his tone: “You will see me very soon, but believe me, it would not be here, and not the way any of you would like to see—”
“… Then I shall await to see your future.” Count Barre’s eyes were fretful as he stared at Brendel.
============ Freya POV =============
In truth, the battle that she was supposed to be in was undertaken by the senior squires in the academy, led by the reserve officers in the graduating class. When Freya and newer members like herself reached the battlefield in the forest, their task was taking care of the battle’s aftermath.
She immediately noticed a carriage filled with bolts and arrows like a porcupine in the center of the road. There were cavalry equipped with silver armor riding near the carriage, with many of their comrades’ dead bodies on the ground. They refused anyone from approaching the carriage, and insisted of taking care of their injuries as they cleaned up after their own.
There were two clear colors. Purple and silver. The bodies with these two colors were strewn everywhere. Heavy groans from the injured, mingled with low frightened murmurs from the newly arrived nobles’ sons and daughters, could be heard everywhere. They were seeing this bloodied sight for the first time.
The reserved officers wanted to take prisoners, and gave the order for the older squires to intentionally maim the attackers, and had left many of them alive. However, once they took enough prisoners to be satisfied with, the remainder was ordered to be killed, and this task was also left to the new members of the academy.
Many of them found their weapons shaking, unable to swing it, and there were even a few who vomited as they saw the bloodied mess from the ones who were brave enough to attempt it.
Freya had fought enough in real battles not to be shaken by the sight and faithfully did her job. She had only paused in the beginning to guess the identity of the people within the carriage. Sangany followed behind with a sick face. He had expelled everything he had for his meals, and he could only heave weakly after that.
He held himself against up a tree, while being impressed by Freya’s clean strikes to the enemies. She was certainly an admirable maiden.
“…… Do you know who that is?” He asked after catching his breath.
“What?” Freya looked back at him with incomprehension.
She took another look at the carriage, then shook her head, her clear eyes showing that she did not understand.
“The insignia on the carriage is a Holy Beetle. There is only one person within the kingdom who has this.”
[You don’t even know this? How did you even manage to come to the academy— Wait, is she bluffing?]
The youth looked at Freya in incredulity, but he did not find any signs of deceit in her, so he shook his head and answered: “Grandmaster Fleetwood, the court’s First Wizard of Aouine.”
“What!” Freya was shocked.
But Sangany shook his head: “If that is truly Grandmaster Fleetwood, there is no need for us to go into battle. The person within the carriage is very likely to be someone else. And yet, Grandmaster Fleetwood has very few friends or people related to him. The people who could borrow his carriage, is either the king, or his student.”
“Her royal highness?” Freya’s eyes were wide. She still know this common knowledge even though she came from the borders.
The youth nodded.
Suddenly a black warhorse passed by them quickly. The rider swiftly rode through the forest, before the warhorse suddenly stopped, turned around in a trot and moved back the two of them.
Freya and Sangany looked up, and found a beautiful but cold face.
Her appearance was something like an artistic artifact, it was rare to find such perfectly shaped features. Her sharp chin was a strong arc that led into high cheekbones and deeply set eyes of a pure purple.
Her central parting of her fringe led down to her fine eyebrows, which was raised slightly before lowering in displeasure. Her straight nose bridge seemed to reflect her extremely strong character.
The two of them instantly thought of the bards’ descriptions of the beautiful ladies of the north.
There was a slight scoff as Maynild looked down at them from the warhorse, first at Freya, then at Sangany.
“Your name is Freya?” She asked a question while she stared at the young man, making the latter feel like he was being targeted by a predator.
“Y-yes.” Freya answered.
“The results for your riding and sword skills are excellent.” She said in a low magnetic voice: “I have heard of your tale as well, but if you want to accomplish something, you had better leave scum — like this man here — behind.”
There was great disdain in her eyes as she spat out the last few words.
The two of them looked blankly at her.
Sangany’s eyebrows frowned and he tried to refute subconsciously: “Miss Maynild, even though you are Madame’s—”
But his words were cut off by a metallic screech, and felt his neck slightly colder. When the youth understood what happened, Maynild had actually jumped down from her horse and pulled out her sword, drawing it against his neck. Her actions were done in a single second, and he was left frozen with a gesture that he did halfway before it was finished.
“Have I given you permission to speak?” Maynild spoke in a chilly voice.
Sangany’s back was cold from sweat, but he did not reply because of his confusion.
“M-Miss Maynild, I—”
The sword in her hand pressed ever so slightly against his neck: “Ser.”
“S-Ser Maynild.” Sangany swallowed and answered with a stutter. “I’m a second year squire, I have no rank yet—”
He did not waste any more words, and used all his strength in his body to squeeze out the answer.
Maynild’s sword was sheathed back so quickly that the two of them could not see it done properly. She glared coldly at the youth who was cursing in his heart, then gave an order: “Then, soldier, I’m ordering you to shut your mouth—”
She finally looked at Freya properly, then adjusted the latter’s collar which was a little crooked from cleaning up the battlefield. She patted her arms and said softly: “Remember my advice, it won’t harm you—”
Freya was also in a state of confusion with quick thoughts swirling through her head
[Should I thank her? She was really amazing with her sword. Can I be someone like her? Perhaps someday…..]
============ Princess Gryphine POV ============
“Who is she?” The half-Elven princess asked the young man beside him. The scene where Maynild and Sangany exchanged words happened to fall into her eyes. She looked at Freya, finding that there was a sliver of familiarity.
“Madame Ida’s daughter. Duke Rhun is her uncle. She’s quite talented and an ardent supporter of the royal crown. We should be able to trust her.” Ser Benninger looked over to her direction and said.
Gryphine laughed at the silly response: “Are you exhausted, Benninger? We both know who she is. You even know she’s my close friend.”
“I apologize, my lady.” Benninger answered in embarrassment.
“I’m talking about the other girl, do you recognize her? She looks familiar.”
“That’s Everton’s daughter—” A warm voice came from outside the carriage.
Gryphine was slightly surprised, but her light silver eyes immediately shone with delight.
“Oberbeck?” She spoke softly.
A laugh came from the outside. “Yes, your highness. It seems that I am late.”
TL: One thing I want to keep in mind. Anyone close enough to the princess and is a male knight, I’ll use ‘My lady’ instead of your highness.