Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 10, 1: Calm

Volume 10, Chapter 1: Calm

Part 1

At first glance, Birac, Mephius’ second city and largest centre for foreign trade, was enveloped in an atmosphere of victory. But if they could see the expressions on a great many people’s faces in the street or observe the groups gathered here and there in the shade, exchanging whispered conversations, even an outsider would easily be able to see that the people of Birac harboured complicated feelings in their hearts, and would wonder – what victory?

Five days earlier, Crown Prince Gil Mephius, leading an army from Apta in the southwest, had clashed with a punitive force dispatched from Solon. Although the number of soldiers in the punitive force far exceeded that of the crown prince’s army, they had been toyed around with by stratagem after stratagem, had been pushed back by their opponent’s dauntless determination, and had fled back to Birac. The lord of Birac, Fedom Aulin, would let them in and, along with the soldiers who had remained in the city, they would fortify their defences and hold out until reinforcements arrived from the capital – or so they thought, until they suddenly found the gates of the city firmly shut and their entrance denied.

With their path cut off both in front and behind them, they could do nothing but prepare for certain defeat, so the commander of the punitive force, Folker Baran, had resigned himself to surrendering. As a result, when Gil Mephius’ victorious troops appeared within Birac, the populace lined the streets waving and cheering, and the mood on display was one of welcome.

Just a day before the battle occurred, the populace received a notification from Fedom Aulin. Via the various branch offices of Birac’s merchant guild, they were informed that he would support the crown prince. Going back another half day earlier, the heads of the guild had gathered at Fedom’s residence.

Naturally, the merchants did not just consent without a single word of objection. Supporting the crown prince meant choosing to oppose the current emperor, Guhl Mephius. Which also meant that, in the expanding civil war, Mephius would make Birac a target for attack.

All the leading members of the guild stared at the lord of Birac with – Is he serious? – written clearly on their faces.

And of course, the populace shared that sentiment.

Take for example Apta in the southwest: being next to Taúlia, it would fear taking direct damage if a war broke out with the West. Birac meanwhile was closer to Solon. So just as the people of Apta felt that they wanted to avoid war with the West as much as possible, the populace of Birac had strong apprehensions when it came to battles with Solon.

Still, even within Birac there was, of course, a variety of opinions.

When news had arrived that a person claiming to be the crown prince had appeared in Apta, practically on the eve of battle, and had openly declared his opposition to the march on the West, many in Birac received a considerable shock.

As previously mentioned, Birac was a commercial city. Compared to other regions, it had from the start had a high sense of self-governance; so when merchants met in the street, they were used to talking together not only about business but also, and quite unreservedly, about politics.

“So basically, was His Majesty going to march on the West even if it meant hiding the fact that the crown prince had survived?”

“Rather than saying that he hid it, there’s that rumour that he was planning to personally do away with his son. Lord Gil might have realised it ahead of time and faked his own death.”

“Nonono, the one who showed up in Apta is an impostor. Probably just someone who admired Gil Mephius’ heroic deeds and who was driven to madness by too much chivalrous spirit.”

“In that case, why are even General Rogue and General Odyne following him?”

“Couldn’t it be that, from the start, those two were at the centre of the uprising? And that they deliberately used the crown prince’s name to garner sympathy from the lords all around Mephius?”

“In any case...”

“Right, in any case, troops will soon be dispatched from Solon.”

“It’ll be decided in one battle.”

Decided – What would be decided would be whether it would end as no more than an uprising in a provincial town or whether it would develop into civil war throughout Mephius, but there was also the meaning that the commercial city of Birac would decide what position to take from there on.

Nevertheless, nobody believed that the troops in Apta would be able to oppose Mephius’ army. And so, when the punitive force led by Folker Baran finally marched towards Apta by way of Birac, as the townspeople saw off the group gallantly arrayed in full armour, what was visible on faces everywhere was the feeling that – Well then, that’s that.

And so it was that, since that was the prevalent mood in Birac, when the leaders of the merchant guild responded to the summons from the lord of Birac and heard him announce that “I wish to support the crown prince, Lord Gil Mephius,” their expressions clearly read – Is he serious?

Sometimes passionately, sometimes calmly, Fedom spoke at length about how he had received a personal letter from the prince prior to this battle and about how Emperor Guhl Mephius was undesirable not only for the future of Birac, but for the future of Mephius as a whole.

This is ridiculous – was what most people thought. No matter how splendid his sentiments may be, the crown prince could not win. Yet at that moment, an unexpected voice rose in support of Fedom. Zaj Haman. He had been the guildmaster up until a few years ago and, even now that he had resigned from the position, he was still a wealthy merchant with enormous influence within the guild.

Contrary to expectations, instead of flatly refuting Fedom’s position, this extremely pragmatic man said, “There might be connections to be had with the West through the crown prince.”

In support of that, he pointed to the return of a ship sent by the Haman firm to the West. It had happened immediately after Taúlia and Mephius had clashed near the outskirts of Apta. Normally, there would be nothing surprising about ship and cargo both being seized and never returned.

And yet, “I also received a verbal message from the merchants of Taúlia that they wished to continue doing business with us. Under normal circumstances, that is impossible. But if we are talking about the relationship between Taúlia and Apta... In other words, in spite of the war occurring and of His Majesty the Emperor, there is a person who could conclude a relationship of mutual trust.”

Zaj cut his words short and lapsed into silence for a while.

The leaders of the guild also simultaneously fell silent. In all honesty, it did not matter to them whether it was the real Gil Mephius who had appeared in Apta. Well, no, the current state of things inside Mephius was not something that they were unconcerned about, but neither was it something that urgently needed worrying about.

The question now was could the Gil who had appeared in Apta win? And crucially, could he use his influence to overturn the emperor’s decision?

If he has strong personal connections to the West and can drive away Folker’s army – the same thought crossed the minds of the guild leaders.

In fact, contrary to their predictions about how things would unfold, the West did not lead soldiers to assist Gil.

But even though Zaj had dangled the prospect of the West, the members of the guild did not simply jump at Fedom’s proposal.

Still, they gradually came to realize that the proposal was not a passing thought but something that Fedom had been inwardly preparing for a long time.

Moreover, business with the West was currently almost entirely handled by Zaj himself and the profits from those dealings were monopolised by the Haman firm. If the entire country could openly trade with the West, then there was a chance that all of Birac’s merchants would be able to partake of that honey.

They had gathered in the evening but it was not until dawn of the next day that they reached a consensus.

“So then, we’re doing it?”

Gil Mephius had unquestionably achieved victory.

Most of the people of Birac had also thought – his lordship is being ridiculous – when they received the notification of support to the prince from the guild, so this miraculous victory sent them into a frenzy.

But only temporarily.

Once their wild enthusiasm over the victory cooled down, anxiety over the future gradually started to weigh on their shoulders like an invisible stone weight.

With Apta and Birac in his hands, Gil Mephius certainly appeared to have conquered half of Mephius but it was not easy to make up for the difference in numbers compared to the emperor’s side. Because of the need to face Ende and Garbera, most of Mephius’ soldiers had always been distributed throughout the east of the country. Even if they gathered soldiers to their harbour town, there was still the threat that a large army from Solon might descend on them tomorrow.

The bold said, “what, if worse comes to the worse,” they pointed at the cannons bought from the north that gleamed darkly beneath the eaves, “we can just line a few of those up and threaten Lord Aulin and Gil Mephius. His Majesty won’t harm Birac if its citizens were the ones to rise to action and drive away the impostor.”

Certainly, if the trade city of Birac were to receive damage it would have an impact on the whole of Mephius, so the emperor would not recklessly use armed force.

In the sense that they were dauntless and could calculate things realistically, the merchants of Birac were truly formidable.

Amidst the various emotions and expectations that were swaying the city, a corner of Lord Fedom Aulin’s residence was wrapped in a gloomy atmosphere.

In a parlour on the second floor that overlooked the garden, breakfast had been laid out on a table covered in a white tablecloth. In terms of quantity and quality, the things laid out were excellent, but not a single one of the people around the table stretched out their hand to take them.

The general of the Black Steel Sword Division, Folker Baran. The General of the Bow of Gathering Clouds Division Yuriah Mattah. And the general of the Spear of Flames Division, Zaas Sidious. Namely, the defeated generals of the army that Crown Prince Gil Mephius had beaten in the recent battle.

Additionally, the battalion commander Walt was also there. He had been in charge of defending Jozu Fortress, situated between Apta and Birac, but had been driven out of Jozu after having fallen into Gil’s trap; although he had been given the chance to actually cross swords with him on the battlefield, he had eventually been captured without having been able to kill him.

The four of them had been sitting in silence at the rectangular table for a while now. They were being kept in lenient confinement here in Birac. Early that morning, they had received summons from the crown prince, but said crown prince had yet to show up.

Perhaps an hour had passed.

Zaas Sidious could no longer endure the gloomy silence. He had a stern appearance and the look of a general of long-standing, but in fact he was the youngest of those present. He had been irritably clearing his throat for a while now.

“You, Walt, or whatever it was,” he turned the brunt of that irritation towards the battalion commander. He criticised him sharply about how, despite having volunteered to be part of the defence of their headquarters in the battle, he had disgracefully been captured after not only easily letting Gil’s forces through, but not even charging them from the rear.

“You, are you even a Mephian warrior? You should have stopped the enemy even if it meant holding on to them by the dragon’s ass.”

“Allow me to return those words to you.”

Walt was a man who had formerly survived death as a sword slave and who had splendidly won the gladiatorial tournament held for the country’s Founding Festival. Both of his cheeks were swollen due to the aftereffects of having been peppered with bullets but, contrary to his humorous appearance, he was subject to strong feelings.

“General Sidious, you also made mistakes. Simply because you wanted to fight Crown Prince Gil in single combat, you abandoned your Spear of Flames Division, allowing order in the ranks to collapse and letting the crown prince’s troops tear through them like paper.”

“What!” Zaas’ eyes flared monstrously. “You dare speak like that to me, one of the twelve generals? Fucking sword slave, looks like you didn’t receive a human education.”

“From the looks of it, one such as you, General Sidious, does not follow common courtesy either. If you are going to brag about being one of the twelve generals, I would appreciate it if you did so after having learned to wear the dignity of a general and especially after you earned the actual achievements of a general.”

The two of them kicked back their chairs.

Naturally, they did not carry any weapons but even so, they were warriors forged in actual combat. Now that they ended up grappling barehanded, things could well develop into their killing each other.

Looking as though he found it tiresome, Yuriah shifted his chair out of the way. In both physical appearance and mannerisms, he always looked younger than he actually was. On the other hand, Folker Baran, who was was now waiting motionlessly with his arms folded, was about to perfunctorily tell them to stop it, as he had once held the position of commander, but in part because he also recoiled from pointless fights.

“You seem to have more than enough energy,” accompanying that cheerful voice, a new face appeared.

A strained expression appeared on each of their faces, including even Folker. Zaas glared at the newcomer with all the hatred he had failed to vent at Walt.

Gil Mephius.

Needless to say, the crown prince of Mephius. A man who was once believed to have died but who suddenly appeared to have resurrected in Apta; and who had then openly opposed the emperor’s advance on the West, which was why he and the forces led by Folker and the others had clashed. Having taken Birac, he now held the Western half of Mephius.

According to what Folker had heard since being put under lenient arrest, the troops stationed in Apta were currently being transferred to Birac. It seemed like something quite nondescript – but that too – thought Folker, directly displayed Gil Mephius’ skill.

In the past, ‘when he was still alive’, Gil Mephius had almost arbitrarily decided on friendship with the West. This last battle had also been for the sake of protecting the western region. Therefore, he must have been linked in promise with the West, and mainly with the city-state of Taúlia. Since he had no need to defend against the west, he could simply move the troops gathered in Apta to the east.

“What is this, not eating?”

While looking around at the untouched breakfast, Gil sat in his chair. He snapped his fingers to call a page. An extravagant breakfast soon started to be laid out before him. Unlike the generals’ food, which had already completely cooled, hot steam rose from it, and for a while, he wolfed it down in silence.

The crown prince had always hated formalities but having summoned the generals himself, he did not pay the slightest attention to them. When it looked like he was finally looking up, he snapped his fingers again and gave the page an order for a second helping of the egg dish. Having for the time being returned to his seat, Zaas’ face once more became suffused with irritation. Just when he was obviously about to start yelling something,

“Let’s get right to the point,” Gil began to speak as he wiped the edge of his mouth with a handkerchief. He swept his gaze around the faces of Walt and the assembled generals, including Zaas who had been taken aback in spite of himself.

“Won’t you lend me your strength?” Gil Mephius asked.

Part 2

“Our strength?”

The first to answer was Folker Baran. It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he found the offer surprising or entirely expected.

Gil nodded. “Yes. A part of the soldiers that you led are staying here in Birac, but obviously, the expense of looking after them is not negligible. If you join us, then it becomes an investment in the future, but if not, then it’s just a waste. I’d like you to properly decide on your course of action. I’ll give you five days, it should be enough time for you to think.”

“So in other words, that would mean following your orders, even if they include attacking Solon, where His Majesty the Emperor is?”

“Do you have anything to sell other than your ability to fight?”

“That is not what I meant. In short, I am asking if it is your intention to continue to fly the banner of revolt against His Majesty and to engulf Mephius in the fires of civil war.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Zaas shouted and stood up so forcefully that he knocked his chair backwards again. “General Baran, there is no need to talk directly to this kind of impostor. It’s just a waste of time. He’s no more than a rebel posing as the crown prince. Lend him our strength at this point? Ludicrous. Once you’ve crossed swords, you continue fighting until one surrenders or perishes. That is the code of a warrior.”

Compared to his fury, which was so great that it seemed flames might leap out from the finger he had thrust out, Gil was glacial.

“Being defeated by a mere impostor, where does that leave House Sidious?”

Zaas ground his teeth so fiercely that everyone sitting there could hear it. “What did you say? I didn’t lose. Have you forgotten? You ran away from single combat with me. A warrior from the Sidious House has no ears to listen to anything that a coward like you has to say.”

“If the fact that you did not personally lose means that you weren’t defeated, then why are you here? Why aren’t you singing victory songs with your companions, trampling my impostor head underfoot? Spare me the childish argument, Zaas.”

Gil’s rebuff was like a slap to the face. Although Zaas was the youngest of the twelve generals, he was still seven or eight years older than Gil.

Zaas Sidious’ face flushed redder and redder as he continued to shout ever more violently.

“Y-You bastard, you killed Mephians. It is a warrior’s honour to die while protecting the peace of the people by crushing enemies who threaten the country from outside. But you, you manipulated Mephians with your deceitful, lying words and had them kill other Mephians. For us, there can be no greater insult than that a man like that could claim the august title of crown prince.”

Zaas had lost many of his men in the Battle of Tolinea. Even as he was screaming, his emotions overcame him and tears sprang to his eyes. Among those whose lives had been lost there were not only young men, but also commanders who had been serving since his father’s time. Men who, when he was young, had helped him practice with the sword, half in fun, and who had encouraged him, saying that – since it’s you, Zaas, you’ll definitely become a general whose name will go down in history just as much as your father’s.

His emotions vigorously kindled the flames within Zaas, and these could not be put out by Gil’s icy gaze.

“If we leave things as they are, the emperor of Mephius will kill more Mephians than I would.”

“What!”

“For example,” this time, the situation reversed and it was Gil thrusting a finger towards Zaas, “If I send you back naked to Solon by not returning your soldiers and weapons, how will His Majesty deal with you? How about broadcasting the information that this defeat was caused by the loss of command in your troops because you were so fixated on fighting me in single combat?”

The colour suddenly drained from Zaas’ fiery red face.

“There is no great cause. There is not a single justification which the retainers are in agreement with. It’s His Majesty who is leading the soldiers to invade another country. It's His Majesty who is leading the soldiers to invade the country, and who will easily cut off the heads of fellow Mephians. Not for the country but for himself and his own convenience.”

“...”

“Do you think that kind of country can stay standing? Do you not think that if I hadn’t risen up, someone else would not have done so and would not have pointed their blade at the emperor? Not just you yourselves, anyone could predict it.”

The morning sunlight was flooding the parlour. Small birds were chirping lightly outside the window. And yet, everyone other than Gil looked as though they had been robbed of two or three degrees of their body temperature.

“Sit down, Zaas.”

It was Folker who had spoken. Out of sympathy, free from censure. Since he believed that the wounds to the young general’s heart were such that right now, he would not listen to any instruction from the person who claimed to be the crown prince.

Zaas silently sat.

Once he had watched him do so, Folker turned towards Gil, “Indeed, a sound argument. However, I believe that in practice, a country cannot be managed on sound arguments alone, so what of you?”

“Oh?”

“What do you intend to do from now on? By criticising the emperor, you are practically using that as a shield, but what do you plan to do beyond this point?”

“You should know well enough that I can no longer turn back.”

With that answer, this time it was Gil who stood up.

“P-Please wait,” Folker unconsciously also half-rose to his feet.

“I want you all,” Gil said, forestalling him.

It was not only Folker who stopped moving. Zaas, Yuriah who had been silent all this time, and Walt were the same.

“I’m not telling you to die in battle for me right this second. But, Folker Baran, you are able to consider things level-headedly even on the battlefield. Yuriah Mattah: sooner or later you will be an air force commander on par with any from Garbera. Even when in difficulty, Zaas, you are bold and resolute enough to strike fear in any enemy. Walt, it is hard to come by people as upstanding and as able to take action as you are. I want all of that with me.”

The four people whose name had been called out looked at the crown prince with the same expression that a baby would have after having suddenly been slapped by its father. Gil Mephius did not attempt to persuade any further.

“I told you earlier that I would give you five days. I won’t ask you for a hurried answer. Think about it carefully.”

As abruptly and as lightly as he had appeared, he left the four people behind and exited the parlour.

Gil Mephius – or rather, the former sword slave Orba whose face bore the ‘mask’ of the crown prince, left the parlour and immediately headed towards Fedom Aulin’s private apartments on the uppermost floor of the castle. That’s a sore point – while he walked along the corridors, he gave a twisted smile, as though nausea had welled up within him.

Folker Baran’s question of “what do you plan to do beyond this point?” was something that Orba had been asking himself every day. Which meant that he himself had no clear answer. Hence why it was sore.

For example, Fedom, whom he was about to go and meet, was simply fixated on getting more power through establishing a new order in Mephius. It was for that same reason that he had gathered a group to support Gil – an anti-Emperor faction, so to speak, which had included Nabarl, whom Orba had faced directly on the battlefield not so long ago.

However, he questioned what the ‘next’ form that they dreamed of for Mephius really was.

Right, needing to stand up to the emperor’s injustice – was all well and good, but after having destroyed the country’s order, he needed to focus on what would come ‘next’. In short, everything would not peacefully fall into place once the tyrant had been overthrown, and it was more likely for the country to fall into chaos.

In other words, Folker’s question was equivalent to asking “what kind of emperor will you become?”

Yeah, if I can’t give a clear answer, I won’t be able to win over a man like Folker – Orba could not help thinking over it again. What kind of emperor will I become, huh?

He realised that the assumption was not incorrect, but it was impossible not to smile twistedly in a different sense at the thought that this should not be the sort of problem a boy born and raised in an arid valley, and who carried a slave brand on his back, should be worrying his head over.

Of course, Orba had already steeled his resolve. But that was the resolve to fight at the risk of his own life, and to cling on to that life for the sake of his comrades. As to what to focus on beyond that, Orba did not currently know. That was why he had taken his leave of Folker and the others, half as though to escape.

I can’t stay like this forever.

It would soon be the time when he needed to have found the words to answer clearly. Even if it were only a means to rally as many people as possible, he would need to raise the banner of some great cause from now on.

Orba’s expression tightened and he continued walking.

Armed soldiers were in sight dotted all along the corridors. No doubt they were there to defend the crown prince but as Orba could not remember having issued the order himself, he suspected that it came from Gowen.

Fedom had an earlier visitor.

“Ah, my lord crown prince. Thank you for taking the trouble to come.”

When Fedom spoke, his earlier guest, standing across from him, looked startled and stood ramrod straight. According to Fedom’s introduction, he was a messenger from Zaj Haman.

“It seems I need to be grateful to Zaj again. Let’s arrange to meet personally one of these days.”

‘Ah, y-yes,” the messenger lowered his head in a deep bow.

Recently, quite a few people who were meeting him for the first time did the same. They were not entirely able to believe in his survival, so when they met him in person, it was as though the dead truly had come back to life and their expressions showed a mixture of fear and admiration.

After the merchant had paid his respects to both the crown prince and the lord of Birac and left, Fedom looked restless.

“Zaj has a big job ahead of him. We’ll need both his air carriers and the flight routes opened up by the Haman firm to rush the written appeals to everywhere.”

“You look like you’ve been up all night,” Orba said in a deliberately carefree voice. Fedom’s eyes were bright red.

“Is this the time to sleep? We have to write letters to all the generals and lords.”

“I doubt all of them will rush to support us though.”

In contrast with Orba, who was standing with his back close to the wall and his arms folded, Fedom prowled aimlessly around the room, completely unable to calm down. He was constantly stretching out his hand to tug on his loose fitting, courtly garb.

“I don’t think everyone other than the imperial family will side with us either. Even so, if we exclude even one of them from the plan, that one might do something unexpected to frustrate it. So we need to send appeals to all of them. At the same time, it’s essential to let them believe that regardless of the other dignitaries, they’re the only ones you hold any special expectations of. This is the art of negotiation. You should leave it to me.”

Fedom had the foundations of the anti-Emperor faction that he had built up in less than a year. He was sure to be self-confident.

Orba smiled.

“Then I’ll leave it to you.”

“More importantly, there’s a more pressing issue right under our noses,” perhaps due to the lack of sleep, Fedom’s voice was more velvety than usual. “Even though we’ll send the appeals, they’ll need time to answer. And the emperor is naturally not going to sit still and wait for his own downfall.”

The significance of Gil Mephius taking Birac was huge. Not only could he be said to have most of Mephius’ western half under his control, but this city was also the only one that traded with the north. With it taken, it was clear that Mephius would waste away day by day.

Emperor Guhl Mephius would be sure to want to recapture it immediately and at all cost. He might move an even greater army than the one that had been led by Folker and the others. However, with his having both Rogue Saian, a unifying force among the warriors, and Princess Vileena, the proof of friendship with Garbera, at his side, and furthermore, with his having defeated the large army led by Folker with only a small force of his own, the emperor would be aware that the crown prince presence had increased more than ever.

“Right... Emperor Guhl will be worried about being attacked from behind by one of his allies,” Orba said, his arms still folded. “If he moves a large army, that will of course create an opening in the capital. In which case, Guhl will be hesitating.”

Guhl hesitating, however, also meant that his actions would be hard to predict. On their side too, if they waited too long, they would give the emperor’s side time to organise a large force, but if they were too hasty, they would not be able to obtain adherence from the lords and retainers.

It had turned into a situation in which it was difficult for either of them to make the next move.

“It’s fine,” Fedom assured in an unusually confident tone. “Even if the other lords falter and hesitate, Indolph York of Kilro will certainly side with us. If he attacks the emperor from the rear just after His Majesty dispatches a large force, others will fall in line with his move. We can catch Solon naked.”

Hmm – Orba answered wordlessly.

Although he was, of course, concerned about the attitude of the strangers who might align themselves as either enemies or allies, he did not have absolute faith in Fedom either. How many things was he still trying to hide from Orba? It was obvious that the real Gil Mephius had already died, and he did not doubt that Fedom had been involved in that in some way or another, but he was keeping his mouth shut on that subject.

Soon after they had taken Birac, when Orba had pressured him by saying that they should “speak frankly”, Fedom had feigned ignorance while all the while being unable to look him in the eye.

This man – Orba was partly amazed: even at this point, Fedom still hoped to take back the initiative. And so, he still wanted to keep the essential points secret.

Well, it’s fine – despite being caught in a constantly fluctuating situation, Fedom was a man who had polished his long plan for rebellion without ever giving up. If he realised that the real power within the plan had passed to Orba, who was supposed to be a puppet, he might lose it and betray them at the last moment. Which meant he would have to leave some of the ‘fun’ for later.

It will eventually become clear in Solon.

And in order to return to Solon, there was one important task that needed to be settled.

Having thus reappeared on the front stage as the crown prince, and having obtained such constant results in his first military manoeuvres, there were naturally many people who wanted to present themselves before Gil Mephius. Leading members from the various guilds, important merchants, messengers from trading partners: he had to make time to meet each one of them in person.

It’s a nuisance – It was not that Orba did not think so. However, a war was not settled simply through the number of one’s soldiers nor one’s skill in handling swords or guns, and many things were necessary to continue to fight. Although he was aware of that, doing nothing but secluding himself alone in his office, holding meeting after meeting, and reading through documents would leave him feeling depressed.

“Pashir, how’s it going?”

“What the –”

Orba had gone to the circular training ground in which individual matches were being fought throughout.

Pashir opened his eyes wide. The half-naked youths drenched in sweat also looked towards Orba in surprise.

That’s...

The Iron Tiger. The one who killed Ryucown...

They say that he’s now the crown prince’s right-hand man.

Since war might be upon them within the next few days, there were many in the populace who were leaving Birac, while at the same time, many others flocked over from all around. Most of them were youths aspiring to be mercenaries.

Gil had accepted these novices all but unconditionally, and Pashir had made no attempt to conceal his displeasure over it. A few days earlier, he had shown up near evening-time because of that matter.

“Your Highness, may I have a moment of your time?”

Pashir had originally been put in charge of the Imperial Guards’ infantry unit. Concurrent to that, he was also the captain of a platoon of elite soldiers chosen from his and the cavalry unit. He ran around, every bit as busy as Orba.

On top of that, he was originally a sword-slave. He had wielded his sword and taken his opponents’ lives simply to survive another day. Looking back on those hellish days, there had always, in a way, been one very simple rule of the wild.

The strong survived, the weak died.

They, who had once spent their days like beasts prowling in a field, were now swamped with work coming from holding positions powerful enough to influence the country.

Perhaps because they were reflecting exhaustion from work he was not used to, Pashir’s eyes looked unusually wild. Once he was inside alone with the prince, he said –

“Looking after the newbies is too much for me by myself. I would like to request that some of them be distributed as mercenaries to Commander Gowen, or to Generals Saian and Lorgo.”

Orba had declared that Pashir was to shoulder the entire responsibility for taking care of the mercenaries who had newly arrived in Birac, from training them to taking command of them.

“Gowen is in charge of the mercenary unit made up from the people of Birac and from the gladiators bought from the city’s gladiator companies. That gramps is an old man, so he’s busy.”

“Besides, it was careless of you to hire them all unconditionally,” at times like these, Pashir did not choose his words with care. “What if spies from Solon have slipped in among them? No, there are definitely going to be some among them.”

“And that’s why I’ve had them collected in one place without dividing them up,” Orba retorted. “It’s easier to watch them this way. Try openly calling out to every single one of them who looks suspicious. Ask about where they come from, deliberately beat them hard during training, let them believe that they’re distrusted. That will create an opening at the seams.”

“I’m no good for that part.”

“Me neither,” Orba laughed unintentionally. “That was Shique’s specialty.”

As soon as he had said that, the smile vanished from Orba’s face. He then said quickly,

“A prince who will need a great many followers from now on can’t afford to shut the gates tight at this point. Anyway, I’ll do something.”

It had been a few days since that conversation. Orba had put on his tiger-shaped mask and had shown up at the practice session that Pashir was personally supervising.

“Why are you here?” Pashir asked in a low voice.

“Didn’t the prince tell you he’ll do something?” Orba smoothly warded him off then stepped out in front of the young men.

“Is there anyone here who has confidence in their own skill? If you’re serviceable, His Highness will appoint you to his Imperial Guards,” he said loudly.

In terms of the fame and money to be earned, there was naturally a world of difference between being a mere mercenary and being an Imperial Guard under the crown prince’s direct supervision. The hot-blooded youths suddenly became excited.

With a wooden sword in his hand, Orba continued provocatively,

“You can use steel weapons. Doesn’t look like you could hit me.”

Paying no attention to Pashir’s scowling face, he confronted one of them with his eyes.

It was a tall man. Perhaps he had inherited the northern blood of the people of Varseal as he was fair-skinned and had soft blond hair, which was currently damp with sweat.

Leaving him to wield his steel sword, Orba focused on maintaining an even distance as they circled around.

“Go, go!”

“Beat the hero into a fit!”

The man thrust and jabbed, urged on by the cheers from his comrades. His height made him impressive. However, because of that, he swung wide. On his third attack, Orba suddenly bent to avoid it and thrust the tip of his wooden sword at the man’s neck. The man’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious.

“Next.”

When Orba said that, his breath completely undisturbed, a long line formed in front of him.

The second and third people met with much the same fate as the first one.

The fourth man drew as close as Orba’s chest. His footwork had an element of unpredictability. Orba returned his attack with a short stroke, which he caught with his sword before quickly closing the distance between them. Simply by twisting the lower half of his body, and without seeming to put any strength into it, Orba destroyed his opponent’s posture and swept a blow at his feet.

“Not too bad.”

Orba surveyed his wooden sword. There was a crack running from its centre. He tossed it aside and had Pashir’s men bring him a replacement.

There followed the fifth, sixth, and seventh men.

Not surprisingly, his breath had become ragged by that time and sweat had started to glisten all along his back on which the slave mark had been branded.

He had a little trouble with the eighth person.

When the ninth was about to step in front of Orba,

“That’s enough.” Pashir clapped his hands once.

Orba had his heart set on getting up to ten people. He looked over his shoulder,

“Don’t interfere however you like.”

“If you want to continue, your next opponents can’t use real weapons. Otherwise, I won’t allow this to go any further.”

“Who are you talking to, cur?”

“Orba, even if you talk to me the same way that His Highness the prince would, the head of the Imperial Guards’ infantry is still me. You’re the one who isn’t to interfere anyway you like in my policies.”

Orba stayed silent, looking as though he had come to a sudden realization.

After that, Pashir left the training to another of the men and brought Orba to the back of the training grounds. With each step, the heat that had been controlling his body seem to dissipate. Once his sweat had completely ebbed away, it was suddenly hard for him to believe that only a few minutes earlier, steel had been raining down on him.

Tch

When he had decided to go as Orba, the Imperial Guard in the iron mask, to personally train the new recruits, it had seemed like a perfectly good idea. But at the time, he had not been planning to let his opponents use real weapons. That had been a spur-of-the-moment idea.

It had been terrifyingly sudden. His own emotions had been thrown into chaos. Nor could he think of any reason for it. And therefore, it had been all the more terrifying and exasperating.

Because he was thinking of that, as soon as it was just the two of them, Orba said, like a sulky younger brother,

“You have any complaints?”

“I’ve got something to tell you, since you’re close to His Highness.”

“What?”

“I’ll be sending bodyguards for His Highness from now on. I’m thinking there’ll always be two people by his side, day or night.”

“Who told you to do that?”

“I thought of it myself. The Prince’s person isn’t his alone,” he said with insistence.

Thinking about it, it was probably Pashir who appointed guards to the residence. Orba felt it was surprising. Even though he had never disobeyed orders before now, it was rare for Pashir to act on his own accord.

Pashir still had more to say.

“Which is why it’s a problem when you act recklessly. The crown prince is bound to have many things to think of and regret. Even so, absolutely nothing will come of it by getting injured here. The victims of that last battle will have fallen for nothing. I’m asking you to stop this time.”

“...”

Through the two slits that were the tiger’s eyes in his iron mask, Orba silently gazed at Pashir’s visibly sunburned face.

This guy – At that moment, words were entangled in complicated patterns within Orba’s mind. His earlier ‘terrifying’ feelings oddly agreed with Pashir’s words.

“That,” just as he started to speak,

“Finally found you!”

This time, it was Gilliam who came into sight. As he was the owner of a body even more muscular than Pashir’s, it felt as though a hot blast of wind had swept by the two of them.

“So you’re here, no.... so you abideth here, no that’s wrong... so this is where you were?”

“What is it?”

Even though he was thinking that the situation was dangerous, Orba could not help smiling wryly. Gilliam had not yet gotten used to the bother of having to change his behaviour and speech according to the situation.

Gilliam grinned in return.

You won’t be able to smile for much longer – he seemed to be saying.

Seeing that, Orba’s expression grew tense. Has the capital made its move?

But Gilliam had come with a different piece of news. In a way, it was a threat that was outside of Orba’s predictions.

Princess Vileena had shown up in Birac.

Part 3

It was about seven days after the battle at Tolinea that Princess Vileena left the town of Apta at the northwest tip of Mephius.

The report of the victory had, of course, already arrived. What with their relief at having it end without their houses and fields being damaged, and the fact that Gil Mephius had overturned an unfavourable situation to achieve victory, the people were extolling him as the God of War incarnate.

“He is invincible.”

“The day he ascends as emperor, both the land and the people of Mephius will be secure.”

Similar things were being whispered all around and there were even incidents in which the overly-hasty had decorated shop fronts with hanging banners that proclaimed, 'Long live Gil Mephius, emperor of Mephius'. The town guards were, of course, unable to just let that one pass and took them down.

First among all the towns and cities in Mephius, Apta had begun to trade with the west. Western merchants were conspicuous among those coming and going along its streets. Up until recently, that would have been unthinkable. The friendship with Taúlia meant in turn that the days passed peacefully in Apta, so it was not surprising that the people were in a festive mood.

Whenever Garbera's Princess Vileena passed someone in Apta Castle, they would address their congratulations to her. While the princess accepted these with a smile – she would think to herself that it might be best not to go out for a while.

Her departure for Birac was also being put off.

The Princess had, of course, deeply rejoiced at the tidings of victory. In this fight, there had been nothing but causes for fear, and after Gil had left for the front, she had remained alone in her room, without eating, without speaking even with those closest to her, silently, earnestly, hoping for the prince's victory.

Even sleep had eluded her. The next morning, in the moment in which she heard the messenger report that "after capturing Folker and the enemy generals under his command, His Imperial Highness entered Birac," she felt that her shoulders and back, which at some point had grown stiff from the tension, relaxed all at once as she gave a long sigh of relief.

The Princess was seized with the desire to jump into an airship and see for herself in Birac whether the prince and those she knew were safe. However, she deliberately quelled that feeling.

Now every day in Apta was a day of revelry, but she had heard that when the troops led by Folker had been approaching to within a stone's throw away, opinion in the town had been split down the middle. One view had held that when the time came, they should take up arms themselves and fight in support of the prince, while the other advised that if it came to the point where the fields risked being trampled and the houses burned, then they should surrender.

Surely that was also the case right now in Birac. Therefore, for the time being, she would wait until the situation over there had calmed down.

With that said, it should have been three or four days at most.

Unlike the people of Apta, the princess understood that circumstances were pressing. Perhaps even tomorrow, the great gates of Solon might be thrown open and a host of fully-armed soldiers and warhorses might march onto Birac, their weapons and armour bathed in the sunlight.

She had also thought that a summons would come from the prince by horse or by airship once things had stabilised somewhat.

I was overly-optimistic – she realised.

Three days passed... five days passed... and there was still no news from the prince.

"He'll be fully engrossed in things again," Vileena shrugged her slender shoulders. And thereupon added, "He is ever thus. Once he begins something, his surroundings are no longer reflected in his eyes. To say nothing of the likes of a foreign princess, who will long since have vanished from his mind. Ahaha," she tilted her small chin downwards and laughed.

Layla, who had still only just started to be an attendant, had a bewildered expression, but Teresia, who had known her for a long time, simply lowered her eyes to show her agreement with her mistress.

Quickly growing tired of laughing, Vileena fixed her gaze on Teresia and said –

"Make arrangements for our departure."

Her face was as stern as that of a general ordering his men to prepare to march. Nor did Teresia make any objection.

She went to find General Rogue Saian, who had temporarily returned to Apta to see to the transfer of troops towards Birac, and had requested to ride on an air carrier that was transporting supplies.

"I am sorry to inconvenience you."

"In what way," Rogue laughed open-heartedly then offered advice with a serious expression. "The area east of here might well turn into a battlefield at any time. Please bear that in mind."

At heart, Rogue was an old-fashioned warrior. His feelings were strongly opposed to the thought of a woman proceeding nonchalantly to a place that might at any moment turn into the front line of a fierce battle.

It had to be said however that with regards to his future emperor, he also believed that – His Highness Gil is a lonely person.

He could not say how it was, but even when he was surrounded by crowds of subordinates and companions, there seemed to be a cloud hanging above Gil Mephius' head alone which was quick to cast the shadow of loneliness over him.

He had that in common with Emperor Guhl Mephius, whom Rogue had watched over since his youth. And that vision of the past was tied to bitter memories.

And so, Rogue thought that more than ever, right now – His Highness needs a bright ray of sunshine.

Having finished their preparations quickly, Vileena's party boarded the air carrier.

"Layla, will this be your first time in Birac?"

"Y-Yes."

Layla's complexion as she gazed out from the window of the air carrier was not good. She had been in that state since the morning.

"If you are in poor health, please stay in Apta," Vileena had urged her, but Layla herself had wanted to accompany her.

At that time, the princess from Garbera could not, of course, have understood the dark fears that Layla held in her heart.

The lord of Birac was Fedom Aulin.

His connection to Layla ran deep. Rather than a connection, it was more like a fate. After all, the two of them had been present at the scene when the crown prince was killed. Immediately afterwards, her father had hurriedly taken his family away from Solon, probably because he feared that Fedom would send assassins to seal their mouths.

She could not let him see her face. She could not be separated from the princess now.

No, in this case, rather than the princess, it would have been better to say that she did not want to be separated from Crown Prince Gil.

Just as indicated by "the scene when the crown prince was killed", Layla had witnessed Gil Mephius losing his life with her own eyes. Her own father had fired a gun at him at point-blank range. Gil's back had been convulsing and then, before long, he had stopped moving as he lay in a puddle of blood. Layla remembered the scene clearly.

And yet, Gil - He's revived from the land of the dead.

When she saw Gil addressing the crowd from the castle in Apta, she had felt her entire body tremble. She felt as though that man were a demon, who had revived from the land of the dead to once again call down a horrifying calamity on her and her loved ones.

And therefore, Layla could not take her eyes off of Gil.

During the entire journey, as she stared down with unseeing eyes at the rippling mountains that flowed by beneath and at the cliffs where herds of deer lived, Layla's face was pale.

Normally at times like these, there was someone who gave him a piece or two of advice beforehand.

But that person was not there anymore.

So when he received the information that the princess was visiting from Apta, Orba deplored his own behaviour. My head wasn't working. He should have sent some kind of communication when he had entered Birac.

Even though he himself had asked her, lend me your strength when he had been reunited with the princess, he had once again neglected his fiancée.

He needed to go back to his room at once, take off the iron mask and put on the 'mask' and clothes of the crown prince.

Leaving Pashir, Orba turned towards Birac Castle. But –

"What's wrong?" Gilliam, who was walking right behind him, asked as Orba stopped walking.

That's right, there was that. Speaking of advice, Orba had already received some. He had been told over and over again that he should go and see the princess, not as the crown prince but as the Imperial Guard Orba.

And so, in the end, he went to the port with Gilliam as he was, without changing his clothes.

Of the fleet of ships that had arrived from Apta, only one of them had touched down in the exclusive landing area used by aristocrats on a hill close to the castle.

A girl disembarked from the ship, her shining hair blown around in the wind. For a moment, she opened her eyes wide at the unexpected reception.

“Orba. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes.”

Orba bowed but did not say any further words. Thank you for having taken the trouble to come all the way from Apta – He had been intending to say something like that, but he wondered if it did not sound sarcastic coming from him, and so, because of that groundless concern, he remained silent.

Vileena was not bothered by it and thanked him for saving her life in the western village, then introduced Layla whose family Orba had similarly helped out.

“Is His Highness working you hard again?”

“Yes. ...No, why?”

“Because he seems to keep you busy.”

The Princess’ words were the ones that sounded sarcastic, but her eyes suddenly turned towards the giant standing next to Orba. He was standing respectfully to attention in a posture he was not used to. Vileena gazed at him with a somewhat thoughtful look.

“Ah, Gilliam,” she said in a murmur. “I remember. You are called Gilliam.”

“Y-Yes,” Gilliam ducked his head in a sort of bow. “I’m, I’m surprised that you remembered the name of, someone like me.”

“How could I forget?” Vileena smiled with nostalgia. Truthfully, when she had heard the name while in the west, she had not remembered it, but that was unimportant right now.

Looking at the two soldiers, one in an iron mask, the other a giant, in turns, she said, “Seeing you like this has reminded me of Zaim Fortress. You rushed to help me just as I was about to be killed by General Ryucown. Orba, Gilliam, and Shique. For me, seeing the three of you working, as then, for His Highness is...”

Haven spoken that far, Vileena’s eyes flickered between Orba and Gilliam. “Where is Shique at the moment? Is he with His Highness?”

That casual question instantly caused Orba to feel the same shock as he would if he had been strongly struck on the chest. After a long pause –

“He was killed in battle.”

“What did you say?”

“Shique fought to the utmost for His Highness and lost his life.”

“Oh my,” Teresia’s voice unintentionally slipped out.

Vileena was at a loss for words. Her lips parted open, then shut.

It was only that she was blinking repeatedly. Then –

“His Highness?” The Princess’ expression was like one who had suddenly snapped out of a dream. “Where is His Highness at the moment?”

“That’s, um... I-I’ll go get him right away.”

As proof of how shaken he was, Orba referred to ‘go getting’ his master the prince. He could not understand how things had gone from Shique to suddenly talking of wanting to see the prince.

The conclusion was that the princess would call on him in his apartments in a few minutes’ time. Orba, of course, had to race back to his room. He removed his mask and, with help from his page, Dinn, he changed clothes in a mad rush.

No sooner had he done so then there was a knock. The door opened and the princess appeared.

Her expression was grim. Orba felt a chill.

“Thank you for coming. Although I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to go and meet you, Princess, as I was somewhat busy.”

“No need,” the princess said little as she shook her head.

Dinn bowed and withdrew, leaving just the two of them. The silence that followed weighed oppressively on Orba, who had expected to be on the receiving end of a rapid succession of complaints being hurled at him.

Twiddling the hilt of the sword that hung at his waist, he said, “I’ll answer before being asked,” with that preface, he then explained about his discussion with Fedom about what to do from then on. “What we need after this is to ‘wait’. To see what move Father will make and how the generals throughout Mephius will react. We need time to determine the course of events.”

They had successfully made ‘time’ move, when it should have been stuck fast. Afterwards, Orba continued, they needed to confirm how far the ripples caused would spread and what kind of effects they would have.

As Fedom had pointed out, the emperor would not want Mephius’ centre for foreign trade to be occupied indefinitely, but if he acted forcibly this time again, he might be attacked from behind. The Emperor would first think to tighten his grasp on internal affairs. The consequences of that were something that Orba honestly did not want to think about. Although they were going to ‘wait’, there was a good chance that ‘waiting too long’ would put them at a disadvantage.

How Orba and the emperor would gauge distance and time would determine who would win and who would lose.

“You might have to spend some time chaffing from impatience. The gallant princess will probably want to kick me in the seat of the pants, but even so...”

“I heard about Shique,” the princess let drop a few words. Looking at it, her stern expression had collapsed and her eyes were filled with sorrow. More than the words themselves, that was what startled Orba and for a moment, he turned away.

“I see,” he said after some time had passed.

The small hand with which Vileena was unconsciously gripping her skirt trembled. “Your Highness and Shique were always to be seen together. It must be so painful... Forgive me, I do not know what I should say to you at a time like this.”

“Many soldiers died in that battle,” Orba went towards the window. “It wasn’t just Shique. We lost many young men who had futures before them.”

The Princess hesitantly approached him. With every step, the distance her feet covered grew greater.

For some reason, Orba felt an emotion that he could not put into words from that gesture. It was natural to extend his hand to her.

Ah – for a second, Vileena was surprised, then she placed her own hand on the one that was bridging the distance between the two of them. Orba lightly drew her to him and they stood looking out of the window together.

“...I have to build a future that will live up to those sacrifices.”

“I would like to help you. If my poor abilities can.”

Orba nodded almost imperceptibly.

At that same time, Dinn, who had finished laying things out for tea, stood paralyzed in front of the door then turned on his heels and left.