Tales of Leo Attiel ~Portrait of the Headless Prince~

Volume 4, 4: Endings and Beginnings

Volume 4, Chapter 4: Endings and Beginnings

Part 1

Most of Darren's army was made up of hired mercenaries. Although that single word, 'mercenaries', actually covered a wide range of situations and realities, in this particular case, there was a very simple connection: when the money ended, so did the relationship. They had lost the guarantee of being paid when their employer, Darren Actica, had fallen, and now all that remained was to save their own life by escaping.

Olt Rose, Darren's castle, was emptied in the blink of an eye. Savan sent out more soldiers who met up with Kuon's unit, and together, they occupied the castle while clearing up any groups of enemy soldiers who showed any signs of still wanting to resist. Soon after, and once he had paid and dismissed the youths hired from the villages, Leo Attiel entered Olt Rose with Camus and the other warrior monks.

‘’Is that Lord Leo?’’

The people of the castle town peered up at him with fear or curiosity as he rode by.

‘’What the... he still looks like a child.’’

‘’So he's the one who defeated Lord Darren?’’

There were, of course, no cheers or acclamations, but since the town around the castle had fortunately suffered no damage, it didn't look like its populace felt any deep-seated hatred for Leo. This was due to another of Leo's instructions to Kuon and Savan: he had strictly forbidden the victorious troops from breaking into town houses after the castle had fallen and seizing women and goods, or from randomly capturing and imprisoning anyone they didn't like the look of in the name of 'hunting for survivors'.

Having said that, Darren Actica had not been particularly cruel towards his people – the story behind the massacre on the day of the festival was not yet known – and so, naturally, there were many who lamented and grieved over his death. It was obvious, however, that they would prioritise their own safety and that of their family, so there was practically no one who openly displayed hostility towards the prince's soldiers.

Riding alongside Leo as they paraded down the streets, Camus felt shivers across the back of his neck for some reason. He had experienced victory before. When he was in Conscon, there had been more times than he could count when he had used the spearmanship of which he was so proud to send bands of ruffians packing. There had also been a number of victories since he started following Leo, including the one against Hayden. But the 'taste' of this victory felt different from the others. Or perhaps the fights that he had experienced up until then had finally allowed him to distinguish the 'taste' of battles?

Camus could not conceal his excitement.

‘’At one point, I really thought it might be impossible. We were forced to withdraw from Olt Rose, this very same castle, and seemed about to be invaded by Darren in return. The prince was in despair as well. I thought the fires of war were going to snatch away things I care for again.’’

‘’But so what? We won. We drove back that pack of fiends, and the prince can stride into this city that was once a den of evil with a crucifix hanging across his chest.’’

Thinking about it, Leo's actions had set everything in motion. For better or for worse, there was nothing half-hearted about how he carried out what he did – nor did he simply think about taking action, like others would – and he forced the situation to move even if it meant kicking through it and crushing it.

This was the decisive difference between Leo and Bishop Rogress, or Abbott Tom who had taken care of Camus in the past. Although he loved and revered both of them even now, there was no denying that they fell short of his idea of what holy men should be. In that sense, Lord Leo could be seen as a certain embodiment of Camus' ideals. There was no end to his exaltation.

‘’Even now, His Highness isn't particularly ardent about the faith, but if I stay by his side and take the time to reach his mind and instil the teachings in him, then, one day, His Highness Lord Leo will certainly become an envoy in God's employ in this world.’’

‘’Oh,’’ that's ‘’it.’’

That ‘’was God's plan in bringing the prince and me together. Both Abbot Tom and Bishop Rogress disappeared as I travelled along my path. But it's different this time. This time, it's the other way around, and I'm part of the path that Lord Leo is travelling. If an arrow comes flying from his destination, I will serve as his shield; if the road becomes impassable, my body will serve as a bridge; if there is no more light along the way, I will take the lead and venture into the darkness... that is the mission that I've received from God.’’

Camus was so delighted with the idea that he rode along in ecstasy. This must be what it meant to feel as if his body and mind were dissolving. This was what laymen experienced when they slept with a fine woman or drank good wine. Those were states that had little connection to Camus but, for the first time, he felt like he could understand them. The pleasure was causing him to lose his balance, and, at one point, he was in danger of falling off his horse.

While the young warrior monk's heart was writhing with new sensations, Leo Attiel's expression never brightened. When he had been travelling along the way to Olt Rose, he had met with a messenger sent by Savan. According to his report, there had been a little under three hundred casualties at the marketplace. Fortunately, the church was unharmed, and Savan's messenger had also been carrying a letter from Bishop Bosc. It explained that most of those who had perished had – except for those whose families had claimed their remains – been buried in the churchyard. The messenger had also said that Savan was doing everything he could to compensate the merchants for their lost goods.

Still, damage had been kept to a minimum thanks to Kuon having rushed over. That was a profound relief for Leo, and he felt like he wanted to hug Kuon the moment he met him again. His feeling of happiness that there had not been more lives lost in vain was even greater than his sense of accomplishment at having won.

However... taken another way, it meant that if Kuon had arrived late, or if he had been unable to bring back reinforcements in the first place, then the marketplace would have fallen, and there would now be far more than three hundred corpses, none of them with graves.

Kuon had not brought reinforcements on Leo's orders. Which was why Leo, seeing no hope for victory, had for a time been ready to accept defeat. It was that realisation that clouded the prince's expression. The drawbridge at Olt Rose had just been lowered, and Leo raised his downcast eyes, gazing up at the castle as though he was glaring at it.

Leo's actions after entering Olt Rose Castle would be known for generations to come.

First, as soon as he got in and saw Kuon again, his expression brightened all at once, he rushed over to him and, just as he pictured earlier, hugged him with all his strength.

Kuon was utterly at a loss and Camus, who was watching from nearby, smiled at the sight. Still, his expression changed when he heard the story of how Kuon had brought his reinforcements. He had not previously known that Sarah had also gone along. Before he could berate his sister, however, Leo clasped her hand with words of gratitude.

Leo also gave endless thanks and compliments to the warriors from the mountain tribe when Kuon introduced him to them.

“He's completely different from what I'd imagined,” the mountain warrior Aqua whispered to Kuon, looking as confused as he did, after receiving the prince's effusive greetings and thanks.

The mountain warriors were worried about leaving their home for too long, and Leo looked disappointed upon hearing that more than half of them had already left.

“I wanted to meet all of them. Those of you who are left, please do me the honour of staying in Atall for as long as you can. I will make sure that we can talk at length,” he said, and it was a long time before he let go of the warriors' hands.

Afterwards, when Leo caught a glimpse of what was at Kuon's waist, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my, that girl is quite a philanderer.”

“Huh?”

“It looks like you're the hero now.”

A small ragdoll was dangling from Kuon's belt. Her craftsmanship must have improved in that short amount of time, as it seemed better made than the one Leo had received.

In the end, Kuon remained bewildered from start to finish.

The problem was what came afterwards.

The actions Leo took next seemed like those of a different person from the one who was happily frisking about upon seeing his friends again.

Most of Darren's servants and retainers were confined within the castle. Among them was Darren's second son, Dingo Actica, who had been given a private room on the instructions of the castle doctor, on the grounds that he was seriously wounded. Yet Leo had Dingo dragged from that room.

This was a person whose bones were broken in more than ten different places, who had fragments of cannon shell embedded in his flesh, and whose skin was covered in burns.

“This is outrageously cruel!” cried the doctor and those who served the House of Actica as they tried to stop what was happening, but Leo had his soldiers mercilessly push them back. Those who still tried to resist found themselves threatened by gleaming swords.

Leo used Dingo Actica as a hostage.

If Dingo lived long enough, he could ensure the direct continuation of the Actica House. The long-serving steward of the Actica family, as well as a village head with a family connection to Darren and the younger brother of Darren's father – a man who lived in retirement in the castle town – all begged Leo for mercy in tears. He took all three of them with him to Tiwana.

By that time, the sovereign-prince had already heard Stark's report. In the face of a direct appeal from Stark, even the sovereign-prince had roused himself, and was in the middle of assembling troops to block Darren's invasion when a courier riding a swift horse arrived from Leo.

‘’What is it now?’’ The sovereign-prince looked sour. When it came to Leo, his second son, he felt as though he was caught in a whirlwind of bad premonitions whenever he simply heard his name.

And sure enough, the information that had been brought to the court sent everyone simultaneously into an uproar. Not only had he prevented Darren's invasion of Guinbar, but during the fight, Darren himself had been struck down by an 'unfortunate' stray arrow and had passed away.

‘’That boy, he's done it again...’’ thought Magrid, but since he had heard from Stark – on whom Magrid's own father had once relied – about Darren's deceit, he could not condemn Leo outright.

Moreover, Leo brought the three men who were so deeply connected to the Actica family to explain the circumstances in the presence of their ruler. Since Dingo was being held hostage, they had no choice but to do what Leo wanted, and tell everything. They revealed the truth about the plot Darren had put in motion because he coveted Savan's stone quarry, about the attempted assassination against Lord Leo when he visited the resort area, and also about how Darren had killed his own people to give himself justification to attack Savan's territory.

There was also the added support of Stark and Bernard's testimonies, so neither the sovereign-prince nor those of the vassal-lords who disliked Leo's way of doing things had any choice but to acknowledge both Darren's villainy, and that Leo had acted with justice on his side to protect Guinbar.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Stark strongly encouraged Magrid to publicly acknowledge Leo's accomplishments.

Back when Magrid had asked him to take Leo under his wing, Stark had taken the detached attitude of one who had all but retired from the world. Yet now, he threw himself into protecting and covering the prince: exhausting his words in persuading the sovereign-prince; and sending out letters to the vassal-lords and retainers who were still in shock over Darren's defeat. Stark himself found it almost amusing: ‘’To think I still had this much energy and stamina left inside me...’’

The sovereign-prince dispatched people to reorganise things in the Dharam region and, after investigation, he decided to entrust the territory to a long-serving family of retainers who were currently without lands of their own.

Darren had planned to turn his blades against the princely house, and it was Leo who had successfully suppressed him, so that territory should have been given to him had he asked for it, but Leo himself had never had any intention of requesting that as a reward. After all, there was still something he needed to do before becoming the lord of his own castle.

Part 2

The large living room on the ground floor of Guinbar Castle was one that Leo and the others were very familiar with. They were in the middle of dinner. Leo and Florrie were arranged at the head of the table, while Camus, Sarah and Percy sat facing each other along it.

It was over a month since the fall of Olt Rose.

Sarah was the only one providing a topic at that dinner table, which came from the fact that Percy was curious about how they had brought the warriors from the mountains.

Leo and Camus had both more or less heard about it from Kuon, but he since he was a poor speaker, about all they had gotten out of him was: “I went back to my native village, and got help after beating the strongest guy there in a duel.”

After the battle, Lord Leo had no time to rest. He had taken part in the induction ceremony for the new lord of Olt Rose, then he had gone to Tiwana for the triennial ceremony commemorating the founding of the country, after which, since Bernard had finally caved in to his wife and was going to build a church of the Cross Faith in his territory, he had sat in on the discussions for that with Bishop Bosc. When it looked like he could finally take it easy for a few days, he summoned his group of familiar faces to Guinbar.

Incidentally, Kuon was running late, which was why Sarah was holding the floor unchallenged at the dinner party.

Kuon's way of telling it was far too simple, but Sarah tended to exaggerate too much so as to make the story more dramatic. As the light from the chandelier made the tableware and wine cups glow golden, she spun her tale to the accompaniment of sweeping gestures, sometimes leaning so far back that it looked like she was about to stand up on her chair. She told of how she had laid a trap for the savage nomads, using nothing but her own wits, or of how she had fought against the ferocious, man-eating armoured spider which had come scuttling out of a corner of the wilderness.

In response, her older brother interposed comments each and every time along the lines of: “How reckless,” or “You could have died ten, no, a hundred times over while crossing the Kesmai Plains. I hope you haven't neglected to offer prayers of thanks.”

Percy could understand his feelings. “Reckless” didn't even begin to express how stupid it had been for two people alone – and a boy and girl of marriageable age, at that – to attempt to cross the Kesmai Plains. Even though his little sister was safe and right in front of him, hearing about the two's adventure was probably enough to make Camus' blood run cold.

Finally, the story reached the point where Kuon was about to fight a duel with Raga, the strongest warrior of the tribe. At some point, Lord Leo, Florrie, Percy, and even Camus, who had been constantly grumbling complaints up until then, had all stopped eating, and the hands holding their cutlery had gone still.

Naturally, Sarah noticed the change in her audience. To draw out the moment, she held out her empty drinking cup to the serving girl, and asked for water, which she then deliberately took her time sipping it.

“A-And then?” asked Florrie, unable to endure the 'pause' that Sarah had set up. “What happened then? Sir Kuon is surely very strong, but his opponent was the strongest in the entire tribe, wasn't he?”

“Very much so,” Sarah drew her brows together as she nodded, “he was a man as big as a bear, with biceps so huge that several men could swing from them and his arms wouldn't even budge. They say that when he laughs, children are blown away from the wind pressure.”

“Oh my,” Florrie put a hand in front of her open mouth.

“And that's not all, my lady. In that tribe, the custom is that those who fight Raga have to have their dominant hand immobilised. Just before the duel, an elderly priestess, whose back was so bent it looked like her chin might touch the ground, stepped forward. That old woman touched Kuon's right arm with one bony finger, and chanted some strange spell then, from her fingertip, something like a black snake appeared, and coiled itself twice, then three times around his arm. Before I knew it, his right arm was fixed against his body without being able to move even the tiniest bit, and Kuon had to pick up his sword with his left hand, which he isn't used to using.”

“Oh my,” Florrie exclaimed again. Her knife and fork were lying discarded on the dining table.

The audience was starting to become restless. Sarah drained the rest of her water, then set the cup down upon the table with a firm clink. Just as she drawing her breath to begin describing the entire fight scene in single go...

“Sorry for being late, Prince.”

Kuon turned up from the other side of the door.

“Oh,” Leo personally stood up in welcome. Kuon wasn't alone, and had four other people following behind him.

Kuon pointed them out to Leo.

“I've brought three representatives from the tribe, and one representative from those who serve H?les Halia,” he introduced them.

Leo shook hands with each of them in turn.

“Oh, so these are...” Camus and Percy also got up and stepped forward to meet them.

What the... Sarah, meanwhile, was annoyed. She had taken great pains to 'prepare' and then, just when that was about to show its effect, the person being talked about had come and thrown cold water all over it. Now she would have to set the mood all over again... while she was thinking that, her eyes came to rest on one of the people who had appeared from behind Kuon.

Feeling like she recognised them, she peered hard at the person, and saw that it was one of the warriors from the mountain tribe: Aqua.

The reason why Sarah had been slow to realise this was because Aqua's appearance was completely different from what it had been in the mountains. Instead of a simple tunic that was no more than a piece of cloth with a hole for the head, 'she' now wore a sleeveless leather vest and trousers fastened with a belt, and looked like an Atallese lady with a taste for riding horses in the park around her mansion. Aqua's build had always been slim and, combined with 'her' slender, dignified face, 'she' projected an atmosphere like that of a 'cross-dressing beauty' from a story. 'She' looked unexpectedly sophisticated, and also unexpectedly seductive.

Sarah had heard that the mountain tribesmen had already left, but it looked like Aqua had yet to return to the 'great mountains'. They had received a promise that “If you help us, then we will send you whatever rewards your hearts desire.” Sarah had not had any authority to speak on Leo's behalf, but he, of course, did not go back on that promise, and he had given them cartloads of gifts. Rather than jewellery made of gold and silver, the tribesmen had shown far more interest in Atallese-made weapons and horse-riding equipment. Sarah had also learned that on top of that, Leo had provided a horse to each and every one of them.

Had they come to see the prince today to give him their farewells? Not that it mattered. Sarah was frantically trying to rebuild the story in her head. Where should she start from when she began telling it again? Since Kuon was actually here now, he might interrupt her and take the tale in weird directions, so...

While puzzling over that conundrum, Sarah didn't hear what Leo and the others were talking about, so she was startled when she realised that the conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

First of all, it seemed that twenty of the reinforcements sent by the tribal leader H?les Halia as a proof of his gratitude and friendship towards Kuon would not be returning to their nomadic life. Instead, they, Zan Chiredeau included, would be joining the Personal Guards. Naturally, this was H?les' wish, and not something they had just decided on their own. He probably judged that it would be no bad thing to establish a friendly relationship with Atall's Lord Leo. It would make it easier to trade with the urban areas.

Meanwhile, and although from Atall's point of view they only did a negligible amount of trade with the nomads, there was nothing to lose in being able to pursue it without having to worry about the threat of mountain bandits or of other savage tribes. Moreover, it could be useful in a variety of situations to have an allied power beyond the national border.

And then, there was Aqua. That tribal warrior would also be joining the Personal Guards instead of returning to the great mountains.

“I received some words from Mistress Mist, the head priestess ,when we sent a messenger to Chief Suo.”

So the tribe had given its permission.

“Really, it's reassuring to know that we'll have another warrior from the same tribe as Kuon,” Leo said, accepting the news in a friendly, easygoing manner.

The one who objected was Sarah. Without a second thought, she threw away the continuance of her tale which she had taken such pains to mentally construct.

“H-Hold on a second. No, I mean, please wait a moment, Your Highness.” She raced over to where everyone was, pulling up the hem of her novice robes to do so. “Aqua is going to join the Personal Guards? Is that really alright, Prince?”

“Is there a problem?” Leo looked surprised. “Aqua showed tremendous skill in archery during Darren's invasion. Savan's soldiers were all full of praise. There's no better horseback archer in Guinbar, or even in the whole country.”

“But... but... Aqua is a 'woman'!” Sarah exclaimed loudly, facing someone who was slow to understand. “She's good with a bow? Then my marksmanship with a gun is just as good. And I fought on the battlefield just like Aqua.”

“What? I haven't heard about that! Honestly, do you think that you can just do anything when your brother can't see you? What is this? One who serves God should be ready to called to Him at any moment, but...”

“Shut up, Big Brother!”

Camus unintentionally fell silent at Sarah's sharp response. His little sister's show of force was unusually impressive. Sarah turned to towards the prince, her eyes and voice still filled with that same forcefulness.

“Then please add me to the Personal Guards, Prince. Up until now, being a woman, I would have refused to join, but if Aqua is joining, then it's a different story. I'm sure you know of my skill with a gun. I have full confidence that I can accomplish just as much in battle as Aqua can... no, that I can do better than any man!”

“Wait,” this time, it was Aqua who had intervened in a calm voice. 'He' drew the fire of Sarah's anger in place of the prince, who had been recoiling from it.

“What is it?”

“You've been repeating 'woman', 'woman' for a while now, but I'm not a woman. Certainly, I was one when I was born, but it's different now. By Tei Tahra's guidance, I've been reborn as a 'man'. But up until now, I didn't have any opportunity to fight, so I didn't know if my soul was worthy of being that of a warrior who will be called to Divine Tei Tahra's side after death. But here, I can fight. That's why I intend to polish my skill until I've become a fully-fledged warrior, before returning to the mountains where the spirits await. If the prince refuses on the grounds that he doesn't need a man like me, then that's one thing; but we don't need a woman like you interfering.”

“What are you talking about? It doesn't matter what you think, or what kind of oath you've taken. What matters is how the people around you see you.”

“”The people around me are...”

“Yes, yes – the men from the same tribe as you will accept the words of your god or of the priestesses, but we aren't in the 'great mountains' here. Tei Tahra's voice has absolutely nothing to do with the men of Atall. They'll just see you according to how you look.”

“What do you mean, 'see me according to how I look',” Aqua started to look angry, and took a step in Sarah's direction. “Are you saying that I'm not worthy of being a 'man' who serves Lord Leo? In that case, bring me a 'man' who is. I'll pierce every last inch of him with arrows and...”

“And what I'm saying is that proving your strength doesn't mean a thing. It's the same as for me. By 'see you accroding to how you look', I mean that as far as men are concerned, neither you nor I are either comrades or soldiers. If you're even a bit pretty and sexy, they get all confused and horny just from looking at you, they feel like they're on to something really good if you just call out to them, and they think that they just need to give a little bit more of a push for you to fall into bed with them, because they'll think that you're 'just a woman'. That's what I mean. And at that point, you're skill won't have anything to do with anything. Because simply because you've got breasts and no 'arrow' between your legs, men will always look at you with ravenous eyes.”

“S-Sarah, that's enough. Even if it's still only probationary, you're a servant of God and you can't...” Camus, whose face had been getting redder and redder, finally cut in to stop her. However –

“In that case, I'll just cut off these breasts. I don't need milk to give to a child, anyway. You should do the same.”

Aqua was becoming overwrought and looked like 'he' was about to take out the hatchet hanging at 'his' waist.

“Right, I'll do just that!” Sarah cried, and lunged at the sword that Kuon was wearing.

Camus, Percy and Kuon hurriedly stopped them.

“Do not touch a nun's body, you scoundrels!” Sarah could be heard shouting shrilly.

“You only act like a 'woman' when it's convenient!” Camus' angry voice joined in.

The men found themselves being hit and beaten back by the 'women', and Florrie was too flustered to know what to do. What was supposed to be a peaceful evening meal had all of a sudden turned as noisy as a brawl.

But, well, that kind of scene occurring was, in a way, proof that things had grown peaceful around Lord Leo.

Although Sarah and Aqua were eventually pacified and soothed one way or another and taken out of the room, there was one person whose mood did not lift.

Percy Leegan.

He had listened to Sarah's story with great interest, but no matter how much he looked like he was enjoying the dinner party, his heart had not been at ease.

Percy had not been able to take any part in bringing an end to Darren. To be more accurate, he 'hadn't been allowed to do anything'.

Originally, it had been the same for Kuon, who had brought five hundred soldiers in reinforcements, and for Camus, who had taken the unit of warrior monks and gone rushing to Leo's side. Neither had received those orders from the prince, and both had acted entirely on their own. Camus had even gone against Leo's orders “not to move the soldiers”. Although the pair's actions had proven effective in the war against Darren, that was only something that was clear with hindsight. Leaving their actions unsanctioned would disrupt the chain of command, and there was a risk that in the future, Leo's orders – or even his very existence – might be taken lightly.

Therefore, Leo Attiel should have publicly reprimanded both of them and handed down suitable punishments. Yet neither of them had received the slightest criticism. On the contrary, the prince openly praised them. And so the one who had remained in sole charge of the Personal Guards at the temple – in other words, Percy, the only one who had faithfully abided by Leo's orders – seemed to have drawn the short end of the stick.

This trend can't be allowed to continue. It will affect our movements in the future. Should I advise the prince of that? He wondered. However: No, if it comes from me, he might take it as me being jealous of Camus and Kuon. His face flushed red with shame.

He felt he was being childish.

Should he say something now?

No, for the first time in a long time, Leo was enjoying a dinner with his fiancée and the friends he could open up to in a relaxed atmosphere.

“Things are going to get tough for Kuon from now on, aren't they?”

Leo was implying that Kuon would be bearing the brunt of any fighting between Sarah and Aqua, and turned to Percy with a smile, looking for his agreement.

“It's just as you say,” Percy laughed without thinking, and, Kuon, who didn't understand what they were hinting at, was left feeling bewildered.

Maybe it's fine for now. Later, after a bit more time has passed...

In the end, he didn't have the courage to say anything, and kept it to himself.

There was one other reason for his despondency. And that was Lord Gimlé Gloucester.

When he had been at the temple, Percy had written a letter to Gimlé, the father of his fiancée, asking him to help the prince. And when his appeal had been ignored, Percy had been furious. It was probably because he himself was the only one who had been no use to Leo, but his anger was lasting for longer than even Percy had expected.

After the events with Darren, Percy had dropped by his parents' house in Tiwana on one occasion. At the time, Lord Gimlé had also just arrived in the capital.

“I travelled with my daughter. It's been such a long time, why not come and see us at our house?” Percy received a pointed invitation.

Percy Leegan was the oldest within Leo's group, so he often had to run around mediating between the other youngsters, but in actual fact, he too was also very young.

He abandoned the prince and me, but the final outcome is that Darren was defeated and the prince survived, so now he feels the need to make it up to me – Percy felt repulsed and ended up turning down the offer, claiming to be in poor health.

Although it had felt good at the time to metaphorically flip Gimlé the bird, Percy regretted it later. He should have swallowed back his anger and his repulsion, and met Gimlé with a cool, calm expression.

And then, there was also Liana.

Perhaps Gimlé had revised his opinion of Leo, and was hoping to draw closer to him with the help of his daughter's fiancé. Basically, that might have been a chance to win over a steadfast ally from among the vassal-lords.

But Percy had shaken off Gimlé's outstretched hand. If, from here on, Gimlé took a harder stance against the Personal Guards, there wouldn't just be he question of what would happen to Percy's engagement with Liana, there was also the fact that the prince would have gained yet another difficult enemy.

Even though I went and gave the prince advice about Miss Florrie, this is how I ended up handling things...

In place of the somewhat bitter-tasting wine, Percy placed his forefinger in his mouth. He licked its the tip and traced his right, then his left eyebrow with it.

“Oh my, do you also know that charm, Sir Percy?”

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice suddenly spoke to him. When he turned toward it, it belonged to none other than that very same Miss Florrie Anglatt. From over her shoulder, he could see Leo, Camus and Kuon grouped together, talking.

Is it about that war that I don't know about? he wondered with a trace of self-mockery.

Florrie was probably bored of the talk about battles.

“You transfer the gloom in your heart from your mouth to the eyebrows, where the wind blows it dry... I learned that from my mother. Were you educated in the ways of Badyne, Sir Percy?”

“No, I...”

Percy had learned the 'good-luck charms' that he occasionally performed out of habit from a prostitute that he had once been intimate with, back when he was even younger than he was now. But obviously, that wasn't something he could say.

“I was just imitating a good friend of mine who does those things a lot. But I hadn't realised that you were a follower of Badyne, Miss Florrie. If I've offended you with my thoughtless imitation...”

“Oh no. My mother only taught me the good-luck charms for fun when I was a child. The Badyne faith has terribly strict teachings, doesn't it? Someone as weak-hearted as me isn't fit to be a believer,” she laughed bashfully.

After which, she pointed to the space next to Percy. “And over there, are things alright?” she asked. “Leo... or no, that lord prince, is constantly talking about war with his friends. It's a little tiring.”

“Is that so?” Florrie's eyes widened with apparent surprise, then: “Have you noticed?”

“N-Noticed what?”

Florrie brought her face close to his as though they were really having a secret conversation, and Percy unconsciously sat up straight. The smile on her face was brimming with playfulness.

“The two serving maids who help with the meals here in Guinbar – the girl with the braid is Lana, and the tall one is Anne, but anyway – every time they look at you, they go red and look embarrassed, but they also seem quite happy. I'm sure they both like you, Sir Percy.”

“Oh, really?”

“How cold of you! But of course, I suppose that you're used to it.”

“N-Not at all. It's just that I find it hard to believe. Miss Florrie, are you sure you aren't mistaken about those two?”

“Absolutely not,” Florrie looked a little sulky. “I've always been sharp when it comes to things like that. Even when I was a child, I could tell what the relationship was between people on the estate just from a single glance. Oh, for example, how my older brother Walter likes that woman he's always taking flowers to, or how Brett, the gardener in charge of pruning, always looks sullen, but he seems to spend time with Cathy, the lady's maid. When I told Leo about Brett and Cathy, he didn't believe me. But later on, they got married,” Florrie looked proud of herself.

As they continued to chat about nothing in particular, Percy noticed that the sharp pain in his heart had softened a little.

Did she perhaps realize? The thought dawned on him.

It was probably in Florrie Anglatt's personality that if someone was feeling isolated, she could not leave them to themselves. Although neither Leo nor Camus had noticed that Percy was feeling gloomy, she had approached him.

If it's this young lady, then surely... She must have likewise drawn closer to Lord Leo, when he had been experiencing the loneliness and anxiety of being left all by himself in Allion. Percy could well-imagine what the two young children had been like back then , and he smiled faintly.

Part 3

Although Oswell Taholin was a vassal-lord with a castle and lands in Atall, he had often dreamed of receiving an appointment in Allion, yet he had failed every time.

And this time as well.

He had been going to use Darren, who held a personal desire for revenge against Leo and Savan, to carry out the wishes of one of Allion's generals, Hawking, to both erase Leo and destroy the church that was being built in Savan’s territory, but... there is no need at this point to go into details about how that ended.

Darren was defeated. Oswell had sent Lance Mazpotter's unit to him, but they had disappeared after the events. As far as Oswell knew, they hadn't even sent a messenger. Perhaps Lance had been defeated in battle. They were, after all, a bunch of hardened thugs, so if that had happened, they would have scattered in all directions, forgetting any sense of duty towards their employer.

Darren and Lance were both useless.

He and Darren had both shared the same secret, but Oswell was far more cautious than Darren had been. Even though he sent secret letters to Darren, he always had them go with a messenger, who made sure that they were burned after Darren had finished reading them. There shouldn't be a single scrap of evidence still remaining in Olt Rose Castle that could prove the relation between Darren and Oswell.

Although that was something of a relief, it didn't do anything to lighten the bitterness of having his plan thwarted. For a while, Oswell was as sulky as a child.

Unlike Darren, he wasn't in the habit of going hunting or horseback riding every day; unlike Leo, he didn't read much; and nor was he a man who particularly treasured the time he spent with his family, like Bernard did. At court, he was, on the whole, an eloquent orator and a man who made his surroundings laugh with his ready wit, but he didn't really like to be in the limelight.

He didn't particularly enjoy drinking, either. He had no particular feelings about food, and he wasn't thinking of a taking a mistress this late in life. On a superficial level, he had plenty of friends, but no close companions that he could spend hours at a time with, so other than work, he didn't really have anything that he could do with his time.

He mostly stayed in his room, sitting in a chair with his own thoughts. He had no serious problems in his day-to-day life. His wife was a silent and submissive woman, and his two daughters had married into the houses of long-serving retainers. Oswell had also handed over the management of his lands to his adult son. Seen from the outside, Oswell's life was as easy and as satisfying as could be.

But he thought.

Since he very few problems, his thoughts quickly flew beyond every day matters and scattered in various directions.

Oswell Taholin was a man who had originally strengthened his ties with the princely house, yet he had suddenly started intriguing with Allion and, from then onwards, he had plotted several times to betray Atall's ruling family. Perhaps the time simply spent thinking, alone in his own room, had influenced that.

In the past, Hayden had inwardly accused him of being 'easily swayed', and that criticism wasn't unfounded. During the time he spent plunged in his own thoughts, and although he himself didn't realise it, Oswell's pride had gradually inflated. He began to think how melancholy it was that he should be in a single room of a tiny castle in a small country like Atall, he who pondered more than any great scholar, and whose thoughts galloped over every topic under the sun.

I'm running out of time.

He was no longer young. He had to hurry to a place where he could properly display his keen intelligence, and receive praise and honours in recognition of it. What was Atall? Who cared about the princely house?

His self-importance and conceit, which had swollen while he himself was unaware of it, was now so bulging and was inflated that he could no longer contain it. It was when Oswell was in that state that he received a proposal from Allion, and it was as shocking to him as an arrow to the head, and alluring enough to make him weep.

And yet...

Damn you, Leo! Not just once but twice, and now three times...

Dark emotions coiled about him and crept into Oswell's heart.

As far as he had been concerned, Lord Leo's existence was insignificant. Previously, in response to Hayden's request, Oswell had counselled the sovereign-prince to send reinforcements to Conscon Temple. At the time, Leo had still been a hostage in Allion. What would happen if Atall took action within Allion's territory, and if, as per Hayden's plan, they were found out?

If the prince is killed, he had thought, well, that's too bad.

That was it. That was all there was to Leo's existence: no more than a fleeting life destined to vanish after having been toyed with fate, someone who was unable to take control of their own fate, simply because they had been born into a noble house. And yet, Leo had fled from Allion without permission; he had killed Hayden, the one who was supposed to open up the path for Oswell to become an Allian aristocrat; and now, he had defeated Darren, who had been the most perfect tool imaginable for Oswell to use.

Now, he had no choice but to acknowledge it: Leo Attiel was a fearsome enemy who stood in Oswell's way.

Being unable to deny his existence meant that Oswell's dream of becoming an Allian noble would remain unreachable, that the time he had spent plunged in thought by himself had been in vain, and that his life would end in a tiny country like Atall.

Leo has to die.

His existence was not only a barrier for Oswell; Hawking Ingram of Allion also regarded him as dangerous. Which meant that Leo's head would be the perfect present to deliver to Allion one day.

No matter how he looked at it, it seemed that his course of action had already been decided. In his room, which was conspicuous for the Allian-made furnishings within it, Oswell continued to spend gloomy nights.

So, what should he do?

Should he imitate Darren, and start by trying to gain allies at court? No, they were only fair-weather friends who changed with the wind. When Darren had been talking big, a great many people had taken a leaf out his book and harshly criticised Leo, but now, they all kept their mouths shut. In fact, now that Darren's various misdeeds had been exposed, there were plenty who praised Leo, saying that: “The prince splendidly dealt with that disloyal cur who had forgotten his own place.”

Getting them on his side now would require correspondingly huge amounts of effort, yet despite all of that hard work, he had no way of being sure that they would help him out if anything occurred.

Doing the same as Darren would obviously just lead to failure.

Darren had been fixated on showing off his power as an Atallese vassal-lord right until the end. In that case, the first thing to do would be to gather allies at court and send in soldiers as soon as he saw the right opportunity. However, since Oswell intended to abandon Atall itself, he really didn't feel like using such a long and tedious method.

? Now then, on to Hawking Ingram, whose name was mentioned just now.

Oswell had maintained his ties with that crafty general even after Darren's death but, Hawking being Hawking, he was also in secret correspondence with someone from the Holy Dytiann Alliance, to the east of Atall. And that person was Bishop Baal.

Leo would have found it extremely strange if he had known about it. Hawking of Allion and Baal of Dytiann were the very two people who had once furiously traded verbal jabs in front of his own eyes. The two of them had been incapable of holding back from attacking and reproaching one another... so why?

Their verbal sparring had, of course, been genuine. It was not a play put on to deceive Leo. But on top of having representatives attend the conference, Allion and Dytiann had also exchanged letters and communicated through messengers. Since both sides had essentially been looking for 'the right moment to quit', they didn't only exchange vociferous claims: at times, they also hinted at concessions and, occasionally, appealed to the other's fellow feelings.

Though they carried neither swords nor guns, these two people were undoubtedly on the frontlines of a war between nations. They understood the other's point of view better than anyone. As the letters piled up between them, and although it was different from feeling of belonging to the same country, a strange sense of camaraderie was born between them.

This was by no means unique to Hawking and Baal, but was something that had been true since times immemorial. Moreover, as could be seen from his relation with Oswell, Hawking's diplomatic strategies were sometimes a little “obstinate”. Even when it seemed that a situation needed decisive measures, he would take the time – or even too much time – to obtain allies abroad.

And this time as well, it was probably Hawking who had approached Baal.

Bishop Baal of Dytiann was a man who, for some time now, had loathed Leo every bit as much as Darren had.

Naturally, he didn't vent his emotions when meeting messengers fom a foreign country, but Hawking was a man who had spent many years at the heart of intrigues and plots. Baal had recently been getting almost excessively close to Dytiann's “king”, Mordin, and, although he avoided doing so publicly and always acted behind the scenes, he was also busy criticising Mordin's younger brother, the Head Archbishop Wymer, and whipping up anti-Atall sentiment among those who agreed with him, working them into a fervour about how they needed to attack Atall. When Hawking somehow found out about it, he realised that Baal hated Leo with single-minded determination.

Hawking Ingram had realised far faster than either Darren or Oswell that: Lord Leo might one day become a danger. And because of that, he was currently deploring Darren's failure even more bitterly than Oswell was. And just then ?

Oh, interesting...

Hawking spread the letters that he had received from both Oswell and Baal side-by-side on his desk.

Within Dytiann's territory, two men had been invited to a large bishop's hall on the banks of the river.

Neville and Godwin. Both had received family names from the Church but, currently, both had also been stripped of that right. “Invited” was perhaps not the right word, either, since both of them had their hands tied behind their back, and were being led by soldiers armed with guns.

Neville was in his twenties, and Godwin in his thirties. Both were young and had sturdy physiques. Their clothes were crude, and their hair and beards had grown long, but when he saw them, the first thing Baal said to them was not a greeting but: “I hardly recognised you”

He wasn't being sarcastic. The last time he had seen them, they had been a far worse state than this. They had been covered in dirt and in the stench of faeces and urine, and their tattered clothes had been reduced to virtually useless scraps of cloth. That was normal enough, given that the first time Baal had met them, it had been in a prison.

Both of them were military men who had once fought for the Holy See. Within Dytiann's domains, anyone with any skill, regardless of their origins, has been gathered up and conscripted as soldiers into the 'Cruciform Army, the armed force under the direct control of the Holy See. Most of the time, they defended the papal domains and, whenever they received an order to do so, they headed off to suppress insurrections in whatever part of the territories these occurred in.

Nowadays, there was no organisation within Dytiann's territory called the 'Holy See'. Both of them were part of what was now referred to as 'the Old Church faction'; in other words, they were among those who had lost their power and their holy titles when the 'Current Church faction' – Mordin and Wymer included – had rebelled.

When Mordin's troops had been drawing near to the papal domains, a great many bishops and priests had gathered up all the riches they could carry, and quickly fled the territory.

The Cruciform Army was not the only one in charge of defending the papal domains, and each territory sent a complement of regular soldiers, but far from joining them to turn their spears against 'the enemies of God,' most of those soldiers had either escaped or betrayed them by joining Mordin. The Cruciform Army, which was largely made up of men recruited from the masses, was the only one who stood firm to the end against Mordin's troops.

From their commander, Maximo, downwards, they all of them flung their lives aside and literally used their own bodies as shields to defend the cathedral. The bloody result was that out of three thousand soldiers, more than seventy percent died in battle. Those who survived, like Neville and Godwin, were thrown into jail – every last one of them. Meanwhile, their families were kept under house arrest, and under surveillance. But perhaps the ones in charge of the monitoring were reluctant to keep an eye on all of the houses, especially in the villages that had provided a lot of men to the Cruciform Army.

“Evil teachings are being concealed within the villages, and the only way to stop them from spreading further is to purge them with fire,” they declared, before setting the villages alight and burning to death every one of the villagers.

When Mordin heard about it later, he was furious, and sentenced those responsible to be burned at the stake. But that didn't change the fact that those who belonged to the 'Old Church faction' suffered miserable fates no matter where they were.

The one which should have awaited Neville and Godwin was to die in prison. Bishop Baal, however, had visited them there about a month earlier.

In all honesty, Baal had not known their names. But he had been employing people to gather information on the survivors of the the 'Old Church faction,' and he had frequently been told that although these two were not famous, they were both highly skilled. And nothing could have suited Baal better than 'unknown but skilled'.

And now, one month later, Baal had the two men removed from prison and brought to his hall, albeit with their arms still restrained.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Baal gestured the two young men towards chairs.

Godwin immediately complied but Neville, the younger of the two, remained standing. The soldiers who had brought them there pushed him by the shoulder, as though to force him to sit, but he didn't budge an inch. While Baal was wondering where on earth he found that kind of strength in that body of his, which had grown emaciated from long imprisonment, he also signalled to the soldiers:

“It's fine,” he had them back down. “You won't yield to a sworn enemy? It seems you still have a soldier's spirit.”

“A sworn enemy?” Neville laughed with such naked contempt behind his grimy beard that the soldiers who had only just calmed down at Baal's orders now once again flushed an angry scarlet.

“I don't know you. If I was going after a sworn enemy, it'd be Mordin, Wymer, Guerric,” he continued to enumerate the heroes who had destroyed the 'Old Church faction'. “Try giving me a blade, even a small one. I'll immediately send every last one of them to Hell, those bastards wallowing in their greed to rule over Dytiann, trampling on His Holiness the Pope's dying wish. I'm not going to bother with a nobody like you, so untie me right now and...”

Unable to control himself anymore, one of the soldiers struck Neville in the back with the butt of his gun. That was followed immediately by blows to his chest and stomach, and hard enough to break bones. The young man fell to his knees and hunched his back, but he did not utter a single cry of pain, and his glaring eyes never turned away from Baal.

His state of mind seemed the same as that of one already dead, who no longer felt pain in this world, but whose hatred and resentment still vividly remained. Deep down, Baal shuddered at being hit with the horrifying emotions of a corpse.

“Enough,” yet even so, he gave his orders to the soldiers in a low and dignified voice. “You say that we are trampling over His Holiness' dying wish. Well, there are a heap of objections I could make to that, but there's no point going over the endless fights of that time of civil war, when blood was washed away with blood. And my reason for calling you here would also be lost.”

“And what business do you have with the likes of us?” Godwin spoke for the first time since arriving there.

He was similarly emaciated, but he was a head taller than Neville and had once been known as 'the colossal monk'.

Baal nodded.

“I have something I earnestly want to ask of both of you.”

Neville snorted scornfully when he hear that, while Godwin's expression turned solemn. Just as Baal had said, the war which had unfolded was one in which both sides had slaughtered the other, 'washing blood away with blood'. And those grudges ran especially deep within the survivors of the Cruciform Army, who had lost so many of their companions.

“You really think we're going to do as you say, you who snatched away the pope's throne? There's nothing to talk about....Kill us. That's what you're planning on doing anyway, if we don't listen to you. Go on, stab us through the heart right now. Our souls will rise to the Heavens and there, we will once more serve His Holiness.”

Neville showed all the determination of the martyrs that are spoken of and written of in history, but when Baal continued to try and convince them, he did so by alluding to their families, who were still being kept under house arrest. Not surprisingly, the expressions on the men’s faces changed. Neville ground his teeth fiercely and scowled at Baal again.

“Is that a threat?”

“How you choose to take it depends on you. However, what I mean to say is that if you fulfil my request, I intend to release both your families from under surveillance. And besides...”

Since it looked like Neville was about to say something again, Baal spoke quickly to block him.

“...This is not a request that goes against your loyalty or your convictions. I'm not going to ask you to sell out your companions from the Holy See, or to become my subordinates, or anything like that.”

“Then what do you want?” asked Godwin.

Baal pressed his fingers together above his desk, and gave them a smile that was unusually friendly for him.

“In this world, there is an agent of the Devil who spits on our most important teachings, who tramples all over the Holy Book, and who, with his sweet words, deceives good people who once shared our beliefs before dragging them down into hell. I want you to destroy him. That man's name is Leo Attiel.”