Rakuin no Monshou - Book 12: Chapter 7: Iron Mask

Part 1

An impostor.

A slave.

During the exchange between Empress Melissa and the Garberan princess, Oubary Bilan’s eyes suddenly lit up with life. Inversely proportionate to that, his complexion grew paler and his four limbs started to tremble.

Yeah, that’s right. That guy’s an impostor. He’s a slave who dressed himself up in the crown prince’s skin.

The pale gleam of Gil Mephius’ eyes flashed through Oubary’s mind. When he remembered the pure, undiluted bloodthirst emanating from them, Oubary’s skin rose in goosebumps.

“You should stop there.”

A figure appeared in the hall to the accompaniment of the sound from their own footsteps. Oubary Bilan snapped back to himself, but that person – the elder, who was being supported on either side as he walked – had not been calling out to him.

He had been addressing Melissa.

For both Vileena and Melissa, this was an unexpected visitor, however, the elder continued –

“We have long lost the leeway to waste time on words. Hurry, Melissa.”

“What is it that you mean?”

“Emperor Guhl is dead.”

At those words, there wasn’t anybody there who didn’t wonder if they had misheard. After a beat –

“What… what was it that you said?” Melissa’s face as she asked that had lost all expression, and was like that of a little girl.

“The emperor is dead,” repeated the elder. “But he died earlier than I had predicted… since the man who was to be at the centre of the diagram of fate has fallen, I no longer have any business in Solon. I must leave to build up my power in a new land.”

“That…”

In the blink of an eye, the flush of emotion returned to Melissa’s face. Perhaps the speed and force of it was too much for her herself, as, dumbfounded, she blankly opened and shut her lips.

“His Majesty is dead? You are leaving Solon? That is… t-that is…” she could say nothing further.

Amidst the soldiers who, allies and enemy alike, had broken out into a din, Vileena was also dazed.

His Majesty Guhl… has passed away?

It was too sudden to be believed. Or rather, she did not want to believe it.

He was certainly not someone towards whom she held kind feelings. Since she had decided to become Gil Mephius’ wife, he was an ‘enemy’ who would unavoidably need to be confronted. And yet…

“I would like to be given the honour of naming my grandchild.” – the emperor’s face when he had thus addressed her flickered through her mind.

“Guhl Mephius never goes back on his promises, even if they are made with women or children.” – With those words, the old man had readily assented to the princess’ request, even though he seemed unlikely to gain anything from it. And also –

“People gather around a strong sword,” the old emperor next to Vileena had whispered as he looked down at the gladiator tournament. “Because they believe they are protected by a strong sword, they are able to pass their days peacefully… Well, peace with Garbera has been established at long last. Next year, instead of just ‘savage’ gladiators, I anticipate being able to invite airship pilots from Garbera to put on a racing contest. I hope to receive the princess’ assistance on its occasion”

“Bullshit!”

The young general, Zaas Sidious, suddenly interrupted the princess’ reminiscences. He draw his sword from at his waist.

“His Majesty has passed away? Don’t talk crap. No… if turns out to be true, wouldn’t it be your doing, you bastard and your bunch of heathens?” with a roar, he strode towards the elder.

As a frank young man, he had never looked favourably on the Dragon Gods’ faith, which had abruptly encroached all the way to the heart of Mephius. He and his family had inherited their pride from the boast that Mephius had been built by warriors fighting like warriors.

“Take me to His Majesty right now! If you don’t, I might just slice the head off the withered old stump that you call your body…”

When he had approached to within a distance of a few steps, the elder gave one lengthwise wave of his arm. Although it was a feeble gesture of resistance, too weak to even raise a breeze, Zaas did not mock him for it.

Or rather, he sank to his knees on the spot with a look of anguish. An agonised moan escaped from his lips even as he ground his teeth together. His face turned red, and veins throbbed in his large neck.

Crying out in panic, the soldiers all simultaneously backed away. Some clung to one another, not caring whether they were friend or foe. While Zaas writhed in torment, something like blue lightning seemed to sizzle from him, and the strange sorcery had scared them all out of their wits.

“Know your place, Boy.”

The elder’s own face was also twisted in pain. Neither Vileena nor Odyne, who could only stare at the situation in blank amazement, understood what was going on, but his body must have been reaching the limit of using his ‘power’.

However, mustering what seemed to be the last of his strength, the elder stretched his hand out towards Melissa. The empress’ face went pale for a second, perhaps because she expected to suffer the same fate as Zaas.

“You should take my hand, Empress,” said the elder, breathing raggedly. “Take my hand and come with me. This is the new future indicated by the diagram of fate.”

“A-And then…” Melissa’s chest heaved up and down, “…and then, what will happen? His Majesty has died, and after leaving Mephius, what will happen? What about me, no, what about the baby in my belly? My child whom you predicted would rule, not just Mephius, but all under heaven?”

“It is precisely for the child’s sake, Melissa,” the elder’s heavy eyelids seemed like they would shut at any moment, and he appeared to be keeping them open by sheer force of will. “There was only one remaining light on board the fate whose golden mean had collapsed. In other words, there is only one remaining hope on which to build the future dreamed of in both our ideals. And that is the child that dwells in your womb.”

“…”

“Come, Empress. You should not take the princess’ hand, but mine instead. Only I can ensure that your child will walk the path of the supreme ruler.”

“You mustn’t!”

Did Vileena call out so suddenly because she had instinctively recognised the signs of evil emanating from the old man?

The empress, however, stretched out her hand and placed it on top of the elder’s palm. In that instant, her head drooped, all the strength sucked from her, and she looked as though she was being held up by the elder, who was supporting the apparently unconscious Melissa with one thin arm.

“We’ll need a knight to protect the lady. Zaas was it… Boy, you’re coming too.”

With just those few words, he made Zaas, who had been writhing in agony, stand up, and handed him the empress to hold in both arms. It looked exactly the same as him pulling the strings of a puppet.

“W-Wait!”

A little late, Odyne shouted out to stop him. He turned to his men. “Seize him. He intends to kidnap the empress,” he yelled.

The soldiers also came back to their senses, and although they had just been frozen like bronze statues, it was as though energy had suddenly returned to their limbs. With swarthy, muscular arms, they drew their swords and readied their guns.

The gleam of their drawn blades surrounded the old man but, at that moment, the elder closed his eyes and, grunting with exertion, extended both arms towards them.

“Uwaah!”

The soldiers in the lead hurriedly jumped back. Blue lightning had struck the ground right in front of them.

Black smoke rose from the stone floor.

If one were to look up, they would, of course, see no black clouds overhead, but only the high ceiling. Yet even so, bolt after bolt of lightning rained down, and for a moment, their pallid light seemed to meld together, and bring forth an electric dragon. Seeing that dragon bar their way, the soldiers either dropped their swords and fled, or else stumbled about, neither advancing nor retreating.

Confronted with the tricks of sorcery for the first time in his life, General Odyne gaped, unable to call out encouragement to the soldiers.

Vileena tried to run to recover the empress, but the incessant bolts of lightning likewise prevented her from moving forward.

Then –

“Gallant Princess,” came a voice deathly enough to make her shudder, “I’ll give up for now. On this country’s land and people, and on the crown prince who will no doubt soon be celebrating victory. But remember this. Kingdoms ruled by humans, and history woven by humans are fleeting and insignificant. I will definitely return. To bring forth a new reality in this land.”

There was no way for Vileena to have words to answer him with. She barely even understood anything about this old man’s background. However, perhaps because such was her personality, his overbearing words provoked her to indignation.

“Then we’ll be waiting, Sorcerer,” Vileena Owell bit her lip. “A country, a history and a world not created by humans? I look forward to actual proof of that pleasant dream. Since, alas, we can only crawl on the ground, we’ll be gritting our teeth and weaving our insignificant history with our human hands and blood that we shed, while waiting for this future of which you speak.”

For a moment, the elder’s expression twisted with hatred, but he said nothing further and, on the other side of the bolts of light that were pouring down, he, Melissa, Zaas, and several other old men all disappeared from sight.

Part 2

Mother…

During that time, there was a small figure, unable to make a sound, who seemed to have been swallowed up by the temple’s shadows.

Flora Mephius.

A little girl so tiny and with so little presence that nobody there paid her the slightest attention.

Her mother had dragged her to the temple half by force, yet now, her mother had vanished with the elder.

The pale lightning came to a stop, no doubt because its master had left.

Odyne sent his men to give chase. At the same time, he chose one of them to act as messenger and run to the entrance of the temple.

“Since this place is surrounded and under siege, I don’t see how they can escape, but there might be some kind of secret passage that only they know about. Inform Lady Ineli and get reinforcements here…”

Men shouting, rallying cries, the sound of rough footsteps along the floor…

The stream of events flowed on either side of her, leaving Flora behind, all alone. It had been the same back then. After the crown prince had left for Ende, and Solon had been struck with turmoil, she had likewise been isolated and friendless within the palace.

All these affairs were unconnected to her, and the noise they created swelled up, flowed by, then vanished.

Her mother had disappeared into the shadows beyond the light, yet Flora did not feel sad about it. Nor about the death of her step-father, Emperor Guhl.

Perhaps it was because the quick succession of events had numbed her childish heart, which was young even for her age, but she had come to understand something. Mother doesn’t feel any connection to me – she accepted it with resignation. She had done so from the moment that she had been made to realise that even the memory of her late father was gone from her mother’s mind.

Amidst the echoes of the men’s booming voices, Flora also prepared to start walking. At any rate, she did not belong here, in this place where neither her mother nor her father were. Yet even in that case, when she asked herself where it was that she should go, Flora could find no answer. Her older sister, whom she had never stopped loving and admiring, was also distant. Her sister was now so far away that, even if she looked back from where she was, she would see no trace of the past in which she had enjoyed the same picture books and played with the same dolls as her, while Flora herself did not know what made her sister happy, or sad, or angry.

Her head bowed down, Flora firmly took one small step. Which was when –

“Where you going?”

Someone came trampling into her space, where she had not expected anyone to interfere. Someone who was releasing a lot of heat and a beastlike body odour.

The man caught her shoulders and held them from behind her back with suffocating strength. “Princess Flora!” Vileena cried out, having apparently just noticed what was happening.

The man who had prevented the imperial princess from moving forward was, in a sense, in a similar situation to Flora’s. He had come to this dismal place at the empress’ request, but in the end, he had accomplished nothing and had miserably been left behind.

Oubary Bilan, one-time commander of the former Black Armoured Division.

He drew the wide sword that was at his belt, and brandished it in front of Flora’s eyes.

“The empress and the elders have gone but I… I’m the only one who won’t be deceived. I’m the only one who won’t give in to the Impostor Crown Prince!” he shouted, spittle spewing in large quantities. “She’s a hostage. Bring the lying fool who says he’s Gil Mephius to me right now! I’ll show you all what his real identity is!”

Oubary manoeuvred himself into a corner of the temple, his back against the wall, using the trembling girl whose eyes were starting as far as they could as a shield.

There were still several soldiers, Odyne included, within the hall. The general of the Silver Axe Division was about to give his men his orders, but –

“Don’t move!” Oubary shouted, placing his sword to Flora’s neck.

As the little girl gave a high-pitched scream, the soldiers feet froze in place.

“Please stop this,” Vileena called out loudly, also pausing from where she had been stepping forward. “What is the point of further fighting? Release the imperial princess immediately.”

“Silence, you damned Garberan viper,” Oubary spat a gob of saliva.

Although his bloodshot eyes were very much those of a man who had lost touch with reality, they were also the eyes of a warrior who had not yet given up hope even in the face of certain death. In actual fact, his sense of reason had already vanished during his confinement in Solon. Compared to then, although Oubary’s sanity was lost, he had regained his commander-like spirit.

“While you lot were all going to continue putting on your stupid play, only the truth can’t be twisted. You heard it, right? His Majesty is dead. All of Mephius has already as good as gone up in flames. That slave is the cause of every mistake. Let me kill him. No… I have to kill him. On my honour as general of the Black Armoured Division!”

The sword that Oubary held up was tied with cloth to his right hand. In the past, he had wielded his sword as freely as though it had been a part of his own body, but now, he could not even hold it in his hand. Oubary Bilan was, indeed, a warrior. How he crossed battlefields and killed enemies was how the value of his existence was measured, and how he had obtained his status within Mephius. Having now been reduced to this, he had not thought to cling to that status.

However, at the very least…

At the very least, as a warrior of Mephius, there was one last task that he had to accomplish; and he believed that with a fervour that allowed him to overcome his wounds, the pain of his damaged pride, and his fear.

Perhaps it was simply a desire for revenge. Perhaps it was a half-despairing feeling, now that his own future was plunged in darkness, that he had to snatch away the future of the one who had made him fall so low. However, his thoughts were partly occupied by his pride as a Mephian warrior who was contributing to support his country. He was confident in himself. And he had justice on his side, as he could not let his country continue down the wrong path.

Yes, this was justice. Although loyalty and righteousness might seem to have fixed forms, in reality, they were moulded to the shapes and expectations of each individual person. At this moment, it was clear that Oubary Bilan’s chest was filled with pride.

Therefore, as he stepped forward, Odyne said –

“Don’t be hasty, General Oubary. Although you talk about being concerned for this country’s future, you are holding a sword to the imperial princess’ neck. So what kind of justice can you be upholding?”

Yet in this situation, Oubary was calm enough to return a roar of laughter.

“Imperial princess? Do you guys still see her as that? Well, she makes a good hostage simply because you do see it that way, but still…”

His implied meaning was that now that the emperor was dead and that the empress had disappeared, Flora, who was no more than a child of Melissa’s first marriage, no longer qualified as a member of the imperial family. Since Oubary was proclaiming the justice of killing the impostor crown prince, he had no reason to kneel before Flora, who had no legitimate connection to the imperial bloodline.

“Now then, what will you do? General of the Silver Axe Division?” Oubary’s lips, which were so surprisingly thin on a man with his build and face, twisted into a smile. “Don’t bother with a pointless exchange of words. If you’re planning to play for time, then this ‘imperial princess’ might just kick the bucket before you know it. Hurry up and get the crown prince here.”

“His Highness the Crown Prince is not here. He is in Ende and…”

“Then get him here by force!” the sword shook to the rhythm of Oubary’s howls. “Or how about preparing another impostor and dragging him here? But I don’t mind, go ahead. I’ll just cut down every last one of them!”

Tears trickled from Flora’s eyes. Her mother, her sister, her father also were not here, and she was being harshly taught that she was nothing but a small, worthless little girl with not a single place where she belonged.

Then –

“I thought I told you not to come any closer,” Oubary glared at the Garberan princess, who once more halted her steps.

This time, however, Vileena answered him.

“How pitiful. A brave Mephian commander seems to be terrified of unarmed women and children.”

“What?”

“Just as you said, that young lady is no longer of any use as a hostage. In order to avoid foolishly prolonging this turmoil, there would be nothing surprising if we decided to shoot you down, even with Lady Flora beside you. And if that fact is not publicly announced, why then, you, Oubary Bilan, will be known for having murdered her in a fit of madness.”

As Odyne blanched involuntarily, Vileena edged another step closer to Oubary.

Opposite her, the commander of the former Black Armoured Division could not conceal his dismay. What would happen if the royal princess gave the order, here and now, to shoot? His life was undoubtedly at risk, but more than that, he, who had been intending to protect the country, would see his honour and his position fall even lower than that of a slave, and history would remember him in infamy. As a man who wished to struggle to the end as a warrior, that thought terrified him.

“Therefore, General Oubary, please release that girl who is no longer of any use to you as a shield.”

“Don’t be stupid. Do you think that you can wheedle me like that, little brat?”

“I may be stupid and I may be a little brat,” said the princess. “But I am a more valuable hostage than she is. After all, I am Vileena Owell, princess of Garbera.”

“What?”

“I am suggesting that you take me as your hostage, Oubary Bilan.”

For a second, everyone was left speechless. Deeper within the temple, Odyne’s subordinates were running around, searching for the elders, and their rough footsteps were echoing.

As though she had been waiting for a pause in the noise, Vileena took another step forward.

“Don’t come here!”

“Sir Hero, please, let Lady Flora go. On my name as a princess of Garbera, I will neither run nor hide.”

“You think you lot can claim some grand-sounding name at this point? When you were going to put some slave bastard on the throne and manipulate Mephius at will from the shadows, you…”

At that, despite the tense situation, Princess Vileena almost broke into a smile. Manipulating Mephius at will had certainly been her intention when she had travelled here to marry, after all. Currently, however, she had no strategies and no calculations to overcome this situation.

In that moment, strangely enough, Vileena Owell was probably the only one who truly understood Oubary Bilan’s claim to justice. Upholding the model of the legitimate lineage of the royal family, of the imperial family, was by no means wrong in this era and world.

Vileena Owell understood that so well that it hurt. She had herself had only just recently been wrestling with the same problem.

Therefore, did the huge general called Oubary Bilan not look similar to the fourteen-year-old princess? To her? Or did she see in him the crown and throne, the very symbols of ‘justice’ in this world?

Yes, it was strange. For Odyne, a commander from the same country, and for the soldiers, who all kneeled before the same throne, the former general’s actions were nothing but the desperate struggles of a cornered rebel, and the only one there who had any sympathy for him was the single girl from a foreign country.

Which was why she stepped forward. She was also afraid that if they let too much time pass without doing anything, then, just as Vileena herself had said, Flora might be killed. In which case, no would be saved. Vileena had decided that, in Gil Mephius’ absence, she needed to look after the pitiable Flora, and the similarly pitiable Oubary Bilan.

While Oubary’s eyes were fastened on Princess Vileena, Odyne surreptitiously exchanged glances with his subordinates. Understanding his silent order, the soldiers spread out on either side and positioned themselves where they could take Oubary in a pincer movement.

The princess was about to take another step.

“I said don’t come closer!” Oubary howled and swung his sword horizontally.

“Princess!”

It had only been a stroke to keep her back, but the soldiers drawing up on either side of Oubary immediately cried out. Hurriedly shifting his gaze towards them, Oubary realised the soldiers’ intentions and his expression became enraged.

“You bastards…”

Flora shrieked as he pulled her closer towards his chest and once more pressed his blade to her neck.

The next moment, there was a thundering roar and Oubary’s feet were floating in the air. But not only his. Vileena, Odyne, Flora and the soldiers, both young and old, all stumbled and staggered as the ground tremored.

At the same time, the townspeople gathered around the great temple started shouting all at once. From right behind the entranceway, separated from them by a staircase, something like the roar of thunder reverberated. Dense smoke was also rising from the same place.

A fire? many wondered. Maybe the rebels, or perhaps Odyne and his men who had entered the temple… at any rate, one or the other must have set a fire.

The next instant, they all of them witnessed the same thing.

Ineli Mephius, who had been sitting on a folding camp stool like a fully-fledged general, stared blankly. From a crumbling corner of the temple, an air carrier was surfacing.

Yet the silver-gleaming ship did not seem to be taking off under the effects of ether, but was spewing flames from beneath it, and, while smoke continued to roll from the flames, it ascended upwards with a howl like that of a young dragon.

As it rose, the hull shone in the pale light of dawn. The crowds of people who were looking up at the strange ship watched as it took off at unbelievable speed, then, just as quickly, seemed to turn into a single twinkling point in the sky, like a distant star, before vanishing from sight.

When Oubary had pitched forward, Flora had also tumbled to the ground.

With his considerable lower body strength, Oubary managed to regain his balance and reached out once more to grab onto the girl’s shoulders. Yet in that moment in which everything still felt numb, a shadow jumped in between them.

Vileena.

Running along the floor as though she was gliding, she was a split second faster to grab Flora’s shoulders, before falling sideways to the ground with her.

“Fire!”

It was Odyne who had shouted. Acting on orders, the soldiers fired. This was just after that mysterious tremor, so most of the shots missed, but first one, then two bullets bit into Oubary’s body.

“Damn you,” not seeming affected by them, Oubary raised his sword. Although his steps were unsteady, one soldier, probably terrified of the approaching figure, was unable to escape and was killed when a blow from the sword crushed his skull, just as his last shot crashed against the floor at Oubary’s feet.

“Damn… you…”

Looking for another victim, Oubary again raised his sword high.

Gunshots resounded once more.

In that instant, what did Oubary Bilan, once the general of the Black Armoured Division, see? What did he hear? What did he feel?

The sword slipped from his raised arm.

At about the same time as the dull sounds reverberating from the floor died down, Oubary’s huge body also lost all tension and lurched backwards.

Oubary Bilan fell, spread-eagled, and no longer moved.

If the gunshots did not cease, it was only because he had, until the very last, looked as ferocious as a demon.

When the soldiers finally realised that Oubary was dead, silence descended upon the interior of the shrine, and Vileena Owell gazed down at his corpse with an unspeakably forlorn expression. It looked like her grandfather. Like her father. And also like her two brothers, and even her herself.

When Flora Mephius stepped out of the temple with Princess Vileena supporting her by the shoulders, sunlight poured down while the voices of the crowd likewise rained down on her surroundings, sounding to her ears like music from a foreign land.

At some point, the sun had started rising.

Ineli immediately came rushing up.

The first one her older sister called out to was Vileena Owell. They exchanged words together over Flora’s head but, either because they were drowned out by the voices of the crowd, or because they had never entered the sphere of Flora’s perception in the first place, she was unable to hear any of them.

Then, Ineli’s hand stroked Flora’s hair.

After a moment’s surprise, Flora quickly lifted her head to gaze up at her sister. Ineli, however, was no longer looking at her, and was instead firing off orders to the soldiers who were running up.

“Search every nook and cranny inside the temple. Check whether there aren’t any other suspicious devices.”

Now that she had been freed, Flora did not seem to have anywhere to go. With her parents gone, and now that she had lost her position as the emperor’s daughter, what was left to the little girl?

But the dawn was dazzling, and the morning wind, carrying its hint of coolness, felt good.

Thinking about it, Ineli was in the same situation. That was why she was desperately creating and protecting a place for her to be, and trying to survive in it.

It was the same for Princess Vileena, who had come all the way from a foreign country.

And also for the young man who had once been called a ‘fool’, and who had overcome battles to now become the leader of the Imperial Dynasty.

And me too…

She needed to create a place for herself. With her own strength.

The way her older sister thought and the way she herself thought, their methods and their form, all were completely different, but Flora Mephius could feel the weight and firmness of the decision she had now taken.

Low-hanging clouds floated in the sky but, just as they seemed about to cover the sun, they let themselves be carried off by the wind, looking as though they had lost their way.

Part 3

When Orba pulled his sword from Zafar’s corpse, fresh blood stained the ground at his feet. For a moment, there was silence all around.

For the soldiers of Dairan, who had been engulfed in a sudden massacre and then in this nightmarish experience, the skill displayed by Gil Mephius in killing this assailant was almost just as uncanny.

“He was a sorcerer,” Orba deliberately stated what did not need to be said.

Although he had only just regained consciousness himself, he could understand the soldiers’ state of mind. Facing that mysterious power, what use could swords, spears, or bullets possibly be? Even years of training would surely be useless when confronting the flames and lightning manipulated through sorcery. Such was the fear and turmoil that they were going through.

When he had been facing Garda in the west, Orba himself had gone through exactly the same experience.

“No doubt an assassin sent by Allion. They were probably aiming for Lord Kayness, but changed their target because I was in their way. But, see!” he trod on Zafar’s remains, his attitude that of one who would allow no shred of dignity to an enemy assassin who avoided fighting with a sword. “By my sword, he is now a corpse stretched out at my feet. There is nothing that my steel cannot exterminate. And we will make those fools from Allion realise that!”

He lifted his sword high.

The first to roar in response was Pashir. The Mephian soldiers followed, bellowing in turn. And at the sound of their raised battle cries, there was not a single soldier from Dairan who did not raise their own in response.

Everyone there bellowed their war cries and raised their weapons or their fists in the air.

Whatever else might be true, they had won.

Whatever else might be true, the sword had prevailed.

A foreign young warrior had done it, so they could do it to.

Turning his back to the men’s weighty roars, Orba leaped onto a horse that had freshly been brought to him. He once again got the troops urgently reorganised, during which time, Hou Ran was taken to safety inside the mansion, and the Baian was returned to a cage by a different dragon handler. Before long, the preparations were complete.

“Well then, I’m off,” he addressed Kayness Plutos from horseback then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, he took the reins and galloped off in the direction of Dairan’s north gate. The thundering sound of hooves struck the ground as the other riders followed behind him. Infantrymen armed with guns and spears followed behind them.

Kayness saw the army corps off while hugging to either side of him his two granddaughters, who still showed lingering traces of fear. For the current head of the Plutos House, defender of the northern border, it was of course the first time that he had spoken with, or even seen, Mephians.

A warrior indeed – such was his impression of Mephius’ Crown Prince Gil. Although his valour was every bit as great as that of any Dairan soldier, Kayness felt that it was different from that of the warriors of his own homeland. The atmosphere that surrounded the prince was somehow heavy.

His eyes hold shadows – Kayness concluded, looking back on it. He realised that he had that in common with Lord Eric, even though the latter was the very model of a Dairan warrior. It seemed to be an atmosphere that accompanied a young man’s resolve to shoulder the burden of an entire country.

Or perhaps it was because they were young that they did not yet know how to hide it.

Kayness was perplexed about how to talk about that to Eric if he returned safely. Although he could brag about having so far guided Eric on the path of a Dairan warrior as his elder, the road that Eric would follow from now on was unknown territory for Kayness, so if he butted in with the air of knowing what he was talking about, he might end up imparting hollow wisdom.

Still being too hasty… for some reason, Kayness felt like smiling wryly at himself.

To the north, Orba’s troops were approaching the river that Kaseria’s men had crossed, sending up sheets of spray as they did so, about ten minutes earlier. The Dairan soldiers held up torches and indicated where to cross the shallows on horseback.

They started to ford the river, with Orba and Pashir looking as though they were competing to be in the lead.

“Pashir, back off,” Orba yelled as sprays of water splashed his face. “Didn’t I already tell you this before? When you stick to me like this, it’s like you’re being a nanny.”

“It’s not certain that there won’t be another attack. If it happens, I’ll be there to shield you.”

That wasn’t actually one of Allion’s flunkies – Orba inwardly believed, but he himself had no way of actually proving it. There were still great many points that were puzzling.

Why was it that someone claiming to be Garda’s subordinate had been aiming at him and wanting to investigate his real identity? And to start with, was Garda still alive? And if he was, then what was his goal?

Does that mean he’s given up on devouring the west and is now reaching out for the centre of the continent?

He could not escape from the guessing and conjecturing. Which was normal given that, for all that he come into contact with sorcery, and had actually fought it, it was hard for Orba to get a firm grasp of this hazy situation.

I’m probably going to need more information.

Since he did not understand their nature, he wanted to at least stock up on knowledge.

However, that was a problem for later and now that battle had already been declared, he had no intention of halting his advance. Such was his style –

Before it starts, be cautious even to the point of irritating your own allies.

Once it starts, be audacious even to the point of panicking your own allies.

– And Orba thoroughly carried it through. So he focused on driving the horses north.

Less than a few minutes after having crossed the river, they were met with the sight of soldiers stretched out on the ground.

“Prince Gil!”

Orba was hailed from underfoot at about the same moment that he pulled on the reins. At first, he did not recognise who it was. The blood he was drenched in blended into the shadows of night, so that it looked like some kind of spectre standing there with only half a face and half a body. Even so –

“Gilliam!?” Orba unintentionally cried out loud.

The familiar giant had wounds all over his face and body. He was propping up his huge frame with the handle of his axe, sandwiching it between the ground’s surface and his own flank, while holding something with both hands. Even without examining his wretched state, it was obvious that the unit had been annihilated.

Gilliam turned a glittering gaze towards Orba.

“This is to my shame. But at least I managed to get this back somehow,” he said.

Sensing that there was something strange about this mood, Orba touched what was being held up to him with shaking hands.

Ah! – His eyes opened wide.

It was an iron mask.

The iron tiger mask, which had been his symbol during his time as a slave, covered the face of someone other than him as blood dripped down. It was as though the mask itself was shedding blood. It felt as though he was face-to-face with his own corpse.

“Who?”

Orba’s voice was reverberating in his own brain, so he did not realise that it had spilled over to the outside.

So when Gilliam replied: “those guys,” and pointed towards the shadows, his startled expression looked as though he had just been pulled back to his senses.

It was Lance Mazpotter’s group.

After he had killed ‘Orba’, they had been swarmed by the Mephian soldiers. They had been roughly equal in numbers, but the disorganised Mephian side, which was attacking in disarray, was essentially levelled by the coordinated movements from Allion’s side.

It was also a hard blow that Gilliam, the pivot of their fighting strength, was injured early on. Determined to take back Orba’s mask at all cost, he had challenged Lance alone.

“That’s the spirit,” Lance had accepted. His helmet smashed open Gilliam’s helmet and opened a hole in his chest armour. The former gladiator gallantly swung his battle-axe again and again, but it did not even scratch Lance.

Gilliam lost his horse, but just managed to take back the iron tiger mask, and the soldier’s head that was attached to it. By the time he realised it, more than half the unit had fallen to the ground as corpses.

With barely the time to catch his breath, Gilliam was about to give the signal for retreat when Gil Mephius’ unit had appeared from the south.

Reinforcements have arrived – as soon as Lance caught sight of them, he rode to the northeast. The enemy numbers were considerable. His tactic would be to gradually move towards a position from where it would be easy to withdraw while dulling the advance of the pursuing enemies.

For Lance, this was a well-honed tactic. It was only natural, since he was always assisting Kaseria, who was quick to go wild because of blood. While Kaseria attacked the enemy position and got drunk on slaughter, Lance galloped off to disrupt the enemy forces headed their way, or else divide them in two.

Then –

“Your Highness!” shouted both Gilliam and Pashir.

Still on horseback, Orba had just acted in a way they found hard to believe. Nor was it just Gilliam and Pashir: the soldiers following under Gil were all left astounded. To the two who knew about Orba’s circumstances, however, his actions were looking increasingly erratic.

“Oi!” unintentionally forgetting the situation, Gilliam was about to go up to Orba. With blood dying half his face a darkish colour, he was impressive to behold in a way different from usual; but from horseback, Orba knocked him down with a single swing of his arm.

He threw something towards Gilliam’s chest that drew a parabola in the air. The iron mask, however, was gone from it.

“You keep it,” Orba pronounced, looking like emotionless Death itself atop his horse. “Wrap it in a cloak and don’t let anyone see the face. Orba was an iron tiger. That’s all. No one needs to know his real face.”

While speaking those words that contradicted his actions, Orba gave a sharp kick to his horse’s flanks.

Meanwhile, Lance Mazpotter threw a glance over his shoulder. The enemy group was pursuing them. Among them, there was one rider who was especially hot on their heels.

Humph – the One-Eyed Dragon of Atall laughed contemptuously. He once more reached for the spear at his side, griped the handle in a smooth and skilful movement, then put himself at the ready.

“First Corps, turn!” he shouted, and several mounted warriors simultaneously pulled their horses around in a sharp turn.

The reason why Lance had won fame as the One-Eyed Dragon, and why his cavalry troops had been extolled as the strongest in Atall, was because of how he excelled in circular cavalry movements. Aware of its importance, he had imposed strict training in it on the horses and his men. Even now that he was with Allion, that had not changed.

They let the enemy chase after them, then, when they reached a wider road, they would ‘turn’. One small unit at a time, their cavalry would change direction and charge. The enemy troops would be thrown by having what was undoubtedly a fleeing opponent suddenly face them straight on. Whereupon, Lance’s unit would level them.

This time as well, Lance took the lead with four mounted warriors following behind him. He forcefully spurred on his horse, which, for a second only, had dropped its momentum, and the tip of his spear stood ready, cleaving through the wind raised by the enemy unit.

Yet the foremost enemy showed no signs of being shaken.

Oh?

It was rare to see someone so bold.

In cases like these, Lance would aim only for that one person. That was because they were the most likely to be the pivot of the fighting force, and once he had destroyed them head-on, the enemy would be thrown into even greater disarray.

They were getting closer to one another.

Both their cloaks billowed in the wind like wings, both readied their spears at the same time.

In a sense, the battlefield was the scene of Lance’s normal, everyday life. He had splendidly tamed both his fear of death and his excitement in battle. Even now, with the enemy’s bloodlust fiercely washing over him from straight on, he was still calmly measuring his breathing.

And they were at a single breath’s distance –

Judging it to be that distance, Lance tightly grasped the handle of his spear – in that moment…

What?

Lance’s right eye suddenly opened wide. As for the cause…

Was it because there gleamed on the enemy’s face the iron mask of one that should already have been killed?

Or was it because, as soon as the enemy lifted the tip of his spear, he threw it at him with all his might?

While the rider in the iron mask – while Orba – held the reins in his mouth to control his horse, he threw his spear and, in the same movement, drew the sword at his waist. The very action of drawing it turned into a side slash towards the enemy that was right before him.

Lance Mazpotter had bent forward to intercept the spear. That blow, however, was utterly unexpected.

It should be said that for him to still be able to deflect it with his spear, was something that only a person like him could be expected to do.

There was a clashing sound, sparks flew, and the two people passed each other by.

Not having thought for a moment that the rider would pass by Lance uninjured, it was Allion’s soldiers who were thrown into confusion, and they did not go after him. Easily breaking through the enemies, Orba halted his horse’s steps and turned to look back.

“Who are you?” Lance loudly called out to him. Atop his horse, he quickly rectified his unsteady posture, but it was unusual for him to raise his voice on the battlefield.

“Orba,” the warrior in the iron mask replied. Lance ground his teeth.

“Don’t be stupid! I already killed him.”

“Well then, you must have failed to kill me,” the response was mocking, yet in Orba’s case, it was also absolutely true.

Lead by Pashir, the Mephian troops drew near.

Once again, Lance Mazpotter came to a flawlessly correct decision. “Withdraw,” he yelled, and no sooner had he done so, than he galloped past Orba’s side and left.

Orba did not directly chase after him. He heard about where the northern fort was when Kayness had explained the situation, and guessed that the main battlefield was probably somewhere around it.

“We continue,” his raised voice was angry.

To the east, the sky was starting to grow light. He took off the iron mask which sharply reflected the light of dawn, and raised it high.

“The hero Orba sacrificed himself to give us this victory. Do not let it go for nothing. We will give chase to Kaseria Jamil’s troops!”