Rakuin no Monshou - Book 4: Chapter 3: The Two Princes of Ende

Part 1

Detached from Ende’s main palace, the Swan Shrine – commonly called the Water Shrine, was used for all of the rites connected to the ruler. The attendants formed into groups of several people, spread cloths over the crystal floor, and sat down. The pond beneath them showed through the crystal.

On this evening, both princes of Ende were present. They were the Grand Duke’s own children and both were still young. Normally the two of them didn’t get along in the slightest but tonight, as a ceremony sponsored by the older brother, Prince Jeremie, was being held to pray for the recovery of the Grand Duke’s health, the younger brother prince Eric was unable to absent himself.

Nevertheless, if a person from a foreign country were to see this scene, they would have a very hard time believing that such a ritual was in progress.

Indeed, while flutes and citharas were being played, further in on a stage no higher than a single step, several men and women were dancing, to which the people sitting around raised their wine cups, applauded and cheered. Court serving ladies clad in thin clothes carried food and drinks from one person to another, so that from the outside it looked like an ordinary drinking party.

And yet, this was undoubtedly one of Ende’s ceremonies.

Once upon a time, the surrounding region had been known as the territory of the Magic Dynasty of Ende and from that time onwards, a belief in spirits had been deeply ingrained within the duchy. It was thought that if everyone merrily made a ruckus, the « ki » would flow in a favourable direction and summon good spirits and, conversely, evil spirits that polluted the hearts and minds of humans would be driven away.

And so, even if Grand Duke Malchior’s health had deteriorated over this past year and he now hardly ever showed himself in an official capacity, even if the situation, including that of the country’s future, was becoming worrying, everyone laughed, sang, drained their cups and raised a clamour. Such was the country’s character.

However, in the midst of such an important ritual,

Tch.

Of all the people around, Ende’s second prince, Eric, was the only one whose expression was unpleasant as he drank gloomily.

This ceremony was sponsored by the first prince, Jeremie. As to where Jeremie was, he was dancing on the stage at the centre of a ring. Furthermore, he had put on makeup along with the Court ladies and was wearing tight-fitting women’s clothes into the bargain.

While Jeremie was of a scholarly bent of mind, at times like these he understood how to please. The cross-dressing Jeremie’s graceful demeanour attracted shouts of joy. However, Eric considered that this so-called solicitude that led to taking the initiative to create an atmosphere in which everyone could enjoy themselves was a weakness on the part those from the Grand Ducal house. Furthermore, he thought it despicable that at a time when their father Malchior was in danger, his older brother appeared to be ingratiating himself with the powerful nobles.

The floor of the Water Shrine was encrusted with stones that looked like colourful jewels, and the light they emitted repeatedly changed colour. As it reflected off the water of the pond, it created dazzling, dreamlike scenes, yet the stones were a sort of magical tool that made use of ether. However much Ende insisted on its authentic link to the ancient magical dynasty, now that ether was drying up worldwide, using it simply to adorn a ceremony – or, speaking of Jeremie’s situation, using it to display his power – could only be seen as squandering it.

It’s a power that needs to be saved up so that in case of war, airships can be flown at any time. Wasting it on something like this, how stupid! Well after all, as head of rites, it fits brother’s tastes to protect out-dated traditions and faiths.

Inwardly abusing his brother, Eric drank gloomily.

In fact, among the people of Ende who tended to have flamboyant lifestyles and who loved to gaudily adorn themselves, Eric was something of a heretic. Today again he wasn’t dressed in particularly resplendent clothes.

Formal dress for the men of Ende consisted of long clothing tied with a sash and with a collar that hung loosely from the body. Men of high status also usually grew their hair long and weaved it into different shapes, affecting the airs of fops. Eric’s appearance however saw him in a plain jacket and trousers, with his hair cut to shoulder length.

In both personality and appearance, he was not the type to shine at Ende’s Court whose creed was one of beauty and luxury.

And so,

Even today, how much is Jeremie really praying for father’s recovery? Every day and every night he invites nobles over like this and they raise a ruckus. Using ceremonies as an excuse, doesn’t he only want to consolidate his support base as the successor?

He grew more and more bitter against his brother Jeremie who fit in at the court and who was very much the Ende aristocrat. As he clicked his tongue for the umpteenth time that day,

“You mustn’t make that kind of face, Eric.”

Without his noticing it, Jeremie had come down from the stage and arrived at his side.

Uh-oh floated in the atmosphere around them, however everyone pretended not to have noticed and kept on drinking. Naturally, at the same time, everyone strained their ears. At present when rumour had it that Grand Duke Malchior might die at any time, an exchange between the two princes stimulated their minds more than food and drink.

“If you don’t laugh and behave happily, there is no point to the ritual, is there? Hmm?”

He said as he seemed about to pull his younger brother to the stage, however,

“No, brother. I am such a rustic.” Eric’s expression was bitter and he didn’t look like he was going to get up. “If I were to dance and sing, surely even the benevolent water spirit Ei would be offended.”

“What is a successor to the Doria blood doing being so humble? Come now, everyone, my beloved little brother will offer a celebratory performance to Ei.”

Jeremie clapped his hands. Hearing the clanging sound from the golden circlets on his wrists, Eric’s expression grew increasingly unpleasant.

Showing off gold bangles from Allion.

Belief in spirits wasn’t exclusive to Ende, it was also deep-rooted in the large eastern country of Allion. Those metal bangles however were a unique characteristic of Allion’s culture that had been handed down from generation to generation. When singing or dancing, they were jangled together to give the impression that there was a greater number of people and the lively atmosphere this created was said to make it easier to call spirits. Although they shared the ancestry of the same magic dynasty, Eric also thought his brother irredeemable for how he was eager to copy Allion’s culture in every way.

At 21, Eric was still young. There were other aspects of Ende’s aforementioned culture that he had not adapted to. Without adjusting himself to the place’s atmosphere, he fell into sullen silence. Jeremie on the other hand was 25. Seeing his obstinate brother, he uttered “Good grief” and spread out both his hands at the situation. The surrounding retainers were tempted to smile. Even from such a trifling quarrel, comparing himself and his little brother, he would impress upon them how foolish a creature his brother was,

“Well then, though unworthy, I will be the one to offer a celebratory song to Ei.”

A man next to Eric stood up.

“And you are?”

“Ah. I am called Belmor Plutos.”

With an Oh-ho, everyone took notice of this turn of events.

The house of Plutos was a military family that for generations had protected the northern border of Dairan. They had defended the country against the nomads who had long been scattered across the North. The youths of about the same age who formed Eric’s entourage were also from families that served the house of Plutos. And so, unusually for Ende that lavishly praised performing arts and decadent beauty, they were men with a rough atmosphere about them. Prince Eric had been entrusted to the Plutos family from early childhood and his background was originally one of being raised in Dairan.

Although among those with nasty tongues it was said that, Rather than Ende, Lord Eric thus has an air of being a suitable successor for the Plutos family. Eric’s personality that was so unorthodox for the Grand Ducal family had certainly been forged from fighting alongside the warriors from the lands of Dairan, shoulder to shoulder, day after day.

Belmor who had just stood up was the second son of the current head of the Plutos family, and he was Eric’s childhood friend. As with the surrounding youths, he was something like a vassal under Eric’s direct control.

“So, Belmor Plutos. I shall consecrate a song to Ei. Ei’s joy invites Yaman, the spirit of good health, and drives out Jhar, the evil spirit of sickness. Everyone, please forgive me for soiling your ears for a short while.”

After this speech, Belmor sang a celebratory song said to invite spirits. While young, a beard covered half of his stern, warrior-like face, yet that voice was so clear one could wonder if it didn’t come from a different person. It wasn’t simply clear, with its strange traces of childishness, it was a ‘cute’ voice.

The Court serving maids giggled at that discrepancy while the men also began to cheer as he started to perform an impromptu dance.

Although Eric still looked sour, the ones whose expressions turned bitter were now Jeremie and the vassals who were attempting to win his favour.

The Grand Duchy of Ende’s capital, Saphia.

Saphia was popularly called “the Water Capital”. Canals ran through the length and breadth of the town, and during the day, gondolas carrying tourists and goods came and went continuously. Naturally bridges were built throughout the town, and as if competing with each other in beauty, each was adorned with various designs.

Nightfall had long since passed. Prince Eric was walking along the brick-paved main street with his vassals. Although horse-drawn carriages had been prepared, they had decided to walk in order to sober up.

Slender pillars lined the main street left and right, and on their top end were spheres of about the size that an adult could hold with both hands. A clear light was emitted by the spheres which illuminated their surroundings brightly and cheerfully. Of course, this too was a waste of ether according to Eric.

That fool.

He cursed sneeringly in his thoughts at Jeremie, who had called out to him as he was about to leave the Water Shrine.

“That’s Brother for you. Tonight’s ceremony was splendid too. More than gathering good spirits, you must certainly illuminate Ende’s future.”

“I am happy that you should say so. Tonight was truly enjoyable.”

With the make-up removed, Jeremie’s face left a surprisingly flat impression. His eyes, nose and lips were thinly shaped, and he himself had a somewhat insipid air to him. At a glance, he did not have the features of what you could call a handsome man, however his appearance improved dramatically with make-up. Just earlier, he had drawn more attention than the ladies-in-waiting and his good looks were such that it would not be inappropriate to call him a peerless beauty for a woman.

He was well aware of that astonishing fact and it was curious how he seemed to have a distinct glamour when he gaudily decorated his smooth, flat face. Eric on the other hand had deeply chiselled features that were in no way comparable to his brother’s. He had a prominent high-bridged nose and with it strong, virile features, however those looks did not have the kind of feminine beauty that was lauded at Court.

“Now then, Eric. I heard that you rather curtly turned away messengers from Garbera. It is painful for me to talk in this way to my younger brother, but do you intend to take such reckless actions until the situation is past repair?”‘

“Nothing less from you, Brother. You have sharp ears,” because he thought that he would be cornered into an argument over the affair with Belmor, Eric answered with unusual sarcasm. “I would never take reckless actions. This is a reasonable demand against Garbera’s rudeness in breaking the betrothal. If we are not given Zaim Fortress, the country’s dignity will be tarnished. Did not Father also often say so: a country does not choose its people, the people choose the country. Because Father is ill, if the Grand Ducal House appears to grow timid, someday even the people will abandon it.”

Originally a betrothal between Garbera’s third princess, Vileena, and Prince Eric had been on the brink of being decided. Garbera was then in the midst of a ten-year war with Mephius. It might have been hoping to break the status quo in the relationship between the three countries by means of that betrothal.

However, Mephius sensed that move. Thereupon, they very quickly offered peace to Garbera. As a result of having weighed the merits of the two countries of Ende and Mephius, Garbera decided to present Princess Vileena to Mephius. The war had spanned ten long years. Perhaps within Garbera there had already been a feeling of weariness with the war. And so, rather than join with Ende to destroy Mephius, and in order to appeal for peace both at home and abroad, they chose to bind themselves to Mephius through a marital connection.

Or perhaps… Prince Eric pondered: perhaps Garbera hesitated to accept Ende’s troops within its borders. Unlike Garbera that was damaged by the war, Ende is unscathed. Did they think we might see it as a good opportunity and attack their capital? They don’t trust us, huh. They treat our country as though we were savages.

In reality, in comparison to the length of Ende’s history, it had for the most part not been on particularly good terms with either Mephius or Garbera, for which the underlying cause was that it was a closed, insular country. But the young Eric’s thoughts did not extend that far, and even if he had realised it, his rage at having been humiliated probably wouldn’t have died down.

“For the people, is it,” Jeremie said meaningfully. “However, the betrothal between yourself and the Garberan princess should have been unofficial to the last. If the people were to learn of it after all this time, there will be no uproar to exact revenge upon the insolent Garbera.”

“Well now”, Eric turned his head, “The people are unexpectedly discerning. It would not be so strange if they had caught wind of something.”

Naturally, Jeremie saw through the fact that that was Eric’s handiwork. He raised his thin eyebrows.

“Certainly Garbera is currently weakened, but even so, this is not something that can be done with your troops alone. If reinforcements were to come from Mephius, you wouldst be helpless.”

“Do not worry. I will only mobilise the ones who approve me. No matter what the result may be, the duchy of Ende’s weighty foundations will not waver in the slightest. So please await good news while continuing to hold banquets here in Saphia every night”

That fool.

At that time, he had felt scorn anew for his brother. Jeremie was known as being of the moderate faction, but ‘moderate’ was to say that he never undertook any action himself. It was equal to the title of coward.

For his part, he had been trying to take action for some time. His brother had misgivings about Mephius and talks were already underway. He had sent messengers time after time to emperor Guhl to get him to promise that he wouldn’t interfere with this war against Garbera.

In order to get along well with Mephius from here on, and of course in order also to demonstrate strength worthy of the next successor to Ende, before anything else, he had to win this first war against Garbera.

As Jeremie had said, ten years of war immediately followed by Ryucown’s insurrection had left Garbera weakened. Since things were beginning to move with Ende, troops were being assembled at the border fortress of Zaim, however, according to the scouts he had sent, this was not going smoothly for Garbera. The voices opposed to an alliance with Mephius were still strong, furthermore Zaim was the place where Ryucown, who could be said to be the embodiment of the anti-Mephius faction, had risen up and then fallen. That being the case, Zaim should be a place where Garbera’s king, Ainn Owell, would not wish officers and soldiers with even the slightest connection to Ryucown to be sent. If he acted imprudently, internal strife was liable to wreak havoc before even fighting with Ende.

Given its state of affairs, Garbera would want to avoid a drawn-out war – such was Eric’s assessment. And all the more so if Mephius in whom they had placed their trust didn’t act. Therefore, crushing them from the outset and thereupon being given territories and resources was how he should conclude peace with them. That would be enough as a show of power.

“Belmor”, Eric suddenly called out while they were going along the night road.

“Yes?”

“How are the provisions of ether going?”

“I scraped around merchants from the coastal regions and one way or another I was able to buy some. We’ll easily be able to fly a hundred airships.”

“So that’s all the ships we’ll have to hand,” Eric returned an earnest answer even to the joking of his vassal who was in high spirits. However, the warriors who served the Plutos family were used to it. “My brother who cares for nothing except spirits and banquets, I’ll show him!”

“Ah. Once we strike at Zaim, even those grandees won’t have any choice but to recognise our lord’s strength.”

They were gallant youths. Their pride and conceit came from having fought day after day against the remote savage tribes of Dairan. They also looked down on the current grandees of Ende who had deliberately sat on the fence during the ten-year war between Mephius and Garbera. The likes of Jeremie had naturally never stood where actual fighting was taking place. If such people were to seize supremacy, Ende would degenerate into a weak country in which only the smell of face powder and perfume would be conspicuous.

“That reminds me, it seems a messenger from Allion wanted to meet you yesterday.”

“I was told they would lend assistance” Eric sent a somewhat dark look at the luminous ether spheres. “Well, I gave a suitable answer. If possible, I don’t want to borrow Allion’s help. It could do what it likes with this current Ende.”

Allion was a major power. Under the pretence of lending its strength, it was obvious that it was starting to extend its grasp to the centre of the continent. Did his brother Jeremie who so admired Allion even realise that?

Either way, if Ende didn’t stand on its own it would have no future, such was the thought that Eric’s heart and mind were intent upon.

As for Mephius, I hear that the war with Taúlia has ended.

Although no hint of it had come out of his mouth, there was slightly troubling information for him.

Guhl deliberately sent a small force to Apta to create a chance for Taúlia’s army to attack. And when war broke because of that, he was probably going to use it as a pretext for not sending reinforcements to the allied country of Garbera…

As the lights overhead cast Eric’s deeply chiselled features into shadow, his expression was concealed even from the nearby Belmor.

It’s said that Taúlia attacked Apta twice and then, by some process or another, they immediately reached an alliance.

The lord of Apta castle was Gil Mephius. The crown prince of whom there had not been a single good report. In fact, the neighbouring countries had considered that the day that man became emperor, Mephius that was so proud of its military valour would inevitably be weakened. And yet, from the time of his first campaign when he had subjugated Ryucown, that name had occasionally come to be heard.

Even if it was a fluke, or even if he is blessed with good retainers, he must be a man with exceptionally good luck.

His expression morose, Eric continued walking.

Part 2

That fool.

Jeremie for his part was sneering at his younger brother.

He was in one of the rooms of the main palace. An embroidery of gold and silver thread on black velvet was spread over the walls and three-cornered shelves were crammed with books, rare old ones as well as new publications. It was Jeremie’s personal study.

The banquet had ended half an hour ago. Within the wine cup that Jeremie was turning on his palm was something that hadn’t been served at the feast earlier, namely black water lily powder of which he had added a single pinch.

That cur, I gave him advice as he was leaving and he openly looked down on me.

At that time, Jeremie truly lamented that his younger brother was popular due to his meritorious military service. However, in truth it could be said that the current situation was progressing entirely according to his expectations.

It seemed like Eric was pretending to be enraged at Garbera for going back on the alliance agreement, but of course that probably wasn’t his only reason for rising to action. He must be impatient now that Grand Duke Malchior’s life was at risk and that it was rumoured that he chosen his eldest son Jeremie as a worthy successor to Ende, and because of that was in a hurry to show off his strength in front of the vassals.

Regarding the next successor as the Grand Duke, Jeremie had not himself clearly obtained his father’s agreement. However, he had deliberately set about the rumour that he seemed to have been chosen. And when the vassals asked him whether this was true or not, he did not deny it outright.

“Really, you shouldn’t hurry too much. I too am still green. Grand Duke Malchior Le Doria needs to remain in good health until I have grown to adulthood.” He would say some such thing and smile.

Whether it was circulating the information of Garbera’s current weakening, or whether it was encouraging his little brother’s self-conceit by pretending not to know about the exchange of promises between Mephius and Eric, all of it was for the sake of getting his brother to take military action.

As had become clear at this evening’s ritual, Eric was not popular at Court. Even though he was not hated or shunned, he was a man who was poor at both laying the groundwork and at flattery. He was not the type to be able to navigate through the Court, where, beneath the flowery words that flitted all about, money and suspicious transactions whirled.

Since he himself understood that, he usually retired to the northern region of Dairan.

After all, he is more suited to riding horses there and waving his sword at barbarians.

“However, that Dairan…”

As spoke the name of that place, Jeremie’s thin lips twisted slightly. As Dairan could be said to be Eric’s base of power, it could also be said to be the only region that was a nuisance to Jeremie. It had its own local particularities and the people who were gathered there were different in nature from those of Ende’s centre. That place was completely unlike Jeremie’s predilection, which was for the scent of face powder and perfume, the swirling of intrigue and desire; there it was fodder and steel, the stench of gunpowder hung over it and swordsmanship and valour were praised.

That land is an obstacle to my becoming Grand Duke.

The problem wasn’t that the northern border risked being breached but that, even supposing Eric were to take a step away from the power struggle, the warriors from that region who could not accept Jeremie might appoint Eric as their leader and raise the banner of revolt. But say he were to decide to treat Eric in a way that kept him away from Dairan, in that case his dissatisfaction and that of the people of Dairan might grow even more violent.

Although Jeremie disdained his younger brother as ‘a man without a brain’, his existence itself was something he had never made light of.

“Are you there, Hezel?”

“Yes.”

Behind Jeremie, something like a black spot could be seen to materialise and shift into the shape of a black-clad human being. Although its arrival was such that one could only think that it had appeared by assimilating with the shadows, or perhaps by teleportation, Jeremie didn’t seem surprised.

“Eric is finally sending forces towards Garbera. How did the divination for their success come out?”

“Because many matters are not settled, the details are as though covered by dark clouds and cannot be seen. However this war will by certainly not be a disadvantageous move for Prince Eric.”

“Really, it can’t be said that sorcery is convenient to use!”

Ende’s “Bureau of Sorcery” was a special organisation that wasn’t to be found in other countries. Composed of 32 sorcerers in all, it had connections to the political centre only through the reliance and requests of the Grand Ducal house and the nobles. Although it was called sorcery, it couldn’t achieve the various kinds of miracles – blowing away a mountain, cleaving straight through the ocean – that were brought forth during the ancient magic dynasty of king Zodias. At most it was to a degree where they divined the future through the agency of spirits, supervised festivals or functions handed down from ancient times, and, because they were well-versed in geography, history, medicine, philosophy and every kind of learning, bestowed their varied wisdom on statesmen.

Although it was said that among them there were those possessing the power to move boulders or to produce fog, but it was well-nigh impossible to use them for things like assisting with public engineering works or for gaining an advantage in war. Besides, they were said to be uninterested in politics, or even in the very life and death of Ende itself.

Furthermore, their foreknowledge of the future was no more than a sort of fortune-telling or prediction. Because the Bureau of Sorcery was said to have amassed all possible knowledge from the creation of the universe to the present day, their predictions that were backed by this knowledge had unusually strong authority, however what Jeremie currently wanted was a clear picture of the future.

Aware of what was on his mind, the man dressed in black called Hezel elaborated in more detail,

“As I stated previously, it is first of all a fact that Garbera has been weakened by Ryucown’s rebellion. There is still a large number of people opposed to the alliance with Mephius and there is a trend amongst those who did not rush to take part in his uprising to openly view him a hero.”

“Hmm”, Jeremie assented. He had deliberately diverted that information towards Eric.

In addition, Ende – or rather, Jeremie – had also participated in Ryucown’s rebellion. When Ryucown was going to rise to action, it was at Jeremie’s own discretion that a secret messenger was received at Ende’s Court. He had promised to supply Zaim with goods and provisions, and by prolonging Ryucown’s life as much as possible, he intended to entrap Garbera into chaos.

After which, would he aim for Mephius or would he aim for the weakened Garbera? In any case, he had judged that this would be an opportunity to break the stalemate between the three countries.

In other words, although in comparison to his younger brother, Jeremie was rumoured to be of the moderate faction, in fact that calmly deliberate prince had taken action earlier than Eric.

Hezel continued,

“Furthermore, however much the newly appointed protector of Zaim, Prince Zenonn Owell, is a military commander of considerable repute, he is not particularly shrewd. And he is on bad terms with Noue Salzantes, who displays exceptional innate intelligence. Garbera’s king made a mistake in his choice of who to send. Since those two are unable to work well together, they will not be able to make a full demonstration of power. As long as talented people have a good affinity for each other, even if they are individually weak, together they can multiply their strength two or three times over. Those two however will drag each other down and neither will be able to demonstrate even half of their natural abilities.”

“I see. Everything is to my brother’s advantage and is further developing to his advantage.”

Jeremie drank a mouthful of the wine cup’s contents and savoured the taste. For a moment he closed his eyes in ecstasy at that stimulus then,

“Well then”, he opened his eyes. “Should we hasten ‘this’ development too? It seems the time and opportunity for Eric to cross over the border without the Grand Duke’s permission and invade a foreign country will match up.”

“Prince Eric’s military manoeuvres should however receive your father’s approval.”

“Hezel.”

“Yes.”

“You said that the Bureau of Sorcery wants a large amount of monetary financing.”

“Yes.”

“There is no precedent for the Bureau of Sorcery negotiating directly with the people of the Grand Ducal House. Sorcerers are careful not to be pulled into vulgar strife and be tainted by it. Therefore, if this should be leaked around, not only you but the continued existence of the Bureau itself would be at risk. Whereas an ordinary person would have flatly turned down your proposal, I generously agreed to be linked to you through a shared secret.”

“At that time, I was greatly impressed.”

Beneath the thick hood that he wore, Hezel seemed to be made of shadows and his features were indistinguishable. He merely lowered his head.

“A month ago, Father’s condition took a sudden turn. It was a good opportunity for Eric, and he falsified Father’s words that were originally opposed to his army’s march. And after Eric has marched, I will hear of this from Father’s own mouth as he lies on his sickbed. Is that not so?”

“Yes”, once again, Hezel bowed his head in praising assent. “Then, will you, Prince, also mobilise soldiers?”

“My role is merely to rebuke my younger brother on his return. If I were to mobilise soldiers now, I would be the same as him. However, I recently heard a disquieting rumour. They say that a large number of wild dragons have been sighted near Dairan.”

His back turned to Hezel, Jeremie’s eyes seemed to gaze at something far away.

“Fafnir,” Hezel muttered from behind him.

When Jeremie heard that, he shook and his thin lips formed into a smile.

Jeremie had only recently drawn closer to the Bureau of Sorcery. The purpose he had had researched in exchange for a large amount of monetary financing was related to dragons. Unlike Mephius and the western provinces of Tauran, in Garbera and Ende dragons were made almost no use of in war. This was largely related to the fact that there were no habitats for dragons in the vicinity, but Jeremie had perused secret books from the ancient magic dynasty and had discovered that there had once been a way to manipulate dragons through sorcery.

Jeremie had many times and without permission searched through the artefacts in the underground treasury and had the people of the Bureau of Sorcery test the effects of ether on them. Artefacts – vessels for sorcery – that had been handed down from the ancient era of the Magic Dynastic were the symbol of the Grand Duchy of Ende and not even a prince was allowed to take them out as he pleased.

But Jeremie had entrusted them to the Bureau of Sorcery under the veil of secrecy. Eventually they would be able to do something close to what was written in the secret books. By bringing together and studying the descriptions from the books, they hoped to recreate something like the ancient vessels of sorcery.

And thus, they had recently arrived at a prototype. Jeremie had purchased several dragons from merchants of the coastal countries and had immediately tested the vessel’s effectiveness.

As anticipated, although it couldn’t perfectly control the movements of violent wild dragons, it was possible even at the current stage to guide them to a certain extent. Training dragons for military use took time and above all else was always accompanied by risks. However, with no more than this one vessel, it was possible at all times to throw an enemy into chaos by directing dragons towards them.

Jeremie had called the dragons manipulated in that way “Fafnir”. [1]

“Although my pitiful little brother will fight hard in Garbera’s territory and will certainly obtain meritorious achievements, on his return, he will be publicly disgraced after being charged with the crime of having falsified the Grand Duke’s words in order to arbitrarily take military action. In addition to which, while most of the soldiers were away from Dairan, the retainers to the Plutos family will have been tragically attacked and massacred by wild dragons – it appears something like that might happen.”

As though toasting an invisible partner, Jeremie lifted his wine cup in the air.

Both Eric’s political and military power would be largely whittled away. If he wanted to continue living in the Grand Duchy of Ende, he would have no choice but to rely on Jeremie. As the commander who, with Jeremie’s backing, would lead the military after the deaths of the Plutos family’s retainers, even his little brother would surely become a useful sword for “Grand Duke Jeremie”.

“If this war between Garbera and Eric were to extend indefinitely, so much the better. I will be able to deal with the increasingly weakened Garbera with my own hands.”

The night wore on for the two princes of Ende, each filled with their respective expectations.

Three days later, a disturbance occurred near Mephius’ border.

Part 3

Well, even if it was called a disturbance, it wasn’t a problem between Mephius and Ende. It was near Garbera’s border, but it wasn’t that hostilities had broken out earlier than the two princes had anticipated.

It could be said to be a problem internal to Mephius, but it was something that would have a huge effect on the actions of both countries of Ende and Garbera.

It happened as the iron-mask-wearing Kain, his adjutant Gowen, the commander of the infantry Pashir and the remaining of the one hundred suitable imperial guards that were led by them were approaching the Nouzen Mountains.

Although the Nouzen Mountains were not a particularly high mountain range, they were the border that divided Ende to the North and Garbera to the South, while on the Western edge of the mountains, both countries bordered Mephius. Until Garbera had gained control of Zaim Fortress, it had been a place where a powerful clan of mountain bandits had set up a fort, but now, because the territories of three countries touched there, it lay quietly as a buffer zone between them. Criminals from each country escaped there, partly because the mountains and valleys created a complicated topography, but it was also rumoured that they gathered and banded together at the ruins of that powerful clan’s fortress.

Gowen had planned to bring the ship down for a while at the entrance of the Nouzens. Letting themselves purposely be discovered by Ende’s troops would cause the enemy to falter in its march. However just before he could do so, they suddenly received an order to halt.

The company of airships that appeared overhead was from neither Ende nor Garbera; the flag that fluttered at their stern was none other than that of Mephius.

Still, they couldn’t fight so Gowen reluctantly obeyed the order.

The ship descended and a large group on horseback approached the cruiser. At their head was Odyne Lorgo, one of Mephius’ twelve generals. Five hundred fully armed members of his Silver Ax Division waited at his rear.

“What is your business here?”

“That’s my line.”

In answering Gowen, Odyne didn’t hide his contempt for a former sword slave.

Thirty-seven years old. A commander with a long military service whose forte lay in strategies that made full use of guns. He himself was a crack shot. At the Founding Festival a few years ago, he had unerringly blown away jars placed on the heads of slaves in the stadium.

Incidentally, he was the father of Lannie Lorgo, the girl who had taken part in the coming-of-age ceremony of this year’s Founding Festival by straddling a dragon.

“We are the Imperial Guards under the prince’s direct control. Since you halted our progress, you must have a suitable reason, right?”

“Well, do I now?” A contemptuous smile flitted over Odyne’s cruel-looking expression. “That being the case, we received direct orders from His Majesty the Emperor. No matter who it may be, no one is currently to cross over Mephius’ border.”

Signs of unrest spread through the Imperial troops in the sky above Gowen. It was rumoured that, Odyne, who was currently looking on in satisfaction, held no kind feelings towards Prince Gil who had appointed slaves as Imperial Guards and who had employed a troop made out of Pashir and the sword slaves who had risen in rebellion.

“No matter who it may be – that’s right, even the prince’s Imperial Guards or the man who became the hero Clovis at the Founding Festival.”

He threw a glare at Kain, who almost started trembling violently. Gowen stepped forward on behalf of the overwhelmed Kain.

“We aren’t on some childish errand. While I send a messenger to the prince, we will anchor here for a while.”

“Ho, in this situation you say that you cannot retreat? In the first place, Prince Gil should have received strict orders from His Imperial Majesty not to move a single soldier from Apta. His Majesty will be furious at His Highness the prince for defying that order. As for every one of you lot, who knows what kind of torture you’ll be put through.”

“We do not know about it. We do not follow His Majesty’s orders; we are the prince’s Imperial Guards to the last. I will send a message to inform His Highness of His Majesty’s intentions and will then wait for His Highness’ answer.”

Even though he was being stared at intently by a valiant general with a long military record, Gowen’s complexion didn’t change in the slightest. Even though both then stayed silent for a while, their blade-like glares connected as with the sound of swords clashing.

“Do what you want”, Odyne sneered while turning his horse back around. “But we will keep watch from a nearby encampment. If you appear to be about to disobey this order, know that no matter who it may be, there will be no forgiveness. Be thoroughly steeled in your resolve.”

Having conveyed that one message, Odyne left with his subordinates in tow and a short while later, an encampment was set up near the halted cruiser in order to keep watch on it.

“Gowen, what will we do?” Kain asked in a low voice. “We don’t have any time. Like Orba said, if Ende and Garbera start their war, with our tiny numbers, it’ll be pointless even if we rush in.”

“We can’t do anything but wait.”

While they were to rush to Garbera as reinforcements, naturally they couldn’t exchange fire with their own country of Mephius. Gowen sent a messenger on horseback. In a situation such as this involving long distances, because there was the issue of fatigue, a horse was more reliable than an airship.

The faces of the soldiers seeing off the messenger were dark with unease.

‘This’ is Mephius after all.

Among them, only Pashir sported a fearless smile on his lips. From the start he had been a man whose grudge would not be cleared no many how many times he burned the country to the ground. Forcefully blocking reinforcements sent to an allied country was entirely like Mephius, he jeered inwardly.

Now then, how will that eccentric prince move?

Putting his hand to the pommel of the sword that hung at his waist, he directed his gaze to the western sky were Apta lay. There were aspects of that prince, who seemed calm and collected yet got drunk and pointed a sword at a vassal, that Pashir couldn’t gauge on the slightest.

No, maybe I…

Maybe he had hopes of him.

The sun set before long. The cruiser and Odyne’s encampment that had been established not even a kilometre away seemed to be glaring at each other. Standing at the bow of the warship, Gowen felt his nose tickled by the cool, tension-filled night air.

Some twenty kilometres east of there. The southern Nouzen Mountains were east of the River Wendt that flowed from Lake Olivis in the north. In Zaim Fortress by Garbera’s border, Noue Salzantes received the news.

They were prevented from travelling?

Emperor Guhl Mephius did not overlook the reinforcements sent by the prince, which naturally meant that one could consider that there existed some connection between his country of Mephius and Ende. Of course this wasn’t something completely unanticipated for Noue. In all likelihood, the same went for Gil Mephius.

He is not the sort of naïvely honest man to withdraw just from this.

Noue was going to believe a bit longer in the man named Gil that he had observed in Solon and then in Apta. He was possessed of the ability to end the war with Ax Bazgan with just a handful of troops. Above all else, he had crushed Noue’s own strategy in Solon.

Naturally however, not everyone in Garbera shared Noue’s sentiments.

“You see? This is why you can’t trust Mephius!”

His face twisted in a truly venomous expression, Zenon Owell was currently furious.

Garbera’s second prince was the commander of the Knights of the Order of the Tiger. At seventeen, the year that the war with Mephius first started, he had achieved glory in his first campaign. It had been ten years since then. Having himself crossed swords a great many times with Mephius, even now he still hadn’t been able to accept the likes of a peace obtained by giving away a princess.

He and Vileena were close as siblings. The prince also had soft platinum hair and, from time to time, an indomitable expression exactly like hers flitted across his handsome, clean-cut face. In terms of personality also, they were similarly stubborn.

“Vileena. It’s fine if you dislike this.”

Zenon, who had been stationed to the west in Mavant when the marriage to Mephius had been coming together and who had expressly rushed back to Phozon, the capital, told his sister.

“Not even I wish for this war to end like this. Emperor Guhl will definitely be defeated in Mephius at your brother’s hands. If you’re hesitating to come forward, I’ll speak to His Majesty on your behalf and…”

“No, Brother” Vileena looked straight at Zenon and shook her head. “I’m going to Mephius.”

His sweetly smiling sister left Zenon at a loss for words.

He placed his hands on the shoulders of his little sister who had steeled her resolve for their country’s sake. At that, the serving maids who were standing around them in a wide circle broke into sobs. It was too heart-wrenching for them that the fourteen-year-old princess would very soon be married into an enemy country, and moreover one known to be as barbaric as Mephius.

Although the siblings were far apart in age, Zenon had been Vileena’s close playmate from when she had been much younger than she was now. They would drag their surroundings into their games of tag or have mock duels with wooden swords or toy guns. As he purposely let himself be defeated, Zenon would laugh cheerfully,

“Vileena, it’s not too late even now. Dress like a man and live like a man. When you become an adult, you’ll be a valiant general far above compare to this brother of yours.”

He often said that. For those who knew the two of them, the sight of those siblings gazing at each other for so long an interval moved them all the more to tears.

Thus, when despite the fact that they should have been tied together by an alliance, the other party failed to reward the princess’ resolve by being reluctant to send reinforcements when Garbera was in danger, many of the Garberan people, starting with Zenon, were enraged.

Meanwhile,

“If Mephius was intending to send reinforcements, could it be that they are hesitating after having seen Ende’s preparations?”

The one who addressed Noue was Rogier Gilant, a cavalry captain dispatched by the Knights of the Order of Bronze. He was a young man who had previously been stationed at Apta with Noue.

At present, with five hundred from the Knights of the Order of the Tiger and two hundred and fifty apiece from the Knights of the Orders of Black Steel and of Bronze, roughly a thousand soldiers were stationed at Zaim.

The “preparations” that Rogier spoke of were the strange measures taken by Prince Eric. The prince had readied upwards of two thousand soldiers. Without worrying about maintaining warriors to watch over Dairan, Eric had gathered mercenary soldiers – in this case, they were warriors who had left their master’s house and who were also known as ronin – within Ende and had also borrowed some from the generals who had offered him their assistance.

As a suitable time for marching drew ever closer, why then had Eric first marched off six hundred soldiers and stationed them along the border with Mephius?

The unit hadn’t stirred after that. As it was a location that somewhat veered away from a direct route to Zaim, they couldn’t be a party of vanguards either.

“That military unit is probably for guarding against reinforcements from Mephius. Prince Eric also knows that the country of Mephius isn’t a united monolith and deliberately left a party to stare them down.”

“If that’s the case”, Noue said while looking at the flow of the river Wendt from one of the fort’s windows, “how does he expect to do it?”

“Pardon my insolence, but by dispatching a troop in the Nouzen Mountains and by having them pass through a road that doesn’t collide with the enemy’s main force, can we not have that troop at hand to attack them from the flank? In that situation, in concert with the Mephian reinforcements, we could attack them from both sides. Then moving South along with the reinforcements, we could also catch the main body of prince Eric’s troops in a pincer movement while it advances towards Zaim.”

“That’s saying that it is easy to penetrate into the Nouzens,” muttered Noue as he placed his slender, feminine-looking fingers to his chin and muttered. A lapis lazuli ring shone on his forefinger.

The peaks and ridges of the Nouzen Mountains were riddled with numerous ravines whose hideously complicated shapes turned the area into a maze. Advancing several hundred soldiers, and furthermore spreading them out so that they wouldn’t be discovered by the enemy’s main force, would both take time and result in many broken bones.

“Besides”, Noue continued to survey the river’s surface, “Say we swooped down on that unit along the border, what would we do if the enemy perhaps escaped by crossing the border into Mephius?”

“Crossing… the border?”

“I had thought Eric to be lacking in wit, however it seems I will have to revise that perception. In all likelihood, that unit is…”

“What idiocy are you blabbing on about?”

Zenon Owell step forward in a clang of his knightly accoutrement. Rogier sat up straight and even Lord Salzantes turned around and bowed.

“If we depend on reinforcements from Mephius now, then what will happen? It’s as clear as day they betrayed the alliance with us. On the other hand, this is a good opportunity. We will use that as a reason to take Vileena back. That the wedding ceremony still hasn’t taken place is also an offence. It looks like after Ende it’ll be them next.”

“Yes.”

The two of them could only answer together.

The prince himself is by no means a bad general but, his eyes lowered, Noue’s brilliant mind whirled, in this situation, it would be preferable to have a foolish general that I could easily manipulate.

Zenon was also a general who had accomplished a great many feats during the ten-year war. However right now, his violent emotions had leapt to the forefront. His animosity had not remained confined to Mephius and those violent emotions were now aimed at Ende. When the decision to marry Vileena to Mephius had caused friction with Ende, at the king’s command, Zenon himself had gone there as envoy.

As Grand Duke Malchior and he had then vowed steadfast friendship, Zenon no doubt felt disgraced by prince Eric’s current aggressive actions.

In addition to his already being irritated, Zenon didn’t place much trust in Noue. Although he was now dead, Zenon naturally detested Ryucown for rebelling at such an important time. The one who had counselled the king to appoint Ryucown to a position of power was Noue. And the position he had laid the foundation for had been none other than that of Vileena’s bridegroom.

“I can’t trust that pretty-boy,” Zenon had publicly declared. “I do not believe that a knight’s honour lies in excelling in ingenious tricks. No matter how resourceful one maybe, military arts and a wholesome spirit must come together. It’s impossible to believe in a man whose forte lies in surprise attacks.”

Zenon was the epitome of the Garberan soldier who recklessly followed the path of chivalry so he was disinclined to listen to the wisdom that Noue could confer at this time.

So many restrictions.

Zaim was originally a fortress in which two thousand soldiers could be stationed at all times. It could also accommodate five battleship-class air carriers. However the soldiers at hand were half of that while the available ships were only two cruisers class and a single carrier that functioned as a supply ship.

As far as Noue was concerned, this was also a restriction.

It was absolutely as the sorcerer from Ende, Hezel, had judged. King Ainn Owell was afraid of internal divisions. Therefore he wasn’t able to allot a great many soldiers to Zaim, the land where Ryucown had rebelled.

Ryucown had been at the core of the airship forces. He had been charismatic. And there were many young officers in the airship forces. So as they had to avoid giving them any provocation, he had had no choice but to appoint Prince Zenon as commander of Zaim. The ships that were there were also Zenon’ own property.

In these situations, generals who personally relied on me would follow my judgement.

As far as Noue was concerned, soldiers were chess pieces and he thought of even generals as puppets that could be manoeuvred through his intelligence. However when confronted with a situation that didn’t go as he wanted, even someone as self-confident as he was couldn’t help but regret the way he had done things until then.

No matter how brilliant a stratagem I come up with, it’s no better than empty prattle if I don’t have the manpower to implement it.

That being the case, he didn’t have the leisure not to call directly on Mephius for reinforcements. Whatever Emperor Guhl’s intentions might be, it should be possible to shake up the leading Mephian nobles. If a direct appeal for reinforcements was made by an allied country, those capable of influencing the emperor would surely step forward.

The Garberan royal court however wouldn’t do this. It was unthinkable to bow their heads before the enemy they had fought during the ten-year war. The nobles at Court repeatedly said that “The pride of Knights won’t allow it.”

If pride is to hasten towards death, you should meet your end soon enough, Noue thought bitterly.

The current situation was absurd. It was all the more exasperating as he judged that he had brought if on himself by overestimating his own intelligence.

“Even the shine of a lapis lazuli is due to polishing.”

Zenon muttered absentmindedly as he left, looking at the ring on Noue’s forefinger.

A lapis lazuli’s beauty was drawn out by it being polished. If one neglected study and forgot to train, no matter how many accomplishments they might have, they would not shine. Such was Noue’s own creed and the reason why he wore that ring. He realised now that he himself had been on the verge of losing that meaning.

However…

Naturally he wasn’t simply lazing around grumbling inwardly.

Noue was moving forward with what he was best at. About half a month ago, he had appealed for assistance from the inhabitants living on the outskirts of the Nouzen Mountains and had built a fort that would serve as a decoy at the centre of the mountainous area. He intended to send Zans, an infantry captain from the Knights of the Order of Black Steel, there along with three hundred soldiers.

“We should be able to lure them with that.”

Noue Salzantes wore his usual scornful smile while his eyes betrayed nothing but a flicker of impatience.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ Katakana read “Fabnir” and the kanji read “Demon Dragon Regiment” (魔竜隊).