Rakuin no Monshou - Book 4: Chapter 7: Lost Kingdom

Part 1

Half a day after crossing the border, Ende’s troops, advancing along the side of the river through the valley, sighted Garbera’s advance troops. From the top of the cliff to their right, they could see the light shining off of the Garberan forces’ armour and helmets. As soon as the latter saw them, they opened sporadic fire, but the distance was such that it didn’t hit.

A number of airships flew out from the battleship Venu and chased after them. Eric however had given strict orders that they were to avoid pursuing them too far.

“Aren’t they soldiers from the fortress?”

“No, or maybe knowing the Nouzens terrain, they mean to flank our side.”

“I don’t care”, Eric came to a prompt decision, “They intend to slow our advance through guerrilla warfare. But instead, they’ll make us leap forward.”

Another half a day later and both armies had their first skirmish with victims.

From the hastily constructed fort at the heart of the mountains, Garbera mounted a surprise attack by an elite force. Guerrilla warfare. The Ende side however overwhelmed them by force of numbers.

“Don’t worry about small damage. It’s no more than breaking through a swarm of insects. Even if they suck some of our blood and sting our skin, we won’t withdraw, there will be no defeat.” Eric was not going to lessen the speed of his march as he had fully understood that this was the enemy’s aim.

The battlefield was not only on land but also in the sky.

The Ende side was intent on flying airships to investigate the terrain and to locate where the enemy was concealed. Of course on the Garberan side, airships also flew from the fortress. If the sky was won, given the complexity of the terrain, one side would unilaterally gain the upper hand.

There was no denying that Garbera’s airships and pilots were all of high calibre. While the main unit lured Ende’s airships, a detached force commenced bombing the mothership Venu from its flank. However, Eric had reinforced the Venu into an empty airborne fortress. With neither soldiers nor supplies loaded, and furthermore with even mobility having been sacrificed, everything had been poured into defence until its weight was such that it could until just fly in the air.

“Don’t falter. If you falter, you’ll be playing into the enemy’s hands!”

While explosions continued overhead, Montfort, the adjutant for Eric’s main forces, exhorted in the same way as his commander. An airship runner arrived with the information that an artillery corps was lying in ambush downriver of the Wendt.

“That damn Noue. He’s all hot air!”

As similar small-scale fights repeated themselves, Eric Amon Doria’s confidence grew. By sporadically sending out only small units, the enemy could only retreat each time. From the outset, the relative position of the fort within the Nouzen mountains had not been particularly good. From his scouts, Eric learned that this was something even Noue Salzantes lamented. To say nothing of the general, Zenon. It was proof that things were not going well that he and his subordinate even agreed on this point.

“That fortress will fall easily.”

And so the enemy had no other choice but to slow their progress through repeated guerrilla assaults. Taking advantage of that situation, they seemed to be constantly sending their military strength from Zaim to the mountain fortress, however,

“If they could just vacate the fortress and congregate at Zaim. It’s because I want that that I seized Garbera by the neck.”

Eric advanced his troops on the exhausted mountain fortress.

Under a sky filled with low-hanging black clouds, the army pushed forward with greater and greater force.

On the other side, at Zaim fortress, Noue Salzantes was receiving minute reports from the mountain fortress. A path having been prepared for messengers between Zaim and Noue’s fortress, there was no oversight in the information collected.

Still not?

As skilful an organiser as he was, his expression was starting to lose its composure. As previously stated, Noue considered that once the fighting began, there could be no victory. Even supposing Eric’s assault could be halted at Zaim, there was nothing further to be gained and this was a war that would merely serve to deplete soldiers and resources.

If such were to come to pass, it would be a dishonour for Noue Salzantes.

You’ve still not come, Gil Mephius?

Noue believed that relying on others and praying for help was intrinsically useless. But now…

At that moment, a messenger entered Zaim. The soldier who leapt from the airship bounded into the command room where Noue and Zenon were. What reached Noue’s ears, who had half-risen in expectation of some glimmer of hope, was:

“The enemy army has approached within eyesight of the Nouzen fortress. They have struck up camp and it is likely that they will charge within the half hour!”

The report that a head-on fight could no longer be avoided had finally arrived. Zaim was engulfed in fighting spirit and fervour. In its midst, Noue alone sat looking depressed.

At that time, Eric’s forces were certainly drawing near the Nouzen fortress.

With their first military gains from the war against Garbera right before their eyes, even Eric’s usually cheerless face shone.

However, this was Noue Salzantes’ trap. After repeated small-scale attacks and numerous retreats, the enemy was drawn to their bosom. It was a strategy he had made use of once before at Apta. As part of the information warfare that Noue prided himself on, he had broadcast reports that that fortress would fall easily.

As soon as the enemy ship Venu commenced bombardment of the fort, there appeared cannons that had been camouflaged within the crevices of the steep cliffs that rose on either side. In a moment, the incessant roar of artillery fire drowned out the battle cries from Ende army. Faced with an unexpectedly fierce bombardment, the Venu temporarily retreated. In its place, airships dove one-by-one to intervene, but a larger than usual number of enemy ships launched in counterattack from the fortress.

Under the decorative circlet, Prince Eric’s face became grave. But he resolutely gave Montfort the order to have the ground troops rush forward.

“Seize the fort in the time that enemy fire is concentrated on the sky!”

The Venu’s defences would be enough to single-handedly occupy the enemy’s air force for a while. He intended to gain control on land during that interval.

Eric’s decision was the correct one for an invading army that valued speed, however his opponent Noue had thoroughly turned the complicated terrain to his advantage. All along the path towards the fort, holes had been covered with soft sand.

The tactics were rudimentary but it was an effective strategy on this narrow lie of land. As Ende’s soldiers and horses came tumbling down one after another, the Garberan troops lying in ambush swooped in to attack. Forming an orderly line along an elevated position of the fort’s front façade, the artillery corps opened fire in turn.

Blood spurted from all over. Montfort’s troops’ formation fell apart and, as though they were crops being harvested, they were beheaded at the neck, struck through the chest with spears or took lead bullets to the temple and died. Montfort decided to have his now disorganised unit halt and, with cover from their artillery, retreat for the time being.

Damn.

Looking up at from the main forces, Eric mentally clicked his tongue. It was Ende’s side rather that had been trapped into aerial combat to create an opportunity. By bombarding the warship from the ground and allowing the fighting between airships to intensify, Garbera had lured the ground troops away.

Damn you, Noue. Did you actually place the main force here?

Although they had been allowed to believe that this fortress was a diversion merely meant to slow them down, could it be that Garbera had judged that this might be the scene of a decisive battle?

“My lord, what should we do?” A Dairan warrior at Eric’s side asked. His face was flushed with ardour. His meaning was should the main force connect with Montfort’s troop? Understanding that, Eric shook his head.

“We’ll only be dragged into the enemy’s stratagem and bogged down. Send a messenger! Mobilise Belmor.”

“Yes, sir.”

This decision of Eric’s was also absolutely justified. There was nothing about it that could be criticised. However, Noue had undoubtedly provoked that decision from the enemy general.

As to what at the Garberan commander Zans was doing at that time inside the Nouzen fortress, he was preparing for withdrawal. Following Noue’s detailed instructions, Zans had made full use of traps and with only a small force had for a time met the enemy on equal terms. But that time was short. There were truly very few soldiers at the fort. Only the airships were there in large numbers as about seventy percent of Zaim’s force had been deployed at there, but this too was part of the plan to dull Eric’s caution.

“Two enemy airships are leaving the battlefield.”

Said a soldier who was monitoring the situation with a pair of binoculars. Zans nodded,

“The detached force will be coming. Hasten the preparations for evacuation. But so that they don’t suspect anything, pretend the ships have exhausted their ether supply and are returning here for replenishment, then destroy the interior of this fort.”

He saw to it that his orders were carried out thoroughly.

What Noue Salzantes was being vigilant about was Ende’s detached force – in other words, the group led by Belmor that was stationed near the border with Mephius. He had looked to Mephius to provide a restraint against them, but Noue’s thoughts on that matter had changed. From having talked directly with Mephius’ crown prince, he had sensed that there was a secret agreement between the prince’s father Guhl Mephius and Ende.

That unit will probably cross the border and attack Zaim by a route that Garbera can’t obstruct.

Once the enemy entered Mephian territory, their movements would be hard to read even for Noue.

Or perhaps they would contrive to suddenly appear from the south and attempt a pincer attack again Zaim. Furthermore, Noue hadn’t spoken of this to anyone. Suggesting the possibility that the enemy might enter Mephian territory would cause unrest among the soldiers at Zaim and they would lose concentration. None were very astute: although Mephius and Ende might be in secret communication, Noue believed that there was no chance of Mephius itself baring its fangs, but the majority of the soldiers would surely think so. As the saying went, suspicions wreak havoc on the battlefield. If they believed that even Mephius had turned to the enemy, morale at Zaim would collapse.

“Therefore there is a twofold reason for having to first of all shift that detached unit.”

Noue had lured the main force in this way and was going to drag Belmor’s unit into the fray by means of a fierce battle. His aim with this was to have the main force and the detached unit join up. The force led by Zans was to withdraw to Zaim and to attract the united Ende army there.

Zaim fortress was solid. It would easily repel a charge by infantry and cavalry, and although the airship forces were not ideally arranged, if the war was fought in the sky, Garbera still had a slight edge. Even if reinforcements from their country were delayed, they should easily be able to hold the siege for a month.

Hearing the reports that had been pouring in incessantly from the battlefield, Zaim fortress’ soldiers were in high spirits.

“Good.” Noue looked as composed as ever. He regretted that his expectations of Mephius had been off the mark, and it was a humiliation for one who considered himself to be a resourceful commander to have to undertake a siege war the likes of which anyone could come up with, but since it had already begun, there was no helping it. “The knights of the Order of Bronze will provide support for Zans’ withdrawal. Shoot with guns and arrows and only use airships to create a diversion. Do not get deeply embroiled in fighting.”

For now, the traps and stratagems that he had prepared were working.

As far as Noue was concerned, there had from the start been no need for showy military gains in this defensive battle. Since this wasn’t a war into which Ende itself had poured its full strength, he had to take the wind out of Eric’s sails from the start.

However,

“He gave Zans the order to pull out?” His horse standing at the ready by the castle gate, Zenon Owell furrowed his brow. “What is he doing? This is a rare opportunity. If we push our main force out of here, we will easily be able to take Eric’s head.”

Zenon was not as concerned about Ende’s detached unit as Noue was. Furthermore, he didn’t place much faith in the strategies Noue dreamt up.

A man who only draws up strategies in his head.

If say his retainers or companions were to fight to their utmost, Zenon rewarded them with the highest prizes and praise. He was a commander who cared about his subordinates. But he was prejudiced in believing that a person who had not experienced actual combat was in no position to talk about actual combat.

“War is a living creature. The situation changes from one moment to the next. To be able or not to sense that directly on the battlefield can be said to be the main thing that determines a commander’s ability. Even though I acknowledge Noue’s knowledge and resourcefulness, his strategies are still merely worked out before the fight. Right now, I myself know the current situation best.”

And Zenon judged that this was too good an opportunity to let slip.

Although they were in the extreme positions of enemies, it could be said that Zenon and Eric were alike. More than their personalities, it was in their way of thinking about war that they resembled each other.

Zenon Owell himself along with his Knights of the Order of the Tiger left through the castle gate. As the fighting would take place along narrow valley paths, he only took two hundred able subordinates with him.

Upon receiving the urgent report, Noue was horrified.

Is this, as could be expected, his ever coolly-controlled features distorted into a grimace. However, the object of his resentment wasn’t only the prince. Is this another flaw in my way of doing things?

He himself had caused the unrest in Zaim by keeping his strategy a secret even from Zenon.

Noue was not a general but he had taken pride in being superior to any general in his experience and achievements up to this point in time. However, a battle was a living creature and Noue couldn’t grasp anything about a human who took part in it.

Right now, Noue regretted not having made the effort to build ‘human’ trust.

Part 2

Zenon Owell had charged out roaring a war-cry. The galloping horses drilled holes in the ground and kicked up clouds of dust from the force of their hooves.

Finally, the Nouzen fortress came into view. Along with it came the sight of Ende’s main force which had taken up position slightly to the left of the fort, on the bank of the Wendt.

“Charge!”

Zenon had vigorously taken command but just then, Belmor’s detached force drew near from the flank.

“Chaaarge!”

Encouraging his men just as Zenon had, Belmor galloped down the relatively gentle slope to his left. They plunged down. At their head was also the cruiser-class dragonstone ship Regin. With the lead party raising an impressive cloud of dust, they struggled against each other and a great many horses and men were driven into the river with no distinction between friend and foe.

Dammit.

Zenon had no time for regrets. In a flash, they had been dragged into a mêlée. A battle-ax seemed about to fly towards him and his beloved horse came close to being impaled on a spear.

“You!”

While skilfully twisting atop his mount, Zenon wielded his sword left and right in counterattack. As the clash of steel resounded, spurts of blood rose in the air. The heads of Ende soldiers went flying. The battle situation around Garbera’s second prince was ferocious, and it was as though a gaping wide circle had been carved out around him alone. Ende’s soldiers could no longer attack him outright.

But there was a limit to individual fighting power.

Because of the mêlée, Zans’ troops that had been withdrawing from the decoy fortress were prevented from leaving.

“That suit of armour – it looks like the enemy general, Garbera’s prince.” Eric yelled vigorously from where his troops were positioned. His finely chiselled face burst into a smile, “Montfort, pull to the flank and strike at the fortress. We’ll prevent the enemy from joining up. And then – everyone, go. We’ll capture the prince!”

In the end, Ende also sent out its main force.

“May our feet house Aba, the spirit of the wind.”

“May our hearts rage like the flames of Villar!”

As the cavalry set off with the force of loosed arrows, the army corps followed behind them, raising a forest of spears.

Zenon’s army was caught in an attack from both sides.

Ende’s cruiser Regin joined in bombarding the fort and in so doing neutralised its firepower. With no backup, Zenon was forced into a hard fight. As it was a confused mêlée, neither guns nor arrows could be used and each could only swing the weapons they held with all their might. War cries, gasps of pain, then screams and war cries again. All at once, the valley turned into a scene of carnage.

“The prince, where is the prince?”

“Eei, clear the way!”

The hundred knights of the Order of Bronze hurriedly rushed over. Originally the troop had been tasked with covering Zans’ withdrawal. They had avoided getting too deeply involved in fighting as per Noue’s instructions, but of course, they put those aside when faced with the second prince being in danger.

Drawing their swords or affixing their spears under their arms, they came to assist Zenon’s group. They were unable to reverse Ende’s momentum however. The Garberans who had been expecting a siege war at Zaim did not after all have numbers exceeding those of Ende.

Zenon cut through a spearhead and sent it flying then, even as he was turning around, he beheaded a soldier who was drawing up to him from behind.

“You despicable Endean curs. On top of breaking its agreement, did Mephius also join with you to let you through?” Zenon’s hatred was also turned towards Mephius, which should have been their ally. The detached force which should have been stationed along the border had moved, which meant that no reinforcements from Mephius would come. “This is why those Mephian savages…”

Before he could continue to yell any further, a spear struck his horse in the neck and Zenon fell from it. For the soldiers of Ende, there could be no greater achievement. With a cry, they surged towards him.

“Prince!”

Within the Knights of the Order of the Tiger, several chosen to be the prince’s bodyguards took up position to protect him. One had his head split open, one was struck a smiting blow to the chest and as he fell, Zenon somehow or another regained his stance. As he stopped a blow from an enemy sword, tears gradually filled his eyes. The full force of his hatred was turned not against Ende, nor against Mephius, but against himself.

For his part, Noue had gathered the soldiers remaining in Zaim fortress and was about to send them out with a captain of the Order of the Knights of Bronze as their commander. It was of course not Noue’s real intention to throw soldiers into the midst of a confused, free-for-all mêlée.

To send all the soldiers out from our advantageous position at Zaim…

Although he couldn’t help having regrets, the battle would be lost if they lost the prince. This was no time for hesitation.

If it came to a head-on-collision, their inferior numbers were a disadvantage. Of the soldiers remaining at Zaim, Noue was only taking two hundred and he had further had all the remaining airships hastily loaded into the air carriers. The surrounding terrain had been investigated when the Nouzen fortress was being built. By going around the fortress from behind, they would be poised to strike at the enemy from the side.

But even so, that isn’t much consolation.

The enemy also had air carriers. As a result, how effective would their air force power actually be? Vexed and irritated, Noue oversaw while the hasty preparations advanced. Indeed, all he could do was oversee. He himself wasn’t a soldier. However right now, every single soldier was essential.

If only he himself could hold a sword – for the first time in his life that thought came to him.

You fool. Here where Ryucown was defeated, is your ingenuity also going to be for naught?

For a moment, his almond-shaped eyes lit up with tragic resignation.

“Lord Salzantes!”

His horse gasping for breath, a new messenger had arrived before Zaim’s castle gate. Seeing his astounded expression, Noue wondered pessimistically what new failure had occurred.

“A Mephian ship!”

“What?”

“A force led by Prince Gil Mephius has appeared from the west!”

“Impossible!”

It felt as though Belmor Plutos’ temples vibrated from the war-cry that erupted from behind. As soon as it appeared over the riverbank, the low-flying Mephian cruiser discharged a group of warriors sitting astride horses and small dragons. They galloped in a straight line and tore left and right through the battle formation of Belmor’s troops.

“Whoo!”

The Garberan knight who swung his sword next to Zenon cheered. He had suffered an injury to the head and his blond hair was dyed crimson, but his expression was bright.

“Your Highness, Mephian reinforcements. That person over there is Mephius’ Crown Prince!”

“What did you say?”

His eyes starting, at that moment, Zenon Owell probably received an even greater shock than Belmor. When the surrounding Garberan forces saw them, they regained vigour. At the head of the reinforcements, wearing a light silver breastplate, was Gil Mephius. Riding a Tengo, he drove off his enemies left and right with a dragon lance while behind him, armed respectively with double swords and a longsword, Shique and Pashir dealt the deathblow to soldiers.

Faced with the Mephian forces they had been certain would not come, Belmor’s unit was for a moment on the verge of being routed.

However, from within the mêlée, Eric’s right-hand man, Belmor, carefully observed the situation. As soon as the enemy ship had lowered that single troop, it rose in the air again. In other words, the soldiers now rushing in – who appeared to number about a hundred – looked to be their entire military strength.

“The enemies are few!” Belmor called out as, from atop his horse, he broke the sword of a Garberan knight who had lunged towards him. “Return to battle formation. Capture the Mephian prince’s head!”

Although they had at first been caught off guard by the surprise attack, the soldiers of Ende had experienced countless battles in Dairan. As Belmor’s angry voice washed over them, they immediately arranged themselves in a file ready to intercept Mephius.

Then, as they were about to rush into that iron-like formation, Prince Gil quickly waved his hand.

“What?”

With a promptness that left Belmor astounded, the dragons and horses turned around and the unit suddenly withdrew. They had been on the verge of intercepting them; for Ende’s soldiers, it was an irresistible invitation.

“W-Woah, woah, woooaah!”

With war cries characteristic of Dairan warriors, they plunged forward towards the Mephian prince.

In fact however, just before letting out the soldiers, the Mephian cruiser had dropped off long-range cannons. They had let them down on to the cliff top along with two medium-sized Yunion dragons. Naturally that the pair of dragons could be relied on was all down to Hou Ran’s wiles.

Just as he had earlier waved his hands, Gil this time raised them to the sky. It looked as though Prince Gil had, by some magic ritual, called forth lightning. With the bombardment from the sky, people and horses were turned into shredded meat and the pieces flew about along with the dirt and sand.

Belmor worked his throat dry trying to stop his allies. But they didn’t stop. Because they hadn’t known the second attack would befall them.

We let ourselves be lured and now we can’t do anything as they use cannons.

Belmor bit his lips until they bled. If they forced another mêlée, should they strike at Mephius at their front or at Garbera in their rear – before he had time to make that decision, the echo of horses’ hooves closed up on them from behind. It was the Garberan troop led by Zenon Owell.

And when Gil once again had his subordinates swiftly turn around, Belmor’s troop was caught in a two-sided onslaught. Belmor had been cautious about the cannons for a moment too long, and that moment became the gap that allowed him to be attacked.

Realising the danger Belmor was in, the air cruiser Regin was returning from the fortress but the Mephian war ship was already moving to intercept it. Surrounded by a forest of swords and spears drawn by friends and foes, Belmor was unable to either advance or retreat.

But –

“You…”

In this inescapable situation, Belmor, the beard covering his face dyed in the blood of those he had slain, turned and glared at all 360 degrees around him.

Although young, he was a courageous commander with much experience behind him. And when that experienced commander’s eyes suddenly fixed themselves on a single point, his hand instantly went to his waist and he pulled out a handgun.

Fixed in his line of sight was silver armour.

As though by miracle, the crowd divided left and right. As Belmor pulled the trigger, Gil Mephius was thrown off of the Tengo.

Guh – as he hit the ground, Orba let out a small cry of pain.

The Tengo appeared to have been hit in the neck and the small dragon lay near Orba’s side, dying as it bled out. Before he had time to grasp what was happening, a group filled with killing intent swooped down from above. He was going to rise to meet the enemy, but he had no sword. It seemed he had dropped it when he fell from the dragon.

Damn.

Clicking his tongue, he rolled on the ground. Sparks flew from where a spear rammed into the space where his head had been just a moment earlier.

“Gil Mephius!”

Belmor bellowed and galloped his horse with the speed of a sudden clap of thunder. A spearhead cut through the very wind above Orba’s head.

Orba avoided the blow by letting his body fall backwards, but Belmor instantly turned his horse around and charged a second time. His subordinates also rushed in left and right. Swords and axes were raised above their heads.

At that moment Orba’s blood – which normally boiled all the hotter and fiercer in desperate situations – ran cold.

As to why, no one, not even the person himself, could have given a reason. Could it be that he had lost the almost obsessive idea that he would cling to life at all cost? The strength to move arms and legs if so much as the slightest chance of survival was dangled before them; the strength, if both arms and legs were gone, to seize any chance even with their teeth and not let it slip; right then, his grasp on that had slackened.

If there was one clear factor that determined whether a soldier lived or died on the battlefield, it was surely that one. Say there was a difference in skill or that one wasn’t blessed with powerful allies, that one factor surpassed a difference in skill, drew forth good luck and could turn any ally into a hero fearless of death.

Orba suddenly turned and avoided an axe. He swerved his head and just barely managed to dodge another sword but from on top of his galloping horse, Belmor jabbed a spear straight down at him.

He had no time to even swerve to one side.

“Orba!”

Was it Shique or was it Gowen who cried out?

Gatchin – sparks flew as steel met steel.

When Orba looked up, a large shadowy silhouette had come galloping from a different direction from Belmor’s; from atop his horse, Pashir had repelled Belmor’s spear.

“Not enough spirit.”

As Pashir’s angry voice crashed over his head, Orba came to a sudden decision.

I’m going back.

Indeed, even Orba, who no longer had a place where he belonged within Mephius, had one person and one person only whom he had to return for and convey a message to.

Which means,

He couldn’t die.

I can’t die yet.

With even more soldiers surging towards him, he jumped forward and slashed them, slashed them and jumped back.

As he threw himself body and soul into the mêlée, as though to let the flickering embers of his rage blaze once again, Orba continued repeating to himself I can’t die.

Belmor was losing his calm. Nor did he have time to burn in the regret of having lost the perfect opportunity. The sword of the horse-riding enemy he faced was ferocious. Even though he had more than enough confidence in the strength of his own arm, as he lunged with his spear, before he was half way through his momentum, it was knocked clear into the sky and he was aware that he was slowly growing desperate.

As that was happening, he caught sight from over his enemy’s shoulder of an approaching force flying Garbera’s flag.

Before long –

As the soldiers guarding his sides all fell, his surroundings suddenly opened wide.

“Ugh…”

At that moment, his mounted opponent dealt Belmor a blow to the waist with a spear and he fell from his horse.

Before he even had time to stand up again, to his right and to his left, Belmor felt swords closely pressed against his neck. On one side was Gil Mephius, on the other, Zenon Owell.

His face pale, Belmor silently raised both hands and dropped his sword.

Above his head, Mephius’ Crown Prince Gil and Garbera’s Prince Zenon looked straight at each other.

“You arrived early, Gil Mephius, Your Highness.” Zenon said sarcastically.

“That’s because your little sister gave me a sharp kick in the ass.”

At Gil’s answer, with a pff, theirs lips broke into smiles then they laughed.

Part 3

Upon seeing the almost total annihilation of Belmor’s troops, Eric’s face once more lost all colour.

Controlling his own anger, he had his troops, which were about to rush into the mêlée, stand down then somehow managed to get them into a battle formation. But beyond Gil and Zenon’s forces, a large number of airships and riders came into sight. It was the main force launched from Zaim.

Ende still had the numerical advantage, but no matter what strategies they used, their momentum had been completely lost as Belmor’s unit had been trampled down and defeated. Furthermore, in the sky, things were also tending towards the enemy’s side. Their airships having been destroyed by the Garberan ones, these had joined the fortress in vigorously bombarding the Venu. If the Venu retreated, Belmor’s ship Regin would be attacked by Mephius’ warship and by Garbera’s airships.

His skull pounding as though it were about to be split open from the incessant sound of bombardments coming from the sky, Eric clenched his fists and shook.

“My Lord.”

“Lord Eric, the order to charge!”

I can’t.

The words he intended to speak were drowned out by the roar of artillery fire. No, it was probably that Eric himself couldn’t come to firm decision and was hesitating. A charge would lead to a large-scale war of attrition. Moreover, the momentum was held by the enemy. But if they retreated, Eric and his followers from Dairan would become laughing stocks in their own country. Not only had Belmor appeared to have been taken captive, but he wouldn’t be able to face those who had died.

Then, in the dark, overcast sky, a white airship came flying. It flew a flag of black crossed with white.

“My Lord, that…”

When Eric looked in the same direction as his subordinate, a somewhat doubtful expression crossed his face.

That was a signal shared throughout the centre of the continent – the meaning was that the ship was a messenger from the enemy.

Half an hour later.

As though to wash away the blood of the victims that still clung to the earth, rain had begun falling from the sky. The Garberan forces in addition to the main force from Zaim had arranged themselves in a battle formation while on the other side, the dispersed Endean soldiers had also entirely regrouped into files. Although they had bought time, both sides were unmoving, paying careful attention to the enemy.

The commanders-in-chief of both armies were inside the Nouzen fortress.

Eric Amon Doria of Ende.

Zenon Owell of Garbera and also, having hastened with reinforcements from Mephius, Gil Mephius.

It was Gil who had proposed the meeting, offering as terms to release the captured Belmor and his subordinates. After exchanging the conventional greetings, the three of them fell silent for a while. Only the incessant sound of the rain, as it beat down with ever growing fury then suddenly grew calm again, could be heard.

Whenever the eyes of the two other than Gil met, they immediately averted them. For Eric’s part, he felt like rebuking Mephius for having appeared to reinforce the enemy. However, since Mephius was ostensibly tied in an alliance with Garbera, there was nothing unnatural about their actions and Eric wanted to avoid committing the folly of publicly revealing the secret agreement between himself and Emperor Guhl Mephius.

On the other side, Zenon felt like rebuking Eric for throwing aside the vows of friendship sworn with Grand Duke Malchio. However, as it was Garbera that had annulled the alliance through a wedding to Princess Vileena, despite being the first to suggest it, he too was not in a strong position in this meeting.

And as for Gil, he had his back turned to both of them and kept gazing at the scenery outside the fortress. After the three of them had spent fully ten minutes like that, he turned around and approached them.

Because of the rain, the inside of the room was dim and gloomy, and the three people’s faces were enveloped in shadows.

“First thing first, both of you are extremely skilled,” Gil said abruptly. “I heard the details of the battle from both of your soldiers earlier. For I who am inexperienced in leading an army to war, it was very educational.”

Zenon and Eric both looked stunned.

“You surely didn’t call this meeting to tell us that.” Eric said in a raspy, subdued voice. “Did you think that when Mephius arrived, my army would swear allegiance without resistance? We’ll return to our camps and settle this right now.”

“Those are my lines,” Zenon sneered. “Since Lord Eric has taken the trouble of leaving his own country and travelling all the way to Garbera to be defeated here. His lordship still needs to be schooled in Garberan ways.”

If Zenon was the light, Eric was the shadow. Be it their expressions or their tone of voice, such was the difference of impression between the two of them. But in the contents of what they said, they closely resembled one another. Wearing a smile, Gil said,

“It can’t be the wish of either Garbera or Ende to turn their entire countries into theatres of warfare. So how about this, in order for me to save face, won’t you be reconciled here and now”

“Save the prince of Mephius’ face?” Eric’s ever sombre expression darkened even further with the shadow of hatred. “What are you talking about? You have some nerve when your country puts no weight on its agreements!”

“Exactly right!”

They both had different reasons for their indignation but because neither could voice them outright, there was a certain humour to the situation. Zenon wanted to reproach Gil for arriving late with reinforcements, but since those reinforcements were originally due to a personal promise between Gil and Noue, they weren’t something formally agreed upon by the two countries. Because Zenon had also taken the attitude that they couldn’t be counted on, he couldn’t openly say anything now.

Then,

“I am not my father, Guhl Mephius.”

At Gil’s blunt statement, both of them seemed to go Oops and, overawed, they held their tongues. They recognised that the emperor of Mephius was going to calmly watch this war unfold in defiance of the alliances, and their remarks were in criticism of that emperor.

Before the two of them, who could not judge his real intentions, could say anything,

“I myself hurried to the battlefield in this way simply because I wish to maintain the alliance with Garbera. At the same time, I do not want to get into further trouble with Ende. Lord Eric, just now, you mentioned an agreement.”

“N-No, I…” Eric looked sour. As the prince had himself said that he was different from the emperor, Eric had thought that his secret agreement with the emperor had become public knowledge. From the crown prince and Garbera’s points of view, that would surely come across as “foul play”.

While Eric, unable to say anything, broke out into a cold sweat, the crown prince said something unexpected.

“Well, though I don’t remember Mephius having exchanged any formal agreement with Ende at the moment. Ah, but if you mean in a private sense, there was a letter from your brother, Lord Jeremie…”

“What did you say?”

This time, it was Gil who remained silent. The now openly angry Eric seemed about to press Gil for an explanation.

“What was that you said? What kind of agreement did you say exists between my brother Jeremie and Mephius?”

“I’m repeating myself but it isn’t anything official. It should be something similar to what you hinted at just now.”

Lord Eric suddenly stopped moving. He drew his thick brows together.

“I can’t be. That my brother would stir up Mephius and then with my back turned…”

His imaginings made his body and heart feel cold. Even though he realised that his unconcernedly moving his army to Garbera had in no way been at his brother’s instigation, it had come to this.

“Well then,” Gil cleared his throat and once again gazed out at the scenery made hazy from the rain, “whatever secret agreement may exist, I don’t wish to step any further into Ende’s internal affairs. Nor do I think it is a good idea to spill any more blood.”

“How much faith can we place in your words?” Prince Zenon of Garbera shook his head. His handsome features had a firm look that made him resemble his little sister. “Crown prince or not, Emperor Guhl is still in excellent health. Furthermore, it’s been suggested that you and the emperor are by no means of the same mind. No, it is not only you. Neither Lord Eric nor I are eldest sons. It is not possible for we who will not become sovereigns to trust each other and pull up camp.”

“If we can’t believe in each other’s “heart”, how about believing in each other’s “benefit”?”

“What?”

“For example, recently in my own country, there was a certain amount of turmoil during the Founding Festival. Although this may be rude, I believe Garbera has also experienced something similar.”

“…”

Gil implicitly alluded to the affair with Zaat, then to the one with Ryucown,

“It seems to me that the three people here should first be turning their attention to the situation inside their own country. Otherwise, ill-intentioned people from the east, or perhaps from the west might take advantage of the turmoil to extend their grasp to the three countries. On the other hand, neither Garbera nor Ende have anything to gain from further fighting – as things are now.”

Gil turned his eyes towards Ende’s prince. Still reeling from shock over the matter with his brother, Eric felt as though his innermost thoughts had been seen right through and glared at Gil for a moment then immediately averted his eyes. After that, Gil this time turned his gaze towards Zenon.

“And so the alliance between Mephius and Garbera remains unshaken. Does it not?”

“A tripartite alliance?” Zenon sighed so as not to reveal his inner surprise. “What an outrageous thing you’ve come up with. We can’t enter into an alliance with only the three of us.”

“It’s not something as complicated as you’re thinking of. We won’t be exchanging written oaths of everlasting alliances. The “benefit” of all three countries is to pull up camp. That is enough for now.”

While they still had their own thoughts on the matter, both Eric and Zenon put an end to their harsh moods and the three people reached a definite conclusion.

“The rest is a problem for another time,” seeing how things had progressed, Gill lightly returned to his previous attitude. “There will be no further pointless waste of lead bullets, arrows and human lives. With this, we can go back.”

At that point, Zenon, his face calm, took a shot in revenge at the Mephian prince.

“Prince Gil.”

“What is it?”

“Incidentally, do you get along well with my younger sister Vileena?”

Gil chocked violently at the abrupt question.

“Y-Yes” Looking over his shoulder, Gil blushed a little and nodded. “Both in Solon and at the time of the war with Taúlia, her brave actions were a great help.”

“Ho,” Zenon’s smile seemed to say that it stood to reason. “Certainly it being Vileena, she would show peerless heroism for the man who won her. But if you mishandle her, she’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“I get it already.”

“Farewell,” Zenon’s smile grew wider, “Prince Gil Mephius. When a date for the wedding ceremony is officially decided, I will personally rush over as envoy to offer my congratulations. At that time, do call me your brother.”

He was a man who exuded royalty in all things.

Still looking back over his shoulder, Gil allowed a small smile to flit across his face, then left.

Part 4

Amidst the pouring rain, first the Mephian forces, then those from Ende pulled out of the Nouzen mountains.

Astride a horse, Zenon watched this for a short while then, with a wave of his hand, he gave all of his troops the order to withdraw.

Noue Salzantes, who had remained at Zaim fortress, was at the castle gate to meet them at their return. Zenon jumped down lightly from his horse.

“I’ve caused you trouble.” He spoke to Noue first. “I still have a lot to learn. Your ingenuity is indispensable for Garbera. I hope you won’t be disgusted by this, but I would like you to lend me your strength again.”

“Of course,” Perhaps because of the rain, Noue’s usually cool expression seemed to contort under the effects of some kind of emotion. “I received a considerable lesson about myself this time. To be frank, I realised that I was too conceited. I too still have a lot to learn.”

“Is that so?” The rain became weaker and Zenon looked up at the light that shone through a gap in the clouds. “Then Garbera will become a stronger and stronger country. Since both you and I have realised our immaturity, that means we can grow from it.”

“Yes.”

As Noue respectfully stood straight to attention, Zenon stifled his laughter.

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

He was remembering how Gil, who affected being so cool-headed that it was provoking, had become flustered the moment he had started talking about his sister Vileena.

It had only been for a short while, but after having been in contact with Gil, Zenon had considered him to be a man who didn’t have the slightest affinity with his younger sister. He was puzzled therefore by what had obviously taken place between the two of them at the Mephian imperial court that he himself couldn’t visit.

“Gil Mephius, huh?” On the verge of entering Zaim fortress, Noue couldn’t help but overhear what Zenon murmured. “He is still green. He is green but he will probably become a more troublesome man than Guhl sometime soon.”

Elsewhere, Ende’s prince Eric Amon Doria still had one task left. Or rather, far more than the battle at the Nouzen fortress, the feat that he was to accomplish after this would be handed down as a legend within Ende.

They who had hastily left the Nouzen Mountains crossed Ende’s territory without food or sleep, aiming directly for Dairan.

There where their relatives were, starving dragons were rampaging through the land and had already caused damage to several villages in the area. Because most of the warriors from Dairan had left, messengers had been sent to beg for help from other territories, and they passed by without meeting Eric, who was rushing to Dairan with all haste.

Eric and the warriors who followed him, Belmor first and foremost, briskly coordinated themselves and, one by one, swooped down upon every area in Dairan where dragons had appeared. They bombarded the dragons who were approaching the towns and, from astride their horses, wielding swords and spears, they directly confronted those of the dragons that had already entered the streets and drove them out.

It was by no means a battle without victims. But, at the height of the struggle, over and over again, Eric encouraged his vassals by shouting out, “You cannot let there be more victims among the people than among the soldiers! Remember that if there is even one death more among the people than among us, it will mean we were defeated!”

And at last –

“Magnificent.”

When the series of battles finally came to an end, Eric threw down his smoking riffle while soothing his favourite horse. Before him, the dragon that he had just slaughtered was bleeding out. And in place of a groom, a man stood holding his horse’s bit.

“With this, it should be mostly over.”

“Sir Plutos.”

The other person was Belmor’s father and the lord of Dairan, Kayness Plutos. From since he was young, Eric had loved him more like a father than he did his real father.

“However, while it might late to say this, it is strange; wild dragons have rarely been seen in this area.”

Eric jumped off his horse,

“I too, before we rushed here, thought that my brother’s army surrounded Dairan. ”

“Shush! Don’t say reckless things.”

“This sudden uproar is too unnatural. … Something is up. We can take it that my brother has something to do with it.”

“Anyhow…, in the first place, how did you come to learn of this in the far-off Nouzens? No, even after you had left the Nouzens, the eyewitness reports could not have reached you, my lord.”

“There was a man who saw through this.”

Eric didn’t know. That Gil Mephius had hinted at his brother being up to something was simply his making use of the rumour that the two princes were on bad terms. Indeed all he had done was to let Eric believe that his going away had been at Jeremie’s instigation.

Just as Noue had once made use of the embers smouldering within Mephius, so too had Gil used the embers which existed within Ende.

“Gil Mephius” Eric quietly muttered to himself as he walked towards where his friends were waving at him “I have no intention of quietly putting up with this. Ende will inevitably get burnt even more. And if that is to Mephius’ benefit, you will certainly be the one laughing, Gil. It may be that from now on, because of your very existence, Mephius might pose a greater threat to Ende.”

Numerous thoughts and feelings twisted and frayed, and soon gathered around the name of “Gil Mephius”.

But whether they were wary of that name, feared that name or praised it, the various futures forecast for Gil were all destined to fall apart.

For a while now, Vileena Owell, observing Gil’s profile, had been unable to decide whether or not to speak up.

He had only just returned to Apta. The princess had been summoned by him and had gone to the roof of the barracks. From there, they had an unbroken view of the progress on Apta’s reconstruction. The mountain ridge burned golden and feathery clouds hung low across the sky’s scarlet belly, as though swept there by a stroke of a paintbrush.

“In Apta…”

“Yes?”

“Did it rain? It was pouring in the Nouzens.”

“It rained here too. As it has been raining on and off, the locals said that there will be heavy rain during the night.”

After answering with a Is that so?, Gil fell silent again. Disappointed, Vileena looked towards the same direction as he was.

It seemed people were in uproar in Solon. For having remonstrated with the emperor, Simon Rodloom had been placed under house arrest. Simon was a prominent figure even among prominent figures. Even the crafty courtiers had fallen into step and had sent a jointly-signed letter asking for him to be pardoned.

The emperor’s wrath however did not abate. Odyne and Rogue, who had “let slip” the prince’s troops from under their very noses were temporarily banned from Court and, by imperial command, were not to take a single step into Solon without an express order from the emperor.

Perhaps thanks to this turmoil, there was no one to block the path of Prince Gil’s troops as they returned directly to Apta. Of course that didn’t mean that Gil would receive no rebuke. The verdict would certainly fall before long.

How will Solon move when that happens?

She had heard that there was a strong tendency in Solon to view the prince, whose actions had preserved the honour of the military, as a hero. If then the prince were to receive excessive punishment, many of the army commanders and nobles would plead against it. Perhaps large-scale actions would occur within Mephius itself.

Incidentally, Ineli Mephius had been in Apta until the previous evening but had hastily left for Solon as if to avoid crossing paths with Gil. She hadn’t informed anybody and it had been so abrupt that even Vileena hadn’t been able to give her farewells. She didn’t know if Ineli’s sudden actions had a connection to the uproar in Solon, but,

What does the prince himself think?

Vileena’s future would also be affected. She had hoped that the person himself would broach the subject, but they had been like this for about half an hour since he had called her.

“Prince,”

Although it might still be hard to talk, Vileena intended to first express her gratitude for the relief of Garbera but,

“I’m sorry for having you be a decoy in the air carrier.”

The prince once again spoke just a few words. Vileena was disconcerted.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. As long as I can be of use, I don’t mind what I need to do.”

“Thinking about it, those times with Ryucown, Zaat and then the war with Taúlia, your actions, Princess, put any military commander to shame.”

“P-Please stop.” The princess displayed the bashfulness of a fourteen-year-old girl. “I simply acted as I pleased.”

“Right, the princess is always honest and frank.”

“Me, I… I don’t have your far-sightedness and deep designs, Prince, and each time I get completely carried away by my own emotions. At those times, I realised that I am no more than a child who knows nothing. I’ve come to feel envious of you, Prince, you who is always looking towards the future.”

“Me, I…” He repeated her words then, with abrupt timing, he looked into her eyes. “Princess,”

“Y-Yes.” For some reason, facing each other like this caused Vileena’s small chest to stir noisily. But she looked back into Gil’s eyes without turning away.

“I hope you will never lose that honesty. No matter what happens from now on.”

Vileena was inwardly startled at his sudden words. The prince probably couldn’t take an optimistic view of the fate that awaited him. That he had deliberately spoken those words was perhaps because he had looked at the future ahead of them and had accepted it.

Vileena repressed her momentary unease and smiled sweetly instead.

“That all depends on you, Your Highness”

“On me?”

“While I am grateful for your words, Prince, I do not think that I should remain as I currently am. The same holds true for His Highness Gil. First of all, I would like you to fix that secretiveness of yours and trust me.”

“Y-Yes.”

“There you are! As soon as I press you a little, your eyes start evading me.”

“Is-Is that so?”

“While saying that I’m fine as I am, you, Prince…”

“I get it, I get it!”

Gil sighed resignedly and, as though to put distance between them, walked two or three steps.

Watching him, Vileena scrunched up her eyes as the prince’s figure overlapped with the setting sun.

“Then, will you promise me?” She said, still dazzled. “From now on, would you confide in me without concealing anything? If you do, I will help you to the best of my poor ability.”

“Yeah. But.”

“But?”

“Don’t forget one thing. Mephius’ Prince Gil is a ‘liar’.”

As Gil smiled his figure half melted into the golden light, Vileena stared blankly for a moment then immediately puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Honestly!”

Gil laughed out loud. Drawn in by that smile, Vileena eventually joined in his laughter. From behind that open-hearted smile, the ephemeral setting sun could still be seen.

Vileena didn’t notice however. No, even if she had noticed, it would have been no concrete premonition that flitted through her breast. However it may be, Gil and Vileena, their shoulders close together, watched as the sun slowly set.

A cold wind soon started blowing around Apta. Once only, Gil asked,

“Are you cold?”

Vileena shook her head.

“No, the temperature is just right.”

“That so. Then…”

… then can we stay like this a bit longer?

Was certainly what he wanted to say, but Gil kept his lips shut.

Vileena blushed for no particular reason and they continued to gaze at the sky in silence.

It was probably the first time since Vileena Owell had entered Mephius’ territory that she and Gil had spent time peacefully together.

Vileena would remember that time in the sunset for a long time to come.