Rakuin no Monshou - Book 7: Chapter 1: Mephius' Melancholy

Part 1

It was about five years since the previous empress, Lana, had died of illness. Usually, the elders of the Dragon Gods’ faith would attend to the funerals of the imperial family, however, Emperor Guhl Mephius did not invite them to Solon on that occasion. The war with Garbera was at its height, which was partly why there was no state funeral and the inhabitants of Solon merely wore mourning clothes for a week, while Guhl himself immediately went back to commanding the army.

None of which was particularly surprising. Empress Lana was not familiar with those kinds of ancient Mephian traditions, and Guhl was not by nature inclined to respect history and customs.

And yet…

Since about three years ago, he had been changing. At the time, the war had been dragging on with no end in sight, and the border areas were constantly being taken and retaken. To bolster the people’s fighting spirit, Guhl had sworn an oracle at the Dragon Gods’ shrine: “Until the head of the Garberan king is presented before me, I will never sheathe my sword.”

At the time of that ceremony, Guhl was, for some reason, unusually particular about observing old traditions. He invited the elders a month before the oracle and confirmed the procedure with them, he collected history books and old tomes while immersing himself in reading them, and he seemed to be going around in a general frenzy to ensure that not a single thing would go wrong during the ritual. And thus, so it was said, it was at this time that the once-estranged Emperor and elders grew closer.

Which brings us to the present.

A building which seemed to symbolise the relationship between the Emperor and the Dragon Gods’ faith had been erected in Solon: an imposingly large temple which was not to be outmatched by any in the western lands of Tauran, where the Dragon gods’ faith was still deeply-rooted and permeated the lives of the people.

That day, a commemoration ceremony for the building of the temple was to be held from the early morning onwards. Only nobles and officers were in attendance. Since the previous evening, soldiers armed with spears and guns had been surrounding the perimeter of the temple at a circumference of several kilometres, so that not only could commoners not enter the building, they could not even watch the proceedings.

Exquisitely carved pillars ran from the entranceway to the interior part of the shrine; while in front of them, on either side of the long staircase, Mephius’ courtiers were lined up. All of them were wearing hooded, ankle-length cloaks. These had been sent to each individual residence about a week earlier. They were patterned after the long robes that the elders usually wore and were apparently meant to be the formal attire that people were to wear whenever they visited the temple.

When they had first seen each other’s appearance they had found it oddly amusing, yet not a single chuckle had slipped out; and after that, they had spent over an hour standing stock still, their backs ramrod straight.

Beyond the stairs, Guhl Mephius was proceeding towards the Dragon Gods’ shrine, which had just been transferred from beneath the Black Tower to the interior part of the temple, and which was where the current elders were in the middle of conducting a ceremony.

The nobles and officers who were awaiting his return all had stiff expressions. In the past few years, the Emperor had done a complete turnabout and had become obsessed with ceremonies and rites, so if something occurred to even slightly spoil his mood during this celebration, who knew what kind of punishment it might bring down.

Not far from the temple were Empress Melissa and her daughters, Ineli and Flora – in other words, the people closest to the Emperor, and nobody wanted to let them see or hear anything unnecessary. Still, after being forced to endure the strain for so long, a few people had started whispered conversations if only to distract themselves from it.

“There was a rumour that Lord Gil’s funeral would be held after this ceremony, but at this rate, it looks like it will be put off again.”

“Even though the funeral of a son of the imperial family would surely have been an appropriate first ceremony for the temple.”

“Appropriate or not, don’t go speaking so rashly. If anyone with ill intentions heard your words, who knows how they might twist and spread them around.”

“Ah n-no, that wasn’t what I meant, my lord…” The elderly noble went pale and shook his head.

Nobody even smiled at the fact that a noble with years of service to Mephius would be so panicked at being criticised for such innocuous words. Such was the current state of things in Solon.

“Why is it being postponed like this?”

“First things first, Oubary’s execution should be held before the funeral. But even for that, there’s no date yet.”

Oubary, who had assassinated Crown Prince Gil, was currently being held in Solon’s dungeons. His immediate family, and even most of his relatives, had also been arrested. With still no indication of when his execution or Gil’s funeral were going to be held, the commemoration for the building of the temple had come first.

Normally, there would be nothing unusual about a few of the retainers giving their opinions, but now there was no one who would give counsel to the Emperor. Among the influential figures who were lined up there, Simon Rodloom, who should have been at their head, was still under house arrest. Additionally, and although there were probably none among those present who knew about it, most of those who were dissatisfied with the Emperor were currently gathered in the south, in Kilro.

“His Majesty had been pleased with the Prince’s more recent actions. And it was just then that he was assassinated. Perhaps the truth is that he cannot accept it yet.”

“Yeah. If belief in the Dragon Gods can ease His Majesty’s grief even just a little, we need to respect that.”

It was with those and similar excuses that they justified the cowardice of their tacit approval of the Emperor’s way of doing things – or rather, of their inability to voice their opinions.

It was at that point that the Emperor appeared. Nobles and officers alike immediately stopped talking, and nervousness flashed across their faces.

“It’s been hard on you all,” Guhl Mephius addressed them, a long staff held in his hand. He had only recently started carrying it around: it had a crystal ball at its tip which was said to symbolise the all-seeing eye of a Dragon God. Thanks to its fine craftsmanship, invisible to an observer, when light was shone on the crystal, it was refracted by means of minute grooves and curves, making it appear to be almost wrapped in flames.

Immediately after Guhl, staff in hand, had spent a short while with the crowd, who was offering him their congratulations, he started to walk away from the temple. A celebratory banquet was scheduled to be held after this in Solon’s main palace.

Imperial Guards acting as a guard of honour stood on either side of Guhl while behind him followed a group of elderly men with dark brown skin – the elders. It was with mixed feelings that the retainers bowed their heads and watched them file by.

At that moment –

“Your Majesty!”

Someone seemed to slide to their knees before the Emperor. It was a young noble who had been standing at the furthest position from the temple.

“Raymond, you insolent…!”

Whoever it was who had called out, they did not need to do so; even without it, the honour guard were about to remove the noble called Raymond with their long-handled spears. He almost seemed to be clinging to the soldiers’ feet, but he did not even seem to notice as he made his plea to the Emperor, who had slowed his steps somewhat.

Raymond stated that he normally worked in Nedain, a fortress between Birac and Solon, where he served the domain-lord Jairus and oversaw the area’s villages. An incident had occurred there: a slave in a certain merchant’s household had murdered his master and escaped. He was still only a boy, and this had been right after the slave revolt in Kilro. He had apparently been going to join the uprising, but because the merchant had connections with nobles, his pursuers had been relentless.

Wounded to his leg, he had managed to flee to a neighbouring village. The villagers had felt sorry for the young slave, and they had fed and sheltered him instead of notifying Nedain. Less than three days later however, the lord of Nedain had learned of his whereabouts and had sent a military unit to the village.

The villagers were given no chance to explain themselves, Raymond cried. The soldiers set fire to the village and killed the villagers as they tried to escape.

“Raymond, shut up. Shut up!”

That rough shout came from the very same person who had rebuked him earlier – the lord of Nedain, Jairus Abigoal.

The domain lords watching the scene quietly exchanged glances. They could somewhat sympathise with Jairus’ feelings. If a problem arose on the land that they governed, then naturally it became a matter of the domain-lord’s responsibility. Nowadays, who knew how terrifying an ending lay in wait for those whom the Emperor branded as “incompetent” and “useless”?

Fearing a repeat of Kilro, Jairus had gone overboard in hunting down a single slave. But for Raymond, who frequently made the rounds of the villages and who was friendly with the villagers, that was unforgivable.

“It must be contrary to the laws of Mephius. Your Majesty, please open an inquiry – Your Majesty!”

Raymond’s face was almost touching the ground when Jairus, crimson-faced, rushed up to him and kicked him in the jaw.

“A bastard like you dares to speak of the laws of Mephius in His Majesty’s presence? Cretin!”

Jairus stamped swiftly on Raymond’s head and back. And while kicking him in front of everyone, in support of the abuse, he expounded on the question of Raymond’s lineage.

He was from what had once been a powerful family in a territory ruled by Garbera. Even before the ten-year war, there had been skirmishes with Mephius and, about thirty years ago, the territory had fallen under Mephius’ control during what had been none other than the current emperor, Guhl Mephius’, first military campaign.

In less than a decade, the land itself had been recaptured by the then king of Garbera, Jeorg Owell, however, Raymond’s family had thereafter remained in Mephius, where they had just barely managed to attain noble status. But in a country with a history as long as Mephius, newcomers were given the short end of the stick. On top of that, Raymond’s family had, for generations, been followers of Badyne. “Defiling this auspicious occasion… it’s easy to tell that you just want to spit on the Dragon Gods’ faith, you bastard.”

Jairus took advantage of the difference in position to vilify Raymond. Unable to oppose him, Raymond simply kept repeating his plea of “Your Majesty”.

Guhl Mephius spared a single glance towards the young noble who was grovelling between the soldiers and Jairus, then swiftly raised his gaze and threw a glare at the lord of Nedain. Jairus’ skinny frame instantly quivered.

“Please leave the rest to me. I would not wish to bother Your Majesty,” he said in a trembling voice.

With that, it was over. Or at least, as far Emperor Guhl was concerned. The emperor with the impressive white beard did not so much as nod; instead, with an air of utter disinterest, he started walking away again.

“Wait – Your Majesty, please wait!”

Raymond’s sorrowful voice echoed behind him.

Following after the Emperor, as though it were the most normal thing in the world, were the elders. Everyone else kept their heads more lowered than they needed to be.

Which meant that because most people were looking down, no one noticed how the elders and Empress Melissa exchanged a brief glance.

Despite the unforeseen incident at the commemoration ceremony, the banquet after had proceeded smoothly.

It was being held in the audience hall of the main palace, which had been freed up for the occasion, and was accompanied by the ever-wildly popular gladiator matches. The deaths and life-blood of humans had thus been chosen as the first offerings to the temple. No expense had been spared to bring in famous gladiators who had then taken each other’s lives with sword and spear.

Guhl had only watched a few rounds before leaving his seat. He then waved his hand at the courtiers who had stood up to see him off –

“It’ll be easier to get into the swing of things without me around. Enjoy yourselves from here on,” his teeth had gleamed as he laughed.

It was the first time in a long time that he had shown a smile in public, but the answering smiles from the retainers were somewhat stiff.

Before long, Empress Melissa also left her seat, as though following after him. One of the guests wiped the sweat that was dripping from his chin with the back of his hand – Folker Baran, one of the twelve generals and a man known to have nerves of steel.

“That was like being around Varsa, the ancient king whose gaze turned people into stone,” he said in a low aside.

While pretending to have fun at the banquet, a number of nobles wore clouded expressions as they glanced around the hall. Slaves were cleaning away the blood spilled by the gladiators. The dead were still being dragged away with hooks.

“If Lord Rodloom was here, it would have led to another dispute, wouldn’t it?” Someone muttered softly as they gazed at the ribbons of blood trailing along the palace floor. Gladiator matches and sword dances – Mephius’ other specialty – were typically held in other halls or buildings, this was probably the first time in history that matches were performed in the audience hall.

They could almost hear the elderly nobleman protesting against the great audience hall being defiled by blood.

I don’t understand… Many among the retainers were probably feeling the same bewilderment. His Majesty is reviving ancient traditions on the one hand while at the same time trampling over historic customs without batting an eyelid. Exactly like an infant testing the limits to see at what point his parents will tell him off.

The night had grown late.

“Your decision, my lord?”

In the Emperor’s bedroom, Melissa had wrapped a thin robe around her naked body and was snuggling up to Guhl. In the lamplight, her golden curls gleamed against the pillow. Smiling girlishly, her slender fingers traced along the Emperor’s chest. Who knows what sweet nothings she was murmuring?

“As long as the Garberan girl is here, that country won’t be able to interfere. And Ende’s internal disputes are coming to a head.”

Her whispered words touched directly on national affairs.

Guhl contemplated the undulating amber liquid in the wine cup that Melissa was holding out to him. He was not, by nature, an emperor who approved of women meddling in politics. Yet there was no anger in his eyes, which were filled with a light so dull as to appear listless.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. My lord, have you not allowed that terrible criminal to live precisely because you too were anticipating this?” Melissa giggled, her eyes sparkling. “No… Perhaps, His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince’s assassination was…” her murmured words faded away.

Guhl was looking at his wife from the corner of his eyes. Simply from that, Melissa had started shuddering.

“You talk as though it were your own plan, but this too is all a ‘divination’ you’ve received from the elders, huh?”

“O-Of course,” Melissa seemed to be struggling to regain her smile.

His eyes dark, Guhl tipped the wine cup towards him. On the third time, his hand suddenly stopped and he once more looked down at his own face reflected in the liquid.

Part 2

In Kilro city, located more or less in the centre of the Domick Flats, there was an uproar.

Although, with that said, it was not a repeat of the same uproar which had gripped Solon when the slaves rose up in revolt. The populace was perfectly peaceful and the uproar was among those at the castle.

Fedom Aulin had been restless since morning. He had been firing instructions at his chamberlains and slaves, and was hurriedly getting ready to leave.

“Get a move on!”

He was not normally a man who shouted in front of others, but this time was an exception. He was so frantic that he was even kicking at his slaves to make them hurry with the preparations.

All of which was understandable.

It was here, in Kilro, that the leading figures of the anti-Guhl faction had gathered, having been called there by Fedom himself. They had shared the wish to oppose Emperor Guhl’s tyranny by supporting Crown Prince Gil, but when Gil died, their hopes had been completely dashed, and their plan had stalled halfway.

What occurred next happened just before anyone was able to think of a plausible reason to leave Kilro. A messenger arrived from Solon. To make matters worse, he was riding an indigo air carrier, indicating that he had been sent directly by the Emperor.

The members of the anti-Guhl faction, Fedom included, had blanched as soon as they saw the ship.

He definitely suspects something.

Fedom had pushed his plan forward with a cautiousness beyond caution. He could not afford to be found out even by his own family. But of course, the more people he gathered, the greater the risk of a leak.

He had not been able to stop his hands from shaking.

When the messenger disembarked, he did not go to see the domain lord, Indolph York, nor did he inform Fedom Aulin that his end was upon him; instead, he met with only one of them – Nabarl Metti.

Nabarl was a soldier who led a troop of five hundred. While not under the command of any of the twelve generals, he sometimes took over the duty of defending a town, or went in reinforcement when an assault force needed supplementing. Their position was close to being that of a mercenary unit, and the Metti House itself was a family which had originally risen from being mercenaries; but, three generations ago, the emperor had personally recognised their achievements and all their men were promoted into regular soldiers with a regular pay.

Given the disturbance that had just arisen in Kilro, he had gone there under the pretext of helping to maintain security, but in reality, he had been taking part in frequent secret meetings with Fedom and the others. And just like them, the prince’s death had robbed him of the chance of realising his ambition.

The Emperor himself had, for some reason, apparently ordered that very Nabarl to return to Solon. He boarded the air carrier as soon as it had finish resupplying.

“Sir Nabarl, what is going on? Sir Nabarl!” All the members of the anti-Guhl faction had of course pressed him with questions, but –

“I’m sorry. His Majesty has requested me for urgent business.”

In the end, Nabarl had taken off without revealing what this ‘business’ was.

“T-This is bad,” muttered Merlock, one of the remaining members of the anti-Guhl faction and a former member of the Imperial Council, his voice trembling slightly. He was a man who always looked as thin and as pale as an invalid, but now his face was so pallid he appeared on the verge of collapse. “That damn Nabarl could betray us. What if he informs on us to His Majesty?”

There were seven members of the anti-Guhl faction gathered in Kilro and, needless to say, the same thought had occurred to the six remaining behind.

As a result, five of them had hastily started to make preparations to leave for Solon. They could not afford to lag behind Nabarl. They needed to be kneeling in front of the Emperor as quickly as possible and demonstrate that they had not the slightest intention of rebelling.

Kilro had a large air carrier base. None of them had ships at hand, but in a place like this, as long as they were unsparing with their money, nobles could buy ships.

All of which was why Fedom was in the middle of hurrying his preparations to go to Solon. If Nabarl informed on them then, as the ringleader who had assembled the anti-Guhl faction, Fedom would be in the gravest danger.

At this rate, rather… He considered not going to Solon but heading for Birac, where he would have his family board the ship before going either east or west – in any case, he needed to leave Mephius.

But… There was still a small part of Fedom that was calm. He recognised that if Nabarl was planning to betray them, there were some points that were strange.

While he was gathering his personal belongings, plunged into his own thoughts, Indolph York entered his chambers. He was one of the twelve generals, and had only just been appointed to govern Kilro.

“Lord Aulin, even you are leaving?”

Impatience and reproach alternated in the gaze he fixed on Fedom. He was the only one who was not preparing to go to Solon. Unless in case of extreme circumstances, he could not leave Kilro. It had not yet been two months since the slave revolt and he was under direct orders from the Emperor to spend some time in making every effort to ensure peace.

“Each and every single one of you is acting like a child whose father has just summoned them. And here I thought that you, Lord Aulin, were a man with guts.”

Are you abandoning me? was the unspoken appeal behind Indolph’s caustic words.

Fedom smiled insincerely. “Please be at ease, General. Nothing has been decided yet. We all merely wish to ascertain for ourselves what is going on, but no one is thinking of severing the bonds we have vowed here in Kilro.”

“Well, in that case, great…” the general was not about to drop his sarcastic tone of voice. “I, of course, believe that those bonds are solid and will not easily be broken but, doesn’t it look like Nabarl is actually connected to the Emperor?”

“About that,” wanting to finish his preparations quickly naturally made Fedom glib. It wasn’t that he was callous so much as he could not think of anything else. “I have my doubts.”

“Doubts?”

“If Nabarl was intending to inform on us, why would a messenger come specifically from Solon? Nabarl would have made some excuse or another and left by himself. Besides which, General, you must have seen it yourself – Lord Merlock’s face was even paler than usual, but after he had met with the messenger, Nabarl looked every bit as ill as he did. He was as white as a sheet! He was just as afraid that our plan had been exposed. We shouldn’t be too quick to assume that he’s betrayed us.”

“But,” Indolph shook his head, “doesn’t it come to the same thing? It’s completely unnatural for the Emperor to summon Nabarl directly. His Majesty probably suspects something and summoned Nabarl because he’s the youngest of us and the easiest to cajole. ‘You’re young and that’s why you were deceived. I can be lenient with you, so tell me all about the plan and its ringleader.’ He probably intends to get everything about us out of him by saying something along those lines and…”

“And that’s why!” Fedom shouted, taking Indolph by surprise. “It’s because all that’s unclear that I’m rushing to Solon.”

“B-But, I can’t leave Kilro. Surely you can sympathise with how I’m feeling.”

Fedom desperately tried to prevent his expression from showing how fed up he was. It was rather Indolph who looked like a child who was terrified of his father’s anger thundering down upon him.

But that’s why… Yet rather than impatience at being pressed for time, it was a different emotion that came to Fedom. That’s why this man isn’t likely to switch sides.

The five who were hurrying to Solon might well think of taking the initiative to betray the others so as to protect their lives and assets, but Indolph York, on the other hand, was unable to meet with the Emperor for the time being. If he became too afraid of everything being revealed, he was probably more likely to want to accelerate the plan.

Hmm – Fedom Aulin once again hurriedly plastered on a fake smile. He believed that he should address the man’s main concern.

“It’s alright, General. I would never abandon you. Have you forgotten how we swore to share the same fate? No matter what vile plans Emperor Guhl Mephius uses to bring us down, they won’t work. That old man can’t see clearly anymore.”

“Oh,” Indolph sounded deeply moved. He knew how dangerous it was to openly criticise the Emperor at this point. He was touched that Fedom was sharing his thoughts despite the darkness that might lie ahead.

“The Emperor is surely afraid. At the same time, there are many who currently think that he is strange. In Solon, I’ll be able to bring them over to our side. The Emperor is digging his own grave and we’ll be able win over quite a few new comrades.”

“I-I see. I see, as expected of you, Lord Aulin,” Indolph’s expression was admirative.

After spending a suitable amount of time with him, Fedom managed to drive out his trying companion.

He gave a short sigh. What he had told Indolph were not all lies fabricated on the spot. While in Kilro, he had actually sent his men to Solon several times to gauge how things were going there. One of his reasons was, of course, to make sure that the Emperor’s faction had not noticed his group’s intentions; so when that air carrier had landed with no prior warning, Fedom’s blood had run colder than anyone’s.

Anyway, it’s a fact that things are becoming heavier in Solon.

Shaking off the fear that ran through his body, Fedom finished his own preparations, then went to stand by the window and glare towards the tower standing within the air carrier departure point.

According to recent reports, there had been a fire in Solon the day before the commemoration ceremony for the Dragon Gods’ temple. It had originated at the mansion which had once been Oubary Bilan’s residence. The flames were said to have blazed throughout the night, burning the mansion into oblivion. As there had been no servants living there, there were consequently no deaths, and the surroundings had equally been untouched by the blaze.

It’s the Prince’s wrath – some people whispered. Since the imperial family used the claim that they were descended from the Dragon God Mephius to increase their authority, one might have expected Emperor Guhl to make use of those rumours to inspire suitable amounts of awe in people; yet the Emperor had instead consulted the elders.

“No, it is surely Oubary Bilan’s resentful soul. Because of his desire to plead his innocence, it is lashing out against Solon even while he is still alive,” they had responded.

What ‘desire to plead his innocence’? Fedom was sceptical. Oubary had assassinated the Prince, so why did they feel the need to go out of their way to speak in his defence?

That’s… It probably wasn’t anything worth worrying about, but then again, as Guhl was now, Fedom was quite certain that he would not be involved in something like that without a plan in mind.

Or the fire might have been set on the Emperor’s own orders. By having the elders give an opinion as he requested, he might be planning to use that for something…

It was then that a chamberlain came running in to inform him that all the preparations were complete. His cloak flapping, Fedom immediately strode to the air carrier departure ground.

Since there were a lot of other things to think about after having risen into the sky, for the time being, he stopped mulling over the fire in Solon.

Fedom was not a god, so naturally, he could not have known it at the time. That his reading of the situation was half right and half wrong. Someone had undoubtedly set Oubary’s residence on fire. But that person was not a subordinate to Mephius.

Part 3

For all that he was shut away in his mansion, people’s mouths were not shut to him. Simon Rodloom had heard about the incident at the commemoration ceremony almost as soon as it had happened.

He was not personally acquainted with Raymond, but he had met his father a few times. That had been in the days when the Council still operated.

Raymond had been imprisoned on the charge of having defiled the ceremony. He would be dealt with, not in Solon, but in Nedain, where he had been transferred. This had been a one-sided decision made by Nedain’s domain lord, Jairus; in other words, Emperor Guhl Mephius was completely uninterested in the matter.

Simon looked at the letter which was spread out on his desk; he had been writing a petition to the Emperor, but had stopped halfway.

He ordered me to stay under house arrest – His Majesty won’t even glance at any letter I write.

If the Emperor was one who listened to his retainers, this situation would never have happened in the first place. Simon Rodloom leaned back into his chair and folded his arms.

When a quarrel had arisen between Garbera and Ende, and Crown Prince Gil had sent reinforcements to Garbera, Simon had defended his actions and had argued head-on against the Emperor. Even if he himself admitted that he had said too much, Guhl would not have listened to a soft-spoken opinion.

As a result, Simon was confined to his home. At one point, the Emperor had raged at him to “Get out of Mephius”, but in the end, it had not reached the point where he had exiled the first among his long-serving retainers.

Although… Odyne Lorgo and Rogue Saian, the two generals who had been deemed to have likewise approved of the Prince sending reinforcements, were being kept away from Solon. Without even being granted a chance to explain themselves, they had unilaterally been judged to have defied the Emperor.

Fearful of provoking the Emperor’s wrath, not a single aristocrat had come to visit Simon. All he had received were letters from his daughters and sons-in-laws worrying about him, but this was simply because he had issued strict orders to his family to not come near.

Zaat Quark.

Simon suddenly thought back to that name while he was summoning a chamberlain to prepare tea. A few months earlier, during the Founding Festival, Simon had gone to visit Zaat, who had also been under house arrest. Later, Zaat would move his troops in a scheme to seize Mephius but, at the time, he had been no more than a man guilty of expressing his opinion to the Emperor. But regardless, Zaat had been ordered to remain at home without being allowed to say yea or nay, and when Simon had called on him, he had frankly expressed his dissatisfaction.

Thinking about it, while Simon had been trying to soothe and admonish Zaat, that might have been foreshadowing his own fate.

Was there righteousness in Zaat’s actions? Simon had served Mephius’ imperial family his entire life, but there were times when even he felt those doubts flitting through his breast. Those thoughts contradicted his very way of life and for Simon, already advanced in age, they were harsher than anything.

No – Simon sighed dejectedly and drank a mouthful of the warm tea.

Darkness was starting to shroud the scenery outside the window. When he had gotten up that morning, his plan for the day had been to write the letter then take a look at two or three books, but he had interrupted his letter-writing and doing anything else felt like a bother.

Zaat didn’t have the calibre of a ruler. But then who does other than His Majesty…

The imperial lineage had never been severed. The crown on their head and authority in their hands, all of Mephius’ emperors had belonged to the imperial bloodline. If it were ever extinguished by rebellion and insurrection, in order to decide who would next sit on the throne, chaos was sure to rage throughout the country like a tempest.

The wounds of the ten-year war had yet to heal and Mephius was unavoidably weakened. Furthermore, the relationship between it, Garbera, and Ende were currently unstable. On top of that, although they were suppose to be tied in alliance with Garbera, Princess Vileena, who should have married into Mephius, was now instead in an extremely precarious situation.

Needless to say, this was due to the death of her fiancé, Crown Prince Gil. It had now been almost two months since Gil had passed away, yet she still remained in Mephius. Rumour had it that she was intending to remain at least for the funeral; but while on the one hand, there was much sympathy for Princess Vileena, it was also widely acknowledged that her presence had become a nuisance.

There was no other young man in the imperial family whose age was a suitable match to hers. That being the case, she could only return to Garbera. Whereupon, it would be time to explore other alternatives: consider a new marriage between Princess Ineli and someone from Garbera’s royal family, work out some other measure, or even re-examine the alliance itself. Of late, the Emperor had frequently been meeting with envoys from Ende, and those around him who liked to look like they were in his confidence went around declaring that – it’s all very well for her to wallow in maidenly feelings, but she will soon have to decide on her future course.

Simon himself could not help feeling a certain compassion for the Garberan princess. She had been noted for personally flying an airship during both Ryucown’s subjugation and Zaat’s rebellion, but since being informed of the Crown Prince’s death, she had barely gone out in public; and from what he had heard, when envoys from Garbera had come and had brought up the topic of the princess’ future, all she had said, in as few words as possible, was that she would stay in Mephius.

No matter how brave she was, she was still only fourteen. But then again, it was always the case that highborn ladies were the playthings of Fate when countries were at war. Not even Simon was inclined to back Princess Vileena to any excessive degree. Still, there was no doubt that the future of the alliance with Garbera would be vitally important in determining what would happen next for Mephius.

Simon sipped the last mouthful remaining in his cup. Really, I had tea at such an awkward time. It would soon be dinnertime. While he was wondering whether to go to the kitchen and tell them to delay supper a little, he instead found himself getting a call from a chamberlain. Who looked remarkably flustered. Simon had an intuition.

“A visitor?” he asked.

Simon had warned even his family not to approach, yet he saw the chamberlain nod.

In that case, has my sentence been pronounced? He steeled himself. Yet when he heard the name in the next moment, Simon, unbefitting of one of the leading figures in Mephius, looked almost confounded.

“This… I would very much like to wish you welcome, but…” Simon ushered his guest into a chair in the parlour while ordering the chamberlain to prepare more tea.

As a matter of fact, when he had learned his visitor’s identity, he had wondered whether he should be allowing them into the residence. However, although they had hardly ever spoken to each other, he had heard quite a few anecdotes about the other’s personality – refusing them would definitely lead to their calling a second, third and fourth time. Since that would arouse unnecessary concern from all sides, Simon decided that it was best to meet directly this once.

“Both my situation and yours, Princess, are a trifle delicate. I’m surprised that you were able to come here.”

“Since things are delicate, everyone seems quite troubled,” smiling back at him was none other than the one Simon had been thinking about just shortly before; the third princess of Garbera, Vileena Owell. “And therefore, there was no one to directly stop me. They went so far as to hope that I would enjoy myself when I went out.”

She thanked the servant who was offering her tea. Watching the girl wrap both hands around the cup as if for warmth, even though it was not cold, Simon thought – Rumour says that she’s crushed by despair, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. But he could not deny that the once girlishly full contours of her face had grown narrower. It was too soon, however, for her features to look like those of an adult. It was just that her eyes seemed large and the shadow of heartache sometimes fell across her countenance. Even so, Vileena’s voice was clear and those large eyes looked straight at him. In that, she was unchanged.

Well now… Ever since he had heard her name, Simon had been unable to shake off his bemusement.

“So then, Princess…Why did you come to see me?”

Normally, Simon would not be so uncouth as to cut straight to the main point, but the hour was what it was. Outside the window, the darkness was growing deeper.

“Right,” Vileena let go of the cup and smiled again, “I came to have a chat over tea.”

“Huh?”

“You are a leading figure in Mephius, Lord Rodloom, and I called on you to drink tea.”

“That’s…”

“There is no other meaning to it. Since coming to Mephius, I have barely spoken with any gentleman other than the Crown Prince. They say that if you wish to know about the situation in a house, you should catch hold of women, as they tend to the kitchen; but that if you want to know about a country, it is important to talk to men.”

Showing hazily through the steam, Vileena’s face looked somewhat ephemeral. Simon smiled wryly.

“I am a man with no power, Princess. His Majesty has entrusted me neither with land nor with soldiers. Well, since the only thing I have piled up are idle years, there might one or two topics I can offer you in place of teacakes.”

There’s certainly no girl like her in Mephius – while smilingly dealing with her, Simon felt a certain admiration, but also a certain something uncanny towards the fourteen-year-old girl. She was almost too used to being around adults, which was certainly the mark of a highborn young lady, but – and he was a little reluctant to use this example in this situation – unlike Mephius’ Princess Ineli, she did not appear to excel at the art of using her age and position to fit in with her surroundings and acquire their affection.

“What should we talk about?”

“Well then,” Vileena answered immediately, without even pretending to think about it, “I would like to hear stories about His Majesty the Emperor.”

“About His Majesty?”

“Yes,” as impudent as her suggestion was, Vileena’s expression remained unconcerned.

Simon was almost left speechless, but he quickly rallied. He was starting to enjoy the Princess’ unconventional remarks.

“I understand. Although I’m afraid that an old man’s stories will be a little boring.”

With that preface, Simon started talking about the Emperor and about himself, who had served him for most of his life.

“As the heir to the Rodloom House, I served His Majesty from childhood. It is the custom for those of my house to be educated alongside sons of the imperial family.”

In those days, apart from Guhl, there were two other candidates to succeed the throne. Although he was the eldest son, Guhl had delicate health and did not easily trust others, so he was somewhat isolated at court.

Looking back, Simon believed that it had probably started when, during one of the dragon hunts that used to take place all over the country, Guhl had watched his mother die right before his eyes. Guhl was not yet ten years old at the time.

Serving close to him was no easy task. He was moody and quick to start yelling when something displeased him. He was also deeply suspicious, and it took Simon nearly five years to convince him that he was not his enemy but his ally.

“Ever since he was young, he would very easily get emotional. However – or rather, because of that – he isn’t very good with reasoned arguments. If you try to admonish him through logic, he will resist, so the way to go about it is to tell him ‘I understand your opinion, but let me give you mine as a reference’.”

Also, it was even better to do so in public. Guhl tended to become argumentative when he was alone with someone, but if he was in front of other people, he could make a show of generously accepting the opinion of a subject. It was from that time onwards that Guhl had become aware of the ‘qualities of an emperor’. Simon had helped detect the hard-earned ‘qualities’ that Guhl strove towards and had offered advice in ways that did not put Guhl off, all the while growing closer to him.

“His Majesty is apt to withdraw into his own shell, but that is also why, once he accepts someone as an ally, that bond will be firm. He had a somewhat bashful smile that he only ever showed to his friends, which I liked.”

Partly thanks to Simon unsparing efforts, Guhl gradually learned self-control and how to turn his inherently suspicious nature into one which observed his surroundings, which allowed him to broaden his field of vision.

Then, when he was seventeen, he had made his military debut in a skirmish against Garbera. He had only been provided with fifty soldiers, but he had earned the achievement of single-handedly killing the enemy commander. Having gained considerable self-confidence from that, Guhl had then gone on to gather experience and to build a solid foundation for eventually becoming emperor of Mephius.

Although one problem had still remained. Guhl had been required to get married before he took the throne, but, to the dismay of those around him, he had continued to remained single for a very long time. Simon had also advised him on it time and time again, but –

“I’m not a studhorse. Don’t worry about what will happen after my death Simon, because if it happens, I’ll die after having left everything to you.”

It was impossible to tell whether he was joking or serious.

He was past forty when he eventually married a girl called Lana. Even though her family was of the nobility and had long been loyal to the imperial family, it was not a House that had previously been connected through marriage to the ruling family.

“Because of that, Her Majesty Lana was not at all familiar with the customs of the imperial family. Other members of the family insulted her behind her back and criticised her to her face but, every time, His Majesty would shield and protect her.”

Perhaps it was because he now had something to protect, but Guhl had taken on the ‘qualities’ of a statesman more than ever before.

“Although… I believe than in a certain sense, Lady Lana was the one protecting His Majesty, and she guided him more than I ever could.”

Lana rapidly grasped Guhl’s character and easily handled what Simon had struggled with up until then. Although usually a woman of few words, she took the initiative of offering Guhl her opinion in such a way that he would not betray those ‘qualities’. In so doing, she had often helped retainers who had incurred Guhl’s wrath for some mistake or another. On top of that, as she had always publicly deferred to Guhl having the final say, she had made sure to preserve the Emperor’s self-esteem…

Having reached that point in his tale, Simon suddenly blinked as though coming back to reality.

“Rather than stories about the Emperor, I’m afraid I’ve inflicted an old man’s ramblings on you…” the elderly nobleman gave a strained laugh, but – “No, not at all,” Vileena shook her head.

Since the tea had gone cold, Simon was going to call for more, but here again, she said “no”.

“Thank you very much,” the Princess lowered her eyes. “Having come from another country, I will probably not have the pleasure of meeting you as often as I would wish, but from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for today and for this rare chance to speak with you, Lord Rodloom.”

She left.

To the very end, neither Vileena nor Simon had pronounced the deceased Crown Prince’s name. Simon thought that strange, given that he had supposed that she would shift the topic from the Emperor to Gil Mephius.

Simon actually felt somewhat dissatisfied because of it.

That princess… What did she come for? He could not read her intentions. Had she come to amuse herself by playing the gracious lady?

At any rate, he had gone out to see her off as she left the mansion with the lady’s maid who had apparently been waiting for her in another room.

I spoke too much today.

Perhaps he had been starved for conversation since he had no visitors. As he returned to his room, Simon bitterly recalled the conversation with Vileena. He found himself pathetic for having talked about the Emperor so boastfully. If he could handle him even a tenth as well as he had boasted to the princess, he would not be in his current situation.

Ah! Simon was struck with a feeling of surprise before immediately telling himself that he must be mistaken.

No… but… it couldn’t possibly…

Given the Princess’ personality, she could not possibly view Emperor Guhl’s current behaviour as righteous. After all, the Emperor had tried to prevent reinforcements from reaching her home country, Garbera. It seemed to Simon, in that moment, that the Princess might have been collecting information in order to confront Guhl, the “enemy”.

In other words, this was the manifestation of her intention to sacrifice herself by coming to Mephius.

In that case, she might come again… Simon heaved a sigh.

His predictions, however, would turn out to be completely wrong. Two days after visiting his mansion, Vileena did something that neither Simon nor anyone else at the palace had expected.