Rakuin no Monshou - Book 8: Chapter 2: Scorching Heat

Part 1

Zerdian merchants carrying goods were taking a rest along a mountain road; when suddenly there was a rumbling tremor, like an earthquake, and they stood up.

A cloud of dust flew up along the highway that they would be travelling along later. Slipping in and out of view from within it was a group of horses and dragons along with the warriors who were riding them. At the same time this scene could be observed over and over again throughout the west. Nomads, taking a short break from herding their sheep, and city-dwelling Zerdians, ploughing their fields near the outer walls, could see the whirling clouds of dust and hear the echo of horses’ hooves along with the violent footsteps of dragons coming from across the plains or from hills overlooking them.

If it had been before they would probably have thought, half-resigned – Ah… another city somewhere is starting a war.

But it was different now. They halted their hands that were working and their feet that were travelling, raised their arms overhead and stamped their feet, unanimously praising the valour of Zerdian soldiers.

In Kadyne, there were two brave generals known as the Twin Dragons.

The older brother Moldorf, the Red Dragon, and the younger brother Nilgif, the Blue Dragon. When they raised their spear on horseback, it was said that there was no warrior in all the western lands who did not tremble.

It was past midnight when the notification reached them.

They were sitting on their knees facing each other, in the middle of a drinking contest.

Kadyne had suffered under Garda’s control for a long time, and had furthermore been bombed, so even among the western lands the damage it had received was considerable. During the day, even bold generals took part in the city’s reconstruction. With sweat on their brows, they carried away debris from the town area and helped with the building work. Moreover, a great many people had been injured during the bombing raid and, as there were not enough doctors to treat them, Nilgif and others rode their prized horses and travelled to and from Eimen, carrying more doctors.

As they were so busy during the day, the brothers drank the kumis they both enjoyed together at night. Although both of them were willing to endure a frugal lifestyle for the sake of their country’s reconstruction, when it came to alcohol, it was impossible for them to resign themselves to thrift and honest poverty.

Kadyne’s princess, Lima Khadein, understood that well.

“Consider that all the alcohol remaining in the town brewery is for the Twin Dragons,” she had told the vassals.

The two had become “serious”. Both of them had bet something in this drinking contest. Moldorf had wagered his cherished collection of crafted artworks; Nilgif had bet a fine horse he had inherited from their father. Since things had come to that, they were not going to stop. Even the warriors who would typically keep them company during banquets, when they heard that those two were “serious”…

“There’s still tomorrow to think about.”

“Oh? My old woman’s calling from across the way.”

Mumbling similar excuses, they dejectedly ran off.

When Moldorf and Nilgif became “serious”, it wouldn’t be over until the next morning. It wasn’t only about the time, there was nothing half-baked about their pace either. Even a hard drinker would collapse within an hour if they tried to keep up with those two.

With an intense light in their eyes, both were resolutely and continuously gulping down wine, when an urgent summons arrived from Lima.

Apart from Lima Khadein, the entire royal family had been executed by Garda’s army. The eighteen-year-old girl who had been left behind was their current master and the sole heir to the throne.

There was no going against orders. Moldorf promptly stood up while Nilgif followed, heavily dragging his body that looked like a wine barrel. No matter how strong he was, this was right after downing no ordinary amount of liquor, and he seemed to be having trouble walking.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“How unseemly, Nilgif. This is proof that your current training is lacking. Do you realise that your liege has personally summoned you and…”

As he was scolding his younger brother, Moldorf staggered, grabbed a nearby pillar so as not to keel over, and ended up spinning around it once. Nilgif laughed with far too much relish and blood rushed to Moldorf’s head.

A few dozen minutes later.

“Oh my,” said Lima Khadein before the Twin Dragons, who had come running.

Their faces were swollen all over.

“There is someone in Kadyne able to injure the Twin Dragons?”

“A thief broke in. A very formidable thief.” Nilgif said. “It was probably a survivor from Garda’s army that broke in. Right, Brother?”

“U-Uh huh,” Moldorf nodded vigorously. But –

“The only ones who could injure the Twin Dragons are those self-same Twin Dragons. Moldorf, you are already at an age when you might be holding a grandchild. I won’t tell you not to drink but please show some self-restraint.” Lima said firmly. She had always had keen discernment. In front of the eighteen-year-old girl, the two of them couldn’t help but shrink their huge frames into themselves.

“A messenger just came from Taúlia,” when Lima cut to the main issue, the two quickly came back to themselves.

As the princess, who was clad in the scarlet garments that symbolised Kadyne’s royal family, was in the middle of explaining what the messenger had said, the two opened their eyes wide.

“W-What!”

“An invasion by Mephius!”

As everyone knew, Taúlia and Mephius should be bound in a peace agreement. Thanks to that, Governor-General Ax had been able to personally go and confront Garda’s army in all-out war without needing to worry about Taúlia.

And yet, the border had breezily been crossed. Needless to say, it could only lead to an armed conflict.

“Just when we thought it was over with Garda, next it’s Mephius?”

“They don’t lose to Garda in viciousness. It looks like it’s time for our spears to come out, Brother.”

They had suddenly returned to lucidity, after liquor had made them lose their grip on self-control, because of the presence of their lord, Lima; along with the harsh wind that blew from the battlefield. Their faces indicated that the two of them had completely sobered up from their drunkenness. Looking at the Twin Dragons in turn, Lima said –

“Having talked with the staff officers, we will despatch a combined force of five hundred of Kadyne’s cavalry and dragoons. That is most of the military strength that we have left. If Taúlia were to fall, the west would gradually start to collapse. Red Dragon. Blue Dragon. You will leave at once at the head of the troops.”

“Aye,” both bowed their heads.

As they were about to head off and immediately make preparations, Lima quietly called out to the older brother –

“Moldorf.”

“Aye.”

“The one who defeated Garda will be in Taúlia.”

“Indeed, the boy… no, the warrior who called himself Orba.”

“That person is Mephian.”

“Aye.”

“It may be difficult in a number of ways. This time, it is our turn to help him.”

“I understand,” Moldorf bowed his head once more then took his leave of Lima.

As he went down the corridor at a quick pace, calling in a loud voice for his men to gather, his mind was already mostly on the battlefield.

So, war again? Moldorf pondered casually as he wrapped armour over his lion-like physique, sheathed a sword in a well-worn leather scabbard, chose two or three of his favourite spears, and attached them to his saddle.

On one hand, hot blood was seething and pulsing from within the muscles and sinews that had grown thick over the years, while on the other a part of him was worried.

It would be good if it could be over quickly. With Taúlia as it is now, how long would they be able to maintain a war?

Yet, hidden behind his beard, his mouth curved into a smile.

“Right. That boy will be an ally this time.” Moldorf muttered as he patted his favourite horse on the back of its neck. “As an enemy, he was one aggravating bastard, but there’s no one who would make a more reassuring ally… Is what I’d like to say. But… not knowing what he’s thinking might make him even eerier as an ally.”

Elsewhere, far to the east of Kadyne and across Lake Soma, lay the city of Helio.

At the time of Garda’s invasion, it was a state in which rebellions and uprising followed one after another and the ruler’s name changed frequently. If the chaos dragged on, the people’s anguish would naturally grow deep. It would not have been surprising if fresh conflicts had broken out, not only among the military and the nobles, but even the among common people or with other countries of the western lands; but instead the population’s national unity had strengthened and turned towards the hope of having the legitimate royal line, comprised of Hardross and his grandson Rogier Helio, wrestled control back from the usurpers.

If Kadyne’s heroes were the Red and Blue Dragons, Helio’s hero was Lasvius.

As the commander of the dragoons, he was a man whose name had been known far and wide, even before Garda’s war. Led by him, Helio’s soldiers were the ones who had fired the first shot against Garda, who was on the verge of claiming absolute supremacy over the west. Because of that, the people of Helio bragged loudly that they themselves had pushed Garda back and the commander of the dragoons’ fame grew even greater.

Lasvius, who had remained in Eimen for a long time after the war against Garda, had just returned to Helio.

Naturally, he had received a grand welcome from his men, his friends, and also the people of Helio.

Rogier Helio was, of course, also happy about Lasvius’ return. Being the orphan of the late king, Elargon, he was first in line to inherit the throne. At eighteen, Princess Lima of Khadein was also young but he was still a child of nine years.

At present, Hardross, who had once abdicated the throne, was spurring on his old bones and was representing him. He had declared that he would soon chose a regent.

It had not been long since Lasvius had returned when Hardross hastily summoned him.

“Is it about Mephius?”

Lasvius’ slender face looked strained. Hardross nodded.

“At present, Tauran cannot afford to be wrapped once more in the threat of war. Taúlia must set up a strong line of defence at all cost. We have finished making preparations for a force of approximately six hundred. You will lead them.”

“Aye aye”

He was a man who could not be said to be lacking in composure amidst the clash of swords and the hails of bullets. That tendency had become even more marked since the time in which he had lain concealed in the Belgana Summits. Nor had he merely waged war as the leader of a single unit: during the campaign against Garda, he had frequently represented Helio at meetings with Taúlia’s Governor-General Ax and Cherik’s King Yamka II.

Those experiences had become excellent food for growth.

A ceremony for going into battle was held later. At Hardross’ arrangement, the nine-year-old Rogier Helio was chosen to direct it. In front of a crowd of armed men, Rogier was certainly unable to hide his nervousness, but by nature he was not timid. He soon settled into the role and gave everyone his encouragements.

He is talented. Lasvius smiled.

As soon as the ceremony was over, Rogier came trotting up to him. As Lasvius respectfully bowed his head to him, he asked —

“You still haven’t grown a beard?”

For a moment, Lasvius opened his eyes wide in surprise before answering, “I am still inexperienced. My penitence is not yet over.”

Lasvius was bothered by his own slender face and had grown a beard in order to preserve his dignity as a commander but, out of regret at not having been able to save Helio from the fires of civil war, he shaved his beard each morning as a remonstrance to himself.

“Is that it?” Rogier grinned. “The retainers are saying that Lasvius must have found a woman he likes and that he doesn’t let his beard grow because that woman praised him by saying that: ‘The commander is dreamier now’.”

“Who has been saying that?”

An unpleasant colour crept up into Lasvius face. It was a characteristic of his that he could not stand being an object of mockery. Rogier laughed all the more.

“That’s also like the retainers say. That you can’t take a joke, Lasvius.”

“…”

Lasvius lowered his eyes as he almost inadvertently laughed back. Rogier suddenly brought his face close to Helio’s greatest general.

“That man… he is in Taúlia now, isn’t he?” He asked.

Understanding the nuance behind “that man” as spoken by the young royal, Lasvius nodded. “Probably.”

“I was surprised when I heard that he had killed Garda. But I thought that since it’s that man, then it’s possible.”

“I too reacted in that way.”

“Please tell him that when everything is over, he should definitely come and have fun in Helio.”

“Without fail.”

This time, a smile formed on Lasvius’ thin lips.

Among the warhorses that were starting off from the various western cities, Ax Bazgan naturally led his own troops of a thousand that had been stationed in Eimen and drove them forward to the highway.

“Damn Mephius!”

When Ax had received the news, he had taken his sharpened sword and cleaved the engraved spear, that decorated the wall of his room, clean in two. He had completely forgotten that this wasn’t his office in Taúlia, but rather a room that he had been allocated in a foreign country.

Currently, Ax was not only the governor-general of Taúlia but also held the title of leader of the Western Alliance.

Galloping forward without a thought, leaving it to his allies to follow, severely reprimanding those who were slow – he could no longer behave as he usually did. He had told the lords and military men from the various countries gathered in Eimen about Mephius’ invasion; they had there and then promised reinforcements.

Consequently, he had left Eimen in the middle of the night of the day after he had received the news.

A few days later, as they were resting along the side of the road near a relay-station town on their descent of the Coldrin Hills, a messenger arrived from his home country of Taúlia.

Ax received the letter in his armour. The sun had already set but, after their break, he was up for starting off anew.

The defence corps led by General Bouwen Tedos had successfully repelled the first wave of Mephian troops who had marched over the border.

Ho, there’s a man who gets things done.

He was the adopted son of Archduke Hirgo Tedos, who had lost his life during the drama of the rebellion. Hirgo, who had served since the time of Ax’s father, was such a large presence that receiving notice of his death had not seemed real to him, but now it appeared that Bouwen had grown into a figure no less trustworthy than his adoptive father.

Ax smiled at the report of victory but the problem lay with the latter half of the letter.

My lord, I would ask you to cross the River Kurán and head towards the lands of the nomadic tribes north of Helio, it said.

It also added that while Ax was the lord of Taúlia and had power of command over the allied western forces, it was fine if he entered the city at the end.

I wish to know a little more about Mephius’ position. My lord, if you come rushing, the fighting spirit will certainly soar to its highest and aim for a repeat of the glory that the western forces felt with the defeat of the evil sorcerer. However, assuming a situation in which that could not be curbed, and if Mephius concentrates its military strength in Apta, it might lead to a prolonged stand-off. In its present condition, Taúlia cannot afford to maintain soldiers from foreign countries for such long time.

“What?” Ax involuntarily roared out loud.

The letter continued on to say that it wanted him to issue an appeal to the nomadic tribes which were dotted around to the north of Helio.

None of the tribes which joined the punitive force against Garda are among them, but messengers will be sent to all of them in advance. If Lord Ax Bazgan goes to them in person, they should all assemble in one place. While you are organising their forces, please stay a while in Helio or wherever.

“That old geezer!”

Ax reflexively hurled abuse and tossed away the letter. If you thought about what was being said in that courteous phrasing it was, in short —

Since you might become a nuisance, go rally our allies’ spirits and dampen those of the enemy from a safe distance. Also, since I’ve made preparations, go and increase our allies while you’re at it.

Mephius had taken an aggressive stance but it appeared that not even Ravan could tell whether this would be over with the first confrontation or whether it would be another drawn-out war. He was afraid that if, at this time, Ax were recklessly set up to lead all the armies of the west – exactly as when they opposed Garda – he might not be able to return.

Ax was praised as the greatest hero in the west and almost no time had passed since he had defeated Garda. In other words, excessive expectations were placed on him. It could thus also be considered that if, right after waving his war fan as supreme commander, Ax did not achieve above a certain level of military success, faith in him would plummet in one go.

Therefore, Ravan thought to keep Ax away from Taúlia for now. By moving the army east from Helio, it was possible to cross the border and enter Mephian territory from a point other than Apta. Of course, although they would not be able to avoid fighting with the border fortresses along there, not even Ravan thought things would come to that.

What was important was that Ax, the leader of the western alliance, should set up camp in a position from which he had the possibility to strike at the enemy country.

In addition, Mephius would surely realise that since the lord of Taúlia would have placed troops in Helio, the opponent in the war would not only be Taúlia but all the western lands.

“Hmph, that damn Ravan. It looks like his health is absolutely fine.”

Ax had his personal slave burn the letter, then he modified the schedule of the march, and headed towards Helio after lodging at their current location.

There, he sent half of his force to Taúlia and, leading the remaining half, changed course towards the north. Since, among the troops who had travelled from Eimen with Ax, there was a unit composed of nomads from the same region, he followed their lead.

As it was the army of Ax, the leader of the alliance, in all the villages and towns that they went through there were many mercenaries and youths who petitioned them, saying: “I want to join your troops”. Nor was it limited to them; because the military company was “profitable”, a crowd of prostitutes and peddlers travelled along with it. They didn’t only sell food and alcohol, there many shrewd salesmen who also widely sold armour and weapons collected from battlefields, as well as horses.

Among them, there was one merchant who was something of an oddity. In appearance, he was a small middle-aged man wrapped in a turban that had bird feathers stuck into it and the tip of his shoes were curled in. One might take him for some sort of entertainer but he lead three small dragons.

They looked a lot like Tengo, which Mephians and people in the west might use instead of horses, but they were a little shorter, exchanging height for more sturdy legs. On their heads grew what looked like a dark crest. Their nature was meeker than other dragons and two ran obediently on either side of the one that the merchant was straddling.

When they stopped for short breaks, or when they stayed overnight at a village, the merchant would stretch out on top of his saddle and the sound of snoring would rise up. He was popular with the prostitutes and the children who accompanied them because, when he felt like it, he would perform tricks that were like magic still sprawled out on top of the dragons.

One of Ax’s soldiers, his curiosity aroused, asked him “Those are unusual dragons. You going to foist their sale on Lord Ax?”

“No,” the merchant gently brushed a cheek whose complexion was oddly lustrous, “I was wondering if I could be hired as a clown.” He said with a carefree smile.

Contact with Ax was of course refused. Still, in the end, he persistently travelled with them north of Helio, to the village nearest where the nomads had pitched their tents to prepare for their meeting with Ax. Perhaps because the tribal leaders were eager to be the first to greet Ax, a great number of tents had already been set up nearby and the village was buzzing with activity.

Watching this from the highest point in the village was the merchant. “It stinks, it really stinks,” he muttered as he crinkled his nose. “An evil stench. This won’t be settled easily… but it can’t just be overlooked.”

Part 2

In the barracks of the Fifth Army Corps, the mercenaries were in the middle of lunch. Because of their contribution to the victory, they were treated to more luxurious items than usual.

Even though it was only noon, alcohol was flowing. Actually, neither the quantity nor the quality was remotely sufficient.

Talcott was singing a sailor song that he had remembered from the time when he was in the navy off of the coastal countries. Everyone in the unit figured that when Talcott said “navy,” ten to one he actually meant pirate. Vulgar metaphors were hidden throughout the comedic limerick and the feast was especially lively.

Amidst this, for once, Gilliam was not going along with Talcott’s jokes; instead he was pecking at his food, sitting alone at the table with his chin resting on his hand. In his mouth, he had a meat bone which had been chewed clean.

Everyone was being considerate of Gilliam’s feelings and didn’t force him to join in the liveliness. The enemy they had fought against was Mephius. Since Gilliam was, of course Mephian, his state of mind was probably complicated; besides, being a long-time acquaintance of Captain Orba’s, he certainly must be anxious about him – was what everyone thought.

He was thinking about Orba – in that sense, their guess had hit the mark. But he wasn’t simply worrying about his well-being. The other mercenaries would never have imagined what Gilliam was thinking about at that time.

Maybe what Shique said wasn’t a lie.

He had known Orba since their time in Tarkas’ gladiator group but their relationship had not been one in which they shared friendly conversations. They had traded insults and had often almost gotten into fights. It was just that from time to time, he got the impression that — That guy’s got quick wits. However, as they were nothing more than mere gladiators, only physical strength mattered; and in that sense, Orba was simply someone that he needed to be wary of if they had been forced to fight each other.

So when, meeting them after a long time, he had heard from Shique that — Orba had held authority as the Imperial Crown Prince of Mephius — he had taken it as an empty joke. How could that taciturn man, who was only skilled in the art of the sword, have acted as the body-double for the country’s crown prince? Even in a rundown theatre, if he had been given the role of the “prince,” he would definitely have incurred the audience’s displeasure for being miscast.

But —

As they fought together as mercenaries here in the Tauran region, that impression gradually changed.

It wasn’t that he was just quick-witted. Unlike Gilliam, whose only worth lay in charging onto the battlefield waving his axe, Orba very carefully observed the ever-fluctuating state of the fight and could sense the outcome with his unique sense of “smell”…

Before anyone realised it, he was leading a unit that included Giliam himself and then, again before anyone could realise it, he had become a hero whose name was famous throughout the west.

Gilliam could not say that he simply had luck on his side. He couldn’t help but recognise that Orba possessed that kind of ability.

In which case —

Since the prince accomplished several military feats… He couldn’t simply laugh it off as a tall story.

It was only now, as he had ceased being a gladiator, that he felt he could understand why Orba had obstinately hid his face. But if he accepted that, Gilliam would have yet another impression, not so much about Orba as an individual, but rather about the war.

For that guy to fight against Mephius…

Shique came rushing into the dining room.

He had run in as though he had hell on his heels and the soldiers’ minds and body went tense with the dread of another invasion by Mephius. Even Talcott instantly stopped singing.

“Orba has woken up!”

At that, the place erupted even more than before.

Orba was crouching in viscous mud.

The ground was a strange reddish brown and there was the smell of blood.

His entire body was incredibly heavy.

Orba groaned in displeasure and put strength into his whole frame to try and break out, but for a while now already, he had been completely unable to move. Because he was submerged up to his neck, he even had difficulty shifting his head.

When he finally managed to raise it, he caught sight of the figure of a lone woman walking.

Her hands were bound with rope. Behind her, men that looked like armed soldiers were prodding her with their spears and were making her walk further and further forward even as she staggered.

Marilène — Orba called out in his mind. He remembered this scene. In order to protect the royal family that she had married into, Queen Marilène of Helio had deliberately chosen a path of dishonour and of execution by the people.

Was he watching a scene from his memory or a reconstruction within a dream? While Orba strained his eyes, Marilène’s figure gradually turned into that of another person. Vileena Owell.

A girl of fourteen. She too had left to marry into a foreign country.

Vileena was being made to walk like a criminal. Orba instinctively tried to stand up and run after them. But his entire body was still being restrained by the mud and he couldn’t move an inch from where he was.

Wait.

Just as Orba was about to yell —

“Traitor”

— He heard a voice hurl abuse at Vileena. Before Orba even had time to be surprised, voices carrying curses rained down one after another.

“You sold out to Mephius.”

“You betrayed Garbera.”

At some point, the reddish black soil near Orba had swollen up and turned into human-shaped clay dolls that were all shouting angrily.

“Execute her.”

The earth bulged in front of Orba.

“That woman betrayed her country and went with the enemy, cut off her head!”

Now it was at Orba’s side. Then —

“Kill her.”

“Kill her.”

“Kill her!”

All around Orba and from every direction the cries rang out in unison.

At the same moment, Vileena stopped. This time, it was the ground in front of her which rumbled and swelled. She was again pushed from behind by the spears and was made to walk once more along the ground that was now shaped like stairs. At the top, which was dark and slimy with the colour of blood, she was made to kneel.

Stop.

Urged on by a bad premonition, Orba struggled desperately. The bones in his arms and legs creaked and his skin almost split as he twisted his body in impossible contortions.

Stop.

Even his voice wouldn’t leave his open mouth and all that came out was the empty sound of whistling air.

A soldier behind the forcibly kneeling Vileena stirred slightly. At that, like the lumps of earth, the spear in his hands shifted and turned into a huge axe.

He casually raised it overhead.

It was just as Orba had feared.

For a moment, it remained quiet and still in the air then, with a rush of air, it swung down with force.

“Stop!”

When he finally found his voice – Orba was on a bed.

It was about an hour before Shique received the news and had sprung up in delight.

It was an infirmary within the Court used exclusively by nobles. At a glance, it was a pure white room filled with a sense of cleanliness. If he had not stopped to reconsider it, Orba would certainly have thought that he had lost his life, been called to the Dragon Gods’ side, and joined the ranks of those-at-arms[1] as told in Mephian tradition.

The gods really don’t want my soul, huh?

Above all, his entire body was wracked with pain. The throbbing at his forehead and neck was especially intense. The pain connected directly to memories of the battle.

The memory of being shot and of falling from his horse flashed sharply across his mind. Orba gently moved his arms and legs. His chest and back hurt but he didn’t seem to have any broken bones.

I can hold a sword.

To check that before all else could be called a gladiator’s habit. Even if they survived the day’s battle, if they were injured to the point that they could no longer pick up a sword, they would certainly die in the next day’s fight. When he looked over, there was a mask placed beside the bed. Although it should have been smashed by the bullet, it emitted the glow of brand-new iron.

Orba worriedly touched his face. The upper half was tightly bandaged from his forehead to his cheeks. However, the rest of the skin was, of course, exposed. It was very similar to his bandaged appearance when he had deceived those around him by saying that he had “caught an infectious disease a long time ago.”

At that point, a man in a white coat entered. Reacting like a wild beast determined to prevent others from stealing the prey it had just hunted, Orba quickly snatched up the mask and rammed it on his face.

“Oh, did you just wake up?” The elderly man asked admiringly, not seeming particularly fazed by Orba’s state. He came up so close to him it was almost rude and waved a hand before his eyes. “Can you see properly? Are there any changes in your physical sensations? Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?”

Orba stayed silent for a few moments as though consulting with himself. After a while, he shook his head. And said almost forcibly that he was absolutely starving. “Is that right?” The man broke out into a broad smile.

“You’ve been in a coma after receiving a violent shock. If that had continued for another three days, your life would have been in danger – people’s brains are surprisingly fragile, you know – but that’s a hero for you. You can be thankful for your tough body and your luck. From now on and for at least a month, you should go and visit a temple every day without fail… Ah, but since a fragment from the mask bit deeply into your forehead, although of course I removed it completely, you had best resign yourself to bearing a scar for the rest of your life. Well, that’s like a mark of honour for warriors, isn’t it? Besides, there won’t be many opportunities for it to be exposed since you have a mask.”

The man introduced himself as Faisal, a physician.

Having been informed of the details of how he was brought there, Orba understood that Esmena had gone to great pains to prevent his identity from being revealed. The new mask had also been arranged by the princess.

Although Faisal had, of course, seen through the fact that Orba must have some kind of unusual circumstances, so he deliberately avoided speaking about it.

“There was a long line of people wanting to come and visit you. As per the princess’ orders, I sent them all away. And thanks to that, the rumour that your condition was critical and that you are on the verge of death has spread about. It’s good that you have woken up, but you are going to have a tough time with all the courtesy calls from here on.”

“And Mephius?”

“Hmm?”

Orba half-raised his body. Bandages were also wrapped around his naked torso. There shouldn’t be any injuries from his neck down so this was probably also thanks to the princess or Shique, who knew the situation.

“Has Mephius made a move? How long have I been asleep?”

“Ah, the hardships of being a hero. You have been unconscious this whole time. Your life was certainly in danger and it wouldn’t be strange if there was a lingering effect or two remaining. And yet you wake up and immediately start talking about the war.”

Even though he said so, Faisal explained that in the nearly two days that Orba had been in a coma, there had been no conspicuous movements from Mephius’ side.

After that, having no doubt been among the first to receive the news, General Bouwen Tedos came to visit.

“They’ve come fast.” As he took his leave, Faisal whispered quietly, “He will come to realise how lucky he was to be able to sleep in complete peace these past two days.”

After Faisal had disappeared, Orba bowed his head. “That you for coming in person, General – I’m sorry about this. I made a poor showing.”

“Don’t worry about it. What matters most is that you’re well. And besides, I know that you protected me. The fault is mine for not having noticed the presence of an enemy.”

Even though Bouwen was giving a relieved sigh, he was still armed. It seemed there had been no change in the situation and there was still no saying when the enemy might attack.

“Rest up for a bit. There’s nothing to worry about. Reinforcements will soon be arriving in Taúlia. According to the information brought by courier, first among them will be Helio’s Dragoon Commander Lasvius, who should already be on his way.”

“Lasvius is it?”

“I also owe him a debt of gratitude. Perhaps this time we will fight side-by-side. Well – it’s best if something like war doesn’t break out though.”

With the betrayal of the mercenary commander Greygun, Bouwen had been seriously wounded at the battle of Coldrin Hills. After that, he had been reliant on Lasvius’ unit as they lay concealed in the Belgana Summits and received treatment from them.

At least for now – Although Bouwen’s expression was still cautious, perhaps because he felt that they had escaped from a predicament, it had grown a little brighter.

However, a portion of the people from both the west and Mephius were worried that if the battle formations on each side continued to swell, there was a risk that it would no longer be possible to pull pull back. Bouwen also wanted to avoid a long war at this point in time. On top of that, there was a matter that had not left Orba’s mind since before the start of his conversation with Bouwen.

“It’s been nonstop since the war against Garda, huh. Where does it leave us Zerdian soldiers if a foreigner takes all the glory? Take a break for a while.”

As Bouwen said that with a smile and got up to leave, Orba finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Garbera’s princess,” he said, “h-has there been a messenger to say where Garbera’s princess is now?”

“…”

Bouwen’s smile faded and he remained silent. He mechanically shifted his focus towards the window.

Outside, the sun had descended slightly from its zenith. The weather was dull. Perhaps because of artillery practice, in the distance the roar of cannons sounded once– then twice. Bouwen however did not show concern.

The one who brought us the information wasn’t Mephian. It was Garbera’s princess, Vileena Owell.

It was Bouwen himself who had told Orba that. In that instant, Orba had been shot by an enemy soldier lying concealed beneath corpses.

“General.”

“The Princess is…” After hesitating a moment, Bouwen spoke, still gazing out from the window. “At present, she is missing.”

“Eh?”

“Her whereabouts are unknown. After coming to us as a messenger, the Princess said that she would return to Apta. But at that time the enemy had already crossed over the border. The Princess came back to Taúlia’s territory and joined up with us who were already marching.”

Naturally, Bouwen had been surprised, but they had to begin their manoeuvres to draw the enemy in at once. The one who had drawn up that tactics had been none other than Orba. Since timing was essential, Bouwen hadn’t really been able to take care of the princess. And then –

“According to eyewitness accounts from the soldiers, she used her airship to interrupt the charge of the enemy soldiers. Honestly… what an impossible princess. When she flew her ship straight at the enemy cavalry, which was hot on our heels, it was enough to make even our Zerdian soldiers flinch, you know.”

That – Orba held his breath and remembered the battlefield.

Because Nabarl, the enemy commander-in-chief, had neutralised their riflemen earlier than expected, and faster than Orba could come rushing in as reinforcement, the pursuers had almost made it close enough to strike at the tail end of Bouwen’s main forces. As they were on the verge of doing so, an airship had flown straight at the enemy. Orba had frankly admired the courage and piloting skill involved.

Thanks to that charge, Nabarl’s pursuit was thrown into confusion, even if only by a little. If it hadn’t been for that, they would have paid a heavy cost.

Vileena.

Without realising it, Orba was biting down strongly on his lower lip.

In itself, it was unthinkable for someone in her situation to have informed Taúlia of Mephius’ attack. Even though she was a guest from another country, Mephius would not leave the princess unpunished. It also had to be considered that relations with her home country of Garbera would take a sudden turn for the worse.

Why did she do something so stupid – he thought, but the answer was already obvious. It was simply –

Because it’s Vileena.

Because it was Vileena, she would not allow a partner with whom they had once made peace be attacked without warning. Because it was Vileena, she would not be able to shut her eyes to it, even if it put her in danger, even if Mephius and her home country vilified her as a traitor because of it.

He felt like shuddering.

The scene from the nightmare he had just had was seared into his brain and wouldn’t leave it.

Bouwen’s eyes were still turned towards the outside

“There is the possibility that she returned to Mephius, but at any rate, her figure vanished from sight in the middle of the battle.” He sighed softly. “Of course, I have currently sent people to search in the outskirts of Taúlia. But unfortunately, in this wartime situation, and because we can’t openly have anything to do with the princess, we can’t mobilise too many people. The princess is the benefactor of all Taúlians and we want to protect her as best we can but…”

“Orba!”

Shique burst into the room ahead of the others but the smile that covered his entire face vanished in an instant.

The man who should have been lying flat on the bed was wearing a leather vest and, with his mask on, was in the middle of fixing his clothes.

“H-Hang on, Orba,” Shique rushed over to his side. “You always do things so suddenly that I sometimes wonder if you aren’t deliberately trying to startle me. Rest up. There’s nothing you need to be in such a hurry over.”

“I’m going to go look for her.”

“Eh?”

“There’s no way you don’t know, right. That Vileena has gone missing.”

Orba glared at Shique from the corner of his eye. Exactly as though he were looking at an enemy. Shique was left dumbfounded for a moment but then quickly turned around to Gilliam and the others who were about to enter the room behind him.

“Oi, what’s up? What’re you trying to pull?”

“There are no visitors allowed.”

“What?”

“Please, everyone out.”

Shique didn’t have his usual expression. Orba could be seen over his shoulder. Gilliam was about to ask what the trouble was when he suddenly sensed something. If, as he had been thinking earlier, the story about Orba having been the crown prince’s body-double was true, there would definitely be one or two conversations that weren’t for just anyone else’s ears.

Tsk.

Feeling like he was being treated as an outsider, Gilliam turned his large body around. Talcott, who was stepping into the room, banged his nose against the massive chest.

“Ow… The hell, Jumbo!”

“We’re going back for today,” said Gilliam, sounding unamused. “For the time being, the capt’n has safely woken up. Let’s leave him alone for now.”

Catching the protesting Talcott by the scruff of the neck and hauling him by force, he took everyone out. After Gilliam himself had also left the room, Shique made sure that the door was shut.

“Orba,” Shique once more turned to look at him. “What’s this about the princess’ whereabouts being unknown? I truly haven’t heard anything about it.”

Pulling on his boots, Orba was about to go searching right then. Shique placated him and somehow got him to explain the situation. When he heard about it, he was rendered speechless in spite of himself. Back when he was an Imperial Guard, Shique had been unusually supportive of Garbera’s Princess Vileena. Upon learning that she was in danger, he naturally couldn’t stay calm.

Before him however was a man who was even more about to lose his composure. At a glance, he appeared to be the usual cool and infuriatingly detached Orba, but Shique could clearly see the impatience and the worry behind the iron mask.

“It’s no good, Orba. What you’re saying now won’t do.”

“What won’t do?”

“Taúlia is currently in the middle of a war. A person in your position, with men under you, can’t just do whatever you want. General Bouwen came by earlier but you didn’t get permission from him, right?”

“That has -”

“Everything to do with it. You stand out too much. At present, that’s true everywhere in western Tauran. Anyone would recognise you at first glance.” Just as Orba had done earlier, Shique was shooting glares as though to an enemy. “If you move around, you’ll be suspected of who knows what. It’s no good talking about a search.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Move, Shique.”

Orba’s voice grew louder and he was about to push Shique’s shoulder out of the way but –

“I will not move. Have you forgotten, Orba? You are Mephian. And right now, the enemy fighting Taúlia is Mephius.”

Orba stopped moving as that was pointed out.

“In the current circumstances, what will happen if you move however you please? You’ll be suspected of being connected to Mephius. And not just you, all of us – all of us in the unit who follow you, who move according to your orders and act as your shield and spear – would be denounced as traitors and imprisoned.

“…”

“There’s no choice but to leave the princess to General Bouwen for now. I’ll try to gather information as well. There might be some clue to be found in the incoming reports…”

“Shut up,” Orba shouted angrily and swung his arm. Shique thought that it would hit him on the cheek but the fist was flung not at his face but at the wall beside it.

“Get out!”

With a serious expression, Shique looked in turn at Orba and at the fist; then, when he had made sure that Orba had turned his back and returned to the bed, he took out something that was tucked at his breast. He placed it on top of a shelf near the bed which was used for water pitchers and the like, then calmly left the room.

There was the sound of the door opening and closing then, a dozen or so seconds later –

“Shit!”

Orba struck hard at the wall once more.

What Shique was saying was something he knew all too well. In truth, Orba’s resentment was directed more towards himself then the current situation; as, even though he was aware of it, he had still been unable to keep his emotions under control. To start with, it was the same reason that had caused him to be injured and lose consciousness for two days.

During a war, he had forgotten himself.

Be it in the arena or on the battlefield, when death was lurking, those who could not assess and control themselves died one after another. Orba had watched such scenes innumerable times.

Two days. Two days?

Because of his own mess, he had wasted time.

If the princess had not returned to Mephius, then the risk rose drastically. If things went badly – even if he tried not to think about it, Orba’s heart tightened painfully.

Is it too late?

That thought suddenly crossed his mind.

And at that thought, his mind and body froze completely. Orba had known the regret of being “too late” once already. When he had seen the gravestone for his brother, Roan. At that time, feeling that he had been too slow to go to Apta, that his actions had been too sluggish, Orba had fallen to his knees sobbing.

“It’s not too late.”

Orba said, clenching his teeth. If he had wasted time then he had to work hard to quickly make up for it. There was no time to think about it anymore.

A moment passed and he noticed what Shique had put on the shelf beside the bed.

It was a scrap of paper. When they were officially admitted into Taúlia’s army, as part of their pay as non-commissioned officers, Orba and several of the soldiers under him were allocated a few high-quality everyday articles for daily use. One of these was a sheaf of paper.

His eyes caught by the whiteness of the paper, Orba picked it up then stared at it fixedly.

The news that Orba had woken up had not only reached Bouwen, Shique, and the others.

However, in this case the news did not arrive through an official messenger from the doctor. There was a report from men keeping watch on the area that ‘General Bouwen visited the medical office’ and so it was determined that Orba had regained consciousness.

The one who received the report was the commander of the Sixth Army Corps, Natokk.

With his swarthy skin and his slender, hawk-like face, he was a soldier whose appearance was typically Zerdian. At the time of the surprise attack on Apta, Ax had entrusted him with the command of the first assault troops.

“Reinforce the watch,” Natokk ordered. “Not only on Orba, but on each of his men who are Mephian as well. Report each of their actions, even the most trivial… What is it?”

His reason for asking that was the expression which crossed the face of the subordinate he had given the order to. The man lowered his head as though to apologise for his rudeness. Natokk’s glance grew sharp.

“I understand. He is the hero who saved the west. I don’t want to do this either. However, if there is nothing, even if he is Mephian, we will have no reason to doubt him anymore. That is why I’m giving you this task. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” His subordinate stood at attention.

After having made sure that the man had left, Natokk, now alone, wore an expression as complicated as his subordinate’s had just been.

But on the night of the day after he had received that report, a commotion suddenly erupted in the barracks of the Sixth Army Corps…

Part 3

It was midnight when Orba summoned Shique. Not to the medical office but to the private room allocated to him as a captain of the Fifth Army Corps. He had apparently been difficult and had forcibly ended his medical treatment.

Even though he has only just woken up.

Although he understood that his feelings were unsettled because of the princess and the war with Mephius, being unreasonable at this point in time could lead to the irreparable damage. Although he didn’t want to get into another quarrel, Shique made up his mind to give him a scolding and opened the door.

Oh.

The words he had prepared however vanished the instant he stepped into the room. Orba was alone inside it. But the atmosphere surrounding him was clearly different from when they had seen each other in the infirmary.

Without any preface, Orba took a letter from the desk in front of him.

“I want you to deliver this to Apta,” he said.

Shique gaped. Apta was, of course, within Mephian territory and, needless to say, was currently an enemy land.

“Can I read it?”

“Sure.”

Orba gave permission while still looking the other way. He didn’t seem to want to look the subordinate he had called over at midnight in the eye. Realising why, Shique unintentionally broke into a grin, but when he read the contents, his desire to poke fun at Orba was blown away in one go.

This is –

After reading it once, he returned once again to the start of the document. Orba, who was being kept waiting, uncrossed and re-crossed his legs and looked about him restlessly but Shique deliberately took his time rereading. Then –

“The contents are pretty unexpected.”

“Yeah. But he’s in Apta…”

“You’re saying to deliver this to General Rogue Saian, right?”

Correct – Orba seemed to say as he nodded wordlessly.

General Rogue Saian was in Apta. The one who had brought that information to Orba was none other than Shique. While Orba was in a coma, he had probed around for information about Mephius’ side. Lodging in Taúlia as a trader who was on an errand for the wealthy Birac merchant, Zaj Haman.

“Because of this sudden war, it’s not easy to get back home,” he had grumbled as he sat in a tavern.

By plying that merchant with drink, Shique had gotten the information that generals Rogue and Odyne had gone to Apta. Shique had summarised the information on paper and had intended to give a verbal explanation of it, but as it didn’t seem like Orba was inclined to lend him an ear, he had left the memo for him.

Shique once more gave a cursory look at the contents of the letter that Orba had handed over to him. The sender’s name was not Orba. The signature read –

Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius.

That could only mean one thing.

Orba was going to revive “Gil Mephius” whom he was supposed to have buried.

After announcing that Gil was living on in Taúlia, the letter explained that –

Having learned about General Oubary’s plan to assassinate me, I deliberately made myself disappear and went over to Taúlia.

In short, the letter denounced Emperor’s Guhl’s declaration that Taúlia was behind Gil’s death as nothing more than a fabricated charge, then continued –

Who within Mephius’ military currently wants war with Taúlia? There is only one person who wishes for it, my father Guhl Mephius. Do not make the mistake of going against your heart. If you are commanders who truly love Mephius and whose duty it is to protect its people, you should know what you have to do.

With that said, Rogue and the others could not be expected to believe in Prince Gil’s survival simply on the basis of a single letter. Because of that, Orba concluded the document saying he would personally appear in Apta three days after the letter had reached them.

“Three days…” Shique murmured in a low voice.

The three-day deferment also gave Rogue and Odyne a delay in which to make a decision. In other words, in the time it gave them to wait for verification on whether or not Prince Gil was still alive, they would also have time to consider how they should act in the event that it was true.

To ignore Emperor Guhl’s – to ignore Mephius’ orders, was to defy him, which meant treason against their country. No matter how little the retainers might like the emperor’s words and deeds, it was not an easy decision to make.

But what if the crown prince, who had undeniably inherited the same imperial blood, stood behind them?

“Orba”

“Yeah”

Orba looked Shique in the eyes for the first time. Shique had a hundred things he wanted to say but, as they stared at each other, those were cleared away in an instant.

To head towards Apta as Gil was equivalent to throwing away his current position as the hero whose praises were sung throughout the west. To appear as Gil was to throw away the carefully fabricated fact of his death and to cast himself once more into the great vortex at the forefront of history.

“Don’t regret it, okay.”

“Yeah.”

Shique was seized by the urge to soliloquy at length. To prevent war between the two countries – that was not a simple decision leading to a single result. To use a slightly exaggerated expression, it could probably be called a turning point in history.

However, while inwardly thinking one thing, Shique said another.

“You’re somewhat lacking in with words, Orba.”

“Words?”

“We’re currently quarrelling. Oh, did you forget? When I was making a reasonable point, who was it now who yelled ‘Get out’? Only summoning the other at your convenience, giving out orders without listening to what they have to say, surely it’s not as if you want to play the part of the callous prince?”

Even though nobody could know what Orba’s expression was behind the mask, he understood it perfectly. But that was enough for Shique. Just as he was about to burst out with “That was a joke”, Orba spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Shique was flabbergasted. Orba spoke again –

“You’re the only one I can ask. Please, Shique. Take this letter to Apta.”

“I-I get it. I get it,” as a way of hiding his embarrassment, Shique deliberately laughed proudly. “You’re going to say to leave at once, right? I get it, the great Shique will carry it off perfectly. Because you just can’t do anything without me.”

After Shique left, Orba turned the light off in the room.

He crawled into bed but didn’t close his eyes.

Something separated itself from the shadows.

When he stared hard at the darkness, something which looked vaguely like a ghost took shape and came into sight.

No, wouldn’t it actually be a ghost?

A person with the same face as him – Gil Mephius.

A person that he should have once buried with his own hands. A ghost that he was now going to resurrect from the grave with those same hands.

Of course, there were a number of paths that had led to that decision.

As he had told Shique, his mind was made up and he believed that he would not regret it. But be that as it may, he felt a strange uncertainty. Hadn’t he rushed too fast down the paths that led to his decision? In other words, did he miss any crucial elements needed for the future he envisioned to become reality?

Stupid.

Orba glared at Gil’s pallid face. New shapes appeared and flickered indistinctly behind him, those of Guhl Mephius and of the flames of war encircling all of the west.

It wasn’t too late yet.

So there was no need to rush too quickly either.

Orba closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was engulfed in the complete darkness.

From under the window, there was a roar like a beast howling.

A gunshot.

His eyes suddenly wrenched open.

What had come back to him was the very moment when he had been shot on the battlefield. At that time when Orba had lost sight of himself on the battleground. Just now, Orba had felt again the feeling of having lost himself, of being helpless, of hesitating when detected by the “enemy,” and of having been shot in the head.

An hour after leaving Orba’s room, Shique was on horseback.

He had given the old soldier on guard duty at the stables a small amount of the alcohol that was served in the barracks, claiming it was “refreshments,” and had then listened to his long, boastful war stories. When the soldier grew careless and began to doze against the wall, Shique quietly left him and went to choose a horse for himself.

Throwing himself onto the saddle, he proceeded through the still and silent barracks.

He waved at the sentries standing on the way from the barracks to the castle gate as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Wow, it’s Shique from Orba’s unit.

These soldiers were the complete opposite from the one at the stables, both from their obvious youth and the gazes they sent filled with aspiration towards the former gladiator.

He passed out of the castle gate.

The lamp Shique held up faintly illuminated the darkness and, while patting the neck of his nervous horse, he followed the road to the east. Once he had safely left Taúlia, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Still, I was surprised.

Orba had honestly apologised. He kept going over that scene in his mind. Actually, it couldn’t be said that he was happy from the bottom of his heart about it.

It’s not like him. He has more of the charm of childhood when he keeps complaining and cursing. Well, although I admit that he’s adorable when he is being honest.

The letter that Orba had written was, of course, tucked at his breast. By nature, Orba’s penmanship was terrible; but before, when he was still a body-double, he had referenced available notes written by Gil Mephius in order to imitated his handwriting. Such as when he had written a letter incorporating Shique and the other former gladiators into his own Imperial Guards.

As he remembered how desperately Orba had been back then, trying to memorise that penmanship while writing, Shique couldn’t help but also find that adorable.

That Orba was going to return to the front stage of history again.

Shique had deliberately avoided questioning him too deeply about it. After he had been released from vengeance, it had seemed as though Orba’s true face had steadily started to show through, but it was probable that not even he himself knew what to expect if he once more put on the “mask” of Gil.

The world of the aristocracy was nothing more than a hell of never-ending strife.

Every kind of desire, in every shape and form, lurked behind the rows of smiling faces and the sequences of flowery words.

Shique had no way of knowing the deepest recesses of that world, but he had actually come into contact with one small part of it. And from just that small part, the indelible scars on his heart had turned into a brand that had been seared into him.

They’re the flames of Laskeid. Remembering that old legend as he rode forward, Shique felt like shivering.

Then –

“Wait”

A voice came from in front of him. No, the same thing was coming from behind him.

When Shique swiftly swept his gaze around, he had already been surrounded.

In every direction, the light from his lamp illuminated Zerdian faces.

And in their hands, they warily held up swords and guns.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ The author uses the made-up word ikusabito (戦人) which reads as “war/battle person”.