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Rakuin no Monshou:Volume12 Chapter7

2018-04-18T13:40:51Z

162.158.58.60: /* Part 2 */

==Chapter 7: Iron Mask==

=== Part 1 ===

''An impostor.''

''A slave.''

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

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

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

“You should stop there.”

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

He had been addressing Melissa.

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

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

“What is it that you mean?”

“Emperor Guhl is dead.”

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

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

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

“That…”

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

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

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

''His Majesty Guhl… has passed away?''

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Know your place, Boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…”

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

“You mustn’t!”

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

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

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

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

“W-Wait!”

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

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

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

“Uwaah!”

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

Black smoke rose from the stone floor.

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

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

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

Then –

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

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

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

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

=== Part 2 ===

''Mother…''

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

Flora Mephius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where you going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, at the very least…

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

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

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

Therefore, as he stepped forward, Odyne said –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then –

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

This time, however, Vileena answered him.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Don’t come here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The princess was about to take another step.

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

“Princess!”

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

“You bastards…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vileena.

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

“Fire!”

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

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

“Damn… you…”

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

Gunshots resounded once more.

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

The sword slipped from his raised arm.

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

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

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

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

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

At some point, the sun had started rising.

Ineli immediately came rushing up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

''And me too…''

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

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

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

=== Part 3 ===

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lifted his sword high.

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

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

Whatever else might be true, they had won.

Whatever else might be true, the sword had prevailed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

''I’m probably going to need more information.''

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prince Gil!”

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

“Gilliam!?” Orba unintentionally cried out loud.

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

Gilliam turned a glittering gaze towards Orba.

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

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

''Ah!'' – His eyes opened wide.

It was an iron mask.

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

“Who?”

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

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

It was Lance Mazpotter’s group.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then –

“Your Highness!” shouted both Gilliam and Pashir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet the foremost enemy showed no signs of being shaken.

''Oh?''

It was rare to see someone so bold.

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

They were getting closer to one another.

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

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

And they were at a single breath’s distance –

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

''What?''

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lead by Pashir, the Mephian troops drew near.

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

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

“We continue,” his raised voice was angry.

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

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

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Rakuin no Monshou:Volume12_Chapter6|Chapter 6]]
| Return to [[Rakuin no Monshou|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Rakuin_no_Monshou:Volume12_Chapter8|Chapter 8]]
|-
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</noinclude>

Rakuin no Monshou:Volume6 Chapter3

2018-04-15T04:48:20Z

162.158.58.60: /* Part 2 */

==Chapter 3: The Sorcerer Garda==

=== Part 1 ===

Back when the Tauran region first started to see a chance to push back against Garda's army.

Led by Moldorf, Garda's forces retreated northwest to Kadyne after their defeat at Cherik. It was Moldorf's home country. Naturally that wasn't why they fled there. Since they could not prevent the enemy from going north, Moldorf judged that they should leave a battalion there to consolidate their defence. But as soon as he arrived in Kadyne, he received an order from one of the sorcerer's who was Garda's subordinates.

“Take two thousand soldiers to Eimen.”

Eimen was further north than Kadyne and could well be thought of as the last strategic rampart from which Zer Illias could be defended. They would leave a force of about a thousand in Kadyne. Hearing that, Moldorf looked puzzled.

''What the...'' Eimen could hardly be called a suitable position from which to defend. Perhaps, Moldorf pondered, rather than send a large military force to defend Kadyne, which was encircled to the east and west by mountains, they had judged that the enemy might move its troops towards Eimen, which was considered easier to attack. But in any event, Garda's orders were absolute.

''Sir Sorcerer probably has some plan in mind''.

This was normal for Garda's army. Even though they won victory after victory, once the enemy's power had been suppressed, those in charge of the army should have been handing down orders. But instead, they left generals and soldiers alike without any guiding instructions.

All they said was “Wait for the signal for the next march,” and after conveying that message, they refused to see anybody. During that time, the soldiers, who were just a jumbled hodgepodge without any unity, grew wilder and rougher. With their families or lover taken hostage, there were also many whose impatience turned to despair.

This was the first time they had lost a battle. Of course, the soldiers obeyed the sorcerer for the aforementioned reasons, but that wasn't all. There was no denying that they had felt a certain awed dread towards the sorcerer whose true nature was unknown and who would seize victory no matter what force opposed him.

''Even that sorcery has weakened''.

The soldiers were increasingly losing morale. Rather than letting them run amok in his home city of Kadyne, it was certainly better to take most of them to Eimen.

Having convinced himself of that half out of a feeling of depression, Moldorf had his subordinates start making preparations again. He himself used what time they had left to go and see some familiar faces.

Like the fearless Kadyne warriors that they were, you wouldn't have thought from their bold manner that their city was being occupied, but still, their expressions, words and actions betrayed their rage. Among them was Moldorf's younger brother, Nilgif. He was a warrior who bore the epithet “the Blue Dragon of Kadyne” and Moldorf and he were known together as the “Twin Dragons of Kadyne”. He was born from a different mother than Moldorf and was more than ten years younger than him. But in looks and in the impression they gave off they were very similar.

“Brother ! You’ve returned?”

Nilgif called out in a voice like thunder, his feet stomping loudly. Although he was slightly shorter than his brother, he was broad. He looked like a wine barrel from which sprouted large hands and feet, and Moldorf’s mouth softened when he saw that dearly missed figure.

“Yeah, I lost, I lost. Total defeat.”

“Oh?” Nilgif’s thick eyebrows rose then drew downwards.

“What?”

“Ah, no. I was thinking that I expected you to look grimmer. You’ve worn a frown since the day Kadyne fell to Garda. But you seem to be in a good mood today.”

“How could I be in a good mood after being defeated? How many men were lost? I’m not that heartless.”

“I might have phrased that badly…. Rather than being in a good mood, I should have said that you’re full of energy. Right, there’s usually only one reason for you to be like that after losing a battle, Brother.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Both of them had removed their armour to sit down and nearby attendants were holding out ''kumis'' <ref> [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumis Fermented mare's milk] used as a drink and medicine by Asian nomads. </ref> for them. The people of Kadyne had much of the nomad spirit in them and their way of life also resembled theirs. As they were near an area of lakes and marshes, the lands around them were fertile and easy to farm, but the wilderness to the south was deliberately used as pasture for large herds of livestock. It was also said that the craftworks passed down from generation to generation among the nomads had reached cultural maturity in Kadyne, so high was their quality.

“When you’ve met a worthy foe on the battlefield.”

“A worthy foe,” Moldorf repeated, “Well, you might be right.”
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v06 109.jpg|thumb]]

Since joining Garda’s forces, Moldorf had won one victory after another. But not once had he felt excitement or joy from those battles. One or two of Garda’s sorcerers would come to the troops and, acting in place of commanding officers, they would direct which way the army was to go. That was all.

Although even if you called them commanding officers, everything about Garda’s army was strange. In any case, Moldorf didn’t even know those men’s names. They wore hoods that always half-concealed their faces and because of that, even their looks couldn’t be clearly distinguished.

“Think that my voice is Garda’s voice, that my eyes are Garda’s eyes,” the sorcerers never tired of saying. They were undoubtedly Garda’s subordinates but they would always simply point to where the army was to march, without giving any concrete orders about tactics or how to deploy the soldiers.

''It’s strange''.

What came after was left entirely to Moldorf and the various other generals. Those generals had originally come from separate, rival powers, and needless to say, it was rare for them to agree on anything during the war councils.

Yet they won.

Overwhelmingly.

''How?'' – There was no need to wrack one’s brain. No matter which country it was, just before Garda’s army made its move, or sometimes just after, internal strife would unfailingly erupt. Before anyone knew it, one of the generals or perhaps a younger child from the royal family who had been excluded from the succession race would side with Garda’s forces and fan the flames of rebellion from within. Thereupon, Garda’s army would attack with the force of a gale. It was enough for Moldorf and the others to race forward on their war horses or their dragons, and to bellow out their war cries as they charged.

There was no need for strategy.

''That kind of fight won’t get a warrior’s blood boiling''.

Moldorf’s helmet was in the shape of a dragon. While drinking from a wineskin that was the same shape as the horn on that helmet, the great general of more than fifty years of age pondered.

“There was certainly a man who was somewhat interesting.”

“In what way?”

Nilgif leaned forward. Maybe it was because he was some fifteen years apart in age from his brother, but it was an oddly youthful gesture that didn’t fit his splendid beard or his many feats of arms. Even now, his eyes brightened like those of a child listening to an old legend told by their parents.

“A swordsman who wears a mask. He seems to still be a boy, but he is capable. He also seems to have a good brain and everywhere I went, he got in my way.”

“Ho.”

While telling his younger brother about what had happened on the battlefield, Moldorf couldn’t help remembering what that masked swordsman had said.

''Show true loyalty, Moldorf. Prove to your princess that Kadyne will not bow to the likes of Garda''.

Everywhere that Garda’s army moved to, internal strife and betrayal would unfailingly arise. Kadyne had been no exception.

However, it hadn’t been because of a general or a soldier who was dissatisfied with the treatment they received or with their king.

Princess Lima Khadein.

The king of Kadyne’s only daughter had been tormented nightly by a certain evil dream. At the time, it was something that was happening throughout the Tauran region. Garda would appear in the dream and with strange arts handed down since ancient times, he would seduce young maidens and lure them to him.

Lima had consulted her father and the priests of the Dragon Gods faith about it, but it was before Garda had emerged as a genuine threat and those around her had laughed it off as nothing but an ordinary dream.

Then at about that same time, a group of pilgrims had arrived in Kadyne. They had claimed to be in the middle of going around the cities of the western region to offer prayers at each temple. But they were soldiers sent by Garda.

That night, Lima Khadein had suddenly risen from her bed and, without anyone noticing, she had opened the gate and let them into the castle.

Guided by Lima to her father’s – in other words, the king’s – bedchamber, they had silently assassinated the king of Kadyne. Having donned weapons and armour inside the castle, the soldiers performed a surprise attack on the guards at Kadyne’s North and South gates, which they then opened to let in the allied troops that had been lying in wait outside.

Meanwhile, Kadyne’s army had been almost entirely unable to react. Both Moldorf and Nilgif were captured without being able to display even a tenth of the military prowess that had made them famous throughout the west.

Before long, Kadyne had been completely occupied. Some of its people had been taken to Zer Illias, while the remainder were made hostages to control the soldiers. Princess Lima was one of those taken away.

From then on, Moldorf and the others were Garda’s underlings.

''If I were to cut down the sorcerers'' – he had thought that over and over again. If he could recruit volunteers to kill the sorcerers then immediately turn their horses towards the temple ruins at Zer Illias where Garda was and attack, then maybe they could put an end to these ridiculous battles.

However, since the sorcerers always seemed to seclude themselves alone somewhere when they weren’t at war, how was it that they were surprisingly well-informed about the situation within the army and the occupied territories? Moldorf guessed that if those sorcerers were “Garda’s eyes” then there might also be spies within the army who acted as “the sorcerers’ eyes”.

In which case, until he knew how many spies there were and who they were, he wouldn’t be able to make a move. There was no telling what harm might befall the people in Kadyne and Zer Illias either. Moldorf was praised to the skies as a general among generals, but he was not so callous as to believe that anything was justified as long as the enemy was dealt with.

“How’s the situation in Kadyne?” Moldorf asked his brother once he finished telling him about the battlefield.

“Not much has changed. Although those sorcerers have recently started remodelling the temple of the Dragon Gods faith.”

“Remodelling it? It doesn’t look any different.”

“Yeah. I thought they might be planning to make a show of Garda’s power by tarting up the temple, but it seems they’re just adding stuff to the inside. Everyone except them is forbidden from going in or out and nobody knows what the hell they’re up to.”

“Hmm.”

“By the way, Brother, were you able to see your family?” Nilgif asked as he poured wine into his brother’s cup.

“No,” Moldorf shook his thick neck either side, “I haven’t seen them.”

“Why not? Even though they are hostages, if you ask to see them, Brother, even those guys wouldn’t say no.”

“It’s no good if I’m the only who gets to meet them,” Moldorf said decisively. From the generals to the regular soldiers, almost every man in Kadyne had had their family taken hostage. His brother Nilgif’s family had also been taken to Zer Illias. Considering the situation, Moldorf couldn’t ask that he alone be allowed to see his family.

“Brother,” Nilgif now lowered his voice.

“What?”

“Brother, you currently lead seven hundred of Kadyne’s soldiers. In the same way, I’m in charge of five hundred of our soldiers here. Three of the five sorcerers who were in Kadyne have left and it seems there’s some kind of commotion. Not even Garda could have expected the defeat at Cherik. Brother, maybe now…”

“Don’t, Nilgif.”

“Why not? Taúlia, Cherik or Helio’s troops will be here soon. If we rebel as they advance, we would have the impetus to take back Kadyne, join with the West’s allied forces and attack Zer Illias.”

Nilgif’s eyes were glittering as they only did when on the battlefield. As Moldorf’s younger brother, he naturally held a soul as fierce as anyone’s. Although he could almost feel himself being drawn in, Moldorf firmly shook his head.

“The people would become victims. Don’t forget that Princess Lima and your family are at Zer Illias.”

“Speed, Brother. We won’t give the enemy the chance to use the people or the princess as a shield. If we attack the enemy capital quickly enough, they’ll likely just abandon everyone to their fate. No one would be fool enough to drag hostages along with them when the spears are almost at their throats.”

“That’s…”

What his brother was saying was true. Moldorf wrinkled his brow. The enemy was a sorcerer. The man who claimed to be Garda was unfathomable. He had caused innumerable situations that utterly went against common sense and controlled nearly half of the western lands.

“And also, whatever you say about Princess Lima,” unusually for Nilgif, he openly displayed his anger in front of his brother and shouted, “isn’t she just a whore who succumbed to Garda and betrayed her country?”

“Enough!”

“Why? ''That'' is no longer the princess we knew. The real Princess Lima Khadein would never have been deceived by sorcery!”

“We are being toyed with by that sorcery and forced to fight against our will. Think on that before you malign the princess further! ”

“Brother!”

As violent sparks flew from the two’s eyes, a man dressed in long robes noiselessly appeared. It was one of the sorcerers staying in Kadyne whose head seemed to be bald above his lean face. Before the startled pair could turn around to look at the doorway, the sorcerer spoke.

“Have the Twin Dragons of Kadyne gotten into a drunken brawl between brothers? While that isn’t something I mind, it would be problematic if you forget that we are still in the middle of a war. And also,” his voice seemed to slither out, “don’t bother with pointless ideas. Our eyes and our ears are everywhere in the western lands.”

From the way he spoke, he seemed to have heard the brothers’ conversation from the beginning. As was to be expected, Nilgif’s expression changed but, in part because he had been drinking, he gave a forced laugh and fired a shot in retaliation against this sorcerer whom he hated beyond hatred.

“But for all that, it seems you weren’t able to tell that Helio’s army would attack my brother’s troops. Not even a sorcerer’s eyes are infallible,” he said with heavy irony.

The sorcerer’s thin lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “That can be true on occasion. But even so, our eyes are not something you should make light of. Oh! Sir Nilgif, your child is a daughter of seven? They say that daughters who resemble their fathers are beautiful, but in your esteemed case, it is fortunate that she takes after her mother.”

“Bastard, what are you…”

“As was promised, your family is currently being treated well in Zer Illias. But a single word from me from here and that treatment might well change. We could have them go from receiving two meals a day to only one every two days, or no, every three days. Or we could have either the mother or the daughter be sacrificed to the Dragon Gods. Oh my, the young lady appears to have suddenly burst into tears. Perhaps she sensed my presence. Your wife is cradling her and singing close to her ear. That isn’t a lullaby from Kadyne, is it? I believe it is a song from the Fugrum region.”

“Bastard…”

This time, the colour drained from Nilgif’s face and his expression stiffened. His wife and child had certainly been taken to Zer Illias. And certainly, whenever his daughter would cry, his wife would hold her close from behind and sing to her. Furthermore, it was true that his wife was not from Kadyne. These were not things this sorcerer should have known. Not without seeing them with his own eyes, hearing them with his own ears.

The sorcerer’s expression did not turn triumphant. Before turning to leave, he simply added, almost as an afterthought,

“Hasten your preparations, Sir Moldorf. The enemy will divide their forces between Eimen and Kadyne. Kadyne’s defence will be left to you, Sir Nilgif and Eimen’s to you, Sir Moldorf. With the Twin Dragons of Kadyne protecting the rightful ruler of Tauran, the soldier’s morale will surely rise.”

Nilgif’s fists were shaking. Whether it was from rage or from fear, Moldorf pretended not to notice.

“I beg you, don’t get carried away by your temper while I’m gone,” he insisted firmly.

Seven days later – at the time Orba was heading towards Taúlia – Moldorf was back on his horse and left from Kadyne with two thousand soldiers, heading up north. North, where the wide steppes that had been used as pastures in the days of Zer Tauran stretched out. There, as though guarding the entrance to them, was Eimen.

The wind was fierce.

It was the season when the sand-laden wind blowing from the west grew stronger and stronger. Kadyne was protected from it by the western mountain range, but tiny particles of sand clung to the soldier’s faces as they marched northwards to a position overlooking Eimen in the east. Wearing his helmet low over his eyes, Moldorf urged his horse forward and kept his face devoid of emotion.

''This is an ominous wind'', he couldn’t help thinking.

Legend had it that the western desert was where the Dragon God clan had been defeated, and each grain of sand within it came from where their fossilised remains had crumbled away.

The wind blew throughout the region’s meadows.

At a point located almost exactly at the centre of the steppes was Zer Illias.

A city of ruins.

The wind scattered the piles of sand that no one trod on, then brought more sand that once more piled up within the cracks in the paving stones.

At the top of the wide staircase, at what had originally been the highest place within the ruins, was the only building that had recently been renovated by human hands – a temple to the Dragon Gods.

The sand had also been swept away and the gateposts at the entrance soared proudly upwards. Amidst a landscape where all was death and ruin, it displayed an eerie vitality.

And from within, a voice called out,

“Lord Garda!”

=== Part 2 ===

“Lord Garda!”

“Yes,” after being called out to once again, an old man turned around.

It was the innermost part of the temple. The impressively high ceiling that led there from the entrance suddenly sloped down and a large altar resembling a bed fit for a giant had been placed there. Further in still, statues of the Dragon Gods stood on pedestals.

“I was called by a different name for more than sixty years. It will take some time before it really sinks in.”

The old man was dressed in plain grey robes and at his waist hung a dagger sheathed in scabbard woven in golden thread. Apart from some bracelets at both wrists, he wore no ornaments save one: a small jewel that shone dully at his forehead. However, it was neither held there by a thread nor incrusted into a circlet. It appeared to be buried directly into the deep wrinkles in the old man’s brow.

Garda.

A name handed down with awe and dread for more than two hundred years. And now, that name was being spread throughout the west with a fear and hatred far rawer than when it was transmitted as part of history.

There he undoubtedly was, in that dimly-lit temple. As for the person himself, he was a short, elderly man of around sixty. He could not really be said to fit the image of a peerless sorcerer who had revived in this world after two centuries. His expression was colourless and gloomy, his hair was thinning and a somewhat straggly beard hung from his lower lip and chin.

This was the sorcerer Garda, the man who had drenched the paving stones of innumerable city-states in blood and who had decorated the gateposts of the royal courts with the severed heads of their sovereigns.

“Zafar, Tahī. What is it? I left the war to you as I will be readying the magic until dawn.”

“Our deepest apologies,” the man called “Zafar” bowed his grey head. His age was not much different from Garda’s. He was tall and broad-chested. With his fine head of hair and equally splendid beard, he looked far more ‘Garda-like’ than Garda did.

In complete contrast, “Tahī”, who stood next to him, was a young woman. She appeared to be in her early twenties and with her dark-brown skin, supple body and black-rimmed eyes brimming with seductive radiance, she was so beautiful that if she but dressed in jewels and finery, there was surely no king whose favour she would not receive.
Tahī parted open her moist lips,

“We were anxious to report to you as there has been an intruder.”

“An intruder? A spy from Taúlia?”

“No. A sorcerer. He was likely sent by Ende. We found him as he was about to break through the magic barrier. We reduced him to ash: not one bone, not one piece of flesh remains.” Perhaps because she was still savouring the aftertaste of slaughter, Tahī’s expression was bewitching. Her eyes were glittering with excitement and she almost seemed to be panting. “Even the sorcerers of Ende, said to be descended from the Magic Dynasty, have degenerated. Lord Garda, you were right to leave that place. Those sorcerers who are bound by obsolete customs and laws are no better than the ordinary people who understand nothing about ether. They can’t even comprehend the words of the Dragon Gods handed down from long ago or even one fraction of the laws governing this world…”

“No, that doesn’t seem to be true,” Garda’s voice was amused.

Before Tahī could grasp his meaning, he flung out his right hand as though he were tossing something away. Immediately, sparks suddenly flew right behind where Zafar and Tahī were standing. The two sorcerers whirled around and there before their eyes, illuminated by the fire, was the figure of a person.

“You!”

Tahī’s beautiful face was suddenly twisted in hatred. Zafar instantly put himself on guard. Encircled by the ring of flames that Garda had called forth was a man in trailing black robes with a hood pulled low over his head.
“Ridiculous! I burnt you to nothing with my own hands!”

“Indeed,” spoke the man in black, “but that was only a ‘shadow’ that I had created. If you can’t even see through that much, then you sorcerers who call yourselves Garda’s subordinates will soon lose the power that allowed you to sweep through the western lands.”

“What!?” Zafar raised both his hands. The flow of ether, invisible to ordinary people, was stirred as he moved, but,

“It’s fine,” Garda stopped him. As though brushing aside both Zafar and Tahī, he approached the man in black. His orders were absolute and the sorcerers, wiping the hatred from their faces, fell back on either side of Garda and kneeled.

Garda snapped his bony fingers. The flames surrounding the man in black promptly disappeared.

“It’s been a while, Hezel. So Ende’s Bureau of Sorcery chose you for its assassin.”

“It has nothing to do with assassination. This is of my own volition. I wanted to confirm a former comrade’s triumph with my own eyes.”

“Your tongue is as glib as ever, you damn cub. Well, it’s fine. Zafar, Tahī, leave. This person is my guest.”

“Yes.”

“But…”

Unlike Zafar who commendably bowed his head, the embers of killing intent still smouldered in Tahī’s eyes. But when Garda sent her a glance, she immediately bowed, then with a supple tread left the temple with Zafar.

“Be careful when you go home,” Garda’s voice still sounded amused. “You might get attacked from behind. You probably won’t get away with as light a wound as this time.”

“As expected, you saw through me,” Hezel said dispassionately as he pulled back his hood. Surprisingly enough, he was a youth with well-ordered features. However, a large part of his right cheek was hideously burned. And the wound appeared to have been made mere moments ago. Yet even though it should still have been giving off the stench of burnt flesh, Hezel didn’t seem to feel any pain. “Despite what I said just now, that was fitting of the clan that long protected Garda’s tomb.”

“Information travels fast. Certainly, starting with Zafar, the sorcerers claim to be the descendants of vassals who served Garda directly. But only Tahī, the woman who injured your face, seems to have a different way of manipulating ether. It would make for a fascinating subject of research – well, anyway. I don’t have time to take on anything else at the moment. And anyhow, the research I dedicated my life to is about to bear fruit on a scale that cannot compare to anything that I did before. This is something I could never have talked of in Ende.”

“Research performed by Master Reizus… so in other words, taboo magic.”

“What taboo,” Garda gave a low chuckle. It was strange to the point of being awe-inspiring how in the old man’s perfectly nondescript face, his smile was filled with malice. “It’s as Tahī says. Those bound by outdated conventions cannot use ether to solve the mysteries of this world. Ethics and morals are no more than an iron cage. If you don’t step out from it, you lot will forever be small people living in a narrow world.”

Originally, this man was called Reizus and did not claim to be Garda. Originally, he was not even Zerdian but was a sorcerer from Ende’s Bureau of Sorcery…

Sorcery – although it was referred to by that simple word, there were not that many people in this world who understood what it truly was.

The one who had laid the foundations of this planet’s sorcery was the father of the Magic Dynasty, Zodias. Zodias had investigated the various ruins scattered across the planet that had been left by the Dragon Gods and, using the artefacts excavated from them, had discovered how to manipulate natural phenomenon.

Ether was indispensable for doing so. This planet’s seawater comprised a certain substance which changed property when it was vaporised and transformed into the energy supply that powered the artefacts. That gas was called ether but all seawater did not contain it and the ether content varied depending on the location. Moreover, there had been many reports in recent years that ether was drying up.

Magic had once allowed humanity to drive away the Ryuujin tribe, known as their natural enemy, and to build in these lands an empire so splendid that they had believed it would last a thousand years. Magic too was now declining.

“Small people rely on steel to repeatedly wage war. It’s utterly antiquated and pitiable. Even after leaving the home planet, humans have not torn free of their own husks. I am convinced that sorcery is the path to evolution. Look at the Magic Dynasty. Look at how much peace and prosperity it brought. In order to bring back that era, we cannot let magic decline. It is ridiculous that research aimed at that should be taboo.”

Reizus had truly dreamed of reviving the Magic Dynasty. And all the more so when he realised that the time he had left was dwindling. His zeal grew day by day until finally he stole into the royal treasury where were stored the artefacts inherited from the era of the Magic Dynasty – also called “vessels of sorcery” – that Ende’s royal family had protected from generation to generation, and wilfully carried out as many forbidden books to read as he could.

From amidst this vast store of ancient knowledge, Reizus finally found a topic that had been taboo even under the Magic Dynasty. The technique for obtaining ether from something other than seawater. When he saw what was described, his heart nearly stopped from the shock. Although it wasn’t as efficient as high-content seawater, it was in a sense an inexhaustible resource.

It was none other than “humans”

According to the ancient documents, ether was by nature one component of the energy needed for humans to live, and it was confirmed that everyone emitted a small amount of ether at their time of death. Furthermore, in combination with a special vessel of sorcery, it was also possible to collect tiny amounts from living humans. The first to realise that possibility had not been the sorcerers but the Ryuujin tribe, humanity’s natural enemy who had stood in its way when it had first alighted on this planet. Legend even had it that they kept captured humans caged for that reason, as livestock to supply ether.

''This is it. In order to revive sorcery, there is no other way but to carry this out'', Reizus had decided. However, not even the banned books were sufficiently detailed that reading them allowed him to grasp the method in full. There was no choice but to identify it by his own means. To that end, a huge research facility and a great many humans for experimentation were necessary.

Although Ende’s Bureau of Sorcery certainly had extensive facilities compared to other countries, they weren’t enough to fulfil Reizus’ ambitious desire. Even so, he was unable to abandon it and so decided to use the Bureau’s largest research facility without authorization.

In terms of test subjects, one only had to take a single step outside and there were mountain-loads of them. After all, if they lived from here on, they would only be a bunch of people who would run through the planet’s resources. Regardless of whether they were old or young, men or women, Reizus secretly kidnapped the people of Ende. And every time he tested the effects of the artefacts he had to hand, it ended in failure. No fewer than a hundred irreplaceable lives were sacrificed for his experiments.

A year after he had begun his research, the Bureau of Sorcery finally uncovered Reizus’ actions. When the nature of his crimes was exposed – and these naturally threatened the continued existence of the Bureau of Sorcery itself – he was banished from the Grand Duchy of Ende.

Yet by some strange twist of fate, almost immediately afterwards he obtained everything he desired. The free use of numerous artefacts, the great sorcerer Garda’s research data and, above all, an abundance of test subjects, or in other words, a great many sacrifices.

It had been about half a year since Reizus had taken Garda’s name. As city after city fell, a multitude of people were given up as test subjects. Indeed, they had not been sacrificed to the Dragon Gods. Their bodies, hearts and souls had been consecrated to Reizus’ experiments.

“Hezel, you must have felt it too. More than anywhere in the world, more than Ende, more than Allion, it is in these western lands of Tauran that the greatest mass of ether now swirls.”

“Indeed. You should certainly be able to obtain results,” Hezel spoke dispassionately, looking unimpressed. “However, of all the information that I have been collecting about ‘Garda’, there is one point that I don’t understand. Why have you gathered women in high social positions from all over the west?”

As though that question were an extremely amusing joke, Reizus – no, it was undoubtedly the sorcerer who called himself Garda – laughed.

“The evil sorcerers of fairy-tales usually carry off princesses and imprison them in high towers.”

“Indeed.”

“You are boring. There’s never been any point talking to you.”

“Well, is that so?”

“Putting jokes aside, my research has shown that the ether produced by those in high social positions is of equally high quality.”

“So that’s it,” Hezel shook his head, probably taking it for a joke. “Social ranks are no more than something established by humans. Furthermore, these are turbulent times. A man who was just a slave until yesterday might become king at the same time that a woman who had until then lived the life of an elegant noble might lose her homeland and fall into slavery.”

“The heart affects the soul,” the edges of Garda’s mouth curled upwards into a grin, “A heart that aspires to be noble, a heart that is revered as noble by others, these are not without worth. The heart affects the soul and the soul affects ether. You could say that just as the qualities one is born with differ between each person, so does ether differ depending on the person and the circumstances they were raised in.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll show you something good.”

Garda raised his hand and snapped his fingers once again, and a sound came from where the statues of the Dragon Gods were. Quietly and unobtrusively, a woman had appeared. Between the altar and the pedestal was a staircase leading underground and she appeared to have climbed up from there. The young woman was clothed in a thin robe.

“The princess of Kadyne. Has it been about four months? That’s old for ether-producing livestock.”

Lima Khadein. The eighteen-year-old princess had lost the noble appearance that had once been compared to flowers and to butterflies and, bowing like a slave, folded her legs beneath her and kneeled where she was. Garda drew near her and caressed her cheek with his finger.

“Princess, who am I?”

“Lord Garda. The ruler of this world and my ruler also.”

“Will you follow my orders?”

“Whatever they may be.”

Her expression was vacant, as though she were wandering in a dream although awake. Garda turned towards Hezel for a moment,

“This woman ushered my soldiers into her own country’s castle, causing the fall of her homeland. Do you understand what that means?”

“You used sorcery to brainwash her?”

“Yes. But it’s not easy to manipulate a person’s heart completely. A human’s natural instincts and preferences, or things like morals are surprisingly firm and if you give an order than runs counter to them, temporary hypnosis will have no effect. Right, for example,” Garda turned back towards Lima and once more stroked her soft cheek with his bony finger. “You said that you would follow my orders whatever they may be?”

“Yes Lord Garda. I am at your orders.”

“I will give you an order.”

“Yes.”

“Die.”

“Yes.”
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v06 133.jpg|thumb]]

Garda drew the dagger from the scabbard that was thrust into his girdle and threw it at Lima. She picked it up with both hands and pointed the tip of the blade to her throat. Her bearing had been almost too smooth but now, her movements suddenly stopped. The dagger was reflected within her large, beautiful dark eyes. Her shoulders trembled and her hands shook.

“What’s wrong. That is my order. Die.”

“Yes,” she answered but although it certainly seemed that she would carry it out, just as the blade was about to reach her throat, her movements stopped. Lima’s trembling became uncontrollable and teardrops were overflowing from her large-pupiled eyes.

“How painful for this woman,” Garda once more turned towards Hezel. He was smiling. It was a smile exactly like that of a child showing of the playground they had claimed for themselves. “Although her consciousness would obey my order, her instinct refuses to do so. That she cannot follow my order is inevitably painful for her. Do you understand, Hezel? However much one may control the outer layer of consciousness, one cannot destroy a human’s core through half-baked methods.”

“Right.”

“And thus, the magic used on the kidnapped women takes time and has to be repeated. For them to dedicate themselves entirely to me from the bottom of their heart – or better put, from their very soul – I would need to tune their mind into becoming as one with me. If I could do so, I wonder if I could obtain even higher quality ether. But that’s back-breaking work. On top of being a task that I couldn’t entrust to anyone else, I would have to dredge up each of those women’s memories one by one, probe their personality, figure out where and how to manipulate them to do my will, what to alter so that they abandon their hearts to me and I would have to do all of that groping in the dark. When I took the name of Garda and obtained free use of so many sacrifices, I certainly didn’t expect to have to take the trouble of doing something like understanding women’s feelings.”

“Master Reizus.”

“What?”

“If you don’t release her, this woman will be destroyed from within.”

Although he spoke indifferently, looking at it, Lima Khadein still had the dagger in her hands and was even now in the midst of her struggle. Her entire body was shaking, her eyes were open wide and drool was dribbling from her lips. With a single muttered “Oh,” Garda held his hand out before her eyes. At that, the princess of Kadyne closed her eyes as though asleep, her knees gave way where she was and she almost fell forward.

“I took great pains to procure the livestock. Losing even one of them like this would be regrettable. Although…” Garda raised a finger with a gesture that swept through the air and Princess Lima rose unsteadily to her feet then, without making a sound, in the same way that she had appeared, she disappeared from sight between the altar and the pedestal. “As it is, I still haven’t obtained the perfect ether. With Tauran’s city-states, if a ruler’s lineage lasts three generations, it is talked about as having history. The blood is thin. It can’t refine the soul. When all’s said and done, what I want is the blood of the Bazgan house which once founded Zer Tauran here. But even if I get it in my grasp soon, my body is not that of a god. There is such a thing as time being limited.”

“However, Master Rei… No, Master Garda. Naturally you will be aware that the other states of Tauran are currently gathering as one. No matter how much ether you have in store here, if you do not make a move quickly, there is a chance you will have very little time left indeed. Why do you let your enemies do as they please? If Garda cowers in fear after only one defeat, won’t all those other nations be whipped into a frenzy?”

“Do you still not understand, Hezel? The supplies of ether that I have stored and refined here are no more than a “hand” against them.”

“And, what will you do?”

“This temple itself is the same as an artefact that Garda – I mean the Garda of two hundred years ago – constructed. The restorations that have just been completed weren’t given priority simply to flaunt Garda’s stronghold. Garda built structures similar to this temple all over the place and selected sorcerers with a wavelength that matched his own, then he was going to use the temples and those people to create an ether “passageway”.”

“A passageway?”

“That’s right. Once the “passageway” was complete, without stirring from their far-flung locations, the sorcerers could dispatch ether and achieve communication. That’s no less than saying that in the secret arts he pursued, Garda’s control over sorcery was even more advanced than that of the Magic Dynasty. Information and magical power could fly about instantaneously throughout this huge continent. His control achieved greater perfection than anyone.”

Hezel didn’t give any reply but he stiffened unintentionally. He too could feel it. A soundless wave, a formless pulsation. With the temple as centre, Garda was like a giant who had extended his limbs over all of Tauran. A giant who had sucked the lifeblood of a multitude of people and who even now continued to expand.

“Communication is still possible but in order to send ether, artefacts along the same lines as this temple need to be built all around. First is Kadyne. The facilities there are complete. If I can send the ether that is stored here in Zer Ilias to Kadyne without stirring from here, then I should be able to win without losing a single soldier,” Garda grinned broadly. “That’s right, from the start I expected to draw in troops once the west started gathering. I grew tired of capturing cities one after another. It’s easier to take them when they’re all bundled together. From now on, wherever the enemy breaks into will be within my sphere of influence.”

“……”

“Controlling Tauran isn’t much. Granted that I were to obliterate humanity within the entire region, I would still be far from my ideal ether. You should return to Ende and give whatever report you like. That the foolish old sorcerer Reizus that you all drove out no longer exists, that in his place there is a man with absurd and terrifying ambitions who would seize hold of the world.”

The man once called Reizus laughed, his face like that of another person.

=== Part 3 ===

While voices were being raised in various countries, Ax, Lasvius and Yamka II assembled once more at Cherik castle more than half a month after the troops led by Moldorf had been repelled.

During that time, Taúlia, Helio and Cherik had cooperated to spread out a strict military cordon, while Garda in contrast persisted in not moving a single soldier. He must of course have understood that they were setting up a common front, so if, for example, a small state that was about to join Taúlia’s side were to be bullied by having a few neighbouring villages set alight, or if there were to be a raid aimed at the goods that were constantly travelling along the highways, or if a camp were to be set up in the Coldrin region in order to prevent the enemy from heading north as much as possible – those were things that seemed likely from Garda as he had been up until now. Yet his military force was only moved around Lakekish, Fugrum, Eimen and Kadyne, or in other words, within the occupied territories and things were so quiet it was eerie.

Although Ax and the others were unable to read his intentions, they were at any rate able to steadily amass their military strength without encountering too many obstacles. The total number of soldiers they currently had gathered was a little under ten thousand. Naturally not all of them would be used for the offence but it had already been decided that if necessary they would send up to seventy percent of them to the front lines. Nevertheless, compared to the manpower, their horses, dragons and ammunition were somewhat lacking. Whether or not to take the time to gather sufficient amounts of these was something that Ax, who did not want to delay the departure to the front, and Yamka, an advocate of caution, got into frequent arguments about. Yet every time, Yamka would reluctantly back down at the words,

“Have faith in the Bazgan family’s authority.”

He was of course in a position of weakness.

Ax’s retainers and the leading figures of Helio were running all over the west giving instructions to the troops that were leaving from the various cities, allocating weapons and supplies, and organising the military units. Moreover, on Ravan Dol’s advice, Ax had set up an advance air carrier base north of Lake Soma, across from Cherik, on the old trade route to Eimen.

The ships they planned to send to the base were two cruisers belonging to Taúlia, seven small carriers gathered from the different cities and, at best, fifty short-range airships. In the west, where buying ether took time, using air carriers in battle was not the norm. For a large fleet it was quite a sparse line-up, but having it or not having it made all the difference in the world. According to information, Garda’s forces had air carriers. The ships would be used to guard against attacks from the flank or the rear during their march, and of course, they would be a powerful aid once the assault was launched on Zer Illias.

One of the two owned by Taúlia had only just been purchased from a Mephian merchant. It was faster than the other ships at the advance base and had a longer range. As was to be expected, the one who had provided it was Zaj Haman, the merchant who had the monopoly over shipping air carriers in Mephius.

“There are strongholds blocking the way to Zer Illias,” Lasvius pointed with the pommel of his sword at the map spread out on the desk. There were two city-states northwest of Lake Soma. “First is Eimen. The shield of Zer Illias. The enemy should have positioned most of its military strength there as well.”

Hearing the name ‘Eimen’, Ax’s expression clouded over. It was a city standing at the boundary between the wilderness and what had been pastures in the era of Zer Illias, and it was also the land where, in the past, Ax’s older sister had been sent in marriage. Ax himself had never been there but they had long had diplomatic relations with Taúlia. Yet now, he didn’t know if his sister was safe or not.

“It is protected to the south by mountains but the other three sides are fairly open. It will be hard ground for the enemy to defend. There is however a possibility that they will build impromptu forts to prepare against our invasion.”

Lasvius then tapped a location southwest of Eimen with his sword’s pommel.

“The other is Kadyne. Its military capability cannot be overlooked. It looks like the enemy has emptied Fugrum and Lakekish and gathered their soldiers at these two locations.”

Kadyne lay southwest across the mountains that protected Eimen. It was a city known for its belt of lakes and marshes and for its forest of low trees.

“Hmm,” Ax nodded.

Up until now, Garda’s army had concentrated the forces they had absorbed on a single point and had delivered their attack by surprise or by night. There had also been internal strife in each of states he had targeted, and while it had worked well for him, it seemed that once you removed that ability, Garda was left not knowing what to do next.

As Ax once more looked over the entire map on which information received from the scouts was jotted down here and there, he smiled.

“After only a single defeat, has Garda moved into nothing but a defensive stance? So he’s ignorant of battles after all. We have the greater number of soldiers. We can win this war.”

He wasn’t normally a cheerful-looking man and for that reason, the smile he gave to those who had become his allies was all the warmer.

Eimen and Kadyne.

Seeing that whichever one they targeted the other would move in for a pincer attack, the allied forces would march in both directions and would carry out operations on both fronts. Of course, the enemy anticipated that and had divided their soldiers in half, intending to hold the decisive battle in Eimen.

As Ax and Lasvius had previously discussed, the enemy excelled at information warfare. It was unavoidable that enemy spies would be lurking. Nobody knew where their eyes and ears were. It was best to assume that the entire contents of their council of war would be leaked.

“That being the case, we’d never even get started on working out some kind of plan,” Ax’s way of thinking was simple. He simply decided to perform a two-prong attack. “Being greedy and trying to take both of them will only result in a bad outcome. It would be great if the troops sent to Kadyne act as a defence against the enemy. Sir Lasvius, what will you do?”

“I will go with you to Eimen, Lord Ax.”

The commander of Helio’s dragoons wasn’t the sort to go in for complicated plans either. He thumped his chest once and spoke plainly. In this short period of time, Ax had come to like this man. He nodded contentedly.

“It’s decided then. We, the main force, will head to Eimen and we will send a thousand soldiers to Kadyne, consisting mainly of infantrymen and mercenaries. Lord Yamka, I leave the defence of Cherik to you.”

“Un-Understood.”

Yamka II, who had been left out from start to finish, looked like he had just woken up. It had been the same when he had been linked with Garda and he was the kind of man who left everything to others and who thought it was fine to just wait for what would happen afterwards. Perhaps as far as Yamka was concerned, the situation with Garda was already as good as over. Ax laughed inwardly.

''Good. As Ravan always says, I should act the part of a serene and uncomplicated king''.

According to the old tactician, it had a bad influence on the officers, soldiers and retainers when Ax looked grim and sank into silence. “You should act serenely,” Ravan always said. “Sufficiently so that the rumour will spread that you no fool. You will then be loved, my lord, and the retainers will feel that they must stretch every sinew to firmly support you.”

''There’s a limit to how much of a fool you can be. There’s no mistake that this Yamka is a fool, but because of that, his retainers do not stand firm''.

The problem was that Garda seemed able to read the minds of all people, no matter how clever or wise they might be.

''Hence the brute force approach. It’s not wrong, but…''

As bold as he was, even Ax couldn’t shake off his unease whenever he considered whether they had any chance of success in this fight.

Three days after the tripartite talks, Orba, stationed in Helio, received his orders.

“This is the worst.”

What made Talcott scowl wasn’t that they had been chosen as part of the force to capture Kadyne but that the one who would be leading the thousand soldiers headed towards Kadyne was the commander of Helio’s infantry battalion, Surūr Wyerim.

Another two days later, summons came from Surūr. Because the call extended to platoon leaders, Orba would also need to go.

The story of Taúlia’s masked mercenary had become something of a rumour in Helio. He was person who had rendered distinguished service by rescuing the city along with Lasvius. And of course, it was also known that he was Mephian.

“Thank you for coming all the way from Taúlia. Or, no, it was from Mephius, wasn’t it? That’s an even greater distance. As expected of a gladiator, your ability to sniff out blood and battles is impressive,” Surūr said sarcastically as soon as he spotted Orba’s mask.

He had a round face but his narrow eyes were unpleasant. His moustache had been beautifully styled with what was clearly fussy attention.

Half of the Kadyne capture force was made up of Helio’s regular soldiers and centred around Surūr but the rest was a collection of people of various origins. Helio’s mercenary unit, the horseback archery unit of mountain tribesmen, infantrymen from states so tiny their names weren’t even recorded on maps, a dragoon unit of nomads. And the fifty-three-strong mercenary platoon led by Orba.

When everyone was gathered, Surūr read out the organisation chart that he appeared to have personally put together.

Orba brought it back to his own unit.

“This is the worst,” Talcott looked up at the sky again.

Orba’s platoon wasn’t attached to any company and had been placed under the battalion commander Surūr’s direct supervision.

“Since you guys are Mephians, he’s going to torment you in full. No really, we’ll probably get given the most dangerous duties. Stan, you made the wrong choice. Can you never, neeever get things right?”

“Brother, I didn’t say anything.”

Orba didn’t particularly pay attention and lowered his gaze to the maps he had been collecting this past half month. He wasn’t displeased. However, he had inwardly decided that whoever he served under, he would assess the situation from their own surroundings and he himself would make sure to ascertain what it was he needed to do.

''I’m not going through a repeat of Coldrin''.

At that time, he had been pretty apathetic about the war. Saying that he had been apathetic while taking up his sword and heading out to risk his life on the battlefield was pretty strange, but thinking back to how he had been that time at the Coldrins, there was no other way to put it.

The defeat at the Coldrin Hills had been carved deeply into Orba’s heart. It wasn’t that he believed that he could have done something with his strength alone, but even so, if he had been a little more careful, and if he had had a little more influence on those around him, then he thought that they wouldn’t have been so comprehensively defeated.

Orba’s eyes landed on one point of the maps. Kadyne.

Apparently that Moldorf’s younger brother, Nilgif, was stationed in charge of defence there. Most of the troops were probably from Kadyne. It wouldn’t be the same kind of hodgepodge that Moldorf had been leading and, in the first place, Nilgif and the others wouldn’t be fighting as part of Garda’s army but in order to defend their own home. They would be coordinated and their morale would be high.

''Considering the number of soldiers, Ax seems to be thinking that we’re to keep Kadyne in check''. Which meant that they didn’t have to capture the city at all cost. He didn’t think that plan was wrong in that it anticipated the enemy deployment. But.

''Right, “but”…''

Their opponents were the sorcerer’s military forces. Whenever he thought of what was to come, every time he was about to draw a conclusion, that “but” reared its head.

Just as the west was finally coming together, Orba felt the same kind of unease as Ax did.

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===References and Translation Notes===
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