Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume10 Chapter4 (section)

=== Part 1 ===

It had been about ten days since the thousand or so soldiers from the crown prince’s army and the more than one thousand five hundred from the Mephian army had started their stand-off around Nedain.

Orba, who still remained in Birac, had received a succession of messages.

The first was about the fire that had occurred in Solon. In other words, it was about Simon Rodloom’s death.

When they received the news, Rogue and Odyne wept in secret. Although the truth about Simon’s death had, of course, been concealed, they understood what lay behind it after hearing that, on the grounds that the funeral took precedence, their families’ executions had been temporarily put on hold.

“I believed that Lord Simon would surely become a strong ally for us.”

When Odyne said that, Rogue shook his head, his eyes closed.

“No. He’d known His Majesty longer than anyone. And his principles were stronger than anyone’s. Having stood by the emperor’s side, his heart would not have allowed such a betrayal.”

''That person…'' Orba too was momentarily stunned.

They had not had any deep relationship. But because Simon had been something like the ‘previous’ Gil Mephius’ guardian, they had had several opportunities to meet face-to-face and talk.

He had been a man with a gentle manner. He did not have the kind of charisma that strongly attracted people or an explosive ability to take action. Even so, although Orba had met a great many nobles and royals in less than a year, Simon was not a man who had been buried under those other memories.

From what he had heard, whenever any kind of problem arose in Mephius, he was the first person consulted; and whenever trouble sprang up between nobles or military commanders, Simon was the first to be called upon to mediate.

Orba had felt like he could understand why that was.

And it was just such a man who had died.

Of course, Orba also realised that it had been to save Rogue and Odyne’s families. Perhaps he had also hoped that the emperor would have a change of heart because of it.

Orba realised that this man’s death had given him an unexpectedly strong shock.

It was not sentimentality.

It was undoubtedly Orba himself who had created the situation that caused Simon to incur the emperor’s displeasure. Because he had stood up for the prince when the latter had disobeyed the emperor and rushed off to Garbera with reinforcements, Simon had been punished with house arrest. It was also because of Orba’s actions, while wearing the "mask" of Gil, that Rogue and Odyne had directly opposed the emperor; and since Simon had chosen suicide as a way of saving them, Orba was also the cause of his death.

However, Orba no longer intended to go around thinking – ''this is my fault''.

Just as with the general of the Dawnlight Wings Division, Rogue, and the general of the Silver Axe Division, Odyne, Simon had held his own beliefs and principles, which he himself had acted on.

That was all.

Nevertheless, through their actions of offering up their own lives, Orba felt as though he caught a glimpse of the many heroes that he had met in the west, including a proud queen from those lands.

In the past, the Mephian soldiers and nobles had been no more than targets of hatred to him. He had wanted to burn the whole lot of them in a sea of fire. But now that his field of vision was wider, he could see that here too there were many heroes.

And when he had learned that one of them had chosen to die for Mephius’ sake, the shock had left him speechless.

Naturally, it was not only Orba or the generals, Rogue and Odyne, who felt that way; the people and the dignitaries of Mephius felt the same. It was clear to all that Simon had been one of the pillars supporting the country. Now that they had lost him, the retainers and the populace were even more anxious about the future.

At times like these, they needed something new to guide them. New blood. A new hero.

And in that sense, Simon’s death turned into a wind at Orba’s back that pushed him forward.

As proof of that, even in Solon –

“That man who claims to be His Imperial Highness…”

“Since he was able to take Birac, he’s definitely not an ordinary person.”

“They say that he didn’t take the heads of those who stood against him, Folker included. Does that really sound like just any old swindler?”

– Rumours were finally turning in his favour. And also –

“His Majesty intends to subjugate through military force, but wouldn’t it be better to send a messenger and invite him to an audience?”

“Oh, that’s right. If we could see him in person, we’d be able to tell whether he was real or an impostor. Then no one would have to fight this useless war.”

– Voices expressing that kind of sentiment started to filter through from all over.

As mentioned before, the wind was starting to blow in favour of the new hero, Gil Mephius. But all of a sudden, that wind was disturbed.

“Garbera’s troops fought against each other at Zaim?”

In his office, Orba drew his brows together. The next piece of news to reach Orba after Simon’s death was just as unexpected.

Zaim Fortress was a place that he had a deep connection. The impregnable fortress at Garbera’s northernmost border. It was the land in which Gil had led his first campaign and killed Ryucown, and also the place that he hurried to with reinforcements all the way from Apta when Garbera and Ende had clashed at the fortress.

Prince Zenon and Garbera’s troops had exchanged blows with those of a man called Salamand Fogel at Zaim. After which, Salamand had managed to break across the border and enter Mephian territory.

And his purpose – the great cause for which he was even prepared to violate the border – was to rescue the Garberan princess.

“Mephius is looking down on our country’s exalted lineage,” Salamand clamoured vociferously. “After her fiancé, Prince Gil, died, they came up with one reason after another to keep her inside the country. Because the emperor of Mephius had designs on the west, he held the princess hostage as a way of preventing my country from taking action. And to make matters worse, after having kept the princess confined, they’re now accusing her of being a traitor!”

The Mephian side was at a disadvantage there, since the Garberan princess had gone missing for a while. Rumours had spread because of the princess’ involvement in the war with the west but, once she reappeared alongside a crown prince who appeared to be linked to said west, things got complicated.

“Mephius never intended to conclude peace with us from the start. That marriage was nothing more than a temporary cover for them because it looked as though they were about to lose the war. I demand that they return the princess to us at once. After which, we can fight and settle things once and for all.”

Salamand sent an envoy to Solon carrying that message. Naturally, that envoy’s head had already been cut off at the emperor’s hands.

However, he had probably been expecting that and Salamand was now boldly occupying a village in the Vlad Plateau. He was waiting for the Mephian side to make a move while he lodged his soldiers there.

And of course, there was no way that Mephius could just ignore the situation. Having said that, it was equally obvious that Garbera would launch itself at the first hint of Salamand’s death. However, since the princess was at the crown prince’s side, it was also impossible to return her.

''Curse Garbera, seeing through our situation.''

''Isn’t it them rather, talking about peace and a wedding, using the princess and waiting until we’ve been weakened.''

Just as in Garbera, there had been many in Mephius who had been unhappy about how the ten-year war had ended. Since it had been Emperor Guhl’s decision and he was strongly inclined towards despotism, there had been few people who openly stated their opposition; however there were a great many people who would potentially be in favour of resuming war with Garbera.

In other words, both in Mephius and in Garbera, popular sentiment was being ignited because of Salamand. And that was dispelling the wind which had been favourable to Crown Prince Gil. His existence was instead becoming a hindrance.

There were no rumours about how Emperor Guhl was reacting. It was said though that he had sent a letter to the king of Garbera and that soldiers had been detached from those gathered to defend Solon in order to put Salamand down.

At any rate –

''If this carries on for long, it’ll be a problem.''

In front of his subordinates, Orba kept his expression neutral, but inwardly, he was grinding his teeth.

For Guhl, this was in a sense providential. If the crown prince and the Garberan Princess lost their unifying force, he would, for the time being, be able to bring the country together. After that, he would still need to deal with the neighbouring countries, but most statesmen would consider external threats preferable to internal ones. Since the emperor had been exploring ways to forge a connection to Ende, despite being in an alliance with Garbera, it was quite possible that now that there was a conflict between them, he could now conclude a military alliance with Ende.

“This Salamand, he could very well be acting at His Majesty’s instigation,” said Rogue. Because his expression was serious, it was hard to tell whether he was joking or not.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case,” answered Orba, also remaining deliberately grave. “Still, with this, we’ll probably have to spend even more time waiting to see what happens.”

During this time, Gilliam had returned to Birac to bring the regularly-scheduled report from the front lines. Hearing that they would be continuing to face off and wait, he looked thoroughly fed up.

“How boring.” He really was very easy to read. “That Raymond guy can’t help getting impatient. Besides, there’s his little sister and the people of Nedain... heh, if his self-control snaps, he might just march in there alone.”

“Then when that happens, put that bulky body of yours to use and stop him.”

“It’s for that reason that I’ve received such a ridiculously large body from my parents – right?”

For some reason, the two of them laughed soundlessly.

After which, Gilliam suddenly brought his face in close. “That Salamand guy’s troops are about six hundred at best. Prince, if it comes down to it, lend me two hundred men. I’m good at stirring things up with just a few people,” he laughed fearlessly.

Orba answered that he would think about it.

In fact though, whether it was the crown prince’s side or the emperor’s which defeated Salamand it would not make much difference to Garbera’s internal situation.

Orba wanted to avoid wars with any neighbouring countries for now. All the more so since he was the one who had created this political instability.

''Shit!''

After taking Birac and failing to capture Nedain, he had been forced into a ‘waiting’ attitude. But now that the situation had changed, was maintaining that attitude the best thing to do? If he made an impatient move, all the time spent up until now would most certainly be wasted; but allowing a foreign enemy to invade would only result in needless devastation to the country.

In this situation, he could neither move his soldiers, nor sit waiting.

Now that things were like this, Simon’s death was an even harder blow.

In a way, that man had undoubtedly been even more of a unifying force than the emperor. One of the plans Orba had been toying with was, if necessary, getting in touch either with Simon himself or with those who wished for his return to the centre stage of politics, and induce them to make a move from inside Solon.

But that option had now collapsed.

He did not have many hands left to play or plans that he could come up with.

A different sort of threat than that of a direct attempt on his life seemed to forming spears and swords that were now crowding around Orba’s neck.



Meanwhile –

“Salamand. I’ve never heard that name.”

The one who muttered that was Vileena Owell as she stood before an open window. Her hands on her waist and her eyes narrowed as far as they would go, she sighed, her posture every bit that of a warrior.

“Princess, please close the window.”

Which did not, however, prevent her from being scolded by Theresia from behind.

“You are already in poor shape and the night wind is terrible for the health.”

“What poor shape? In the first place, a person who damages their own health when facing an urgent situation cannot be considered a warrior. That would be something only a fool would… ''Atchoo!''”

Vileena’s utterly earnest expression twisted suddenly as she gave a ferocious sneeze. Theresia looked thoroughly exasperated.

“Princesses are not warriors, nor should they be fools. Now then, I’ve brewed some hot tea so hurry on over here.”

Vileena had been suffering from a slight cold since the previous day. She was in a land that she was not used to, which made Theresia all the more worried. Vileena meekly shut the window and took her seat at the table.

“Theresia, had you ever heard the name ‘Salamand’?”

“Well now. I don’t have anything to do with the military.”

“A man I’ve never met is using my name and hindering Mephius while preaching his own selfish version of chivalry. Actually no, it’s not only Mephius but also Garbera. I can’t stand it.”

“When you say that you cannot stand it, it sounds as though you are about to set off and kill that man Salamand.”

“Hmm. That’s a good idea,” responded Vileena, a teacup in hand.

Although outwardly she could still afford to joke about it, just like Orba’s, her inner feelings were a bit more complicated.

Theresia changed the subject.

“Speaking of which, it seems that Lord Rodloom has passed away.”

“Yes.”

While she sipped her tea, Vileena’s expression turned markedly quiet. Other than exchanging greetings, the only time she had ever really spoken with Simon Rodloom was when she went to visit him at his mansion just before she left Solon. Despite that, the news of his death had caused her heart quite a lot of pain.

He had been a gentle person, but one who went to the core of one’s body and soul. That comfortable conversation had, in a way, reminded Vileena of the time she used to spend with her grandfather.

“I’ve heard that he was something like a guardian to His Highness. I’m sure His Highness must be grieving over his death.”

“I’ve happened to catch sight several times of the people of Birac offering up prayers for Lord Rodloom. He must have been a truly splendid gentleman.”

“Ah. He maintained the dignity of the chosen right to the very end. That is true chivalry. I would like to thrust it in front of that Salamand fellow.” It looked as though the princess could not break free from that topic.

Theresia shrugged. She knew that once her mistress became emotionally wound up, she would not settle back down for a long time.

“After you have finished drinking your tea, please go and have a rest. If you damage your health, Princess, His Highness Gil will worry.”

“I get it.”

She was a princess who hated being a burden. Even if she were running a fever so high it gave her nightmares, even if her limbs ached so much it felt as though they were about to fall off, she would grit her teeth and endure it alone so that no one would realise. Theresia knew that, so she did not relentlessly pester the princess to rest.

Layla, who had been watching the exchange between the two, went shopping at Birac’s market the next day.

“Just about five days ago, a medicine seller with a really good reputation started coming to the morning market,” the woman in charge of the fish market, whom she knew by sight, had told her.

Even though it was called a common cold, every land had its own characteristics and, likewise, every land had its own characteristic cures. So Layla had asked about them.

When she went where she had been told, sure enough, there was a street stall. An elderly man had set up dried roots and jars filled with powders by the side of the road.

It was obvious at a glance that he was Zerdian. Although Layla had lived in the west, the clothes he was wearing were unfamiliar to her. Rather than Zerdian native dress, they looked like garments deliberately imitating the distorted image of what Mephians believed westerners looked like.

Maybe because that generated a feeling of goodwill, or maybe because people in Birac were used to trading with foreigners, the old, western-looking man and his stall seemed to be doing a flourishing business.

Layla headed towards it.

The man in front of her was poking around at various things while chatting with the old man as he did so. The man was apparently a soldier employed at Birac castle, and when she heard that Layla’s steps faltered for a moment. No matter how close he might be to Fedom Aulin, the man could not possibly know her face; but it was no wonder that she was overly-cautious since, if ever Fedom learned of her existence, there was no saying what he might do to her and her father.

“Oh, you’re from the castle? Then have you met the famous Crown Prince everyone is talking about?” The stall owner asked with interest.

“Well, I know what he looks like.”

“Then please be sure to introduce me to him. My skill at mixing medicine is renowned throughout the west… no, throughout the continent…”

“That’s nice and all, but His Highness is very busy. I don’t think he’d come and spend time with a show-off, you know?”

“Who’s a show-off? Right, I bet continuously waging war means His Highness has all sorts of ails and ills. You could ask about it discreetly, no? Stomach-aches, headaches, lumbago; my medicine can cure anything. When he sees how well they work, His Highness is sure to want to meet me too.”

“You sure are persistent, Gramps.”

The man enjoyed his chat with the elderly stall-owner for a while longer, then, in the end, left without buying anything.

Once he was out of sight, Layla bought some medicinal tea from the old man. Just as she was about to leave, she caught sight of a written word from the corner of her eye.

''Poison'' – proclaimed a signboard.

“You deal in poison?”

“If handled correctly, poison can be used as medicine. We do say that poison counters poison. Was there something you wanted?”

Layla hesitated. There was certainly a craving in her heart, but she was afraid that if she admitted it to herself, she would start down a road that there would be no turning back from.

The old man smiled. “How about just taking a look? I keep various things stored in that unused house over there. Even if all you take out of it is knowledge, it might always come in useful later.”

Layla was not able to go against the old man’s pushiness. She entered the house, which was a little apart from the street.

“There are stairs this way. Please be careful,” the old man said lightly as he walked on ahead. Layla took his hand without really thinking about it.

In that instant, her consciousness was cut off.

“Hmm.”

By the time she heard the old man’s low voice murmuring close to her ear, how long had it already been since she had entered the house?

“Something nice has leapt into the net.”

The cheerful appearance that he had displayed at the stall had vanished without a trace. From the piercing look in his eyes and the way he threw out his broad chest, there was a dignity about him that made it hard to believe that he was a mere merchant.

This was Zafar, the old man who had served ‘Garda’ when he had waged war on the west.