Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume11 Chapter1 (section)

=== Part 1 ===

The city of Dairan, at the northernmost tip of Ende, was defended by high ramparts that protected it from invasion by the nomadic northern tribes. These nomadic tribes were divided into numerous clans and usually lived as they pleased. However, they would occasionally commit piracy along their southern coast, and occasionally attempt to trample into Ende’s territory. The trend to their movements was utterly unfathomable: sometimes they would go a year or two without taking any action, while at other times, there would be two attacks within a month.

Eric Le Doria, who was to be the next Grand Duke of Ende, had often fought them beyond Dairan’s protective ramparts. From a very young age, he had been entrusted to the care of the Plutos family – who had governed Dairan for generation after generation – and in that wild and rough land, he had fought to his utmost with sword and gun, and had learned of that joy that was second to none; of gathering with his comrades around the campfire after battle, still covered in the blood of his foes, to boast together of their feats.

Given this particularity, Dairan was clearly at odds with the “aristocratic” traits that were prized by other Endeans – traits such as dressing splendidly or never ostensibly injuring another person, but instead preferring to exchange verbal quips laced with lethal doses of poison.

To take other examples, Safia, the capital of the Grand Duchy, was known throughout the world as the “Water Capital” and was recognised as a city of great artistic value. The high walls that surrounded Dairan, however, were rough-hewn and inelegant, and the people who came and went from the city wore simple clothes.  In Safia, men and women alike weaved their long hair into whatever complicated style they preferred, but here, that was rare.

In plain words, it was the sticks, and among the nobles that filled Safia, many mocked Dairan as a “remote frontier” and a “land of savages”.

Walking through Dairan, everywhere you went, you would hear the yells of men training in the military arts, and under the eaves of the houses, you would frequently see women doing laundry or peeling vegetables.

Just then, the men, dripping with sweat, suddenly halted their arms that were swinging spears. The women, who had been trampling the spread-out laundry, also stopped the movement of their white legs, and the young girls hurriedly corrected their seating posture.

“Lord Eric,” voices called out all along the street, and Eric answered them with a smile.

The Second Prince always openly asserted that Dairan was his home. His personality was much closer to that of a warrior of the Plutos House than to one of Ende’s leading aristocrat; and on top of that, he had only recently exterminated the wild dragons that that had attacked Dairan. And so, the people there adored him.

When they heard that he had been chosen as the next Grand Duke, this rustic town,  with its simple and unaffected creeds and its lingering scent of earth, was engulfed in three days and three nights of revelry, its people delirious with joy.

It did not even last ten days.

The people had particularly rejoiced at the fact that the future Grand Duke would be visiting Dairan. Eric, however, did not come to his “home” dressed in fine clothes for a triumphal return. Because they were well-aware of this, Dairan’s populace did not create more of a fanfare than necessary.

War is coming.

Moreover, it was not because of an attack by the nomadic tribes. The great eastern country of Allion had dispatched its troops; and far from there being any reason to celebrate, Dairan, or better said, Ende itself, was facing an unprecedented crisis.

Allion’s air carriers were already moored to the north of Ende, in the port city of Zonga. These were probably no more than an advance supply unit, but a force of two thousand led by Kaseria Jamil was said to currently be at sea.

Right now, all of Ende was focused on getting ready for the impending war. Eric had come to Dairan to prepare for when Allion’s troops would depart from northern Zonga, but he could not remain there indefinitely.

In the old days, all he needed to focus on when war was about to break out was the war itself. Back when he had fought the nomadic tribes or planned the invasion of Garbera, he would only worry about organising the troops, ensuring provisions, or various concerns related to weapons inspection or maintaining his comrades’ morale.

Now however, Eric was the future Grand Duke. Other than the preparations directly involving battle, there was a pile of things he needed to attend to. Beyond the battlefield, he needed to extend his gaze to all of Ende and keep a close eye on the surrounding countries.

On top of that, although he had been nominated as the next Grand Duke upon the death of his father, it could not be said that he was standing on firm footing. Having spent more time in Dairan than in Safia, Eric felt considerably estranged from the leading figures who supported the country.

Naturally, he had no choice but to travel back and forth to the capital. He had arrived in Dairan just the day before yesterday, but would soon be returning to Safia.

''Kaseria. Just how serious are you about taking Ende, you bastard?'' His enemy’s true feelings and intentions were as yet impossible to know.

He had already obtained information that, while his older brother, Jeremie, had implored its help by claiming that “the descendants of the Magic Dynasty should be brought together,” not all of Allion welcomed this situation which had given them a good pretext for invading Ende. Or rather, it seemed that only Allion’s First Prince, Kaseria Jamil, was enthusiastic about this war.

''Are they simply intending to demonstrate Allion’s influence at the centre of the continent through one battle, or is Kaseria the vanguard, with Allion’s entire army set to move after all?''

At no point, while out in public, did Eric wipe off his forthright smile, but in the depths of night, alone in his bed, there was a distinct crease between his brows.

One of the reasons for that was that their last ray of hope – the response from the northern coastal countries – was slow to arrive. It had been almost ten days since they had sent a request for help by fast air carrier, but they had still received no answer.

''Has Allion already gotten to them or are they like me, they don’t know what Allion’s real intention is?''

It was the same for Garbera and Mephius as well. From intelligence sent by spies, he understood that problems had arisen in both of those countries. Forget about sending aid to Ende, it would not be strange if fighting were to break out between the two of them.

In the worst possible situation, Ende would have to confront Kaseria’s troops alone and under the sole command of Eric, who had not yet even become ruler.

''The enemy has two thousand at sea. There doesn’t seem to have been any further activity in Allion’s ports, and reinforcements probably wouldn’t come by the overland route''.

The country of Ryalide stretched out between Ende and Allion. Although militarily, it was only a small country, he did not believe that Allion would want to increase the number of its enemies on its way to Ende.

“In that case…”

They just needed to be prepared.

Eric dragged his sword near his pillow and fell asleep hugging its sheath. It was a habit he had developed over the last ten days.

Early the next morning, Eric awoke with his eyes wide open and headed out of the Plutos mansion. He was going to a well near the stable to wash his face. The elderly soldier guarding the stable looked sleepy, but he seemed surprised and stood at attention when he saw Eric. He was a long-time acquaintance from his childhood, and Eric grinned at him and stopped to exchange some idle chit-chat.

“Lord Eric,” a voice called out then. It was not that of a soldier. Turning around, he saw two young sisters.

“Thil, Reen,” Eric smiled as he said their names.

The two of them gave him deep bows. Bowing deeply to nobles was the custom in Ende, but as neither of them was ten years old yet, their movements were an exaggerated imitation of what adults did. The younger sister bent so far forward that her back was almost parallel to the ground.

They were the daughters of Darowkin Plutos, the eldest son of Kayness Plutos, the current head of the family. For Eric, who had spent so long in Dairan, Kayness was like a second father to him, and so, he thought of the two little girls practically as his own nieces.

“You have risen very early, Prince,” Thil, the older sister, spoke with punctilious courtesy.
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“You can’t call him ‘Prince’ anymore. Because he’s already become the Grand Duke,” Reen, the younger sister, pointed out.

Of the two sisters, the older often acted like a grown-up. And when Reen always took her up on any mistakes, Thil would then protest with faint tears in her eyes. Such was the relationship between them. Eric smiled involuntarily.

“Neither is wrong. I’m still a prince, but I also bear the duties of the next Grand Duke.”

“Right, you see, Reen. I wasn’t wrong after all.”

“That’s because adults always take Thil’s side.”

“I don’t want to fight in front of the prince. Go play over there. I’ll even lend you my doll.”

“Those are two different things!”

Reen galloped off, laughing. Even if she pretended to be an adult, she was still only seven years old. Her steps were always light, and she was always cheerful.

Left behind, her older sister, Thil, once again bowed towards Eric.

“Prince, will Dairan become a battlefield again?” She asked with a serious expression.

For all that she was young, she was a daughter of the Plutos House. There was no doubt that she had been quick to sense that a war was approaching, and that it would be harsher and more violent than usual. Eric’s expression also changed. He was a man who could not deceive anyone, not even children.

“I don’t plan to let that happen. But a good warrior prepares for every situation. All the men in Dairan are like that. If it does happen though, you have to protect your little sister Reen.”

“Yes,” Thil meekly nodded her head.



The same day, at dusk, they received new information from a reconnaissance party that had been sent to Zonga.

“The troops led by Prince Kaseria will apparently arrive at the port of Zonga the day after tomorrow.”

''Is this it?'' Eric braced himself as all of Dairan came under grew tense. ''Will they start by sending a messenger to keep the appearance of a just cause? Or is Kaseria so desperate for blood that he’ll advance regardless?''

Simply waiting did not suit his personality and his impatience was getting worse. He felt the impulse to sally forth and attack right now, however –

“The first thing you need to do is set your priorities, Lord Eric.” Kayness Plutos, the current lord of Dairan, spoke calmly. “Determine what is important and laugh off what is trivial. The ruler of a country and the commander of an army are two different things. It would be best to display composure and return to Safia for a while.”

“But, Sir Kayness…”

“Otherwise, the grandees in Safia will forget your face, Lord Eric,” Kaynes gave a soft chuckle. “First, there are things that need getting used to. Such as the mutual relationship between lord and retainer.”

Certainly, being away from the capital for too long also left Eric feeling anxious. Among the retainers who had remained at the palace, not a few of them had previously supported his brother, Jeremie. In order not to create an unfavourable atmosphere, and also for the sake of once more gathering information about the two countries of Mephius and Garbera, he conceded that he needed to return to Safia for a while.

Entrusting the command of the defence force to Kayness, Eric boarded an air carrier. Immediately upon arriving at Safia, he found another piece of information awaiting him.

“Allion’s second wave of troops?” Eric unconsciously repeated the contents out loud.

A second unit was crossing from the east by the overland route. The country of Ryalide should have been an obstacle to any military expedition, but it had apparently thrown open all the barriers along its highways and was allowing a troop of three thousand of Allion’s soldiers to pass through.

“Did they yield under pressure?”

If they did not comply, those troops could be used to set a small country like Ryalide ablaze – had that kind of threat been applied?

Eric, however, had genuinely believed that Allion would not push forward with that kind of violent diplomatic pressure. No matter how powerful a country was, displaying such a high-handed attitude was dangerous. One step wrong and they would induce a sense of impending crisis, which might lead their surroundings to spread an encircling net around Allion, which in turn would hinder them not only militarily, but would also disrupt their trade.

''Which means…''

Kaseria Jamil was serious?

Eric was aware of cold sweat trickling beneath his undershirt.

There might be more to follow. For now however, there were five thousand in all. If they focused on defence, that was by no means a difficult number to drive back.

Eric was still young. Whatever Allion’s true intentions were, the cause of all this was his older brother, Jeremie. When their father, the Grand Duke, passed away, and the position of successor to the throne was snatched away by his younger brother, Jeremie had stolen and made off with the flag of the Magic Dynasty, then begged a powerful country, with which they had ancient ties, to send troops.

Therefore, looking at things from a different angle, this was basically a problem internal to Ende. And so, Eric also felt like having Ende sweep away that number of enemies all by itself, and showing Garbera, Mephius, as well as those coastal countries that were deliberately staying quiet, that ‘there is a new Ende now’.

No, even more than to a group of foreigners, the ones that Eric felt the most strongly that way about was towards those retainers who still doubted his ability.



At that same time, west of Ende’s borders, there was a young man who was facing the same kind of trouble as Eric was.

He was equally in a position where he was poised to shoulder the responsibility of an entire country, he could not fathom his opponent’s real intentions, and he too was hesitant about what attitude to take.

The young man’s name was Gil Mephius.

The reminder is not needed, but his real identity was that of Orba, a former gladiator.

He had only just taken the city of Nedain when an envoy from the emperor had come to see him in person. The message he carried was that: “Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius is invited to come to Solon.”