Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume11 Chapter4 (section)

=== Part 1 ===

Two days after the Eve of the festival, Prince Zenon showed the king the letter he had received from Gil Mephius. It said that the troops he was preparing to dispatch in reinforcement to Garbera did not belong to Mephius. The ships the soldiers were riding on were already anchored at Apta and, if permission was granted, they could be in Garberan territory within a few days.

King Ainn Owell gave his permission.

At about the same time that a thousand two hundred knights from the Order of the Tiger returned to the royal capital, a great many ships bearing the emblem of the Haman Firm on their hull swooped down into Phozon’s port. Riding in the separate crafts were seven hundred soldiers, horses and dragons, and a number of weapons.

Zenon had gone to greet them in person, and what burst into his sight was a group of burly, muscular warriors with a wild air and equipment in shapes that he had never seen before. They brought with them the feel of the west in which Zenon had never set foot.

The man in their lead descended the gangway and held out a massive arm to shake Zenon’s hand. When the Garberan prince responded, his hand was grasped so tightly that he grimaced.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Zenon Owell. I’m Moldorf of Kadyne, from the allied nations of Tauran.”

He seemed to be in his fifties, but the massive muscles in his large body spoke of how he lived for battle.

“Brother, this is Garbera?” A man who looked a lot like Moldorf alighted and came to stand beside him. “I never thought that I’d set foot in lands further east than Mephius in all my life. Later, we’ll have to buy souvenirs for Princess Lima. I wonder if we can load enough in the ships?”

“Oi, Nilgif. Aren’t you first going to greet the prince?”

Oh! Nilgif nodded and also shook his hand. He too did not seem to know his own strength. And on top of that, while on board, he had been drinking to his heart’s content, so he reeked of alcohol.

''These are warriors from the west?''

As he shrank back while greeting him, something like grievance flashed through Zenon’s mind.

The reinforcements that Gil Mephius had dispatched were soldiers from the western lands of Tauran.

Several days earlier, Lord Ax of Taúlia had received a messenger from Gil. “Please gather five hundred soldiers and send them to Garbera. I will provide the ships, provisions, and funds for all of them,” he had requested.

At first, Ax Bazgan was going to comply by sending soldiers only from his own country. Previously, he had, also at Gil’s request, arranged for a thousand soldiers to take up position near the border with Mephius. They had flown the many flags of Tauran, but half of them had been from Taúlia. So he was simply going to move them as is, when the strategist, Ravan Dol, had made a suggestion.

“My liege, should you not issue a command to all the other countries? Even if only few in number, each should send some soldiers. It would also be best if the commander were not from Taúlia.”

After a long history of war, the west was finally starting to unite as one. However, a land in which skirmishes had been common occurrences could not simply change overnight.

Ravan believed that ''we should take every opportunity to work together and deepen our solidarity''. Since Mephius would shoulder the entire cost of this campaign, it should be seen not as a burden, but as a boon.

As a result, soldiers had come from each of the countries.

From Taúlia, a hundred cavalrymen led by Natokk, the commander of the Sixth Army Corps.

From Helio, three hundred foot soldiers led by Bisham, a company commander of infantry.

A combined artillery force made up of fifty riflemen each from Lakekish, Fugrum and the Pinepey tribe.

And finally, from Kadyne, the Red and the Blue Dragons with two hundred cavalrymen and dragoons.

Coming together to form a single army, they departed from Apta on board of three separate cruisers. They had then travelled to Phozon, stopping on the way to resupply at the port of Mavant.

Zenon once again contemplated the appearance of these people from the west. And indeed, although the colour of their skin and their facial features were all quite similar, there were differences in the weapons and armour of each country. But for all that it was a mish-mashed assembly of troops, they showed no trace of any mutual wariness as, one after another, they alighted chatting together in Garbera’s port. Taúlians laughed when those from Helio told a joke, and when those from Lakekish showed off their new model of guns, those from Fugrum boasted that the improvements that their own country had made to the old models were much more convenient.

''They say that for a long time, the small nations in the west repeatedly fought against one another''. Zenon Owell was conscious of a being deeply moved in a different way. ''Yet at a single call from Gil Mephius, they rise to action together like this?''

He learned that Crown Prince Gil had become a bridge to the west. And also, that Ax Bazgan had destroyed the sorcerer who had been laying waste to the west and had created an alliance between all the countries there.

Part of the reason for that was because the people were tired of the never-ending strife. Zenon, however, knew little about the west, and seeing such a huge change right before his eyes, he could not help but feel deeply moved.

Meanwhile – ''Maybe this is what they call the torrent of history''. Standing behind Zenon, Noue Salzantes was pondering over the same thing. ''As history streams along and reaches a large bend, all of a sudden, a new current crashes into it, with enough force to crush boulders and tear away part of the shore. The swells turn into wider ripples than what could have been imagined from either, and produce massive changes. The people who are caught up in it sometimes fight it, but the end result is that they adapt to the flow with almost terrifying speed''.

Was it because people were resilient, or because they were inconstant? Even if the shape of good and evil changed daily, or the gods they believed in or the name of their liege changed every month; as long as the sun rose the next day, the people of the land would till their fields, happily drink together at night, grieve over the death of a neighbour, and smile when they heard that a relative’s daughter was getting married.

''Perhaps this too is a great swell. Great changes will occur, to which people will have to adapt. Not only in the west, but also in Mephius, in Ende – and of course, Garbera will be no exception''.

The direction that Noue looked towards then was that of the ship departure point that stood on the opposite side of the royal palace from the port in which they currently were. The Kotjuns’ ship on which Rinoa had ridden was still docked there.

And Vileena Owell was still on board.

She would be leaving this afternoon and, after returning to Zaim, she would wait for a suitable time to “go home” to Mephius.

In the end, since arriving in Phozon, the princess had not once stepped off the ship. ''You are splendid, Princess'' – even the sarcastic, sharp-tongued Noue was unstinting in his mental praise for her.

For all that she had been born and raised in the royal family, she was still a girl in her mid-teens. She must have wanted to meet her parents whom she had not seen for so long, to hear the voices of her acquaintances, to talk face-to-face with her brothers. However, even when she had received an offer to do so from her father the king, the princess had not disembarked from the ship.

Noue surmised that it was a demonstration of her resolve as one who had already pledged herself to be separated from Garbera for all eternity, but she had probably also calculated that by not showing herself in person, she would actually be increasing the weight of her presence and the impact of her words.

Noue was not a man with a heart as hard as ice. He was conscious of a heat in his breast. That heat was urging him to confess to the princess that he had once been going to kill her, and to apologise for his own foolishness.

''Humph'' – Noue’s lips curved as he played with his long hair. ''At the time, there is no denying that I believed that doing that was for Garbera’s sake. Besides, there’s no point to even me becoming infected with the royal family’s almost idiotic honesty''.

Noue glanced at Zenon Owell, who still seemed to be in the grip of some deep emotion before the western warriors.

''Great swells are all very good, but when things change, they inevitably also distort. For light to continue shining on the land, there also needs to be those who shoulder the darkness. If I’m also an idiot, then I won’t be the same kind of idiot as His Highness Zenon or Princess Vileena, nor, obviously, can I allow myself to be like Ryucown, an idiot whose judgement is clouded. I will be the idiot who deliberately looks at what should not be seen, and who pretends not to see what is clearly visible''.

There was naturally no way for Noue to realise it, but at the same time as he was gazing from the opposite direction, there was someone who was gazing right back towards him.

Vileena Owell.

''Did His Highness Gil take action?''

Vileena could, of course, well imagine that the reinforcements from the west were connected to Crown Prince Gil. It was definitely something that only he could have done. Definitely. But still, there was a question that she could not shake off.

''Why did he deliberately send them to Garbera?''

It was directly tied to a strong anxiety which had first gripped her right after Gil had seized Nedain. Rumour had reached Garbera that the emperor had sent him a direct messenger. Recognising that the enemy commander, whom he had labelled an ‘impostor,’ was ‘the crown prince’, in other words his own son, Emperor Guhl had invited him to Solon.

''What does the prince intend to do?'' The same questions which had been debated in Nedain swirled around in Vileena’s mind.

If he went to Solon, he might fall into the emperor’s trap and be executed. If he did not go, he would inevitably be branded a rebel who was needlessly prolonging the civil war.

''Perhaps…''

Sending reinforcements from the west to Garbera might have been a way to ensure that relief reached Ende in a situation in which he himself was unable to personally move.

Vileena’s heart throbbed.

''The prince intends to go to Solon''.

They had not known each other all that long, but Vileena was convinced of it. That, it being the prince, he would surely choose a direct confrontation with the emperor.

In that case, there was nothing that the third princess of Garbera could do to stop him. She could not even curb the desire which was swelling within her to return at once to Mephius. However, could she go back to the imperial capital as things were now? She was worried that her presence might instead become a hindrance for the crown prince.

''Immediately returning to Solon might simply cause needless confusion. Should I travel south from Mavant and go through Apta or Birac?''

She worried alone, on board the ship.

As dusk drew near, the world steadily continued to move. Just as Noue had, Vileena felt great swells within it. It was depressing to think that oneself alone was so powerless before the huge, black waves that would determine the course that history would take in the coming era.

''No, since we’re in the middle of a huge whirlpool, I have to grasp the oars tight and pierce through the waves, or else my existence will be swallowed up in no time flat''.

That enthusiasm was certainly like her, but, for a moment, her expression clouded over as she thought not of how the world was moving, or of the crown prince of Mephius, but of herself.
“What is my ‘real face’?” An unconscious murmur spilled from her lips.

In the past, she had talked about it with her grandfather, Jeorg.

''Just as though they were performing parts in a play, people put on the masks of the roles and positions that they are given. There are those whose faces of flesh gradually disappear. There are those become one with the mask''.

''You’re also my granddaughter, Ainn’s daughter, and Garbera’s princess. You might be someone’s best friend, and someone’s enemy. Before long, you’ll become someone’s lover, someone’s wife, and someone’s mother''.

''Each time they add onto your face, you mustn’t turn away. It’s fine to think, it’s fine to be lost, but you must never run''.

Vileena was not going to disembark and go to the royal palace. The reason was exactly as Noue had guessed. It was in order to demonstrate her resolve, and also because she had calculated that people’s hearts would be more greatly touched if she deliberately avoided appearing in person. And, just as Zenon had felt, this was not an action that would have been like her in the past.

''Is this my ‘mask’ as the princess of Garbera and a future Mephian?''

One could not forever act as one’s heart dictated. Theresia had surely also said it. That this was what it meant to become an adult.

As one born into royalty, Vileena intended to always endeavour to be upright and honest. Because that was how her grandfather appeared to her. However, and precisely because she was royalty, she believed that she had to be able to make use of her ‘real face’ and of her ‘mask’.

''Those chosen cannot live only for themselves''. For her grandfather, her father, her brothers and, of course, for Vileena herself, this was the fate that they had been born with. And of course, it must be the same for Gil Mephius. Wasn’t that why he went around looking lost and floundering?

''Have I ever seen his ‘real face’?'' The thought suddenly occurred to her. Gil Mephius’ figure, arms crossed and alone in the dark, flickered faintly through Vileena’s mind.