Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume11 Chapter6 (section)

=== Part 1 ===

The Zongan port town Washmeel was famous for its large red-light district.

Before the sun had even finished setting, prostitutes from every corner of the world beckoned to the rough sailors who had equally come from all over. Gambling was also prominent, and even when the sun was still high in the sky, shouts of glee and screams of anguish alike rose from the streets leading to that neighbourhood, as the joys and sorrows of winning and losing unfolded.

The ships carrying Prince Kaseria Jamil of Allion and his two thousand soldiers had docked at the port more than two weeks ago.

Kaseria had granted the soldiers a moderate respite, and they were making the most of Washmeel’s nightlife. Neither women nor gambling were forbidden to them. They spent money steadily and there was a general opinion that they needed to make the most of Zonga.

Kaseria himself hardly left the ship. He was known to be a womaniser, but he almost never slept with prostitutes.

''My tool isn't made to be used with money'' – he openly declared with a roar of laughter.

Day after day, he stretched himself out on the ship’s deck, or would be in his room, also lying down. His attitude was not at all that of a commander leading a large army to war.

One night, Lance Mazpotter was on his way to pay a call to the prince’s private cabin. Just as he was about to set foot on the pier, a voice called out to him from the shadows to one side.

“Sir Lance.”

It was the Endean prince, Jeremie Amon Doria. However, if someone who had known him in the past, when he was praised in Safia for being the very epitome of an Endean aristocrat, were to see him now, they might well conclude that, although there was a certain resemblance, this must be a different person. That was how much Jeremie’s appearance had changed.

Once upon a time, when he rose in the morning, he would take his time arranging his hair with the help of his underlings, but now, it was utterly dishevelled. He, who had once been recognised as a leader of fashion in Safia, did not have a single accessory adorning him; his clothes, which he had not changed in many days, were slightly grubby and were giving off an unpleasant smell. But more than anything, it was his eyes. Those slender, almond-shaped and ever detached eyes had been famed for brimming with a brilliance innate to those of noble birth, and had once captivated countless men and women, yet now, they were now dull and listless.

“Greetings, Prince. Ah, no, Your Excellency the future Grand Duke of Ende.”

Lance gave a bow, but Jeremie looked as though he could not bear to waste time on greetings.

“Sir Lance, what’s the situation? Militarily, I mean. How has Ende reacted? What kind of moves is Eric making?” He enquired breathlessly.

Lance lips were curved into a gentle smile.

“But these various matters should already have been communicated to you, Lord Jeremie.”

“I-I know. However, that was already five days ago. I want to know what the situation is now. B-Besides, this stay in Zonga is dragging on. When will Allion’s forces start moving? At this rate, aren’t you just needlessly granting that damned Eric a reprieve?.”

“As to that, there are many things that someone in a position as lowly as mine cannot understand. His Highness Kaseria keeps it all safely in his own mind. Ah, but speaking of which, there is a council of war scheduled for tomorrow evening. I am sure that you, Lord Jeremie, will also be called to attend.”

Lance bowed once again then, after winking to the soldiers on the pier who were standing on guard on either side of the flagship, he made his way on board. Behind him, Jeremie was calling something out, but the soldiers blocked his way. His voice gradually faded in the distance.

''Bah''. Shrugging his shoulders which were lightly clad in armour, the veteran warrior from Atall pulled a face. ''A pathetic wretch''.

Even though he had been the one to invite Allion to the centre of the continent, Jeremie had already been pushed to the side. Simply because he could not accept being passed over as the next successor, and instead wished to forcefully overturn this reality, he had appealed for Allion’s assistance, failing to take into account the risk of his own country being annexed by such a powerful kingdom's military.

Although he could be said to be the man who had given it just cause for its invasion, Allion no longer had any use for him. Afterwards, he would, at best, be kept on as a figurehead. According to what he had heard, Jeremie, either because he was growing more impatient by the day or to repress his feelings of guilt, spent his entire time abusing black water lily powder.

That Eric, his younger brother, was effectively the ruler of Ende was a reality that he seemed unable to allow to continue for even a single moment longer, which was why he occasionally came to see Kaseria and Lance like this. It was unclear though how much longer his spirit would last.

''Whether asleep or awake, he’s just dreaming''.

A smile once again crossed Lance Mazpotter’s deeply chiselled face, then he suddenly stopped dead, and, exactly as though he was looking for assassins prowling in the shadows, his healthy right eye sharply darted left and right.

''I haven’t seen that sorcerer recently''.

Jeremie had not fled alone from Ende: his attendant sorcerer Hezel had definitely travelled with him. At first, he could be seen following Jeremie like a shadow but, these past few days, the young sorcerer had suddenly vanished.

Not being from Allion, Lance Mazpotter felt that sorcerers were uncanny and loathsome beings.

''The sort to hide lurking somewhere… Well, whatever. The plots of one lone sorcerous vermin won’t change the course of fate at this point''.

There were also several sorcerers accompanying the prince’s troops. So if, for example, he was planning on causing harm by killing the prince and removing the army’s central figure, they would be able to stop him beforehand. Thinking that, Lance forgot about Hezel for now. Instead, he continued forward.

“You here?” He asked, and pushed open the door without waiting for an answer.

From inside the room came a woman’s scream. Her suntanned back was visible above the bed. Next to her, and almost as though in contrast to her, was a young man with white skin who was smoking a narrow, silver-tipped pipe<ref>Called ''[http://www.kiseru-pipe.com/en/content/9-history-of-kiseru kiseru]'', this was a type of pipe that was smoked in Edogawa Japan.</ref>.

“That you, Lance? You’re as uncouth as ever.”

“Who knows when and where the enemy might strike. Say that I’d been an assassin, what would you have done, O Heir to the throne of Allion?”

“First, I would’ve used the woman as a shield, then, I would’ve turned the tables on you.”
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v11 265.jpg|thumb]]
While the woman hurriedly getting dressed in the partial concealment offered by the bed seemed startled at his words, Kaseria raised the sword that had been left nearby. It was unsheathed.

Before long, the woman silently slunk off.

“If I’m not mistaken, that was…”

“Count Washmeel’s youngest daughter. He holds jurisdiction over this port.”

''Ah'', nodded Lance. Since she had a level-headed personality despite being young, he had thought upon first meeting her that – ''she’s exactly the sort Kaseria likes''.

“It’ll be ''something'' if her father finds out. As if it wasn’t enough that Zonga is acting as though they’re being made to swallow a humiliation over this whole affair.”

“She’s not the sort to go telling tales. She’s a woman who can deal with the consequences of having offered up her own ass.”

“Oh? I thought I’d taught you most of what there is to know about women.” Lance closed his single eye for a second. “Unlike with swords and war, you can’t rely on previous experience. Never think that just because you’ve known another woman with a similar personality in the past that things are going to go the same way every time.”

“I’ll bear it in mind. More importantly,” Kaseria had been yawning but now his eyes suddenly shone brightly, “have you released the ‘dogs’?”

“Yeah. They’ve checked up to the forest. They should reach Dairan five days from now.”

Lance opened the cabin window as he was giving his answer. Kaseria was smoking black water lily powder, and Lance hated having the strangely slimy smoke coiling around him.

“Good, finally. Ende’s little lord should come flying as soon as we bait him. And then, we just need to crush them in one go.”

“That would be great, but…”

“What?” As soon as he heard that, Kaseria, still in bed, looked displeased. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? Don’t act all mysterious and just tell me.”

“Yeah, there’s some bad news. Garbera seems to be taking action.”

“Garbera?”

According to information that Lance Mazpotter had recently received, it appeared that the Kingdom of Garbera, which lay south of Ende, was sending a troop of more than two thousand in reinforcement. Kaseria irritably raised his arms overhead.

“Weren’t Garbera and Ende supposed to have only just crossed spears? That damned Jeremie was speaking nonsense.”

When they had alighted at the Zongan port, they had naturally met with Jeremie, the one responsible for ushering them into the centre of the continent. According to what he had said –

“Mephius is in the middle of a civil war that has split the country in two, and it’s also embroiled in a silent feud with Garbera over the treatment given to the princess who was sent there to get married. On top of that, Eric recently invaded Garberan territory. Since Ende has not concluded any alliances with foreign countries in a long time, it is now virtually isolated and helpless.”

“Garbera is a country of knights… was that it? So it should prize righteousness. Just like you, its chivalrous spirit must have been stirred at the thought of defending the descendants of the Magic Dynasty,” Lance suggested sarcastically.

Lance had, from the start, been unenthusiastic about this war and, above all, he had strongly objected when he heard about the plan to send a second troop overland. Spreading out between Allion and Ende was a mountainous area through part of which stretched the country of Ryalide. He had been opposed to coercively sending their forces through it.

“We shouldn’t provoke Ryalide with that kind of manoeuvre.”

“What can a small country like Ryalide do? You were there last year when I met its king, weren’t you? That pig is just a coward who only thinks of his own safety,” Kaseria laughed.

“Don’t underestimate him. When the path of escape is cut off, even a coward will bare his fangs. If Garbera joins in and it looks like we’re having a hard time during the first battle, Ryalide might send its troops from behind.”

“And that wouldn’t matter. It’s fine if the second wave of troops attracts plenty of enemy attention. That’s why I had Sir Phard, my ever-lovable older half-brother, put in charge of them. Even without being told, that hothead is guaranteed to raise some eye-catching sparks.”

Perhaps tired of lying down, Kaseria sprang to his feet, the sword still in his hand. He swung it horizontally, as though to decapitate an invisible enemy.

“Even I don’t expect to overrun the whole of Ende with this war, you know. But, if we use the right bait, then in a week’s time, we might be toasting the freshly severed head of the Lord-next-Grand-Duke-of-Ende in this very cabin,” so saying, he roared with laughter.

''Humph'', Lance’s expression seemed to be mocking a young novice’s shallow cleverness, but as a matter of fact, the sword play that he was now demonstrating beneath his eyes surpassed that of any soldier from within the country or outside of it that Lance could compare him to.

''To think that he would become this good a swordsman'' – Lance reflected anew.

After his home country had been destroyed by Allion, Lance was employed by its king at the royal palace. He was to become a tutor, or, more specifically, an instructor in swordsmanship, to Kaseria, who was then thirteen-years-old.

Lance had made clear his dissatisfaction. At thirteen, one should already have the physical basics. From what he had heard, however, Kaseria had been a premature baby and, when he was born, he had hovered between life and death. The King of Allion had sent east and west for countless skilled doctors so that his son might somehow live. It was said that he had even borrowed the help of sorcerers. That he had strived so hard towards prolonging his son’s life was, of course, out of love for his own child but, more importantly, it was also because the death in infancy of a first-born child was considered an evil omen in Allion.

Perhaps because of that history, both of his parents had spoiled Kaseria rotten. If there was something that displeased him even a little, Kaseria would bawl and cry, or, half in jest, he would blame the retainers for something or another and would ask his father, the king, to have them executed.

''I have to teach the sword to that brat?''

Just because the instructor was a skilled swordsman, it did not mean that the student would learn to be any good. To make matters worse, the other party was a boy with an atrocious personality who had never even held a sword up until then.

However –

Now, nine years later, Kaseria was one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom. It was not out of sycophancy or deference to the heir to the throne that so many noted fencers had dropped to their knees after receiving one of his blows in the palace’s training grounds. Despite his youth, his feats on the battlefield were among the most noteworthy; this too was not because he squeezed his strategists and his subordinates dry of their intelligence and strength while he advanced at a leisurely pace, grabbing all achievements for himself. No matter how difficult the battle, he was always in the vanguard, his entire body covered in his opponents’ blood, pressing forward to slaughter more and more enemies.

''It’ll be the same thing this time'' – thought Lance, not expecting any unforeseen events as he admonished Kaseria in his usual way.



Even though Eric Le Doria had been waiting impatiently for this news, he could not help doubting his ears for a second.

Reinforcements of over a thousand were coming from Garbera. Moreover, it was said that Prince Zenon Owell would be leading them. It was not only Eric but a great many people in Ende who could not hide their surprise. They had felt the same when their young lord had requested aid from Garbera, but seeing it actually materialise was as unexpected for them as it was for Eric himself, even though he had been the one to actually suggest it.

Nevertheless, it was with an expression that seemed to say that this development was entirely natural, and with a somewhat proud backward glance at his astonished retainers, that Eric personally went to greet the Garberan troops in Safia and exchanged a firm handshake with their prince.

“It’s been a long time, Prince Zenon.”

“It has, Lord Eric. I am grateful to you for going out of your way to meet us. Still, I did not think that our reunion would come like this.”

“It brings back memories of that shadowy fort, doesn’t it?”

What Eric was alluding to was time when, right after battle had broken out near Zaim and, at Mephius’ suggestion, they had held a special three-way meeting in the fort within the Nouzen Mountains.

“If I remember right, it was raining, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Even though it was broad daylight, it was so dark that you couldn’t see the expression on someone else’s face even if you went right up next to them. Back then, it was myself, you, Prince Zenon, and the crown prince of Mephius.”

“Ah, that other gentleman. It seems that he has revived after being dead for a while.”

“I thought at the time that he was eccentric, but I would never have imagined it was to that extent.”

The two of them laughed discreetly.

While doing so and continuing their talk, both was thinking of the other – ''he’s changed''.

At the time, they had been mutual enemies who would not have let the other leave the battlefield alive, so saying that they had “changed” was a matter of course. However, to take the example of Eric, he, who was perhaps not by nature an eloquent speaker, had at the time merely muttered a few short words; yet now he projected his voice as well as an attitude of complete self-confidence. Zenon’s manner, meanwhile, had been as regal as it had been severe, with a look that seemed to say that only those who followed him without question were his allies, yet now, that harshness was removed and there was gentleness in his expression.

Whereupon –

“May we introduce ourselves?”

Moldorf’s large body came up to stand in line next to Zenon. Nilgif followed behind.

“We didn’t even stay three days in Garbera. Next stop by ship, and it’s the famous water capital, Safia. How long are we going to be here for? Well since we’re at it, don’t you feel like comparing all these countries’ liquor, Brother?”

“Why can’t you think before opening your mouth? People will start doubting whether Kadyne’s warriors have any manners,” his brother thundered.

Lord Eric’s eyes opened wide at the appearance and behaviour of the western warriors that he was seeing for the first time, and Zenon, who saw himself as he had been a few days earlier in that, let slip a chortle.

A small welcome party was held that evening. The next day, things turned into a council of war gathering the main army commanders.

In fact, however, Zenon and Eric had met late the previous evening, just the two of them. As the two overall commanders, there were intending to decide on their tactical course of action before the council, which was sure to become a tangled mess of patriotic zeal.

Taking only these two into account, their mutual hatred and enmity had already faded, but it could not be said that the same held true for the soldiers they were leading. As far as the Garberan soldiers were concerned, they could hold nothing but resentment towards Ende, which had come up with some false accusation and used it to invade their country. Meanwhile, the Endean soldiers held a deep-seated antipathy towards Garbera, which had one-sidedly discarded the secret alliance between the two countries.

“It’s unfortunate, but I can’t say for sure that having both our forces manoeuvre in the same area wouldn’t be dangerous.”

“I entirely agree with you,” Zenon nodded. “It might be best to act separately.”

The enemy was also broadly divided into two groups. There was Kaseria Jamil’s force, which was in Zonga, to the north, and which had yet to make a move. That one numbered two thousand. While the troops approaching Dairan via the overland route in the north of Ryalide, by way of the mountainous region known as the “cunning dragon’s spine”, were three or four thousand strong.

The end result was that Lord Eric’s three thousand Endean soldiers would be stationed in Dairan, while the two thousand troops from the combined forces of Prince Zenon and the west would take up position east of there and check the troops approaching by the overland route.

“Once the enemy sees Garbera’s flag, even they will probably hesitate. If the two armies remain at a stand-off for long enough, we will hopefully be able to turn Allion back with the minimum amount of damage.”

With the course of action decided, the council of war generally proceeded along the lines that the two of them had agreed upon.