Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume10 Chapter1 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

“Our strength?”

The first to answer was Folker Baran. It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he found the offer surprising or entirely expected.

Gil nodded. “Yes. A part of the soldiers that you led are staying here in Birac, but obviously, the expense of looking after them is not negligible. If you join us, then it becomes an investment in the future, but if not, then it’s just a waste. I’d like you to properly decide on your course of action. I’ll give you five days, it should be enough time for you to think.”

“So in other words, that would mean following your orders, even if they include attacking Solon, where His Majesty the Emperor is?”

“Do you have anything to sell other than your ability to fight?”

“That is not what I meant. In short, I am asking if it is your intention to continue to fly the banner of revolt against His Majesty and to engulf Mephius in the fires of civil war.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Zaas shouted and stood up so forcefully that he knocked his chair backwards again. “General Baran, there is no need to talk directly to this kind of impostor. It’s just a waste of time. He’s no more than a rebel posing as the crown prince. Lend him our strength at this point? Ludicrous. Once you’ve crossed swords, you continue fighting until one surrenders or perishes. That is the code of a warrior.”

Compared to his fury, which was so great that it seemed flames might leap out from the finger he had thrust out, Gil was glacial.

“Being defeated by a mere impostor, where does that leave House Sidious?”

Zaas ground his teeth so fiercely that everyone sitting there could hear it. “What did you say? I didn’t lose. Have you forgotten? You ran away from single combat with me. A warrior from the Sidious House has no ears to listen to anything that a coward like you has to say.”

“If the fact that you did not personally lose means that you weren’t defeated, then why are you here? Why aren’t you singing victory songs with your companions, trampling my impostor head underfoot? Spare me the childish argument, Zaas.”

Gil’s rebuff was like a slap to the face. Although Zaas was the youngest of the twelve generals, he was still seven or eight years older than Gil.

Zaas Sidious’ face flushed redder and redder as he continued to shout ever more violently.

“Y-You bastard, you killed Mephians. It is a warrior’s honour to die while protecting the peace of the people by crushing enemies who threaten the country from outside. But you, you manipulated Mephians with your deceitful, lying words and had them kill other Mephians. For us, there can be no greater insult than that a man like that could claim the august title of crown prince.”

Zaas had lost many of his men in the Battle of Tolinea. Even as he was screaming, his emotions overcame him and tears sprang to his eyes. Among those whose lives had been lost there were not only young men, but also commanders who had been serving since his father’s time. Men who, when he was young, had helped him practice with the sword, half in fun, and who had encouraged him, saying that – ''since it’s you, Zaas, you’ll definitely become a general whose name will go down in history just as much as your father’s.''

His emotions vigorously kindled the flames within Zaas, and these could not be put out by Gil’s icy gaze.

“If we leave things as they are, the emperor of Mephius will kill more Mephians than I would.”

“What!”

“For example,” this time, the situation reversed and it was Gil thrusting a finger towards Zaas, “If I send you back naked to Solon by not returning your soldiers and weapons, how will His Majesty deal with you? How about broadcasting the information that this defeat was caused by the loss of command in your troops because you were so fixated on fighting me in single combat?”

The colour suddenly drained from Zaas’ fiery red face.

“There is no great cause. There is not a single justification which the retainers are in agreement with. It’s His Majesty who is leading the soldiers to invade another country. It's His Majesty who is leading the soldiers to invade the country, and who will easily cut off the heads of fellow Mephians. Not for the country but for himself and his own convenience.”

“…”

“Do you think that kind of country can stay standing? Do you not think that if I hadn’t risen up, someone else would not have done so and would not have pointed their blade at the emperor? Not just you yourselves, anyone could predict it.”

The morning sunlight was flooding the parlour. Small birds were chirping lightly outside the window. And yet, everyone other than Gil looked as though they had been robbed of two or three degrees of their body temperature.

“Sit down, Zaas.”

It was Folker who had spoken. Out of sympathy, free from censure. Since he believed that the wounds to the young general’s heart were such that right now, he would not listen to any instruction from the person who claimed to be the crown prince.

Zaas silently sat.

Once he had watched him do so, Folker turned towards Gil, “Indeed, a sound argument. However, I believe that in practice, a country cannot be managed on sound arguments alone, so what of you?”

“Oh?”

“What do you intend to do from now on? By criticising the emperor, you are practically using that as a shield, but what do you plan to do beyond this point?”

“You should know well enough that I can no longer turn back.”

With that answer, this time it was Gil who stood up.

“P-Please wait,” Folker unconsciously also half-rose to his feet.

“I want you all,” Gil said, forestalling him.

It was not only Folker who stopped moving. Zaas, Yuriah who had been silent all this time, and Walt were the same.

“I’m not telling you to die in battle for me right this second. But, Folker Baran, you are able to consider things level-headedly even on the battlefield. Yuriah Mattah: sooner or later you will be an air force commander on par with any from Garbera. Even when in difficulty, Zaas, you are bold and resolute enough to strike fear in any enemy. Walt, it is hard to come by people as upstanding and as able to take action as you are. I want all of that with me.”

The four people whose name had been called out looked at the crown prince with the same expression that a baby would have after having suddenly been slapped by its father. Gil Mephius did not attempt to persuade any further.

“I told you earlier that I would give you five days. I won’t ask you for a hurried answer. Think about it carefully.”

As abruptly and as lightly as he had appeared, he left the four people behind and exited the parlour.
 


Gil Mephius – or rather, the former sword slave Orba whose face bore the ‘mask’ of the crown prince, left the parlour and immediately headed towards Fedom Aulin’s private apartments on the uppermost floor of the castle.
''That’s a sore point'' – while he walked along the corridors, he gave a twisted smile, as though nausea had welled up within him.

Folker Baran’s question of “what do you plan to do beyond this point?” was something that Orba had been asking himself every day. Which meant that he himself had no clear answer. Hence why it was ''sore''.

For example, Fedom, whom he was about to go and meet, was simply fixated on getting more power through establishing a new order in Mephius. It was for that same reason that he had gathered a group to support Gil – an anti-Emperor faction, so to speak, which had included Nabarl, whom Orba had faced directly on the battlefield not so long ago.

However, he questioned what the ‘next’ form that they dreamed of for Mephius really was.

''Right, needing to stand up to the emperor’s injustice'' – was all well and good, but after having destroyed the country’s order, he needed to focus on what would come ‘next’. In short, everything would not peacefully fall into place once the tyrant had been overthrown, and it was more likely for the country to fall into chaos.

In other words, Folker’s question was equivalent to asking “what kind of emperor will you become?”

''Yeah, if I can’t give a clear answer, I won’t be able to win over a man like Folker'' – Orba could not help thinking over it again. ''What kind of emperor will I become, huh?''

He realised that the assumption was not incorrect, but it was impossible not to smile twistedly in a different sense at the thought that this should not be the sort of problem a boy born and raised in an arid valley, and who carried a slave brand on his back, should be worrying his head over.

Of course, Orba had already steeled his resolve. But that was the resolve to fight at the risk of his own life, and to cling on to that life for the sake of his comrades. As to what to focus on beyond that, Orba did not currently know. That was why he had taken his leave of Folker and the others, half as though to escape.

''I can’t stay like this forever.''

It would soon be the time when he needed to have found the words to answer clearly. Even if it were only a means to rally as many people as possible, he would need to raise the banner of some great cause from now on.

Orba’s expression tightened and he continued walking.

Armed soldiers were in sight dotted all along the corridors. No doubt they were there to defend the crown prince but as Orba could not remember having issued the order himself, he suspected that it came from Gowen.

Fedom had an earlier visitor.

“Ah, my lord crown prince. Thank you for taking the trouble to come.”

When Fedom spoke, his earlier guest, standing across from him, looked startled and stood ramrod straight. According to Fedom’s introduction, he was a messenger from Zaj Haman.

“It seems I need to be grateful to Zaj again. Let’s arrange to meet personally one of these days.”

‘Ah, y-yes,” the messenger lowered his head in a deep bow.

Recently, quite a few people who were meeting him for the first time did the same. They were not entirely able to believe in his survival, so when they met him in person, it was as though the dead truly had come back to life and their expressions showed a mixture of fear and admiration.

After the merchant had paid his respects to both the crown prince and the lord of Birac and left, Fedom looked restless.

“Zaj has a big job ahead of him. We’ll need both his air carriers and the flight routes opened up by the Haman firm to rush the written appeals to everywhere.”

“You look like you’ve been up all night,” Orba said in a deliberately carefree voice. Fedom’s eyes were bright red.

“Is this the time to sleep? We have to write letters to all the generals and lords.”

“I doubt all of them will rush to support us though.”

In contrast with Orba, who was standing with his back close to the wall and his arms folded, Fedom prowled aimlessly around the room, completely unable to calm down. He was constantly stretching out his hand to tug on his loose fitting, courtly garb.

“I don’t think everyone other than the imperial family will side with us either. Even so, if we exclude even one of them from the plan, that one might do something unexpected to frustrate it. So we need to send appeals to all of them. At the same time, it’s essential to let them believe that regardless of the other dignitaries, they’re the only ones you hold any special expectations of. This is the art of negotiation. You should leave it to me.”

Fedom had the foundations of the anti-Emperor faction that he had built up in less than a year. He was sure to be self-confident.

Orba smiled.

“Then I’ll leave it to you.”

“More importantly, there’s a more pressing issue right under our noses,” perhaps due to the lack of sleep, Fedom’s voice was more velvety than usual. “Even though we’ll send the appeals, they’ll need time to answer. And the emperor is naturally not going to sit still and wait for his own downfall.”

The significance of Gil Mephius taking Birac was huge. Not only could he be said to have most of Mephius’ western half under his control, but this city was also the only one that traded with the north. With it taken, it was clear that Mephius would waste away day by day.

Emperor Guhl Mephius would be sure to want to recapture it immediately and at all cost. He might move an even greater army than the one that had been led by Folker and the others. However, with his having both Rogue Saian, a unifying force among the warriors, and Princess Vileena, the proof of friendship with Garbera, at his side, and furthermore, with his having defeated the large army led by Folker with only a small force of his own, the emperor would be aware that the crown prince presence had increased more than ever.

“Right… Emperor Guhl will be worried about being attacked from behind by one of his allies,” Orba said, his arms still folded. “If he moves a large army, that will of course create an opening in the capital. In which case, Guhl will be hesitating.”
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v10 043.jpg|thumb]]
Guhl hesitating, however, also meant that his actions would be hard to predict. On their side too, if they waited too long, they would give the emperor’s side time to organise a large force, but if they were too hasty, they would not be able to obtain adherence from the lords and retainers.

It had turned into a situation in which it was difficult for either of them to make the next move.

“It’s fine,” Fedom assured in an unusually confident tone. “Even if the other lords falter and hesitate, Indolph York of Kilro will certainly side with us. If he attacks the emperor from the rear just after His Majesty dispatches a large force, others will fall in line with his move. We can catch Solon naked.”

''Hmm'' – Orba answered wordlessly.

Although he was, of course, concerned about the attitude of the strangers who might align themselves as either enemies or allies, he did not have absolute faith in Fedom either. How many things was he still trying to hide from Orba? It was obvious that the real Gil Mephius had already died, and he did not doubt that Fedom had been involved in that in some way or another, but he was keeping his mouth shut on that subject.

Soon after they had taken Birac, when Orba had pressured him by saying that they should “speak frankly”, Fedom had feigned ignorance while all the while being unable to look him in the eye.

''This man'' – Orba was partly amazed: even at this point, Fedom still hoped to take back the initiative. And so, he still wanted to keep the essential points secret.

''Well, it’s fine'' – despite being caught in a constantly fluctuating situation, Fedom was a man who had polished his long plan for rebellion without ever giving up. If he realised that the real power within the plan had passed to Orba, who was supposed to be a puppet, he might lose it and betray them at the last moment. Which meant he would have to leave some of the ‘fun’ for later.

''It will eventually become clear in Solon.'' 

And in order to return to Solon, there was one important task that needed to be settled.
 


Having thus reappeared on the front stage as the crown prince, and having obtained such constant results in his first military manoeuvres, there were naturally many people who wanted to present themselves before Gil Mephius. Leading members from the various guilds, important merchants, messengers from trading partners: he had to make time to meet each one of them in person.

''It’s a nuisance'' – It was not that Orba did not think so. However, a war was not settled simply through the number of one’s soldiers nor one’s skill in handling swords or guns, and many things were necessary to continue to fight. Although he was aware of that, doing nothing but secluding himself alone in his office, holding meeting after meeting, and reading through documents would leave him feeling depressed.

“Pashir, how’s it going?”

“What the –”

Orba had gone to the circular training ground in which individual matches were being fought throughout.

Pashir opened his eyes wide. The half-naked youths drenched in sweat also looked towards Orba in surprise.

''That’s…''

''The Iron Tiger. The one who killed Ryucown…''

''They say that he’s now the crown prince’s right-hand man.''

Since war might be upon them within the next few days, there were many in the populace who were leaving Birac, while at the same time, many others flocked over from all around. Most of them were youths aspiring to be mercenaries.

Gil had accepted these novices all but unconditionally, and Pashir had made no attempt to conceal his displeasure over it. A few days earlier, he had shown up near evening-time because of that matter.

“Your Highness, may I have a moment of your time?”

Pashir had originally been put in charge of the Imperial Guards’ infantry unit. Concurrent to that, he was also the captain of a platoon of elite soldiers chosen from his and the cavalry unit. He ran around, every bit as busy as Orba.


On top of that, he was originally a sword-slave. He had wielded his sword and taken his opponents’ lives simply to survive another day. Looking back on those hellish days, there had always, in a way, been one very simple rule of the wild.

The strong survived, the weak died.

They, who had once spent their days like beasts prowling in a field, were now swamped with work coming from holding positions powerful enough to influence the country.

Perhaps because they were reflecting exhaustion from work he was not used to, Pashir’s eyes looked unusually wild. Once he was inside alone with the prince, he said –

“Looking after the newbies is too much for me by myself. I would like to request that some of them be distributed as mercenaries to Commander Gowen, or to Generals Saian and Lorgo.”

Orba had declared that Pashir was to shoulder the entire responsibility for taking care of the mercenaries who had newly arrived in Birac, from training them to taking command of them.

“Gowen is in charge of the mercenary unit made up from the people of Birac and from the gladiators bought from the city’s gladiator companies. That gramps is an old man, so he’s busy.”

“Besides, it was careless of you to hire them all unconditionally,” at times like these, Pashir did not choose his words with care. “What if spies from Solon have slipped in among them? No, there are definitely going to be some among them.”

“And that’s why I’ve had them collected in one place without dividing them up,” Orba retorted. “It’s easier to watch them this way. Try openly calling out to every single one of them who looks suspicious. Ask about where they come from, deliberately beat them hard during training, let them believe that they’re distrusted. That will create an opening at the seams.”

“I’m no good for that part.”

“Me neither,” Orba laughed unintentionally. “That was Shique’s specialty.”

As soon as he had said that, the smile vanished from Orba’s face. He then said quickly,

“A prince who will need a great many followers from now on can’t afford to shut the gates tight at this point. Anyway, I’ll do something.” 

It had been a few days since that conversation. Orba had put on his tiger-shaped mask and had shown up at the practice session that Pashir was personally supervising.

“Why are you here?” Pashir asked in a low voice.

“Didn’t the prince tell you he’ll do something?” Orba smoothly warded him off then stepped out in front of the young men.

“Is there anyone here who has confidence in their own skill? If you’re serviceable, His Highness will appoint you to his Imperial Guards,” he said loudly.

In terms of the fame and money to be earned, there was naturally a world of difference between being a mere mercenary and being an Imperial Guard under the crown prince’s direct supervision. The hot-blooded youths suddenly became excited.

With a wooden sword in his hand, Orba continued provocatively,

“You can use steel weapons. Doesn’t look like you could hit me.”

Paying no attention to Pashir’s scowling face, he confronted one of them with his eyes.

It was a tall man. Perhaps he had inherited the northern blood of the people of Varseal as he was fair-skinned and had soft blond hair, which was currently damp with sweat.

Leaving him to wield his steel sword, Orba focused on maintaining an even distance as they circled around.

“Go, go!”

“Beat the hero into a fit!”

The man thrust and jabbed, urged on by the cheers from his comrades. His height made him impressive. However, because of that, he swung wide. On his third attack, Orba suddenly bent to avoid it and thrust the tip of his wooden sword at the man’s neck. The man’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious.

“Next.”

When Orba said that, his breath completely undisturbed, a long line formed in front of him.

The second and third people met with much the same fate as the first one.

The fourth man drew as close as Orba’s chest. His footwork had an element of unpredictability. Orba returned his attack with a short stroke, which he caught with his sword before quickly closing the distance between them. Simply by twisting the lower half of his body, and without seeming to put any strength into it, Orba destroyed his opponent’s posture and swept a blow at his feet.

“Not too bad.”

Orba surveyed his wooden sword. There was a crack running from its centre. He tossed it aside and had Pashir’s men bring him a replacement.

There followed the fifth, sixth, and seventh men.

Not surprisingly, his breath had become ragged by that time and sweat had started to glisten all along his back on which the slave mark had been branded.

He had a little trouble with the eighth person.

When the ninth was about to step in front of Orba,

“That’s enough.” Pashir clapped his hands once.

Orba had his heart set on getting up to ten people. He looked over his shoulder,

“Don’t interfere however you like.”

“If you want to continue, your next opponents can’t use real weapons. Otherwise, I won’t allow this to go any further.”

“Who are you talking to, cur?”

“Orba, even if you talk to me the same way that His Highness the prince would, the head of the Imperial Guards’ infantry is still me. You’re the one who isn’t to interfere anyway you like in my policies.”

Orba stayed silent, looking as though he had come to a sudden realization.

After that, Pashir left the training to another of the men and brought Orba to the back of the training grounds. With each step, the heat that had been controlling his body seem to dissipate. Once his sweat had completely ebbed away, it was suddenly hard for him to believe that only a few minutes earlier, steel had been raining down on him. 

''Tch''

When he had decided to go as Orba, the Imperial Guard in the iron mask, to personally train the new recruits, it had seemed like a perfectly good idea. But at the time, he had not been planning to let his opponents use real weapons. That had been a spur-of-the-moment idea.

It had been terrifyingly sudden. His own emotions had been thrown into chaos. Nor could he think of any reason for it. And therefore, it had been all the more terrifying and exasperating.

Because he was thinking of that, as soon as it was just the two of them, Orba said, like a sulky younger brother,

“You have any complaints?”

“I’ve got something to tell you, since you’re close to His Highness.”

“What?”

“I’ll be sending bodyguards for His Highness from now on. I’m thinking there’ll always be two people by his side, day or night.”

“Who told you to do that?”

“I thought of it myself. The Prince’s person isn’t his alone,” he said with insistence.

Thinking about it, it was probably Pashir who appointed guards to the residence. Orba felt it was surprising. Even though he had never disobeyed orders before now, it was rare for Pashir to act on his own accord.

Pashir still had more to say.

“Which is why it’s a problem when you act recklessly. The crown prince is bound to have many things to think of and regret. Even so, absolutely nothing will come of it by getting injured here. The victims of that last battle will have fallen for nothing. I’m asking you to stop this time.”

“…”

Through the two slits that were the tiger’s eyes in his iron mask, Orba silently gazed at Pashir’s visibly sunburned face.

''This guy'' – At that moment, words were entangled in complicated patterns within Orba’s mind. His earlier ‘terrifying’ feelings oddly agreed with Pashir’s words.

“That,” just as he started to speak,

“Finally found you!”

This time, it was Gilliam who came into sight. As he was the owner of a body even more muscular than Pashir’s, it felt as though a hot blast of wind had swept by the two of them.

“So you’re here, no.... so you abideth here, no that’s wrong... so this is where you were?”

“What is it?”

Even though he was thinking that the situation was dangerous, Orba could not help smiling wryly. Gilliam had not yet gotten used to the bother of having to change his behaviour and speech according to the situation.

Gilliam grinned in return.

''You won’t be able to smile for much longer'' – he seemed to be saying.

Seeing that, Orba’s expression grew tense. ''Has the capital made its move?''

But Gilliam had come with a different piece of news. In a way, it was a threat that was outside of Orba’s predictions.

Princess Vileena had shown up in Birac.