Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume10 Chapter2 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

The Emperor had imprisoned the families of Generals Rogue and Odyne in the undergrounds of the tower.

It did not take long for that information to reach Birac. It was no more than a rumour, but the emperor did nothing to either deny that rumour or halt its spread. Rather, one of his goals had been for that ‘rumour’ to be reported in Birac.

Although this was well within predictions, Orba could not remain indifferent.

He had personally met Rogue’s wife and son at their residence. He was also acquainted with Odyne’s youngest daughter. He remembered how Odyne’s daughter, Lannie, made fun of Rogue’s son, Romus, for so often spending time at Hou Ran’s side.

They were now locked up within cold stone walls. Spending each day fearing that their execution would be held the next, or the day after that. How long would twelve, thirteen-year-old children be able to endure that? No, in his present state, the emperor might really separate their young heads from the rest of their bodies.

His chest felt as though it were seething. He had never been good at simply waiting without doing anything. He wanted to seize the grip of his sword and march onto Solon Palace right this second. ''The nobles and soldiers who would follow this bastard are nothing but fools'' – how good it would feel to fling that directly at them.

But of course, he could not act hastily now. He bore the responsibility for a great many lives. And not only lives but also for immeasurable hopes and resolve, amongst which were those of Rogue and Odyne themselves.

The two generals came to see him together. To submit the charts of the changes they had made within their troops and to talk about the future.

Rogue had bought a number of ships through Zaj Haman, thereby increasing their war potential. They were, however, lacking in people who knew how to handle them. It was obviously not something that could be left to neophytes and mercenaries. The ships and carriers were flying every day in the skies over Birac so as to train the newcomers in his group.

Odyne had purchased some new model cannons. As well as having reinforced Birac’s battery positions, he was making its assembled militia undergo firearm drills until they were dripping with sweat.

“We gained valuable time,” they both agreed. In the atmosphere particular to that period before the outbreak of fighting, the soldiers were improving at a rate visible to the naked eye.

“A man I thought was never going to be of any use is now serving as a squadron leader.”

“Is it the same for you General Saian? For me too, ever since Tolinea, the number of my men that I seemed to have misjudged is endless.”

In front of the two of them whose faces were as firm and radiant as though they had freshly been scrubbed clean, Orba remained taciturn.

“Your Highness,” smiled Rogue. It was right after the sun had set and Dinn had lit the lamps in the room. Bathed in their light, the old general’s eyes were shining like a boy’s. “I understand your sentiments so much that it hurts. As time wears on, the people are thrown into turmoil and the country risks ruin. But it is as Your Highness told us at the beginning, what matters now is to wait.”

“Exactly,” Odyne nodded, “when country lapses into chaos, there will inevitably be victims. To risk a great fire simply to save a minority of victims would be the height of folly. When standing at one of the great junctions of history, one must always keep the whole picture in mind.”

Implicit in their allusions was the fact that their families were included among those “victims”. Orba clenched his fists tightly beneath the table.

Even if the reason for action was to prevent there being many victims, there would without fail be those who fell wounded or dead because of it. Even though he understood that, Orba’s decisions could no longer be for his sake alone.

Waiting was the only way.
 


Looking at the broader picture, Orba temporarily halting his advance in Birac was an effective policy. What Guhl was the most cautious of was preventing the crack within Mephius from spreading any wider, but also of the Impostor crown prince having a personal connection to the West.

''Is he trying to lure us to him by deliberately stopping there?'' Guhl would be sure to wonder.

For the emperor, what was more dangerous even than the recent defeat would be leaving the economic cornerstone that was Birac as it was. It not only risked causing the people to lose sympathy for the emperor as they were won over by a new hero, but also risked alienating the nobles and military from him.

As such, he would have no choice other than to be cautious. Capturing Birac would not be possible without arranging for a sufficient number of his best forces, gathering enough information about the enemy and, of course, choosing a suitable time to attack.

And so, both Orba and Guhl’s lives were currently spent in a succession of war councils.

With the second coming of the crown prince and his capture of Birac, history was violently shaken. This had created a succession of ripples, both large and small, which in an instant, turned into a wave of ‘change’ that was poised to sweep through all of Mephius, or even the entire centre of the continent.`

But in truth, even though the ripples were like those produced by a large earthquake and were spreading wider and wider, time was unnaturally standing still. Just as Orba had feared, this was because it was difficult for both the crown prince and the emperor to guess even a single move that the other would make. And on both sides, there was also the calculation that this could not take too much time.

''Advance, walk, move.''

No matter how much he feigned composure when addressing the soldiers as they trained, or the people of Birac as they plied their trade, inwardly, he was incessantly repeating these words like a mantra.

''Wait, advance.''

And then –

About half a month after Orba had taken Birac, things finally started to budge.

Nedain in the east was a city that stood halfway between Birac and Solon, the capital. It had been built around an air carrier relay base that had been established several hundred years ago, when there had still been trade with the west. After a war with the northern city-state of Io, it had then developed into a fortress town; but now, its vitality had faded and the region was synonymous for “provincial” even in Mephius, which was known for being rustic.

A certain situation had arisen in Nedain since before the crown prince’s resuscitation in Apta. At the time of the slave revolt in Kilro, and probably because he believed that it risked arousing hot-blooded youths, the lord of Nedain, Jairus Abigoal, had visibly overreacted.

One of the slaves from a long-established merchant house had murdered his master and escaped. The slave, who then fled to one of the neighbouring villages, was still only a boy. Perhaps taking pity on his youth, the villagers had sheltered him while knowing practically nothing of his circumstances.

Jairus had dispatched an armed troop. The village, with its people and the boy still inside, was burned to the ground. The lord of Nedain was determined to avoid a repeat of Kilro by trampling any flicker of rebellion underfoot.

This however caused no little resentment.

The first to protest against the city-lord’s actions was a young aristocrat named Raymond Peacelow. He was a young man who served under Jairus and who was in charge of supervising the security and management of the surrounding villages.

Raymond had proceeded towards Solon and had revealed Jairus actions to the emperor. The Emperor of Mephius however had shown little interest in the matter. And as a result, Raymond had been captured by Jairus, taken back to Nedain and imprisoned.

At around the same time, an unexpected guest had visited Nedain. The Princess of Garbera, Vileena Owell, herself.

She had brought up the subject of Raymond whilst seated at a meal with Jairus. Even though her words were brief, the princess successfully coerced Jairus by implying that her words were in accordance with the emperor’s thoughts.

Raymond was released.

Since the young man was gentle by nature and had many opportunities to regularly come into contact with the populace, he was greatly loved by the townspeople of Nedain and by the inhabitants of the surrounding villages. Those villages had jointly organised a congratulatory banquet in his honour.

There were signs that a disturbance was once more creeping up on Nedain.
 


As soon as Boyce Abigoal noticed the Peacelow siblings walking along the pathway from the other direction, he and his companions came to a halt.

“Oh, well now. I haven’t seen you in quite some time, Raymond.”

Raymond and his younger sister Louise stopped. They bowed.

“Lord Boyce.”

Boyce was a well-built young man and, despite being a year younger than the twenty-six-year-old Raymond, he was a head taller. As his name indicated, he was the lord of Nedain, Jairus’, only son. His face that was glistening with sweat was full of vigour and, coupled with his powerful physique, the impression he gave was a bit like that of a wild beast. From what he explained, they seemed to be returning from a hunt.

“Lord Boyce brought down three deer,” one of his hangers-on bared his teeth as he laughed.

Behind Raymond, Louise’s expression turned sombre but, perhaps not noticing it, Boyce brought his face up close towards the siblings.

“I’m thinking of grilling the meat in the garden and eating it right away. How about you two come as well? I’ve just gotten some good liquor from one of the merchants too.”

“Thank you, but the likes of us are…”

“Right, wasn’t it that the believers of Badyne can’t eat meat?”

“No,” Raymond shook his head with a sour expression, “there is nothing that we cannot eat but we must consecrate the animal whose life we are about to take to God. After praying morning and evening for three days, we can then eat it.”

“How stupid,” Boyce said scornfully. “Eat when you want to eat, drink when you want to drink. There’s no better happiness than that.”

“If I’m not wrong, women of the Badyne faith can only share a bed with their chosen man, right?”

“Ahaha. The god of Badyne really likes putting people in shackles. Only the sort of people that like being oppressed are fit to be his believers.”

His companions opened their mouths wide as they laughed. An angry expression flashed across Raymond’s face. But a slender white hand clasped his clenched fist from behind. Raymond just barely managed to avoid exposing his emotions by bending down his head.

Raymond came from a powerful family native to a territory that was currently in Garbera’s possession. It had fallen under Mephian control for a time, during which, the Peacelow family had obtained the status of Mephian nobles. In accordance with the customs of that region, the family had belonged to the Badyne faith for generations.

Because of that, he had often felt small and humiliated in Mephius, where the Dragon Gods faith had become the state religion. He had frequently experienced scenes like these in which he was looked down on or scorned.

“Anyway, what kind of business did you have with Father to come to the mansion today?”

“It was merely for our regular consultation.”

“That so? And here I thought for sure that Sir Raymond’s bad habit was rearing up again,” Boyce’s thick lips twisted into a smile.

“My bad habit?”

“Your habit, Sir Raymond, of going on endlessly about small issues. Last time, there was that quarrel involving that one slave brat. Who knows if you won’t kick up a fuss directly before His Majesty even now.”

Raymond remained silent.

Just the other day, Jairus Abigoal, lord of Nedain, had once again harmed his own people.

It was just after the rumour had reached them that a person claiming to be the crown prince had appeared in Apta to the southwest, and had sent a letter to the emperor in Solon. Several young men had been discussing the topic in a tavern. All of them were very drunk.

“It’s not surprising that a hero would be immortal.”

And so on.

“Defending the West really does seem like something the crown prince, who righteously honoured the pledge with Garbera, would do.”

And so on, until finally, they all reached fever pitch.

“Let’s approach Lord Jairus and ask him to definitely cooperate with the crown prince.”

“No, would the crown prince, who honours righteousness, have any kind feelings for our lord? Lord Jairus is more likely to be scared of being condemned and run away.”

They had said, laughing.

Jairus heard about it.

In his rage, he had them dragged before him. Of the five who stood in a row, their faces pale, four had fallen to their knees and had pleaded that the alcohol had run away with their tongues. Only one of them, even though the blood had also drained from his face, had openly declared –

“Your Excellency. The crown prince has righteousness on his side. Please think about the future of Mephius.”

Three days later, he was hung in Nedain’s town square. Because they had deliberately chosen to do so in the opening hour for the morning market, his corpse had been there for many of the fief’s people to see.

That was what Boyce Abigoal was bringing up.

“Were you not going to honour Father with your advice again?”

“No. I have nothing in particular to say to Lord Jairus about it. Please excuse us.” Raymond bowed again and, seeming to be pulling his sister by the hand, left Boyce’s presence.

Just as they passed one another, Boyce gaze fell on Louise’s profile. She was seventeen. Boyce’s gleaming eyes crawled from her face to her body, clinging to her like a spider’s thread.

“What’s with that, so lame,” when the two of them were still in sight, one of his hangers-on said out loud, intending to be heard.

Another of Boyce’s friends nodded empathetically, “Last time, he had a lot more to say.”

“Hah, has the bold Sir Raymond had his sharpened fangs broken off?”

Boyce himself said nothing, but his lips were curved in a scornful smile.