Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume11 Chapter1 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

Just before seeing the imperial envoy, Orba had met with a different visitor. An unexpected guest, at that.

Late the previous night, a group had turned up in Nedain. All of them were young men. They were dressed in rags, but all were muscular and their speech was rough. The guards at the gate assumed that they were some of the bandits who normally caused chaos along the surrounding highways but who, hearing about the crown prince’s victory, had decided to change jobs and had come to hire themselves out as mercenaries. However –

“Let me see the Imperial Crown Prince at once,” the youth who seemed to be the leader airily said something inconceivable. “I’m an acquaintance of His Highness’,” he insisted, his face dusty and slightly dirt-stained.

“How could a guy like you be acquainted with His Highness? If your mercenary applicants, go straight down this street, then at the end…”

“You’re kind of dim, huh? I told you I want to see him right now. His Highness will rake you over the coals later, you know.”

The gatekeepers were perplexed, but, just as when the former Imperial Guard Alnakk had visited the port city of Birac, Orba had given strict orders to be passed on to every single soldier – “It doesn’t matter how trivial it is. If something catches your attention, report it to your superior.” That posture had already been explained here in Nedain.

Even so, it had not been long since Gil Mephius had arrived in that town. In the end, the report did not reach him until the next day.

It was just after Orba had finished breakfast. When he heard the name by which the young men’s leader had introduced himself, he suddenly seemed lost in thought.

“It appears that this morning as well, they barged their way to the front of the mansion,” said the commander of the guards. “Should we send them away?”

“No, it seems interesting. I’ll see him,” Orba gave his permission.

On top of that, he announced that he would see him, just the two of them. People were surprised, but seeing Gil’s impish smile, they concluded that ''it must be some kind of whim''. There was no longer anyone who called Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius a “fool” – at least not here in Nedain – but there was never any lack of people who judged him to be “eccentric.”

The only one who objected was Pashir, who was currently ensuring Gil’s personal safety virtually single-handedly, but when Orba whispered something in his ear, he immediately withdrew his comment.  

A few minutes later, the young man was allowed into the room which had been ordered clear of people.

“Heya, things got really heavy back there,” was the first thing that the very rough-and-tumble youth said upon entering. “That’s a real load of hassle, even just to see an old friend. Oh well, can’t be helped. You’re the crown prince of Mephius now.”

Sharp eyes and a characteristic aquiline nose. He was certainly an “old friend” – of Orba’s, the boy from an arid valley.

Orba himself did not say a word, but the young man sat himself down on a sofa in the room without asking and continued talking excitedly.

“Sorry for being so late. Obviously, I’ve known about the rumours for a while now. That the crown prince of Mephius has risen in revolt against Emperor Guhl. And, also obviously, I’d figured that you were that Crown Prince. Same thing when I first heard about your death: I realised from the start that you’d definitely gone into hiding.”

“...”

“But yeah, that’s Orba for you: not satisfied with being a body-double, you started moving to take over the whole country. That really got my blood pumping. So I wanted to gather some people and rush over at once, but some of the soldiers at Birac’s garrison might know my face. We kind of kicked up a lot of dust around there, you know? Just while I was wondering what to do, suddenly, Nedain had fallen. That was a chance not to be missed, so I just gathered a hundred and we came flying from the village.”

The young man’s name was Doug.

He was a year older than Orba, and in their childhood, they had spent their entire time quarrelling with each other. They shared the same past of having had the Mephian general Oubary Bilan attack their birthplace. Separated for six years, the two of them had met once more in that same native area.

One as the body-double to the crown prince of Mephius.

The other as the leader of bandits who had sworn revenge on Mephius.

The interests and goals of the two of them were aligned, so they lured Oubary Bilan and his troops to the village, killed the soldiers who had fallen into their trap, and captured Oubary himself.

How much time had passed again since then?

Doug looked at Orba with a cheerful expression. At which point, Orba opened his mouth for the first time.

“Why are you here?”

“Why?” For a moment, Doug’s eyes opened round, then immediately afterwards, he laughed, showing his teeth. “Because isn’t it interesting, Orba? I thought that killing those nobles and generals still wouldn’t have been enough to bring satisfaction, but now every single one of them will become your retainers. They’ll obey your orders and offer their lives for you. The quarrelsome brat from that arid valley will become the great emperor of Mephius. What could be more interesting than that? Let me take part in it. An ally knowing your real identity could be useful in an emergency. Officially, of course, I’ll serve as your loyal subordinate. Heh, Orba, I’ll have to call you Crown Prince and even Emperor. Still…”

“''Who are you?''” Orba asked once more. He stared expressionlessly at Doug, who this time was at a loss for words. “Who are you, and who is this Orba whose name you keep using? Who have you been talking about since earlier?”

“I-I get it. I get it. I won’t call you Orba in public. Like I’ve been saying, officially…”

“Ah, I remember,” Orba said unsmilingly. “Aren’t you that bandit from back then? And? It’s true that I borrowed your help to defeat Oubary so have you come to extort a reward? What is it you want: money or women? Just say what you’d like.”

“Wh-What did you say?” Suddenly bursting with anger, Doug got up from the sofa and drew up towards Orba. “Come to extort you? Bullshit. Oi, don’t push it, Orba.”

“I told you that I don’t know that name.” Orba spoke with complete calm, the exact opposite of Doug, whose entire body seemed to be burning like a ball of fire. He took the sword that was at his waist. “Leave at once and never appear before me again. If you defy me, Peasant, know that I’ll throw not just you but also your family and everyone close to you to the fire. Do you understand?”

More than the threats, more than the gleam of the sword taken from its sheath, what caused Doug’s body to freeze instantly was because from up close, there was no trace of warmth in his gaze. Those eyes truly seemed to be looking at a complete stranger, and moreover, they were looking down in utter contempt at the young man whose position was so clearly different from his own.

Orba clapped his hands and summoned Pashir, the only guard he had allowed to remain outside the door.

“Take him away,” he ordered. “Afterwards, have the guards memorise his face. If he shows up again around here, then too bad, he’s to be cut down without mercy.”

“Aye,” answered Pashir, and, seizing Doug by the arm, he forced him to leave.

Although having said that, Doug showed no signs of resisting. He looked towards Orba one last time, but Orba’s attention had already moved on to the documents on the desk.

The door closed.

Left alone, Orba stayed a while without stirring. Inwardly, however, he murmured, Doug?
Maybe he had been dreaming.

Not Doug, for aiming to go up in life – Orba himself.

Now, just before the point when he was about to step on a tightrope from which he could no longer look back, a nostalgic and familiar face had appeared before him, bringing with it the warmth of his home village.

After that, he could have treated him to a drink, and they could have laughed together, reminiscing about old times.

Or else, he could have clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “it’s a real help that you came,” then, with that shoulder to rely on, they could have crossed the tightrope together.

Orba however did neither of those things. Doug was one of those who knew his real identity. You could even call him a person who could affect his fate. The thought even flitted across his mind that as a last resort he could secretly kill him.

But –

''I don’t know anyone called Doug''.

Orba had played dumb.

Since he did not know him, he had sent him away out of hand; since he did not know him, he would not pay any attention to his existence.

''That was just a dream''.

Picking up the sword that he had, for a moment, placed on the desk, Orba gave a small, an ever so small, sigh.



Orba had posted soldiers throughout Nedain and had also personally gone to its outskirts and had them take up defensive positions. This was because they were in a situation in which they did not know when the emperor might dispatch a subjugation force. The circumstances, however, were different than what they had been in Apta or in Birac. In both of those towns, the people’s faces had been tinged with the worry that they might get swallowed up in a large-scale conflict. In Nedain’s case, on the other hand, having just been released from the oppression of the Abigoal family, both the people and the soldiers were full of fighting spirit and were ready to drive away any enemy that might come.

It was at such a time that the emperor’s envoy arrived.

Moreover, he brought not an order demanding that the impostor claiming to be the crown prince deliver up his own head, but an invitation for the “Gil Mephius” who was currently in Nedain to enter Solon, on the grounds that his identity had been thoroughly recognised.

Their side was in turmoil.

If the emperor had sent a host of ten thousand against them, the crown prince’s soldiers gathered in Nedain, as well as its people would, as stated earlier, probably have united as one. But the emperor had clearly ‘backed down’. Perhaps he had realised that the momentum from the crown prince’s side could no longer be stemmed and had grown timid; but, even more than the conviction that they could win, what this had brought was the hope that they would be able to avoid any more useless fighting.

They no longer needed to fight and spill the blood of fellow Mephians. Once that thought emerged, even ever so fleetingly, the wish for peace would easily erode the will to fight, and people’s opinions would come to be divided.

And naturally, among those opinions –

“It’s a trap.”

There was also the one that Rogue Saian had just expressed.

In Nedain Castle, the main officers from the crown prince’s side were gathered in the rectangular room that had once served as Jairus Abigoal’s office.

“I cannot believe that His Majesty would change his mind so suddenly. There is no doubt that this is a trap designed to cause unrest in our camp.”

“Definitely,” Odyne Lorgo agreed. “And in fact, having heard about it, the emotions of the soldiers and the people are swaying. While there are those who are saying that His Majesty is planning to have His Highness assassinated, just as back then in Birac, there are others who claim that to avoid civil war, the crown prince should allow himself to be persuaded to go to Solon.”

“And as soon as the invitation is accepted, His Highness will be captured and executed, without being given a chance to explain or vindicate himself. While we, of course, will be denounced as traitors who supported an impostor.”

“As His Majesty is now, he might just do that.”

“Having said that,” Folker Baran interrupted in a soft tone that yet managed to cut through everyone else, “if he refuses His Majesty’s invitation without a good reason, His Highness will lose the moral high ground.”

Rogue maintained a sullen silence. What had just been pointed out was not something that he had not thought of before. And naturally, Orba shared Folker’s concerns.

Up until now, the emperor had decisively dispatched soldiers against the impostor. Gil Mephius’ cause had become attacking Guhl, presented as “a statesman who does not listen to others”. However, now that he had recognised the prince and had officially summoned him, just as Folker had said, if he refused without a reason that the whole could accept as legitimate, Gil would turn into a traitor bent on devastating the land. And again, naturally, this was no doubt one of the aims on Guhl’s side.

It was for the same reason that he had once left Salamand Fogel to do as he pleased.

Both Rogue and Odyne understood it. Or better said, the “trap” spoken of earlier included that meaning.

“In any case, attending an audience in Solon is too dangerous. We cannot let Your Highness go through with it.”

“Should we send an envoy too?”

“We could suggest a conference somewhere at equal distance between Solon and Nedain.”

“No, that wouldn’t be practical.”

The discussion showed no sign of ending.

Orba had the meeting adjourned for the time being. In the end, he had barely expressed any opinion of his own. However, those who, starting with Rogue, had decided to serve the crown prince were getting used to the personality of their new lord. When he did not say anything, it was because Gil Mephius was deep in thought. At the same time, and while looking entirely expressionless and uninterested, he would carefully listen to his subordinates’ opinions.

And so, everyone stood to attention to see Gil out without a trace of grumbling or discontent.
They could not, however, completely conceal their anxiety and concern about the future.



Orba left the building.

Pashir followed so close behind him that they were almost stuck together. He had also been at the meeting but, like Orba, he had not expressed an opinion. His purpose was purely to be Gil’s guard.

Normally, Orba would irritably shake him off, but now, there had been the incident in Birac. If Pashir had not been there to pay attention to the surroundings, Orba would have died under an assassin’s blade. Although he seemed gloomy about it, Orba could not therefore outright order Pashir to go away.

Pashir suddenly pushed Orba aside and stepped out to stand in front of him.

“What is it?” He barked as three soldiers rushed forward towards them.

They were all different ages, but from their equipment, they seemed to be soldiers serving at Nedain Castle. They all knelt together.

“Please forgive our rudeness, Your Imperial Highness,” the grey-haired soldier breathlessly spoke first. “Everyone is talking about it. That for the sake of we soldiers and of the people, and to avoid war, you intend to go to Solon.”

“I-If you go, His Majesty the emperor will have you killed,” the young and pale-faced soldier said, following which, the soldier in the prime of life cried with a desperately resolute expression –
“Please, if you would, stay here and govern Nedain. All of us are ready to offer our lives to defend you as Your Highness’ spears and shields.”

Pashir quite literally kicked aside their hands, which seemed about to reach out towards Orba’s boots any moment now.

“Get back, you insolent curs. The likes of you lowly soldiers dare to interfere?”

“Wait, Pashir.” Orba quietly caught his massive shoulder. He then bestowed a smile upon the soldiers. “This is proof that everyone is thinking about the future of this country. I am different from my father. I wish to create a country in which everyone can express their opinions without reserve.”

“Aye,” Pashir drew back.

Orba turned to the soldiers next and spoke directly to them. “I don’t plan on giving up my life without resistance. Don’t worry.”

The soldiers lowered their heads as far as they could go. You could sense resolve from each of them, and the older soldier had been moved to tears.

Afterwards, Orba and Pashir climbed up to the top of the ramparts that surrounded Nedain. Sentries were placed on duty here and there, but they were some distance from them.

While enjoying the gentle wind beneath the pale sky, Orba sent Pashir a sidelong glare.

“Don’t force yourself into an act you can’t pull off.”

“You’re the one who got me mixed up in it. It felt like my face was going red.”

“Everyone’s uneasy. If the prince’s attitude isn’t seen to be indomitable, it could create enemies from within.”

Pashir had deliberately taken the role of a savage warrior who could not understand the feelings of the common people.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Orba shook his head. “If it comes to it, I’ll look for a better role for you. You’re a gladiator who climbed up to being an Imperial Guard. It’d be a problem rather if you didn’t have the support of the people and soldiers.”

“Hmm,” Pashir gave a vague nod then. “Was it that bad?” He asked with a serious expression.

Orba turned his head towards the back to stop himself from laughing. A man who was a skilful fighter and an able commander in a battle, but who was not deft by nature; hence why he felt that it ''didn’t suit''. As to who that was referring to, it went without saying.

They climbed down from the ramparts and inspected various points around Nedain. Just before the afternoon, messengers arrived from different quarters, carrying the regular reports from Apta, Birac and Solon. There was no noteworthy new information. According to what he heard from Solon, however, there was a rumour that Kaseria Jamil’s forces would soon arrive at the port of Zonga, north of Ende.

Ende had recently lost its Grand Duke and it was the second prince, Eric, who was to become the successor. When he had first heard that information, not even Orba had been able to conceal his surprise.

''That guy?''

He had fought him in Garbera’s territory. And afterwards, they had met along with the Garberan prince, Zenon.

''He’s young'' – he thought, without actually taking his own age into account. Still, in these turbulent times, there was nothing strange about a young warrior in his twenties becoming a reigning lord from one day to the next.

''If it’s him, will he be able to lead Ende’s army against Allion?''

There was a sequel to the information from Solon: it seemed that Prince Eric of Ende had sent messengers begging Mephius and Garbera for reinforcements. So far, Emperor Guhl had given no sign of replying. Which could be said to be completely natural, given that Mephius was in the middle of a civil war that had split the country in half. They did not have the leeway to help other countries.

There was still more information related to Allion.

Apparently, Allion was approaching Dairan not only by sea, but also overland. Just as Eric had when he had received the news, Orba could not hide his astonishment and groaned inwardly.

When he closed his eyes, it felt as though he could hear the tramping of army boots coming from the east. This was not going to be a transient event.

''There’ll be a large-scale war'' – he felt.

If even just a part of Ende were to be seized, Allion would then have foothold from which to launch an all-out advance on the centre of the continent. The surrounding countries could not indefinitely continue labelling this as someone else’s problem.

With that being said, Mephius and Garbera had yet to recover from the wounds of a decade of war. Would they be able to withstand a war between countries?

''No matter what, Eric has to win this first battle against Allion'' – thought Orba, while he mentally sorted out the information from all the various quarters. If it was for that, he would even consider lending his help by riding to Ende to offer assistance himself. 

But – first, there was Mephius.

They could not afford a long face-off, like they had after taking Birac. Prolonging the civil war would cause ruin for the people. And if the country was weakened, it would not be able to oppose the increasingly large and carnivorous beast that was Allion. The end result would be that they would be swallowed up, and even the titles of emperor and crown prince, held by the two currently competing, would lose all meaning.

While Orba silently continued to mull over his thoughts, the messenger from Birac held out a letter, saying, “Sir Gowen entrusted me with this.”

The elderly soldier had remained in Birac, where he was organising troops consisting mainly of the new recruits.

His acquaintance with Gowen went back a long way, but this was the first time he had received a letter from him. To be frank, he did not even know if Gowen could read and write. When he unsealed the letter, he saw handwriting about as bad as his own. A wry smile involuntarily crossed his face, but as he read the contents, his expression quickly reverted back to being serious.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Pashir, who was, as usual, sticking close by. “Has there been some kind of movement in Birac?”

“No… It’s about Layla.”

The name was not without relevance to Pashir. He nodded with deliberation.

She who was supposed to be a lady’s maid to Princess Vileena of Garbera had, one evening, lured Crown Prince Gil to an isolated tower and had attempted to kill him with a poisoned dagger. In the process, she had also ushered in quite a few of her comrades. As mentioned previously, if Pashir had not been keeping a close eye on the prince and on Layla, Orba would currently be laid out as a cold corpse.

And yet, at the very last minute, that same Layla had thrown herself in front of him to protect from the assassins’ blades.

''Layla''.

It was a name that Orba had heard even before then. On the very day of her wedding, the crown prince before Orba – in other words, the real Gil Mephius – had claimed the right to the first night from her. He had certainly never expected to meet her like that.

To be more precise, they had met for the first time in a western village. What had a Mephian like her been doing there and how had she come to work as a lady’s maid for the princess?

There were too many puzzling points about it.

More importantly, Orba instinctively sensed that any information she had about the crown prince might prove fatal to him.

Out of necessity, Orba had decided to keep Layla confined in a room in the tower. There had been the option of executing her as the instigator of the assassination attempt, but she was also someone who had once been a lady’s maid to the Garberan princess. He wanted to try and get a detailed explanation from her.

It seemed, however, that Gowen shared his opinion about the threat posed by whatever information Layla might have.

“Given the circumstances, we’ve kept the number of guards at the minimum, but I believe that we can’t continue that way,” said the letter. It then went on to suggest that she be executed.

For a moment, Orba was left speechless by the appealing contents of the note. He felt as though he was seeing a different side to his long-time acquaintance. It was probably not Gowen’s real wish though. In a way, it was similar to the resolve that Orba himself carried.

''You’ll have to bear the burden of an entire country while deceiving everyone around you'' – That also meant being prepared to use any means necessary to protect his secret.

Orba conjured up a mental image of the elderly warrior who had always seemed to, more or less, look out for him ever since back when he had been an overseer of slaves. After adopting Hou Ran, he had been giving off a somewhat “fatherly” atmosphere, which had given Orba and Shique a good laugh.

And he was suggesting that it might be necessary to kill a girl who was around the same age as his “daughter” in order to seal her mouth. This too was a distortion caused by Orba – by the likes of a slave of unknown origin – pretending to be the crown prince.

Orba tore up the letter and went back to the ramparts once again. Pashir silently followed along.