Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume11 Chapter2 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

Crowds of people were jostling and shovelling along the side of the highway in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Gil Mephius.

When five hundred soldiers from the imperial capital’s Defence Force had expressly gone to the outskirts of Nedain to meet him, he had declined to board an air carrier or a horse-drawn carriage.

“This isn’t a trip that needs any hurry. My apologies to Father, but I’ll be taking it easy to travel.”

The Defence Force had reluctantly resigned itself to surrounding Prince Gil on all sides in order to defend him, but –

“Don’t go before me. You impudent curs can huddle together behind me,” the prince had roared.
Because of that, the soldiers from the Defence Force, who had originally intended to meet Prince Gil then immediately return to Solon, found themselves in the awkward position of having to follow behind him, exactly as though they were the Imperial Guards that he commanded.

Incidentally, those who had accompanied the prince from Nedain did not total five hundred.

At the front was Crown Prince Gil Mephius, riding a white horse. Not far from him, on a sweating, black-coated horse that stood in contrast to his, was the masked swordsman Orba. Behind him followed Pashir, the runner-up in the gladiatorial tournament, and thirty other Imperial Guards who had likewise been gladiators marched after him.

Prince Gil was on the move –

In the blink of an eye, the news travelled around the entire Imperial Dynasty, and nobles and commanders from all corners hurriedly made the journey to Solon. Which meant that not only Gil but also all the most important lords whose names were linked to the Imperial Dynasty were, at that moment, converging on the capital from every direction either by horse, along the highways, or by ship through the sky.

“This isn’t a ‘trip’ we need to hurry,” Gil repeated.

From a discerning standpoint, this ‘trip’ might need to be called a ‘last journey’. What he was headed towards might well be a cold prison in which were probably awaiting iron chains to steal the freedom from his limbs, and repulsive instruments of torture to wring every last drop of blood from his body.

Yet even so, as he jolted along on his horse, Gil remained perfectly relaxed. When he spotted fruit on the trees growing along highway, he got an attendant to pick them and then munched on them on horseback; he returned the greetings of each of the children who cheered for him as a hero and gave him military-style salutes; and when he stopped overnight at a village, he attended the small banquets that the village bigwigs held for him.

Gil had revolted against Emperor Guhl and had led his men into defeating and killing other Mephians. By rights, he could have expected to be the target of hatred.

True, Emperor Guhl had an autocratic style of government which had started to veer towards tyranny, but the influence of that was not yet widely felt among the populace. Therefore, there was no great surge among the people to defeat a vicious and foolish ruler.

However, Gil was known to have played a heroic role in Solon and in Apta. And it was a fact that there were not a few people who regarded him as the hero, and as their sovereign, of the next era.

Which was why the people did not probe any further into the quarrel between Guhl and Gil. Because the crowds of people who were standing on tiptoe to catch sight of Gil, the children who were badgering their parents to take them up on their shoulders; the women who were cheering gaily, all believed that –

''Our Crown Prince made a bold decision''.

''He avoided war for our sake''.

Such was the wave of emotions that reached Gil – that reached Orba as he gazed at the people from atop his horse. Incidentally, the other Orba, who was riding close by, was the one who might as well be called ‘Orba’s body-double’, the Imperial Guard Kain in disguise. He had happily taken up that role again after a long time. When voices called out from all around to the hero who served the crown prince, he proudly raised his hand.

Watching the way they were welcomed, Orba’s thought was that – I was right.

In the east was Emperor Guhl, who would let thunder roar among the dark clouds covering the sky as he consolidated his reign over the country. Coming from the west and reaching out towards the east, the new hero, Gil Mephius. If the torrents of their two fates collided, countless corpses would probably be left scattered in their wake, while blood and gore might flow until it covered the earth’s surface.

Orba had deliberately chosen to avoid that. There was also the issue with Allion and the fear that he might lose his cause, but the main reason for his decision was the thought that – ''if I keep my eyes fixed on the ‘later’, I’ll be doing the same thing as Guhl, and nobody would follow me''.

Instead, ''after this clash'', when Orba had a crown on top of his head, he was ready to go out and meet the future, accompanied by the military forces and the people of the Imperial Dynasty of Mephius.



Even '''he''' had noticed that the town had suddenly become full of life.

The interior of the room was dark.

All '''he''' had to do to have an unbroken view over Solon was to open those heavy curtains, but even though '''he''' started to get up from the chair, in the end, '''he''' stopped still.

After all, to start with, one of '''his''' legs still would not walk, and of '''his''' two hands, there were only three or four fingers that '''he''' could move without difficulty.

Bald-headed and large-bodied, '''his''' name was Oubary Bilan.

Formerly, he had been the commander of the Black Armoured Division. A man whose name had been linked with Mephius’ twelve generals, and who had also occupied that position.

But now, not only had he lost that title, but he had also been wounded so badly that it was doubtful whether he would ever be able to hold a sword again. Had it been an injury received while fighting an enemy who was out to harm Mephius, then Oubary could have held his head up high and claimed it as a badge of honour, but the one who had injured him had been none other than…

''…...''

Oubary hurriedly shook his head over what he had been about to think.

Not a single ray of light shone through the curtains.

His surroundings were quiet. There were only a few chamberlains to look after him and the number of his visitors amounted to none.

The place where he was living was not his original residence. The mansion in which he had resided when he was one of the twelve generals had burned down during the time when Oubary had been imprisoned on the charge of having assassinated the crown prince.

The origin of the fire was unclear.

It was as though somebody had cursed him with relentless misfortune, yet Oubary continued to live his quiet, his monotonously quiet, existence. Day after day, he spent his time in silence within his room. He had been forbidden from leaving the building anyway, and armed soldiers were constantly keeping watch on it. Even so, it was not to the point of his being forbidden from coming and going from his room; yet he would either be reading a book, eating the meals that the chamberlains brought in without exchanging any personal words with them, or sleeping once the sun had set. His entire life was lived in that one room.

Apart from the fact that the outside was a little noisier, that day too was a day without change for Oubary.

“Lord Oubary, may we enter?”

Sometime after noon, the chamberlains came in and started changing the bed sheets.

Oubary sat watching them without any interest. He looked like a lonely old man at the end of his life, and it was hard to believe that not so long ago, Emperor Guhl had praised him as “a warrior whose daring is equal to that of any commander from the neighbouring countries.”

“Have you heard?” One of the chamberlains pipped up innocently as he was working.

The one he was addressing showed absolutely no response. However, the chamberlain simply wanted to avoid falling into shared silence with this strange occupant who almost seemed to have assimilated into the darkness that shrouded the room.

“They say that His Highness the crown prince is finally coming to Solon. I really wonder what kind of words His Majesty will exchange with…”

Casually turning around, he realised that Oubary’s thin lips were curved into a faint smile.

''Huh?'' Thought the chamberlain.

Those heavy shoulders were shaking. No, not just his shoulders – his arms and legs, his cheeks, all were quivering.

“General!” The chamberlain unthinkingly cried out his former title.

A stain spread out from beneath Oubary Bilan’s lower half, and started dripping drop by drop from the chair.

Even so, the former general of the Black Armoured Division was still smiling. He continued to smile while his entire body trembled and urinated incontinently.



Gil Mephius had entered Solon.

When he received that report, Guhl Mephius gave one short order.

“Keep him waiting.”

He had him stay in a residence near the centre of Solon which had been prepared beforehand. Gil Mephius was then kept waiting for three days.

Was he deliberately making things difficult to have Gil fully endure the taste of fear and irritation, or did he intend to wait until every single retainer had arrived at the capital – the question was debated both among the nobles and the people.

The emperor and the crown prince.

The father and son who had unleashed bloody battles around Birac and Nedain. Who knew what would happen when they met face-to-face. Wanting to witness the scene of what was certain to be a historic moment, there were those who travelled from afar to reach the capital, as well as many who were leaving Solon for a while, fearing that the situation might turn alarming.

Because the emperor had purposely delayed that moment by three days, an oppressive feeling of tension drifted through Solon.

As for what Gil was doing during that time – absolutely nothing worthy of any particular attention. It had been a long time since the crown prince had been in Solon. How much time had passed since he had left here, tasked with the duty to defend Apta Fortress? He had once passed through Solon without stopping when he had been heading to bring reinforcements to Garbera, then had done the same when he had returned to Apta – a behaviour which had made the emperor look at him askance. Various thoughts must no doubt be flitting through his mind.

Among the nobles and the townspeople of Solon, there were also many who believed that maybe – ''His Majesty has no intention of meeting the crown prince, and only invited him because he plans to attack him by surprise''. It would not have been surprising if Gil himself had shared those misgivings, yet, from start to finish, he seemed to just be calmly watching things unfold.

Then, on the morning of the third day, Guhl Mephius received a visitor in his private study. An old man with dark brown skin who was enveloped only in a plain piece of cloth. Needless to say, he was one of the elders of the Dragon Gods’ faith.

“That Esteemed One has extended an invitation to His Majesty. Please visit the shrine this afternoon.”

“Oh?” With an uninterested expression, Guhl flipped through the pages of a book that he had taken from a shelf. “Have his legs gotten so weak that he can’t leave the shrine anymore?”

“… That Esteemed One has been labouring incessantly to correct the diagram of fate. The likes of us cannot begin to imagine the agony of it.”

“Is that right?”

“The matter concerning Gil Mephius will be settled this morning. After that, he wishes to speak with Your Majesty first-hand.”

“I get it, I get it,” Guhl Mephius answered, his deeply wrinkled face all the while turned away.

After that, he got ready for the audience. He put on a cloak and picked up his crystal-tipped staff in one hand. Then, just as he seemed about to reach for something at his chest, the emperor suddenly summoned the officer of the Imperial Guards who was responsible for guarding him within the palace.  

“You called for me, Your Majesty?”

“Take out your gun.”

“Yes?” 

Although puzzled, he obeyed the order. The handguns that officers of the Imperial Guards carried with them were personally given to them by the emperor when they took up their duties. Guhl looked at the long-serving gun.

“How long ago was it that I gave you this?”

“Ah… Would it be nearly twenty years?”

“It’s a really old model, huh. If you’d wanted, you could have had it replaced with a new one.”

“It is something that Your Majesty personally bestowed unto me.”

The officer appeared to be in the latter half of his forties.

Guhl did not say anything further and instead started doing something curious. He slid open the gun’s cylinder and took out a single bullet.

The officer did not say anything.

As a young man, he had loved jokes. He and Guhl had even used to laugh about stupid things. He seemed on the verge of making some unfunny joke along the lines of: ''Your Majesty, you truly are the descendant of the Dragon Gods. Are you going to breakfast on a bullet?'' Silence reigned however, and amidst it, Guhl took a similarly old-model gun from his breast, and loaded the single bullet into it.

“That’ll be all,” Guhl returned the gun and sent the officer of the Imperial Guards away.

After which, escorted front and rear by several of his guards, he made his way to the audience hall.

The pounding of their feet echoed back from the high, domed ceiling. Pale, flickering light glimmered across it. There were artificial pools on either side of the passageway, and the sunlight streaming in from the high windows reflected from their surface.

Statues of the dragons and heroes from Mephius’ founding myths were enshrined one by one along the pools. It was the sight that the emperor saw whenever he walked along the passageway leading to the audience hall. In other words, it was a sight that Guhl had grown familiar with over more than thirty years.

Finally, the path came to an end, and a door ornamented in red and gold stood before him. He entered as the official in charge of proclamations announced his arrival.

Far more people than usual were already gathered within the hall. Leading figures and generals in command of all the main fortresses were present. Everyone bowed their heads at the same time.

On every face could be seen the acceptance that, on this day, the future of Mephius would be determined. Even so, there was not the slightest noise or commotion. Only silence ruled.

''It looks like…''

People exchanged surreptitious glances.

''It looks like His Majesty truly does intend to call His Highness before him.''

''There’s still some uncertainty about whether he will throw him in prison without a ‘by your leave’…''

''It’s finally starting.''

Guhl Mephius sat on the throne. For a while, the old man, who had ruled over Mephius for many long years, lowered his gaze, as though tracing the faint pattern in the marble of the dais, on which stood the throne, with his eyes. He finally raised his eyes. And, as though afraid that those eyes might emit an invisible beam that could pierce through them and read their hearts, all of the courtiers conversely lowered their gazes.

Next to the emperor was Empress Melissa. In that tense hall where one would hesitate to so much as give a single cough, she alone seemed faintly bored. Her expression was exactly the same as when she was watching a farcical side-show that had dragged on for far too long.

Next to Melissa were the two sisters, Ineli and Flora. The older sister, Ineli had personally entreated the emperor to allow the two daughters to sit with their mother, Empress Melissa. Ineli’s back was ramrod straight and her eyes were especially alert, and she looked as though she did not intend to miss a single part of what would happen next. Her younger sister, on the other hand, had her head hunched back into her shoulders, giving the impression that this was painful to her.

And then –

A bronze trumpet was blown.

“His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Gil Mephius – entering!”

Just as when the emperor had entered, the crier called out in a clear voice.

The two guards that stood on either side of it solemnly opened the massive doors that stood directly opposite the throne.

The people there narrowed their eyes, as if they had been hit with the fierce light of daybreak shining over a mountain ridge, as they peered at the young man who walked in from beyond the door.

A short cape over a white silk tunic. A ceremonial longsword at his hip.

When their eyes took in the young man’s appearance, the hushed silence, the almost sacred silence, that had reigned over them suddenly collapsed.

''Uwoh''.

A sound almost like a moan escaped from someone’s throat.

''Look''.

''That’s… there’s no doubt…''

''There’s no possible doubt, that’s the crown prince himself.''

''His Highness Gil Mephius is alive!''

The people there seemed to billow like waves crashing against the cliffs of Zonga.

While the long wave of people ebbed and swayed on either side of him, Gil Mephius walked forward. As far as he seemed to be concerned, that commotion and those emotions were the same as pebbles by the side of the road, and he paid them no attention as he simply walked towards the throne. When he reached the stairs before it, he suddenly knelt.

He waited for the hem of his lightly fluttering cape to settle against his back.

“It has been a long time,” Gil Mephius was the first to speak, “Your Majesty Emperor Guhl Mephius – my father. Having received Your Majesty’s invitation, Crown Prince Gil Mephius is here to see you.”