Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume11 Chapter4 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

Back in Solon, the lords and retainers were looking at each in bewilderment. Which was perfectly understandable given that, just as the war of words between the emperor and Crown Prince had seemed as though it were finally about to draw to a close, the emperor had ordered the prince to “Undress and show me your back.” It was utterly out of the blue, and utterly bizarre.

Perhaps Gil Mephius was feeling the same way, as still kneeling, he remained unmoving for a while.

“…Why that order?” He finally asked.

Guhl Mephius alone was behaving as though this was all completely normal.

“Although you are not dead, there are those who will claim that you are not the living Gil Mephius, but an impostor.”

“That…”

“I am a parent. I need only see my son with my own eyes to know whether he is the child of my own blood, or some impostor of unknown birth masquerading as the crown prince. But that, in turn, means that there are many who cannot understand it.”

Guhl continued, “Gil’s back bears a particular birthmark. Show it to those here. Clear all suspicions, and then no one will voice any objections to you once again occupying the empty seat belonging to the crown prince.”

What Gil Mephius – what Orba heard even louder than Guhl’s resonant voice was the beating of his own heart. It was perfectly clear that the order to show his back was nothing less than an order to ''show your slave brand''.

At some point, Guhl Mephius had learned of his real identity.

Orba could feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. He was aware of a cold sweat covering his entire body. It was as though innumerable blades had been thrust at his throat, his heart, his back and at the nape of his neck.

Meanwhile, nobody present at court, except perhaps Orba, had received a greater shock than Princess Ineli Mephius. She too understood her step-father’s true intentions. It was obvious that the emperor knew that this “Gil” was an impostor. And furthermore, he had already grasped that he was of slave origin.

''This is…''

This was outside of her calculations. It was fine if in all Mephius, only she knew of his real identity. Because if that were the case then, through him, she might be able to obtain the power to move not only Mephius but also the rest of the world.

“Y-Your Majesty…”

Ineli tried repeatedly to speak, but her lips trembled in the tense atmosphere; and the emperor, who only a short while ago had seemed so small, now once again seemed to stand in the way as an insurmountable obstacle, so that her voice could not seem to reach open air.

“What’s wrong?” Guhl asked. On the other hand –

“Pathetic.”

“What?” He turned back towards Orba, his face livid.

“Even though you just said that you only needed to see my face, are you now saying that in reality, you are not absolutely certain? To not be able to recognise your own son and to harbour such doubts – it is pathetic. If that is the case, then your keen eyes that can see through the hearts of people must surely have become clouded.”

The cold he felt now was not only sweat; it was as if the blood running through his veins had turned to ice. His limbs had gone stiff, and he was frozen to his fingertips. And on top of that, he could not make a sound. He did not have so much as a single arrow or a dagger at hand, so he could not fight. If his voice ran out, it meant that his life would be cut short.

And yet –

“Don’t play with words,” Guhl slapped down his resolve. “You must be aware of the rumours going around in Solon that you are an impostor. Why did you come here? Was it not to clear away all doubts and prove your innocence? I’ve told you that everything will be settled once you show your back. What is there to hesitate about?”

Guhl spoke in a relaxed tone of voice. His attitude was every bit that of the ruler of a country, and it was impossible to see Orba, still unmoving and with his head bent, as anything but a slave who could only yield in front of such absolute power, and whose life was entirely in the emperor’s grasp.

Compared to earlier, when he had displayed the momentum to blow the emperor’s words away, the difference was remarkable. Guhl had deliberately lured the Impostor Crown Prince close. Because his plan had simply been to undermine the enemy’s strength this way. Because he had all the ingredients to overturn the person before him and, in front of the retainers, to transform him into a pitiful loser with not a single accomplishment to his name.

“What’s wrong?” Guhl asked again.

Orba, his head turned down, unconsciously bit strongly on his lip. One would think that things having come to this was entirely due to his lack of foresight... such was not the case.

He had come in full awareness that his life would be in danger. He had intended it as one final gamble. The boy who had been born and raised in a poor rural village, and who had survived a life of fighting as a slave, had been going to shoulder the burden of an entire country on his back. There was one last obstacle that needed to be overcome in order to pull off something so outrageous. And that was Guhl Mephius.

He had believed that he could fight. He had judged that he could overcome it.

''Pathetic'' – Orba thought to himself, even as he almost trembled in humiliation. Could it be something this ''pathetic''? Of all the secrets that he kept hidden, as far as Orba was concerned, it was for the most basic, the most ''pathetic'' reason that the mountain of corpses that he had built was going to effortlessly be torn down.

''Somebody''.

Orba was suddenly with the impulse to lift his head and look around at the nobles and generals gathered there.

''Isn’t there anybody? Somebody who would speak up. Somebody who would protest against the emperor and take my side?''

It had to be said that when facing Mephius’ army in battle, he had avoided calling on western help and fought alone, even when he was at a disadvantage. Orba had forced time to move back then all for the purpose of acquiring allies here. That was the intention. Yet even so, the audience hall had fallen so silent that he could hear his own heartbeat.

Rather than being people unable to make a sound, they seemed to have killed their very breathing and did not give a single proof of even being alive. They were like a group of dolls that the emperor might have collected as a hobby.

''No use? It wasn’t enough? All those lives that were sacrificed, all that blood which was shed, and it still wasn’t enough to move Mephius’ time?''

Orba was not aware of the veins standing out from his fist against the floor. He was also unconscious of the fact that he had closed his eyes. As though to escape from reality, to reject the words of truth, he blocked his own field of vision. In the darkness that descended, Shique’s face suddenly surfaced in his mind.

It was followed by those of the generals who held the same identical determination, even though their families were being held hostage and might have their heads cut off or be sent to be eaten by dragons at any moment. The faces of countless young soldiers passed by.

And then –

“So that means you can’t,” said Guhl.

He stood up from the throne. The shadow he cast in that moment covered Orba’s entire body.

“Then you, who cannot give proof of bring the crown prince, who are you? You who falsely took my son’s name, who plunged Mephius into chaos, who are you?”

''Who are you?''

''You...''

''You...''

''Who are you?''

It ran endlessly in Orba’s ears.

And also, his own voice, with which he had often asked himself –

''I...''

''Who am I?''

He, the gladiator, the ordinary boy, the crown prince. Those ‘faces’ which should have blended into one as they were gathered along the way sometimes, for some reason, seemed to oppose one another; sometimes seemed to insist on being separate existences, confusing and disturbing the personality that was ‘Orba’.

''You, who are you?''

In Orba’s world, which was bound in darkness, the colour of platinum shimmered and shone.
The girl who had asked him that question straight out. While holding a gun that did not match at all with her soft white hands, while aiming it straight at Orba’s chest, she had asked the same question as Guhl Mephius.

''You, who are you?''

Her words themselves seemed to turn into bullets that pierced through his heart.

''Ah…''

In that instant, a change appeared within Orba. The invisible blades thrust at his throat, back, and heart disappeared; the chill that paralysed his limbs was washed away. In its place, a fierce heat arose.

The heat, which was so different from the previous cold that it almost made him want to writhe in agony, was released from a single point in his chest and coursed to every extremity of his body.

“You won’t answer?”

Amidst the ringing echo of Guhl’s harsh voice, Orba opened his eyes.

His entire body was so hot that it was burning up. It needed some form of release. He felt as though if it didn’t receive one, it would burn him to cinders.

“You…” Guhl Mephius, who had been about to probe him further noticed the change in his opponent in that moment. “You’re crying?”

The audience hall was shaking before his eyes.

It was just as the emperor had said.

Orba was crying.

His head still lowered, his tears were falling one after another. His rounded back was quivering incessantly, his shoulders were heaving repeatedly. His eyebrows, which had been slanted at an angle that made him look as though he would mercilessly cut down any enemy, were twisted painfully. While even the crease between his brows shook, Orba wept soundlessly.

“This…”

For a second, Guhl looked astounded, then immediately sneered.

Truly childish –

So said the expression on his face.

The dignitaries of Mephius were gaping open-mouthed as they gazed at the sobbing Crown Prince.

So was Ineli Mephius. The young hero who had temporarily driven the emperor into a corner and who had looked as though he might kick him from the throne at any moment was now crying like a child that had been harshly scolded by his father.

In the end, Gil had simply been dancing in the palm of his father’s hand, he had only been able to selfishly act as he had until now because his father had generously allowed it, and now that his father was coming down hard on him, he could not even protest against it. Such was the scene reflected in people’s eyes.

''I get it''.

Meanwhile however, Orba was immersed in feelings that the other people had absolutely no inkling of.

''I finally get it''.

Was that man’s name Alnakk? He had originally been one of the Imperial Guards directly serving the emperor. And he had gone all the way to Birac, carrying the golden medallion which had been left in his care by Vileena Owell.

After having captured Salamand and conveyed that information to Garbera, while she was on the way back, Vileena had herself been shot at by one of the Imperial Guards. The bullet had missed the princess and had hit her horse, which had resulted in her being violently thrown to the ground. While her consciousness had been fading, her brother, Zenon, had carried her and declared that, for now, he was taking her back to Garbera. Vileena had nodded her consent, and, as though to leave it in Mephius in her place, had held the medallion out to Alnakk.

“Please take it… to His Highness Gil…” She had said.

When he had heard about it from Alnakk and received the medallion in his own hands, emotions that he could not understand had filled his heart.

It was the same thing now. The corners of his eyes had grown hot and his emotions were worked up to the point that he was shaking.

''Why'' – he had wondered at the time. When Shique, the comrade-in-arms with whom he had faced death so many times, had died, he had been able to repress his feelings in public. It had been close. If Pashir and Alnakk had been even a little slower in leaving the room, they might have caught sight of his boyish, unconcealed face.

''That much?'' Had the Garberan princess’ existence become that important to him? To the point that he feared more than anything that her warmth would disappear far from him, just as Shique and his family had done.

There had been that, of course. There had been that, but it was not something that could be summarised in so few words. Back then, Orba had not yet realised the true nature of the fiery feelings that drove him on.

Now, however. In Solon, which was far from Birac. In this moment, when he was kneeling before the emperor, on the verge of defeat…

''I finally get it''. He thought. And also –  ''what a pathetic reason''.

When he had heard that Vileena had risked her life to intercept the invading Salamand, that she handed over her medallion for Prince Gil even as her consciousness was fading. When fighting the emperor face-to-face and finding himself at a loss for words. All that Orba could think was –

''If only I was the real Gil Mephius''.