Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume12 Chapter8 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

“Go, give chase!”

“This is our chance to win!”

The Ende-Mephius alliance pursued after Allion’s army as it started to flee.

On Allion’s side also, it seemed that the commander-in-chief, Kaseria Jamil, had decided to resign from this battle front, so the officers were calling out to each other, leading the chorus of cries to withdraw.

Once one side started to retreat then, as a matter of course, the balance of battle would collapse in one go, and those of Allion’s soldiers who fell behind by even a little were intercepted by enemy soldiers and suffered the penalty of death. Amidst that, Lance Mazpotter personally took his spear to serve as the rear guard and allow their commander to escape.

“Get them, get them!”

They chased on and on. Now that victory was decided, the desire to kill a famous enemy and claim the reward had spread like fire. With things having come to this, there were quite a few soldiers who charged recklessly to seize Lance’s head, only to be killed instead.

At that point in time, Allion was not resigned to being defeated. There were still a thousand soldiers who had been left in the north, in Zonga, and on the east side were the troops led by Phard Chryseum. Although Mephius’ intervention had temporarily placed them at a disadvantage and caused them to abandon their position, they intended to immediately regroup their battle formation.

However… Phard had also been forced into an unexpectedly hard fight.

When Dairan went up in flames and Garbera’s troops inevitably moved west, Phard had been hot on their heels, but Moldorf, the commander of the force sent by the western alliance, stood in his way. Just like Kaseria, his younger half-brother, Phard was a fearsome commander who had fought a hundred battles without ever knowing defeat, but he was now faced with an opponent stronger than any he had known before. Moreover, Moldorf was intent on single-handedly keeping him in the same place.

As soon as he had drawn Phard to himself, the troops led by his younger brother, Nilgif, had gone ahead and were stalling for time.

On Moldorf of Kadyne’s rapid instructions, the Pinepey tribe were deployed along the path of retreat to provide protective fire. Assisting them were the cavalry commanded by Natokk of Taúlia and the infantrymen under Bisham of Helio.

“Eei, move! Move, why don’t you!” Phard opened his mouth wide to roar, as the horses’ hooves kicked up untold amounts of dust and sand.

There was a loud clang and sparks rose from his iron shoulder guards. A bullet had rebounded off of them at an acute angle, yet his massive form did not even stagger.

Phard had already slaughtered more enemies than could be counted on the fingers of both hands. Yet the enemies that he should normally be able to kick aside like ants when he went on the offensive were beyond persistent.

Moldorf and Nilgif especially, whose huge frames were every bit as large as Phard’s own, and who both excelled with the spear. Not even an invincible army would rush thoughtlessly to attack that pair.

As for the Twin Dragons, they too were looking at this enemy with wonder.

“What do you think of finishing that opponent?”

Once, when the two brothers passed each other by as Moldorf temporarily retreated and Nilgif advanced, the older brother called out.

“If there were a few less enemies, right about now, that guy’s head would be on the tip of my spear. And you, Brother?”

“He’s strong. Spending too much time on him will put our side in danger. If either you or me were defeated, the enemy would gain the momentum to overwhelm the Garberan forces. Don’t go competing with me for achievements by paying too much attention to him.”

“Got it.”

Although Nilgif fell a little short in judgement when compared to his older brother, he was not one to lose control of himself in situations like these were there was a clear goal. He was not so young as to be ardent about reversing a situation with his spear alone.

While the Twin Dragons were buying time, the Garberan troops led by Prince Zenon had escaped from the valley and were reforming their battle array. When they had first managed to reach that position, Zenon had been planning to divide his forces into small units and deploy them so as to gradually slow the enemy’s progress while they contacted those in Dairan. Yet shortly thereafter, a messenger had arrived by airship from Dairan.

“Ha ha!”

The young Garberan prince had still been on horseback, but when he heard the report, he had flung back his head with laughter.

According to what he heard, Lord Eric had launched an incursion against the enemy position so as to reverse Kaseria’s trap, but during that time, Dairan had been attacked. Following which –

“Gil Mephius.”

Just as he said, Mephius’ crown prince had materialised and rescued them from their predicament.

“It was the same thing back then with me. But really, that crown prince, does he always know, whatever the situation, when to make the most effective entrance? If it’s him, I’d even be willing to believe he was pulling everyone’s strings, enemy or ally, from behind.”

Zenon summoned the apprentice knights under his command and had them notify the entire troop of the situation. He lifted his longsword, engraved with the crest of Garbera’s royal family, above his shoulder –

“There’s no longer anything to be worried about. If the enemy advances any further, our swords will force them back.”

Within the next half hour, the troops of the western alliance also filed through the narrow path one by one and joined the Garberan army’s position. Moldorf and Nilgif were at the very end of the line.  

At long last, Phard Chryseum was going to follow after them, but seeing the enemy unexpectedly take up a firm position at a point not very far away, he naturally thought it strange. Anyone would have viewed it as unnatural that they were not retreating further even though their own base was burning.

“Bastards. Don’t underestimate me,” Phard gave a deep snort.

That they had been able to slow him down somewhat had gotten him wound up. The iron balls jangled on their chains. Readying his personal weapon, and after making sure that the entire force had regrouped behind him, he was about to give the order to charge again.

Which was when –

“Lord Phard.”

“Whaat?” he shouted, rearing back his horse until it stood bolt upright. He was so stirred up that he almost plucked the head of this soldier who seemed about to get in his way. However, he heard the soldier’s words, which had been prefaced with “a message from Master Morga…”

“What?” Phard was flabbergasted. With his eyes opened round and his mouth hanging open, his face was exactly like a child’s. “Running away? What’s that stupid little brother of mine doing? Didn’t he take Dairan?”

He was visibly displeased, but the commander-in-chief for this expedition was Kaseria. Besides, Phard was a man who displayed his might in battles of brute strength, even when his situation was at a disadvantage, but once things grew even a little complicated, he was not one to use his head to think.

“Unh, unh, unh,” while the message from the sorcerer continued, his face puckered but, this time as well, he ended up abandoning any attempt to think through things on his own. “Eei, well then, retreat, retreat,” he yelled, his face as red as though boiling water had been splashed over it.

Phard’s true worth and greatest strength lay in how he made swift decisions and took immediate action. And when Phard easily abandoned the battle and started to flee, his subordinates hurriedly followed after him.

“Good,” watching this, Prince Zenon went into action.

They did not give chase. He left most of the troops, including those from the western alliance, where they were and personally led five hundred cavalrymen towards the north, going by way of Dairan.

At that same time, Kaseria Jamil, who had likewise taken the route north. Although there were several possible opportunities to counter-attack, the combined troops of Gil Mephius and Ende’s Lord Eric bore down on their positions every time.

Both the side being chased and the side giving chase were covered with sweat and blood, and their faces were black from the dust being kicked up by the cavalry troops. Kaseria was no exception. He continued on horseback while his skin, which was normally so white it reflected the sun, was dyed dark.

“Garberan then that damned Mephius…”

He had heard that the situation in the three countries, Ende included, was explosive. Which was why he had been resolute in his decision to advance troops, despite his father’s resistance to the idea. Ende’s Lord Jeremie, who had called for Allion’s army, had said the same as well.

Then how was it that they were cooperating like this? He did not believe that this was a spontaneous military alliance.

“I didn’t hear of anything like this!”

Meanwhile, once they reached a point a few dozen kilometres north of Dairan, Gil called a temporary halt to their side’s advance. Garbera’s unit joined up with them at about the same time.

While Mephius’ Crown Prince Gil, Ende’s Lord Eric, and Garbera’s Prince Zenon drew up their horses side by side, Kaseria’s main force continued north in a cloud of dust.

The sun rose in its leisurely ascent, and finally filled the entire surroundings with its rays.

''At long last…'' There was no doubt that the one who felt the most deeply moved, as he bathed in the sunlight, was Eric Le Doria.

The shadows cast by the three lined-up horses grew longer on the ground’s surface.

“I’m sorry.” Lord Eric was the first to speak. “I was fooled by the enemy’s trick. My foolish decision caused trouble to Garbera and Mephius. I was determined to drive them back with nothing but the platoon I was leading, but…”

Bearing responsibility for an entire country was not easy. Eric fell silent, feeling that it sounded like he was making excuses.

“What’s that?” Prince Zenon clapped Eric’s shoulders comfortingly. “That’s how skilful Allion is in warfare. The problem doesn’t lie with Ende. If Garbera had been the one they had set their sights on, we would also have needed help from the both of you. Isn’t that right?”

Asked that pointed question, Gil Mephius nodded.

“It probably isn’t over.”

The morning atmosphere was clear and calm. The festival of blood which had swept through the wilderness only a short time earlier with its shouts, angry roars, and rising smoke, was already far away. The morning sun washed away the previous day’s filth, and a new day was starting.

“Mephius included, there’ll be cause for cooperation again from now on.”

That cooperation could no longer be limited to three of them, but needed to be extended into an alliance between countries – such was his meaning. Neither Zenon nor Eric raised any objection.

Of course, there were still many things that needed to be settled and done for that to happen.

Now, with this war only just drawing to a close, Gil Mephius – Orba, was already turning his eyes towards his ‘home country’, Mephius.
 


Kaseria arrived back in Zonga on the evening of the next day. Messenger airships having been flown ahead, ships had been sent out to meet him near the national border.

Onboard the return ship, Kaseria did not speak a single word.

Once at the port of Zonga, his adjutant, Lance Mazpotter, was kept busy organising the returned soldiers and checking their numbers, but his priority should originally have been elsewhere. Not having anticipated that was possibly the greatest mistake that he made in the war.

When Kaseria Jamil arrived at the port, he swiftly headed for one particular place.

It was a house at the end of a street of warehouses. Incongruously for the location, it was under heavy guard by armed soldiers. Allion’s soldiers. “Move it,” Kaseria bit out before violently wrenching open the door, paying no further attention to the soldiers who had stepped away to either side, visibly intimidated by their lord’s mood.

He trampled roughly towards a room at the end of the second floor.

Lord Jeremie Amon Doria was inside. Even though it was still early morning, the room was filled with black water lily smoke. Or perhaps, thanks to that drug, he had been escaping from reality since the previous evening, practically without sleep.

Jeremie had stared with lifeless eyes at the prince’s entrance, but now opened his eyes wide in apparent astonishment.

“G-Goodness, Prince Kaseria,” his long-stemmed pipe fell from his hand and he hurriedly sat upright. “It seems that you were gone this past while, but where have you been to?”

“To Dairan,” Kaseria smiled. A smile so gentle that anyone would have smiled in return.

Jeremie looked startled all over again, but then his face gradually broke into a smile.

“R-Really? And then? And then, what happened to Dairan? No… since it’s you, Your Highness Kaseria... Did you cast those allies’ of Erics to the fire? And from now, with Dairan as our base, those who oppose my reign can be utterly…”

“Yes, sooner or later,” Kaseria gave a slight nod and, still smiling, moved his hand to his waist. “Sooner or later, I’ll turn Dairan into a sea of flames. I swear by the royal blood of Allion. But before that…”

“Before that?”

A gleam of silver streaked/flashed from Kaseria’s waist. Did Jeremie Amon Doria even realise that these were his final moments? Spinning rapidly, his newly severed head rolled until it stopped before a grimy mirror placed in a corner of the room. His lifeless eyes gazed impassively at his own death.

“First is your blood. Filthy as it is, it can’t possibly sate my thirst but, well, might as well while I’m at it.”

Without a single uneven breath, Kaseria wiped off the blood on a curtain, then left the building at the same pace that he had entered it.
 


Just under two thousand of Allion’s soldiers left the port of Zonga. Up until that time, Gil, Eric, and Zenon had set up position north of Dairan in order to intimidate Allion’s forces, but once they received the information that Allion’s army had set sail, soldiers throughout the camp had raised their guns or spears high, and had burst into loud victory songs.

It was at around that same time that they were joined by the western forces, which had confirmed Phard’s retreat. General Moldorf wordlessly went up to Gil, and just as wordlessly, they bumped fists.

“What’s this, Brother,” coming up behind him, Nilgif tilted his head. “When did you get so close with Crown Prince Gil?”

“First-class warriors understand each other after just a single day of being in the same camp,” Moldorf puffed out his broad chest, while next to him, Orba gave a wry smile.

For the present, Allion had suspended going to war with Ende. However, just as Orba had pointed out, this did not signal the end of Allion’s – and consequently, of Kaseria’s – ambitions.

Future generations would call this campaign the “Dairan Disaster”. It was the first of many battles to come between the “Mad King of Allion”, Kaseria Jamil, and the “Dragon Emperor of Mephius”, Gil Mephius.