Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume4 Chapter7 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

Zenon Owell had charged out roaring a war-cry. The galloping horses drilled holes in the ground and kicked up clouds of dust from the force of their hooves.

Finally, the Nouzen fortress came into view. Along with it came the sight of Ende's main force which had taken up position slightly to the left of the fort, on the bank of the Wendt.

"Charge!"

Zenon had vigorously taken command but just then, Belmor's detached force drew near from the flank.

"Chaaarge!"

Encouraging his men just as Zenon had, Belmor galloped down the relatively gentle slope to his left. They plunged down. At their head was also the cruiser-class dragonstone ship Regin. With the lead party raising an impressive cloud of dust, they struggled against each other and a great many horses and men were driven into the river with no distinction between friend and foe.

''Dammit''.

Zenon had no time for regrets. In a flash, they had been dragged into a mêlée. A battle-ax seemed about to fly towards him and his beloved horse came close to being impaled on a spear.

"You!"

While skilfully twisting atop his mount, Zenon wielded his sword left and right in counterattack. As the clash of steel resounded, spurts of blood rose in the air. The heads of Ende soldiers went flying. The battle situation around Garbera's second prince was ferocious, and it was as though a gaping wide circle had been carved out around him alone. Ende's soldiers could no longer attack him outright.

But there was a limit to individual fighting power.

Because of the mêlée, Zans' troops that had been withdrawing from the decoy fortress were prevented from leaving.

"That suit of armour – it looks like the enemy general, Garbera's prince." Eric yelled vigorously from where his troops were positioned. His finely chiselled face burst into a smile, "Montfort, pull to the flank and strike at the fortress. We'll prevent the enemy from joining up. And then – everyone, go. We'll capture the prince!"

In the end, Ende also sent out its main force.

"May our feet house Aba, the spirit of the wind."

"May our hearts rage like the flames of Villar!"

As the cavalry set off with the force of loosed arrows, the army corps followed behind them, raising a forest of spears.

Zenon's army was caught in an attack from both sides.

Ende's cruiser Regin joined in bombarding the fort and in so doing neutralised its firepower. With no backup, Zenon was forced into a hard fight. As it was a confused mêlée, neither guns nor arrows could be used and each could only swing the weapons they held with all their might. War cries, gasps of pain, then screams and war cries again. All at once, the valley turned into a scene of carnage.

"The prince, where is the prince?"

"Eei, clear the way!"

The hundred knights of the Order of Bronze hurriedly rushed over. Originally the troop had been tasked with covering Zans' withdrawal. They had avoided getting too deeply involved in fighting as per Noue's instructions, but of course, they put those aside when faced with the second prince being in danger.

Drawing their swords or affixing their spears under their arms, they came to assist Zenon's group. They were unable to reverse Ende's momentum however. The Garberans who had been expecting a siege war at Zaim did not after all have numbers exceeding those of Ende.

Zenon cut through a spearhead and sent it flying then, even as he was turning around, he beheaded a soldier who was drawing up to him from behind.

"You despicable Endean curs. On top of breaking its agreement, did Mephius also join with you to let you through?" Zenon's hatred was also turned towards Mephius, which should have been their ally. The detached force which should have been stationed along the border had moved, which meant that no reinforcements from Mephius would come. "This is why those Mephian savages..."

Before he could continue to yell any further, a spear struck his horse in the neck and Zenon fell from it. For the soldiers of Ende, there could be no greater achievement. With a cry, they surged towards him.

"Prince!"

Within the Knights of the Order of the Tiger, several chosen to be the prince's bodyguards took up position to protect him. One had his head split open, one was struck a smiting blow to the chest and as he fell, Zenon somehow or another regained his stance. As he stopped a blow from an enemy sword, tears gradually filled his eyes. The full force of his hatred was turned not against Ende, nor against Mephius, but against himself.

For his part, Noue had gathered the soldiers remaining in Zaim fortress and was about to send them out with a captain of the Order of the Knights of Bronze as their commander. It was of course not Noue's real intention to throw soldiers into the midst of a confused, free-for-all mêlée.

''To send all the soldiers out from our advantageous position at Zaim''...

Although he couldn't help having regrets, the battle would be lost if they lost the prince. This was no time for hesitation.

If it came to a head-on-collision, their inferior numbers were a disadvantage. Of the soldiers remaining at Zaim, Noue was only taking two hundred and he had further had all the remaining airships hastily loaded into the air carriers. The surrounding terrain had been investigated when the Nouzen fortress was being built. By going around the fortress from behind, they would be poised to strike at the enemy from the side.

''But even so, that isn't much consolation.''

The enemy also had air carriers. As a result, how effective would their air force power actually be? Vexed and irritated, Noue oversaw while the hasty preparations advanced. Indeed, all he could do was oversee. He himself wasn't a soldier. However right now, every single soldier was essential.

If only he himself could hold a sword – for the first time in his life that thought came to him.

''You fool. Here where Ryucown was defeated, is your ingenuity also going to be for naught?''

For a moment, his almond-shaped eyes lit up with tragic resignation.

"Lord Salzantes!"

His horse gasping for breath, a new messenger had arrived before Zaim's castle gate. Seeing his astounded expression, Noue wondered pessimistically what new failure had occurred.

"A ''Mephian'' ship!"

"What?"

"A force led by Prince Gil Mephius has appeared from the west!"


"Impossible!"

It felt as though Belmor Plutos' temples vibrated from the war-cry that erupted from behind. As soon as it appeared over the riverbank, the low-flying Mephian cruiser discharged a group of warriors sitting astride horses and small dragons. They galloped in a straight line and tore left and right through the battle formation of Belmor's troops.

"Whoo!"

The Garberan knight who swung his sword next to Zenon cheered. He had suffered an injury to the head and his blond hair was dyed crimson, but his expression was bright.

"Your Highness, Mephian reinforcements. That person over there is Mephius' Crown Prince!"

"What did you say?"

His eyes starting, at that moment, Zenon Owell probably received an even greater shock than Belmor. When the surrounding Garberan forces saw them, they regained vigour. At the head of the reinforcements, wearing a light silver breastplate, was Gil Mephius. Riding a Tengo, he drove off his enemies left and right with a dragon lance while behind him, armed respectively with double swords and a longsword, Shique and Pashir dealt the deathblow to soldiers.

Faced with the Mephian forces they had been certain would not come, Belmor's unit was for a moment on the verge of being routed.

However, from within the mêlée, Eric's right-hand man, Belmor, carefully observed the situation. As soon as the enemy ship had lowered that single troop, it rose in the air again. In other words, the soldiers now rushing in – who appeared to number about a hundred – looked to be their entire military strength.

"The enemies are few!" Belmor called out as, from atop his horse, he broke the sword of a Garberan knight who had lunged towards him. "Return to battle formation. Capture the Mephian prince's head!"

Although they had at first been caught off guard by the surprise attack, the soldiers of Ende had experienced countless battles in Dairan. As Belmor's angry voice washed over them, they immediately arranged themselves in a file ready to intercept Mephius.

Then, as they were about to rush into that iron-like formation, Prince Gil quickly waved his hand.

"What?"

With a promptness that left Belmor astounded, the dragons and horses turned around and the unit suddenly withdrew. They had been on the verge of intercepting them; for Ende's soldiers, it was an irresistible invitation.

"W-Woah, woah, woooaah!"

With war cries characteristic of Dairan warriors, they plunged forward towards the Mephian prince.

In fact however, just before letting out the soldiers, the Mephian cruiser had dropped off long-range cannons. They had let them down on to the cliff top along with two medium-sized Yunion dragons. Naturally that the pair of dragons could be relied on was all down to Hou Ran's wiles.

Just as he had earlier waved his hands, Gil this time raised them to the sky. It looked as though Prince Gil had, by some magic ritual, called forth lightning. With the bombardment from the sky, people and horses were turned into shredded meat and the pieces flew about along with the dirt and sand.

Belmor worked his throat dry trying to stop his allies. But they didn't stop. Because they hadn't known the second attack would befall them.

''We let ourselves be lured and now we can't do anything as they use cannons''.

Belmor bit his lips until they bled. If they forced another mêlée, should they strike at Mephius at their front or at Garbera in their rear – before he had time to make that decision, the echo of horses' hooves closed up on them from behind. It was the Garberan troop led by Zenon Owell.

And when Gil once again had his subordinates swiftly turn around, Belmor's troop was caught in a two-sided onslaught. Belmor had been cautious about the cannons for a moment too long, and that moment became the gap that allowed him to be attacked.

Realising the danger Belmor was in, the air cruiser Regin was returning from the fortress but the Mephian war ship was already moving to intercept it. Surrounded by a forest of swords and spears drawn by friends and foes, Belmor was unable to either advance or retreat.

But –

"You..."

In this inescapable situation, Belmor, the beard covering his face dyed in the blood of those he had slain, turned and glared at all 360 degrees around him.

Although young, he was a courageous commander with much experience behind him. And when that experienced commander's eyes suddenly fixed themselves on a single point, his hand instantly went to his waist and he pulled out a handgun.

Fixed in his line of sight was silver armour.

As though by miracle, the crowd divided left and right. As Belmor pulled the trigger, Gil Mephius was thrown off of the Tengo.


''Guh'' – as he hit the ground, Orba let out a small cry of pain.

The Tengo appeared to have been hit in the neck and the small dragon lay near Orba's side, dying as it bled out. Before he had time to grasp what was happening, a group filled with killing intent swooped down from above. He was going to rise to meet the enemy, but he had no sword. It seemed he had dropped it when he fell from the dragon.

''Damn''.

Clicking his tongue, he rolled on the ground. Sparks flew from where a spear rammed into the space where his head had been just a moment earlier.

"Gil Mephius!"

Belmor bellowed and galloped his horse with the speed of a sudden clap of thunder. A spearhead cut through the very wind above Orba's head.

Orba avoided the blow by letting his body fall backwards, but Belmor instantly turned his horse around and charged a second time. His subordinates also rushed in left and right. Swords and axes were raised above their heads.

At that moment Orba's blood – which normally boiled all the hotter and fiercer in desperate situations –  ran cold.

As to why, no one, not even the person himself, could have given a reason. Could it be that he had lost the almost obsessive idea that he would cling to life at all cost? The strength to move arms and legs if so much as the slightest chance of survival was dangled before them; the strength, if both arms and legs were gone, to seize any chance even with their teeth and not let it slip; right then, his grasp on that had slackened.

If there was one clear factor that determined whether a soldier lived or died on the battlefield, it was surely that one. Say there was a difference in skill or that one wasn't blessed with powerful allies, that one factor surpassed a difference in skill, drew forth good luck and could turn any ally into a hero fearless of death.

Orba suddenly turned and avoided an axe. He swerved his head and just barely managed to dodge another sword but from on top of his galloping horse, Belmor jabbed a spear straight down at him.

He had no time to even swerve to one side.

"''Orba!''"

Was it Shique or was it Gowen who cried out?

''Gatchin'' – sparks flew as steel met steel.

When Orba looked up, a large shadowy silhouette had come galloping from a different direction from Belmor's; from atop his horse, Pashir had repelled Belmor's spear.

"Not enough spirit."

As Pashir's angry voice crashed over his head, Orba came to a sudden decision.

''I'm going back''.

Indeed, even Orba, who no longer had a place where he belonged within Mephius, had one person and one person only whom he had to return for and convey a message to.

''Which means,''

He couldn't die.

''I can't die yet''.

With even more soldiers surging towards him, he jumped forward and slashed them, slashed them and jumped back.

As he threw himself body and soul into the mêlée, as though to let the flickering embers of his rage blaze once again, Orba continued repeating to himself ''I can't die''.


Belmor was losing his calm. Nor did he have time to burn in the regret of having lost the perfect opportunity. The sword of the horse-riding enemy he faced was ferocious. Even though he had more than enough confidence in the strength of his own arm, as he lunged with his spear, before he was half way through his momentum, it was knocked clear into the sky and he was aware that he was slowly growing desperate.

As that was happening, he caught sight from over his enemy's shoulder of an approaching force flying Garbera's flag.

Before long –

As the soldiers guarding his sides all fell, his surroundings suddenly opened wide.

"Ugh..."

At that moment, his mounted opponent dealt Belmor a blow to the waist with a spear and he fell from his horse.

Before he even had time to stand up again, to his right and to his left, Belmor felt swords closely pressed against his neck. On one side was Gil Mephius, on the other, Zenon Owell.

His face pale, Belmor silently raised both hands and dropped his sword.

Above his head, Mephius' Crown Prince Gil and Garbera's Prince Zenon looked straight at each other.

"You arrived early, Gil Mephius, Your Highness." Zenon said sarcastically.

"That's because your little sister gave me a sharp kick in the ass."

At Gil's answer, with a ''pff'', theirs lips broke into smiles then they laughed.