Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume5 Chapter4 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

"What is this!" Bouwen muttered in utter surprise, almost inadvertently letting go of the reins he had grasped in his hands.

And no wonder. According to the scouts' most recent reports, even if they had leisurely taken their time to line up their formations, their enemy should still not have reached the hilly area until a day later.

"You must be joking, is this also the so-called sorcery of Garda's army?"

''At this rate'', Orba thought while he could hear the soldiers loudly yelling the same thing, ''the enemy will very soon be in sight of Helio''.

To the troops that had marched from Helio, the first low slopes of the Coldrin Hills looked like castle ramparts. They broke through the ground's surface and rose up to where the plateaus spread out. The enemy seemed to have established their headquarters there. Even more worryingly, they had set up an artillery battery at both the east and west of the hill range. Contrary to the rumours, there didn't appear to be any large ships. However,

"The enemy must have carried their soldiers here by ship. In that case, we have to attack quickly and snatch away the high ground before they arrive with reinforcements," insisted Greygun.

Certainly their opponent did not number the 'two thousand' reported by the scouts. There were no more than perhaps half that many.

"With that in mind, we should also install guns on the heights in order to intercept the ships."

It would be dark in less than two hours. Which also meant that if they successfully seized control of the Coldrins by then and if they enemy were to arrive with reinforcements during the night, they might also be able to capture the ships by skilfully using the cover of darkness.

Those two hours would be decisive for the confrontation. Once the sun had set, defensively speaking, the enemy side encamped in the highlands would be in a much more advantageous position. The fires lit by the attacking side would become targets for the guns and cannons, and since they would be unsure of the ground beneath their feet in the dark, a charge was also unlikely to succeed.

There were of course those who showed disapproval of Greygun's tactics but, just as the soldiers had gossiped, that mercenary commander had seized full power. As soon as their headquarters had been established, he called together all the commanding officers.

As they judged that there would soon be a fight, the soldiers' mental strain also increased all at once.

"What's the opponent's status?"

"According to the scouts sent out on reconnaissance, they seem like perfectly normal Zerdians. Nothing like the demons and fire drakes that accompany Garda in the legends."

"Shit, why are those Zerdians obeying that sorcerer?"

All around was the sound of weapons being inspected and prepared. As they were at a distance, the enemy shouldn't be able to notice, but even so the atmosphere was so tense that every so often someone would go "Shh!" to quieten the noise.

Duncan returned from headquarters.  

"Well then, you warmongers who've sold your lives for money," he said to Taúlia's four hundred and fifty mercenaries, his voice carrying clearly, "you have been honoured to receive a task that will make it easy for you to distinguish yourselves by service in the face of danger."

Having learned from the scouts that the enemy's right flank was thin, Greygun planned to intentionally put on a display of clashing from the front then attacking by manoeuvring around the left-wing. The mission for Taúlia's mercenary unit that Orba and the others belonged to was to suppress the eastern artillery battery near the enemy's left-wing. They were to make a straight charge and attract as much attention as possible to their fight.

"Raise a racket, charge then return. While the enemy fire is turned this way, General Bouwen will head to the front. When things begin in earnest, Greygun's main force will rush out from the rear."

''From the front?
''
As was to be expected, there was a stir among the mercenaries. Bouwen's unit which intended to break through at the front would borrow a hundred cavalrymen from the mercenary unit and would combine with Helio's main troop, but even so Helio's forces amounted to no more than two hundred. As for Greygun's Red Hawks, half would be sent as a detached force to the left flank while the remaining half would be waiting at headquarters, poised to join in the assault led by Bouwen's forces. In other words, the reinforcements sent by other countries had been placed in the most dangerous positions.

''We're being provoked'', Orba thought inwardly. He had only met Bouwen directly once or twice, but he was still a young commander. Whereas Greygun was undoubtedly a veteran.

He must have taken the choice away from Bouwen by saying something like "Can the central breakthrough really be left to Taúlia's fighters?" And the mercenaries had gotten the short end of the stick. In a sense, charging the battery was an even more dangerous task than that of Bouwen's troop.

''How will we do it?'' Orba wondered. For example, they could feign to throw a large force at the enemy's weak right flank then immediately change course after the charge began. Then at the opportunity created when the enemy moved in pursuit, they could attack the battery. That way there should be few sacrifices.

But he was no longer a country's crown prince and Orba didn't think that anyone would listen to the advice of a simple private soldier. For a private soldier, the decisions made at the top were absolute. At Zaim Fortress and then at Apta, Orba had had his orders thoroughly enforced.

"Dammit, it's your lot's fault for annoying Greygun," Talcott said bitterly, while repeatedly pulling his sword in and out of its scabbard. "Thanks so much for the chance at a 'great achievement'. Do you think Kay will let me court her if I dangle enough enemy heads at her?"

Recently Orba had realised that Talcott didn’t always mean it when he cursed at him. It was as though he didn't know when to shut up and always said whatever came to mind without thinking about it first.

"Stan, as usual I'll leave it to your intuition to decide where I run to. I believe in you so stay in front of me."

"Got it, Brother."

It seemed that this was how the two of them went around battlefields. Stan went trusting his kind of supernatural intuition and Talcott followed behind. And because they had survived so far by doing so, they had a blind faith that this time too everything would be alright.

To different degrees, most soldiers who risked their lives in war each had a superstition or a jinx. When cutting down an enemy, never slash at them diagonally from the left; if you break into a charge with your right foot first, enemy arrows and bullet won't be able to hit you; if hidden under your armour you carry a lucky charm given by a lover, you will definitely survive and return... Another way of saying it was that without some kind of belief to cling to, they wouldn't have been able to face a battlefield of flying bullets and swinging blades.

''Thinking about it, didn't Alice say that she'd given a lucky charm to Roan?
''
He had heard about it from Alice after his brother had gone to Apta. He had regretted it then: if he had thought about it sooner, he would have given his brother something too. To the very last, Alice had never told him what that lucky charm had been.

''Not good, not good''.

Orba shook his masked face left and right. When had it been – at Solon's imperial court or when he had been leading a gang of boys in Birac – he had read a note from a soldier who had stood on the battlefield. If you thought about a dead person when on the battlefield, you too would be possessed by death. And,

''Roan died''.

It was a cruel truth. He had died as a private soldier, carrying a lucky charm, following orders from above.

On the battlefield, death was always by the soldiers' side, waiting impatiently. Even Orba who had so often escaped from the very verge of death could easily lose his life to a single stray bullet if he let down his guard.

Orba forced himself to give himself encouragement.

"I'm going to live."

"What's the matter, Orba?"

"Nothing," Orba answered Shique, who looked like he had come to check on him, as he made sure of the weight of the sword in his hand.


The day started to grow dark.

As per Greygun's instructions, the mercenary unit had begun their assault. The plan was that the main body of Taúlia's troops, led by Bouwen, would soon attempt to break through at the front. For when that time came, the mercenaries were to fight like all hell or the main forces risked being annihilated by enemy gunfire.

For that purpose, Bouwen had passed guns to the mercenaries. Although since they weren't long-range rifles, they wouldn't be able to take up a safe position and shoot from there.

"Right, line up before going off to be reckless. You're going to be shields against the guns. I'll keep your names and faces in mind so after this, if you survive, come on forward. I'll give you your money three times over."  

Duncan had quickly devised a battle plan.

The sun was finally approaching the horizon and the ridges of the Belgana Summits formed a crimson border.

It was the moment when Duncan handed down the order to "Go!" They opened fire on a look-out tower while an artillery platoon loaned out by the main force advanced from the east hill, camouflaged within the narrow trees that grew there.

This was the signal for the start of the battle at the Coldrin Hills.

At a sign that the enemy was in disorder, allied voices rose vigorously from all around. Enemy fire opened in counter-attack from the top of the hills. When Duncan swung down his arm, tens of the mercenaries who had been designated as gun shields, each with their preferred weapons in their hands, raced upwards.

The enemy soldiers guarding the battery on the hill probably numbered about two hundred. Lined up side-by-side, the enemy gunners took aim and fired at the mercenaries below. Several lives were lost that way. Immediately after though, most of the mercenaries nimbly leapt about left and right.

Then guns opened a gaping hole in the enemy's front. They had been pulled there by Yunion dragons and had been installed under the cover of the soldiers' charge.

Boom. Boom, boom. The thunderous roar shook the area around Orba. The first impact struck the ground halfway up the hill, the second ploughed through the position of the enemy gunners. The smell of gunpowder assailed Orba's nose.

"Now! Take it!"

There was no plan for after that. Nothing but to charge. For one moment, the enemy's spirits could be seen to be overwhelmed, but that didn't change the advantage of their position on higher ground. A second group of riflemen immediately took up position. Orba also dashed forward, a spear in one hand.

Over his slouched back, he heard the nearby whine of bullets flying swiftly by.

''Tsk''.

Things like skill with the sword no longer had any bearing on survival.

"Kya!"

The soldier running to his right screamed like a woman. His lower leg had been shot through and he fell backwards. With no time for so much as a sidelong glance, Orba raced on. His heart beat faster with every step and he ran as though flying. Finally, the distance seemed to have been covered but then suddenly, the mercenaries running in front of him scattered left and right.

Looking up, a row of spearheads formed a single, glaring line. A group of enemy cavalry had galloped down.

One of the ones at the front swung his spear and the head of a mercenary who hadn't escaped in time went flying. He probably hadn't even noticed when he crossed the border between life and death.

Orba kicked at the ground to leap sideways and put some distance between himself and the group. But the soldiers who escaped that way were gunned down from above. One by one, one after another, bodies riddled with holes fell and went tumbling down the hill.

The lancers galloped down with unabated vigour, broke through the crowd waiting for them below and turned to the north side of the hill. They would be charging once again.

Orba crouched under a slightly overhanging wall of rock.

"What about the artillery on our side?"

Talcott and Stan were under the same wall of rock. Both their faces were drenched in sweat, but they didn't seem to be injured.

It looked as though the riflemen were hesitating as to whether they should be covering the soldiers who were rushing upwards or ambushing the cavalry that was returning from below.

"Shit, they’re useless! Shall we go and give them a talking to?"

"Brother, wait! That's Kurun from our platoon."

Looking at it, Kurun was standing unsteadily in a place with almost no protection. Blood flowed from his side, probably from where a rider had slashed at him.

A foot soldier ran down the hill to where he was. The face under the helmet was young. Maybe he was looking for an achievement or maybe he was bent on challenging Kurun because he looked like an easy target.

"I'll do it," Orba made a quick decision. "I'll bring Kurun here."

"Why do I -"

"Got it."

Stan's response was the faster.

Ignoring the cursing Talcott, Orba timed the interval in the enemy gunfire and leapt out.

At the third step, a bullet ricochetted by his feet.

''Phew''. With that kind of timing, he whistled unintentionally.

"Augh!"

About to jump out at Kurun with his sword, the soldier's angry voice broke into a squeak as he just managed to repel Orba's spear. In his hurry, his opponent dropped the sword that he had swung overhead for the second time. He was too close to stab. Orba hit him in the face with his hilt. His opponent collapsed backwards, his face up. Just as he was about to deal him the final blow, his allies started concentrating their fire in their direction, probably as protective covering.

"Retreat, retreat!"

"Over here, Kurun."

Orba and Stan, along with Kurun who they were pulling by the hands, hurried through a rain of bullets and crowded under the same wall of rock as earlier.

"Oi, you alright?"

"Ye-Yeah."

His wound appeared to be superficial. However, Kurun's face was covered in beads of sweat and his breath was ragged. More than his body, it was his heart that had been at been at bay. Stan patted his back,

"Come on, pull yourself together. Breathe calmly. But I watched the enrolment test and you, weren't your sword skills pretty good?"

"T-This is my first time on a battlefield, I'm an apprentice."

"Is there such a thing as a mercenary apprentice?"

It looked as though Duncan had issued an appeal to the artillery unit as the Taúlian side also attacked by opening fire from below. One hit landed on the crest of the hill, sending earth and sand flying. If the enemy line of fire veered away to the cannons, that would create a chance to attack. Orba carefully looked around.

"Did you see who was leading the cavalry? Hell, that was definitely Moldorf," Talcott spoke in his ear.

"Moldorf?"

"You don't know him? Moldorf, the Red Dragon of Kadyne. His younger brother is the Blue Dragon, Nilgif. Both brothers are matchless generals. Garda managed to make even the likes them surrender to him! Still, if we defeat them, there'll be an extra special bonus."

Just then, they heard the roar of the dragoon unit's war cries. No doubt at Duncan's request, the main force had changed trajectory. Their mobilisation showed flexibility and proved the mutual understanding between Duncan and Bouwen.

As Orba had judged, when the enemy fire began to concentrate on the guns, Tengo riders galloped upwards in one go, causing the enemy's aim to become unfocussed.

"Kurun, stay here."

Orba crouched down and once more broke into a run. Behind him followed Stan, then Talcott.

Several of the Tengo riders” dragons fell to bullets, but the group itself didn't lose speed. The dragons' leg strength steadily carried them up the slope. Finally, they flew over the fence and leapt towards the artillery unit.
"You bastards!"

A roar like thunder seemed to come crashing down from overhead, and the front Tengo riders were sent flying from their dragons. It was Moldorf. He wore red armour and a helmet in the shape of a dragon. He lightly wielded an unusually long spear, and not a single one of the mercenaries was going to pass.

"You soldiers of Taúlia, know that I am the Red Dragon Moldorf! If you value your lives, turn back."

A dragon barred their way uphill. Every time that dragon roared, dragoon riders were mowed down left and right. Sprays of blood rained down as he wielded his three-pronged spear, which looked as though it could inflict wounds that would not heal in a lifetime.

"Wait for the artillery unit to arrive."

Orba had no intention of halting his racing steps. A rush of wind howled behind his ears. Inside his head, blood was swirling in a whirlpool strong enough to carry everything away. No unnecessary thing was left. Onwards and onwards, all that was needed was to lose his body and mind in a feverish urge to kill.

Moldorf noticed Orba's figure, as he rushed headlong on. From the perspective of the long-serving general, he truly had a small build. Buried beneath his moustache, Moldorf's mouth split into a grin.

"Whoa-ho, I'd need to dismount. There'd be no glory in killing you. I'll let you off."

Without answering, without even a single yell, Orba plunged with a spear. He was far away. Moldorf lightly swung his trident. A single breath from the dragon smashed Orba's spear – and even as it happened, Orba had already pulled out a sword with his right hand and with terrifying speed aimed for Moldorf's face.

"What!"

He hurriedly turned his spear to repel the blow. Orba staggered to the right but then braced his feet firmly on the ground and thrust at the horse-riding Moldorf again and then again.

"Ha, ha! I'll do it!"

As though he were training new recruits, Moldorf jabbed in every direction, lashed out and slashed downwards. But not one blow landed. Every time –

''T-This guy!
''
Orba's sword aimed for the horse's neck. Just as he was about to defend against it, the gleam from the sword changed trajectory. A rush of air swept by the tip of Moldorf's nose. Moldorf tried to spur his horse to create a distance, but the ferocity of Orba's attack didn't leave a single opportunity to do so.

During that time, one after another, the mercenaries reached the top of the hill. The artillerymen had thrown aside their guns and foot soldiers raced forward to cover their retreat, but in the hand-to-hand fights that broke out, the mercenaries had the impetus of victory.

"Orba!"

Gilliam and Shique belatedly arrived and joined in as Orba's reinforcements.

"Tsk. We'll have to postpone this contest."

Assessing the situation at a glance, Moldorf pulled on his horse's reins and moved to escape. He galloped towards the opposite slope from the one Orba and the others had climbed up. It could be called an excellent way to quit.

With that, they gained complete control of the gun battery.

"Good, turn the guns around. We'll fire them at the enemy headquarters to back up General Bouwen's assault," said Duncan as soon as he arrived.

At those instructions, the mercenaries with their blood-soaked swords and armour unanimously roared out a battle cry.