Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume6 Chapter1 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

At roughly the same time as Raswan was burning with ambition in Taúlia, Moldorf, the Red Dragon of Kadyne, was spurring his horse on with furious energy. The troops following him numbered approximately three thousand. 
They were Garda’s forces that had departed from Helio. As they charged on raising thick clouds of dust, they were of course unaware that even then, fires were rising up within Helio. They urged their horses and dragons onwards, solely intent on swooping down on Taúlia’s main force as it headed towards Cherik.

There could be no way for the enemy to be aware their movements. Even for Moldorf, it was incomprehensible how the sorcerer from Garda’s army so thoroughly understood Taúlia’s movements. Given their numbers, they would reap Ax’s head in instant. And then,

''If we take Ax’s head,''

Those who were being held hostage in the various cities would all be released, was what the sorcerer had said. It was only a verbal promise. It was uncertain how far it could be trusted, but from the very start, Moldorf and the others had obeyed because they were being threatened with having their family and friends killed. They could only move the army as they were told to do.

Coming from the north of Cherik, their march had brought them to a position that directly overlooked Lake Soma to their right. For a moment, a column of lit fires brilliantly illuminated the lake that lay beneath the shadows of the night. This was to inform Cherik that assistance was on its way. Everything would go to waste if that city became frightened of Taúlia’s large army and hurried to surrender. The signal was to tell them that their forces and Cherik’s would contrive a pincer attack.

However, when they were almost at their destination, Moldorf noticed the scouting party by the side of the road. They were in position earlier than expected. Halting his horse, he listened to their report.

“Ho,” he gave a short grunt and looked towards the forest that lay ahead of them.  

They were somewhat less than ten kilometres from Cherik. Apparently, at the centre of the forest was a reservoir which drew water from Lake Soma for the peripheral estates. As the space between the trees was narrow, it was also intended to slow down large enemy armies. Coming from the east, Taúlia’s troops had gone around to the south of the forest and had currently set up camp with the woods at their backs.  

''Fast''. 

Ideally, Moldorf had wanted to attack the enemy before they had completed their battle formation. The troops were to have been divided in two, with one unit ambushing the enemy from the south while the other attacked from the north. He had thought that they had more than enough time but, 

''That’s Ax for you, he moves well''. 

It seemed that the fleet-footed mounted units had marched first, that they had set up their formation and that they planned to wait for those following behind. They were also keeping a strict lookout, so the reconnoitring party was not easily able to approach either. To the rear of the troop headquarters, five hundred soldiers kept watch on the road from Taúlia. There was no oversight there either. Although they had spent the night on a gruelling march, even the movements of the lowest-ranking soldiers were visibly energetic. Moldorf was astounded. 

They truly stood united. Such was the skill of Ax Bazgan and of the far-famed strategist Ravan Dol.

The time that Ax spent waiting here for those following behind also gave Cherik a reprieve. Moldorf’s assessment was that if Cherik realised that it was at a disadvantage and surrendered, Taúlia intended to capture it without waiting to join up with the troops following behind.  

''It’s a drastic strategy. I can only say that it’s worthy of the inheritor of the Bazgan name''.

Contrary to the feeling he had of wanting to praise the enemy, Moldorf held unspeakable fear and revulsion towards the sorcerer who was currently supposed to be his ally. Everything was going their way. And Moldorf couldn’t see anything amusing about the fact that whatever the stratagem, readiness or determination, everything was completely powerless when facing the sorcerer.

At any rate, knowing about the reinforcements here, Cherik would soon – probably around dawn – send their troops and make a sortie. And Moldorf would take that opportunity to attack Taúlia’s army from the rear.

“The king of Cherik is Yamka the Second, isn’t he?”

“Yes?” The adjutant by Moldorf’ side spoke up.

The army was a disjointed assembly both in terms of origin and composition, but Moldorf had gathered units from Kadyne around himself. He had known them long enough to remember the face of each and every soldier. After a moment, the adjutant nodded. 

“He is young king. Still only about thirty or so.”

“Was the fool dreaming?”

The adjutant didn’t reply at Moldorf’s wretched-sounding voice. Cherik had sinned by associating themselves with Garda. Unlike Kadyne, which had been stormed by Garda’s forces then had the lives of its people and princess taken as collateral to ensure obedience, in Cherik’s case, it was thought that King Yamka had cooperated with the sorcerer of his own accord.

Even though Cherik was comparatively rich thanks to the blessings of Lake Soma, it was still a small country after all.  The one known as Garda might well be able to rewrite the power relations within the West at a single stroke, and the young king must have seen in that a way of realising his ambitions for Cherik. 

''Yamka must not be aware of what to expect from that sorcerer. Of the plight that Kadyne, Lakekish, Fugrum and Eimen are in''.

Moldorf’s country, Kadyne, had succumbed almost exactly one month before Eimen fell. The officers and soldiers had not been negligent. As at the time, Lakekish and Fugrum in the north had already been captured, they had from the start recognised that Garda’s army would be no easy opponent. All the officers including Moldorf had exerted themselves to thoroughly reinforcing the city’s defence. Not even the tiniest ant could have passed through the formations arrayed along Kadyne’s outer walls.  

And yet Kadyne fell in no time at all. Moldorf had been confident that they could repel every charge the enemy launched at them, but that was because he hadn’t imagined for a second that the enemy was inside the gates.

''And furthermore, that enemy –'' 

“Moldorf.”

While Moldorf had been deeply absorbed in his thoughts, a man on horseback had come up to him. In the style of a general from Lakekish, he wore a helmet with horns shaped like swords. With his narrow face and slanted eyes, his features were typically Zerdian.

“Why have you halted? Shouldn’t we attack?”

“I’m waiting for Cherik to make a move.” 

“How relaxed of you. According to the scouts, there are at most five hundred guarding their escape route around the forest. If we overwhelm them in one go, we can strike at the main force.”

''Can we overwhelm them?'' Moldorf wondered to himself. Thinking about it, there was the enemy’s high morale and the skill that he had guessed at just a moment earlier, while they on their part were no more than ill-assorted medley.  

There was a risk that if they met with unexpected difficulties, the enemy’s main force might move and this surprise attack would lose its effect. In order to protect their path of retreat, troops might come rushing from the main force and a great many enemy soldiers would put up a desperate fight. After all, Ax Bazgan was at that encampment. 

''On the other hand, if we make a large detour around those five hundred and advance towards the Taúlians, we might get slammed into by those behind''.

“No,” coming to a decision, Moldorf gave a broad shake of his head, “Even if we cut off their retreat, it’s still better to wait for Cherik to make a move. Unless the enemy’s attention is diverted, there is still a risk that they might withdraw. After all, we have to settle it with this battle. There’s also the worry that if the enemy draws us into Taúlia, their ally Mephius might butt in.”

“Hum. But if we wait here quietly, those following behind them might get here.”

“Let them join up. If Cherik assails them at the same time, numbers won’t be a problem.”

“Have you lost your nerve, Moldorf? This is a golden opportunity, we could easily…”

“I was appointed commander-in-chief. If you can’t follow me, then that’s the same as disagreeing with Garda.”

The man from Lakekish went pale. After which, he scowled at Moldorf with narrowed eyes exactly as though he were looking at Garda himself and turned his horse around. He went back to his subordinates. He must have said something sarcastic as the soldiers from Lakekish turned that way and laughed.

“Bastards.”

“It’s fine,” Moldorf stopped the adjutant who was bristling with anger. 

Moldorf’s nature was by no means patient. But he felt that he could understand that commander’s zeal, as well as his fear. Everyone there was deeply afraid of Garda. They had been robbed of their home. No one knew where the sorcerer’s eyes and ears lay.

''I too, have I also changed? No, it was impossible not to change. Even now, I fear neither swords nor bullets, but that sorcerer’s ways are just too strange''.

They were bundled together under the name of “Garda’s army”, but needless to say, their ranks had been swollen by absorbing soldiers during Garda’s ineluctable march forward. There were those from the mountain tribes that were rarely seen in central Tauran, soldiers from Lakekish, the first city-state that Garda had targeted, and soldiers from the cities of Fugrum, Eimen and Kadyne, cities that had likewise fallen. 

When it came to fighting, they brandished their swords on Garda’s orders and threw themselves into dangerous situations, but when the fighting was done, and despite the tight military discipline, their morale was naturally anything but high. At the time of Helio’s fall, there were said to have been many who joined the Red Hawks mercenaries in looting the townspeople.

''Even in our world of warring states, that didn’t happen''. 

Although they might constantly be fighting, Zerdians had a strong sense of camaraderie. It couldn’t be said that there had absolutely never been pillaging or massacres, but it was well understood that if the troops lost their discipline, it would bring misfortune to the townspeople. Time and time again, Moldorf had witnessed the rise and fall of countries, but he had always believed in strict control over himself and his companions.

''If even I, who preached the ways of a warrior to my younger brother, were to fall into lawlessness, I would no longer have been able to face either my brother or my home country''.   

And so, when he fought for Kadyne, he had sternly warned his subordinates against such actions. Put differently, not even Moldorf’s long military experience was enough to pull together an army that had swollen up to this extent.

''Our numbers are high. And to save our birthplaces and our families, our ardour is fierce. But this army is fragile''. Such was Moldorf’s genuine assessment. Which was why he couldn’t authorise an assault as things were. They would be able to crush Taúlia’s army only if they performed a pincer attack together with Cherik. 

Through the forest ahead, lights within the encampment could be seen to be moving. A large number of voices could be heard raised in shouts. Cherik had launched their offensive.


Cherik’s army had sallied from the gate – having received that message, Taúlia naturally positioned themselves to counter-attack. Moldorf could feel a great many presences rustling through the forest. 

''Good. With this, the enemy will also move forward. Now is the time to cut off their retreat''. 

Behind the man known as the Red Dragon of Kadyne, the troops had also all at once taken on a tense air. A number of commanders lined up their horses on either side of Moldorf but he deliberately forced them to stand down with a wave of his hand.

Many among them were famous. Their expressions turned sullen.

“Those on that side will go around the forest and strike at the five hundred soldiers. We, the Kadyne troops, will wait for the right moment to join up with Cherik, break through the forest and act as vanguard,” Moldorf announced flatly. 

“Wha-” the commander from Lakekish who had laughed at him a little while earlier seemed about to cut him off but,

“Do you want to say that I’m snatching the glory? Then tell me, where’s the glory in a fight like this?”

“…”

“Threatened by the sorcerer, forced to wield our swords as he tells us to on this kind of battlefield, how can there be honour or glory or even victory? Even if we defeat Ax himself, just what kind of fame is there to be had? Rather, we’ll be reviled by posterity as the sorcerer’s puppets.”

“Moldorf.”

“At any rate, a large army can’t break through the forest. A small number will go through the woods first and cause a disturbance among the enemy. In addition, we’ll cut off their path of retreat and with Cherik coming at them from the front, the enemy won’t be able to move.” 

His voice was calm but it was all the more powerful because of it. Most of the commanders knew of Moldorf’s fierce fighting style. They would follow him after all.

While a number of officers and soldiers lined up their horses to take the path around the forest, Moldorf selected a few dozen mounted warriors and had them conceal themselves on that side of the forest. From the start, their surroundings were far from brightly-lit and the trees’ long shadows stretched over Moldorf’s face. Under his dragon-shaped helmet, a dark shadow fell across his eyes also.

The men and mounts in Taúlia’s encampment were growing increasingly active. Perhaps as part of a diversionary attack, a shot was fired and resounded throughout the dawn sky.

“General!” The adjutant cried out in surprise. 

“Follow me!” Moldorf called out to his subordinates, but although it was a command issued to the entire troop, a lone horse rider suddenly went flying forward. 

Having rushed his horse into the forest, Moldorf rode hard through the trees. The rising sun cast a faint, emerald light as it filtered through the leaves. 

''I’ll end this''.

The expression under his helmet was fierce as he spurred on his horse. Just as he had said to the commander from Lakekish, this battle had neither honour nor victory. No matter how much they might pride themselves on being upright and principled, being forced to fight against their will would sully the souls of warriors. 
 
That being the case, the only way was to finish things as quickly as possible. If after this Garda did not keep his promise, if he kept the people imprisoned, if he continued to coerce the soldiers and forced them to fight new wars…

''If that time comes, forgive me, my wife, my son, my daughter. Forgive me… Princess Lima. I will drive the entire army forward and march on Zer Illias. And this I swear, the Red Dragon’s beard will be dyed crimson in his opponents’ blood. Even if that means that you will be sacrificed and that it is your blood that will flow''.

Moldorf passed out of the forest. As expected, Cherik’s sortie had caused part of the defence to collapse. For a moment as he raced through, he saw the face of a youth who looked up vacantly towards him. One of the sentries. He parted his head from his neck and sent it whirling through the air. Once more readying the spear that had tasted first blood, Moldorf continued his charge.

A number of lights were lit on a slightly protruding hill. Taúlia’s standard fluttered in the centre. Its design was the same as Zer Tauran’s.


He saw the figure of a man bring out a folding stool and sit on it.

“Ax Bazgan!” 

In shouting out, he was at least displaying a last bit of pride as a warrior. Belatedly noticing the rider fiercely approaching, the Taúlians tried to reach for their swords and spears, but they were easily blown away before Moldorf’s onrush.

Panicking, Ax fell off the folding stool. Moldorf sharply kicked his horse’s flank and readied the aim of his spear. He steadily approached the enemy figure. Ax wasn’t even able to grab a sword. Blood spurted. As Moldorf’s horse seemed to cut across the hill, Ax’s head disappeared from the neck upwards as he grovelled on the ground.

But – 

''Wrong''.

Moldorf felt an intense sense of incongruity. “That” was not Ax Bazgan. The atmosphere in the enemy camp when he had set his aim and when he had actually decapitated his target were clearly different from what he had expected. 

In that case – as Moldorf was about to turn his horse’s head left and right, a huge shadow suddenly fell across him.

When he looked up, the large figure of a Sozos dragon was reflected in his eyes.


“Ho,” the one who spoke from atop the Sozos’ back was the strategist Ravan Dol. He was an old man whose body was as thin as a dead tree, but he handled dragons with admirable skill. "Surely that is Kadyne's Red Dragon? The fish we caught was much bigger than expected and we reeled it in, reeled it in."

Beating a wooden dais that had been set up on the dragon's back, Ravan did not look to be as merry as his words suggested. While "reeling it in" was good and all, this was in fact a situation in which it would have been better if they "had not needed to reel it in". 

Ravan was in command of several dragons and had been making preparations to capture Cherik. They had lit fires some distance behind their real encampment and thus created a decoy "headquarters" in readiness of a surprise attack from the enemy. But still, that had only been on the unlikely off-chance that a few of Cherik's troops would come through the forest. 

Yet here, beneath his eyes, was Moldorf.

''Shit''.

Intense regret welled up within him. The opponent was Garda's army which had set out from Helio. Ravan had calculated that they could advance on Cherik if they emptied Taúlia, but any way he had looked at it, he had not believed that reinforcements could possibly rush towards Cherik. If it had come to this, then it wouldn't only be a single military unit coming through the forest. The enemy would be fielding a far larger force. 

''But still''… 

Be that as it may, the enemy had moved fast. He had been sure that even if they were aiming for Taúlia, news of its battle with Cherik would not be reported to Helio until later. That meant that their movements had been leaked to the enemy but even so, there was still one point that remained unclear no matter how much he thought about it.

It was too fast. 

Considering their relative positions, at about the same time as they had left Taúlia, the enemy should have been in Helio. With regards to the preparations for the march, he had been vigilant to the point of over-cautiousness.  He had severely restricted people’s comings and goings from the city-state and had advanced his arrangements in such secrecy that even the people of Taúlia probably hadn’t realised that they would soon be taking the field.

So why – worrying about that now wouldn’t make any difference.

Ravan sent out three dragons. At that moment, the Kadyne cavalry unit, following Moldorf’s charge, was approaching the “headquarters”, but the horses took fright and dispersed as the large dragons ran towards them with earth-shaking vigour. Only one of them, Moldorf’s horse, rushed around the Sozoses with unimpeded vigour, almost as though it was possessed by the soul of its rider.

“Ax, where are you? Show yourself!”

Moldorf shouted in a voice as loud as a dragon’s roar. An arrow whistled past his cheek but he paid no mind to something so trivial.

“E-Enemies!”  

“A sneak attack from Cherik?”

“It’s the Red Dragon – the Red Dragon of Kadyne!”

Noticing the disturbance, the Taúlian troops lined up their spears and guns and took up defensive positions. From that point on, they were not imposters but guards protecting their headquarters.  

But,

''Retreating is the one thing we can’t do''.

Perhaps drawn in by Moldorf’s spirit, the Kadyne unit that had for a moment been about to disperse showed signs of charging once more. 

It was a fact that Ravan’s eyes were quick to spot an opportunity. And that his decisions were fast. If the entire army had left Helio, the numbers would be comparable to theirs. Moreover, Cherik’s troops were to their front. Any way he looked, they were at a disadvantage. Rather than wring his hands, Ravan would protect the headquarters by driving away the onrushing soldiers. 

He sent a new signal to have his apprentices open the dragon cages and release several small-sized Fey dragons.
By continuing to make use of the dragons to stall for time, they would allow Ax’s main force to move east and, with the dragons as the rear guard, they would also halt the enemy’s pursuit. He did not think that would dampen the enemies’ spirits as they now had Ax close at hand. Nevertheless, the large enemy army would probably turn their way in order to crush their path of retreat. They, the rear-guard, would probably – no, they would almost certainly – be annihilated. 

In that moment, Ravan prepared himself for death. Although even he had already lost track of exactly how old he was, it had never occurred to him to wonder when he might die. As far as Ravan was concerned, to do so would be halfway towards greeting death. The dreams, ideals and goals that he needed to achieve were as numerous as the stars.

But if Ax Bazgan were to be defeated here, Taúlia, no, not only Taúlia but all the western lands, would fall into Garda’s hands. More than all else, the one thing that Ravan could not lose was Ax himself. Because his dreams, his ideals and his goals were all of the legitimacy of the Bazgan House.

“Humph,” Ravan half narrowed his ever sleepy-looking eyes. “Although there is still a mountain of things I need to teach them, it can’t be helped. I’ll have to hand over their training to someone else.”

Be that as it may, the first thing to do was to kill the momentum of this surprise attack. Ravan had intended to dispatch a messenger but Moldorf, galloping without fear of the dragons, would not allow a single horseman through. He was no average commander. Inwardly, Ravan hurled violent hatred at the enemy general, but also, and above that, he heaped praise on him.

Moldorf too was prepared to die. If they could take Ax's head, it would be their win. Rather than turn away here, they would force their way further in. He calculated that if they plunged deep into the enemy line, Taúlia would not be able to use the dragons that were its strongest asset.

Spurring on the Sozos, Ravan sent continuous signals from the top of the dais and guided the Fey to chase after Moldorf. But even as the Fey bounded closer and the Sozos advanced with ground-shaking steps, man and horse, united as one, galloped on unperturbed.

''Dammit''.

Even Ravan the Strategist was starting to feel impatient.

With the Sozos chasing behind him, Moldorf leapt over the soldiers firing bullet at him, he cut down the swords and spears approaching him from either side and, within the crowd moving about confusedly – from the other side of an enemy soldier whose helmet he had sliced through lengthwise he finally caught sight of his prey.

“So you were there, were you? Ax Bazgan.”

He raised the hand in which he held his sword towards the large man he had called out to. Although all around him was nothing but gleaming spearheads as numerous as the enemy soldiers who brandished them, he charged on with unabated vigour. Moldorf roared in a voice loud enough to cross the battlefield and pitched his posture forward.

“My Lord!”

Ravan was going to pursue behind him when suddenly, blackish blood spouted from the back of the Sozos’ neck. Despite the infinitesimal probability  of doing so, an enemy bullet had struck the point where its scales were the weakest. 

The dragon’s giant body lurched sideways and Ravan was thrown from the dais.

“I’ve got it!”

The belief in victory gleamed within Moldorf’s eyes. He himself knew it to also be the herald of destruction. If Ax died, Taúlia too would fall and no one would be able to stop Garda’s invasion anymore.

''This is –''

More than two hundred years after Zer Tauran.

This was the end of the western lands.