Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume5 Chapter2 (section)

=== Part 3 ===

It was nine days since Orba had become a mercenary of Taúlia.

The troops under Bouwen's command left through the city's gate. Among them were of the mercenary forces which had been provided by the army with complete sets of armour and weapons.

They travelled along the main road which had been maintained since the time of the former Zer Tauran and advanced straight towards Helio in the northwest. Because in the Tauran region there was no other way of acquiring ether than to buy it from the coastal countries, there were few aviation units. On this occasion, Taúlia had not sent any carriers and though they were bringing along eight airships, these had been disassembled for the march and were transported by medium-sized dragons. It was the same for the cannons.

Marching together, it would take the soldiers four days to reach Helio. When night fell, they unfolded tents and set up camp along the side of the road.

While the soldiers gathered around the open fires and passed the time gambling, Orba silently sat with his back to a tree trunk. Happening to pass by him, Talcott jokingly said,

"Oh, Mr. Bandaged-swordsman-turned-masked-swordsman. You seem confident with a sword but how about this?"

He showed a pack of cards but Orba ignored him again. With a "Tsk", Talcott grimaced and left. Orba didn't have any special loathing for Talcott but he didn't feel like chatting idly with him either.

Incidentally, Orba was currently wearing a mask that he had received from Duncan. The mask concealed him from above his eyes down to his nose. The area around his mouth was wider than the tiger mask that Orba had worn before – or rather, than the cursed magical mask he had been made to wear.

To the side of the road were the ruins of a small fort. It no doubt dated back from the former Zer Tauran and as its interior was still just about divided by ceilings and walls, the officers were using it as their billet. He guessed that it dated back to the former Zer Tauran not because of the building's age, but first and foremost because nowadays it would be impossible to build a castle or a fortress by the side of the main road in the Tauran region.

…... "Oh, why is that?"

Back when he was the Crown Prince of Mephius, he had investigated the matter in depth by having Dinn, his page, show off his considerable erudition. Dinn had proudly lectured him,

"That's because the public roads from the Zer Tauran era have become trade routes with the coastal countries. The Tauran region has little contact with outside countries, so if these were cut off, it would be an issue of life or death."

"Take for example Taúlia, which is the furthest from the coast. If an enemy country blockaded the trade route, it would be at a clear strategic advantage, no?"

"Yes, but they have a common awareness that they were originally a single country. A foreigner might think it strange but even if up until yesterday they had done nothing but fight and wash blood with blood, if an attack came from the outside, they would come together as one to push it back – that is exactly what happened with our Mephius – because even though they quarrel, they have an especially strong sense of being compatriots."

"I see. If cutting off trade starts being used as a valid tactic somewhere, the other city-states would also do the same. And then the whole of the Tauran region would weaken and then starve. Does the tacit agreement about protecting the trade routes also make it easier in case of foreign invasions?"

"That's right."

Orba mentioned something he had read earlier and Dinn, slightly offended at having been robbed of a rare chance to show off his knowledge, had continued,

"But rather than a tacit agreement, you could call it their absolute taboo. It is said that the roads received the blessing of the Dragon Gods who were worshipped during the Zer Tauran era and if you attack a caravan travelling along them or install a blockade, you will simultaneously be attacked by all the other countries. In addition, it is the duty of each country with jurisdiction over the roads to protect caravans from bandits."

''Still'',

It didn't change the fact that the western Tauran region was fundamentally a world where only the fittest survived. It wasn't rare for a country's royal bloodline to be replaced within one or two generations or even for a thief to become king. How long would those unwritten laws continue to function? A story had it that when Mephius attacked Taúlia ten years ago, Ravan Dol had issued a written appeal and had somehow rallied the other countries even though they had by no means been inclined to do anything.

It had been a long time since the Tauran region had lost its king. It might be that in this land, the laws and authority of the Zer Tauran era had already faded away.

"What are you thinking about?"

When a voice called out to him, he raised his head and near him was the man named Stan. Without asking for Orba's permission, with a "Heigh-ho", he sat down next to him. From this close, his arms and legs looked short but as thick as logs.

"Here," he held out a small bottle towards Orba. He was about to raise his hand to refuse it but, "It's not alcohol," said Stan. "It's honey. It's pretty rare around here. I won yesterday at gambling."

Normally Orba would have ignored him but contrary to his stern appearance, this man named Stan was unusually friendly. Because he didn't push it any further, Orba for no particular reason took the bottle, scooped a finger in the honey and licked it off.

With a grin, Stan did the same. His always thin eyes narrowed even further when he smiled.

"Still, every time I see it, it's a very strange face."

"You can tell even though I'm wearing a mask?"

"In my case, it shows me a "colour". Hmm, I can't give you a full explanation but, ah, something like, this person is this colour so they have this personality maybe, this person sometimes looks blue so something bad is definitely going to happen soon, something like that."

"That's just normal intuition, right?" Orba said curtly. Stan was unruffled.

"But it's not something to take lightly. On the battlefield for example, I never go near a man who looks blue. Because that means that something bad is going to happen to him and in a battle, that probably means he's going to die. And in fact there's a very good chance that he won't come back. That's how I've survived on the battlefield. I'm not very skilled, you know."

"You said that you were brought up by nomads?"

Something had changed suddenly in Orba's heart. Since leaving Mephius, it was rare for him to take an interest in anything.

"Does everyone among the Taúlian nomads hold an ability like that?"

"No way," Stan smiled as he licked another fingerful of honey. "They're not different from ordinary people who live in cities."

"What about, say, those who are incredibly good at handling dragons? Those that can calm an angry dragon just by touching it with their hand. They can hear the dragon's "voice" or something like that."

"What's that?"

"If you don't know, don't worry about it."

At the opposite of Stan whose curiosity had been aroused, Orba turned away, having apparently lost interest.
"That's a really specific story. A dragon's "voice", hmm? If it's the people from the Barbaroi village, that kind of thing seems possible."

"Barbaroi<ref>The term Stan uses is バルバロイ which can either be translated as an unusual way of saying barbarian or as "Berber". To keep the sense that they are viewed both as barbarian and strange as well as a specific set of people, the word is being kept as "Barbaroi".</ref>?"

''Yes'', nodded Stan and continued,

"North of Helio there's Lake Kurán. It's said that there is a legendary village there. And it's said that from ancient times, even further back than the Zer Tauran era, the people there have worshipped the Dragon Gods. Since before humanity, before our ancestors arrived here from space... Basically, the people of that tribe are said to be the original inhabitants of this planet."

"There's also that theory that the Ryuujin tribe is the degenerated form of the Dragon Gods."

"Oh? I'll leave that kind of complicated discussion to scholars but in any case, those original inhabitants lost the war with humanity and disappeared, but it seems that they settled down in that Barbaroi village."

"There are many adventurers and explorers wandering around looking for survivors of the Ryuujin Tribe. So there should be plenty of people who have come to hear about that legend. It's hard to believe that it's never been found up until now."

"That's the thing. The Zerdians hardly ever go near Lake Kurán. Tales from the Zer Tauran era say that it's the land of the Dragon Gods. So you could say that it's a sacred place for the Zerdians. A long, long time ago, a general – or was it a king? –  aiming for the east-side of the Tauran region thought that it was convenient since no Zerdian would approach it and built a fortress there and controlled the entire area around the lake. Apparently, he was going to make it his advance base for capturing Tauran.  But before long, that fortress disappeared as though it had been a dream. It wasn't burned down or attacked by surprise either, it truly just vanished without a trace."

"Oh?"

"Garda," Stan paused for a moment, "I don't know if it the same person as the one we're going to fight but the Garda I'm talking about was a priest of the Dragon Gods faith at the time of Zer Tauran. It's said that once a year, that Garda would perform a consecration at the temple of Zer Illias, well, you could call it a special sacrifice, during which he selected about a hundred people and sank them into the lake."

Orba was by no means superstitious but for some reason the wind that gently brushed against his skin felt unsettling.

"That reminds me, it's just a legend but I have a feeling there were beings known as Dragon Priestesses among the Barbaroi. But I don't know if they're the same as the people who can hear a dragon's "voice" that you were talking about."

"I see."

After that, Stan talked about how a river that took its source in Lake Kurán had become the water of life for the people of Helio. For them as Zerdians, receiving that blessing from the sacred land of Kurán was a form of pride.

While listening to the various legends, Orba glanced around his surroundings.

The swords and spears which had been left all over, leaning against rocks or on the ground, gave off a pale metallic light by the flames of the fires. There was the incessant sound of words spoken in the strong western accent. The slightly bestial smell characteristic of when men were gathered together reminded Orba of his days as a gladiator.
Then, Talcott's voice could be heard in what sounded like a scream,

"Uh-oh," Stan stood up. "You're being made a sucker of again, Brother. He's got a good head but he is a bit quick-tempered. I'll be off."

Once Stan had left, Orba pulled the blanket he had been rationed with around his shoulders and settled down to sleep. The feel of his mask against the ground was incredibly depressing.

When he closed his eyes, Esmena Bazgan's haggard smile floated across the darkness behind his eyelids. It promptly overlapped with someone else's and Orba was unable to calm his feelings.

''I should go somewhere further away,'' he thought.

To a land where no one knew of Orba or knew the crown prince's face, and where he knew no one. A land where the names of the people he knew, of the countries he knew, would never reach his ears.


The troops travelled north along the Belgana Summits. The plains spreading east of the Belganas were dotted with villages belonging to no country and were also a neutral area and a border with Mephius. A fort was built in the peaks and kept a lookout on east and south, defending the border from anyone who tried to break through the mountains.

As the peaks gradually grew lower, Helio's outer walls came into sight. A column of ornately decorated riders awaited them before the gate. Bouwen sent a messenger on horseback and permission was soon granted for all of Taúlia's accompanying troops to enter into Helio.

The people lining the streets cheered with joy as the reinforcements arrived.

"So Ax, have you finally lifted your heavy backside?"

Said a person watching the scene from the top of a tower. The tall, lean figure smoothed back his hair and arranged his moustache. At first glance, he looked like a fop, but his entire body radiated the energy of a beast in the field. Unusually for the west, he lightly wore formal clothes over the armour that completely covered his limbs.

"That's a pretty good size too. Did you panic upon realising that if this place fell, you were next? Well never mind, we'll give you the heartiest of receptions."

Although he spoke as haughtily as the king, he was not originally from Helio. His name was Greygun and he was a mercenary commander from the allied country of Cherik. After running rampant through the battlefield, killing enemies and raping women, he would subjugate allied villages by force if necessary and wilfully set up base there. Such was the fame of Greygun, leader of the "Red Hawks" mercenary band.

However, his excesses having crossed the line, he had quarrelled with King Yamka II and been banished from Cherik. On that occasion, he had taken away not only his own band but also a great many soldiers from Cherik's regular army, so that all told, he had left the country accompanied by over seven hundred soldiers.

Naturally with that many soldiers to feed, there was a need to immediately be hired by some other country. Luckily for him, the entire Tauran region was in the middle of an invasion by Garda's forces and countries everywhere wanted strong military units. Thus Greygun came here, to Helio.

With the total annihilation of the reinforcements sent to Eimen followed by a civil war, Helio had very few regular soldiers left and Jallah, who had only just become king, unhesitatingly welcomed Greygun's forces and promised them high rewards.

From then on, Greygun had all but taken on the entire managing of military affairs. His men's behaviour also seemed to say that this town was already theirs.

It was said of Greygun that he was originally an orphan born from the womb of a prostitute who had been worn to the bone on the battlefields. When he drank, he always said, in a tone that mingled conceit and self-mockery at his own birth,

"I'm a man who was born on a battlefield and who will die on a battlefield."

Such was the man who, while looking down on Taúlia's marching troops from a tower window, asked the man who was waiting behind him,

"When do you judge that Garda's forces will act?"

Like the desert people, this man wore a cloth over his head that was fixed in place by a ring. Though his features were finely chiselled, he was as thin as though wasted away by disease.

"We will act in a week's time." His rough voice resembled the menacing noise of a desert snake on the prowl.

"Indeed?" Greygun spat on one of his fingers then used it to smooth his moustache. "Those damn Taúlians still put on airs as the rightful descendants of Zer Tauran, but will their mouldy old pride be of any use to them in battle? I'll be sure to watch on."




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