Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume7 Chapter6 (section)

=== Part 3 ===

Lights were moving in the dead of night.

They flew by so fast that they almost seemed like nothing more than a hallucination, but the darkness that followed was filled by galloping cavalry and dragoon units. The only ones carrying torches were Orba, who was riding in the lead, and the soldiers who were handling the dragons that were pulling the cannons.

His iron mask warmed in the flames, Orba silently galloped on.

''Mephius is invading''. – When Bouwen had said that, Orba had not been able to draw a clear ‘picture’ of it in his head. And that despite the fact he usually had good insight.

Mephius was, of course, his native land. It was a little different from not being able to believe it. For he, who had spent several months as the crown prince, had at some point subconsciously started to feel that a part of ‘Mephius’ belonged to him. It was a strange impression, as though he were in a corridor and, despite there being no mirror at the end, there was someone who looked exactly like him, who then drew their sword and charged to attack.

However, when he had heard the details from Bouwen, the ‘Mephius’ that was embodied by the figure of the Crown Prince – or in other words, by Orba himself – had vanished like smoke, and gradually a different figure had formed.

''Guhl Mephius''.

Orba could see those eyes, filled with suspicion and lust for power, and those lips that were twisted into a vicious smile. At the same time, what had once been Orba’s image of a statesman and a man in authority superimposed itself on top of that until it almost entirely filled his field of vision: Oubary Bilan, smiling on horseback as the village burned and the villagers, whom Orba knew, had their heads sliced off by gleaming swords and spears.

In the middle of the council of war and behind his mask, hatred had made his temples throb, and he had ground his teeth and clenched his arms crossed so strongly that their muscles bulged and that he himself would have trouble uncrossing them.

Orba did not wonder – ''why attack the west now''. Rulers such as Guhl Mephius constantly burned with the ambition for supremacy. He had probably been told of the military campaign against Garda by the spies he had sent west, and had judged that now was a good opportunity.

The troops which had been observed to have left Apta had crossed the River Yunos and had set up camp on the Gajira plains. Therefore, it seemed that they either intended to wait for troops following behind them, or they were not yet clear on how to move next.



After the council of war, Orba was given a hundred regular soldiers on top of the fifty or so from his mercenary unit, as well as two cannons. Originally, he would have preferred a few more guns, but Mephius could be intending to use its troops to attract their attention before appearing from above in ships. The city’s air force could not be increased, so most of the cannons currently in Taúlia had to remain in position around the it.

There was one cruiser currently in Taúlia. This ship, which had brought Esmena back from Eimen, would for now be the central pillar of their defence. If the point came when they decided that they had no other choice, they planned to use it to allow Esmena and the queen to escape.

In exchange for not being able to give him as many cannons as he would have hoped for, most of the soldiers he received were riflemen. Bouwen Tedos had responded as best as he could to Orba’s request.

“Orba is Mephian.” During the council of war, Bouwen had deliberately brought up what should have been best left unsaid, no doubt also as a way of showing consideration to the surroundings. “He knows more about the enemy than we do. There’s no objection to entrusting soldiers to the hero who killed Garda, ''right''?”

The commanders did not say a word.

What the situation required more than anything was a swift response. The more time passed, the more the enemy numbers would increase and the more the difference between them would widen. Forget the fact that reinforcements would take about a week to arrive, they were afraid that if they made a single mistake, Taúlia would be engulfed in flames this very night. Although no one said it, the atmosphere inside the room seemed to throb.

The fighting was finally over. That's what people thought, not only in Taúlia but everywhere in the west. In this land, where swords had once constantly been soaked in blood and where at any given time a stone city was surely ablaze, everyone now shared that one belief. And yet now, the castle belonging to Ax Bazgan, the leader of the western union which had defeated Garda, was on the verge of falling at the hands of its base and treacherous neighbour.

With that, they had deftly avoided a pointless fight among comrades on the same side.

After the council of war had finished, Orba summoned everyone from his unit. That of course included Shique and Gilliam as well as Talcott and Stan.

“We’re going to be attacking the Mephian forces which have invaded Taúlian territory.”

That curt announcement astounded everyone in the unit.

He dispassionately explained what tactics they would be using and then, still with the same lack of emotion, he finished outfitting himself.

“Orba.”

Shique looked like he had something he wanted to say but Orba responded by making the first move.

“There’s no time to rest, huh?”

“Ah… Yeah.”

“If we manage to push Mephius back, I should give the men a holiday. Neither Bouwen nor Ax would say no.”

“That’s for sure,” Shique interjected. “What will you do on your holiday?”

“Me?”

Orba stayed silent for a moment as he sheathed his blade in leather.

“Right,” he opened his mouth to speak, “I could swim the Yunos. I was always playing about in the river when I was little, so I’m confident in my swimming. I could go and show off to those guys in Apta.”
''No'' – smiling unintentionally, Shique used that smile to show his agreement with Orba, but inwardly, he was thinking something else.

''When you have the time, you read books – while jotting things down with a sullen face in that terrible handwriting of yours – and if you’re not doing that, your training with a sword... or a horse... or a dragon''.

''It’s like you can’t live fast enough. I don’t know anyone else who’s as bad as you at taking it easy''.

“Are they coming?”

Having established their position in the Gajira Plains, Nabarl gave a huge smile when he caught sight of the line of torches drawing closer to them.

“Probably a reconnaissance team. How many?”

“There aren’t that many lights. It looks like trying to trick us but… it should be less than two hundred.”

Hearing that answer from the soldier who was looking through a telescope, Nabarl’s smile grew wider and wider. After all, the soldiers from his Blue Zenith Division as well as the guards from Apta were likewise a mere two hundred apiece. While that was twice as many as the enemy numbers, this was the enemy’s territory. Besides which, the surroundings were still wrapped in darkness. They would have to wait to engulf the enemy like an inferno.

Although actually, the Mephian soldiers in the encampment were not the first to have crossed the River Yunos. He had previously sent soldiers out along the route which the enemy was now marching on. When those scouts had pulled back, he had received a rapid succession of reports from them. Nabarl heard them while stroking his cheek.

“Right – we’ll install one of the guns on higher ground. César!”

He summoned the vice-captain of his main troops. Incidentally, the former Imperial Guard Pashir had placed under this César’s command.

For the next half-hour, he fired off instructions to his men, César included. The enemy had started to line up along the ridge of the Gajira plains. They had been fast so most of them must be mounted soldiers. And then, no doubt to stall for time, a single messenger rode up, a torch in one hand.

Held in check by the Mephian riflemen, the messenger called out so that Nabarl could hear him from within the camp.

“You all from Mephius, what kind of situation is this? You are treading into our territory. We received neither prior notification nor declaration. We ask that you turn back at once. If you do not, even though we are linked by a peace agreement, we will not leave things as they are either.”

''Fire!'' – Nabarl desperately repressed the urge to give that merciless order. If they fired, the enemy guns would commence bombardment. On the grounds that the battle had not yet started, and also with the intention of delaying things, Nabarl forbade that any threatening actions be made against the messenger and simply allowed him to shout.

Probably coming to the conclusion that things could not be settled, the messenger returned to his own side.

For a while, there were neither gunshots nor raised voices as the face-off continued into the night. From the enemy’s point of view, wasting time was not a bad trick. Since Mephius had been intending a surprise attack, they might be hoping that once morning came, they would be compelled to turn back having used up all of their resources.

The sky was finally starting to turn light.

The darkness had served as the slender thread that maintained the balance between both sides, and at the same time that it was dispelled, movement appeared. The soldier who had been monitoring the ridgeline suddenly raised a flag and sent Nabarl a signal. Nabarl stared hard in the same direction then –

“Fire!” This time, he gave the order.

The guns in the camp roared.

Although, as mentioned, the sky was starting to grow clear, the bombardment had to be done without their having a proper grasp of the enemy’s position. Although they did not receive any substantial damage, the Taúlian side became strangely agitated.

Not because of the gunfire.

But because flames could be seen rising up further west, beyond the ridgeline – from Taúlia’s direction.



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