Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume9 Chapter8 (section)

=== Part 3 ===

Orba and the others charged like thunder, thrusting their spears and brandishing their swords. At each step forward, enemy swords and spears flew through the air to prevent them from taking yet another step.
Orba himself had taken blows from spears to his shoulders and legs. Not that he minded them. From his expression, it was as though he had himself turned into a dragon unconcerned with human weapons, and he continued to urge the Baian onwards as he unleashed his spear only on the soldiers who one after another tried to block his way.

A third or more of their troops had already fallen. There were those who had tumbled when their horses had been deliberately shot, those who had been pierced by the foot soldiers’ spears, those who had been knocked unconscious when their horses violently collided with each other…

But their energy did not abate.

To stop was the same as losing their lives, and the entire group intently pushed forward, wrapped in a haze of blood.

In the sky, the fight also continued.

Under Rogue Saian’s command, the Reinus’ surprise attack was a success, but Yuriah’s side still had their flagship. The airships on both sides competed fiercely, moving continuously while releasing restraining fire to try and seize even the slightest advantage.

Gunshots and the roar of cannon fire intersected ceaselessly, fragments from fallen airships and cannon balls that shattered into the ground fell like endless rain, and amidst it all, Gil Mephius’ troops kicked their horses’ bellies and raised clouds of dust as they slaughtered enemies to move relentlessly forward.

At their head, Orba’s entire body was so covered in the blood of his fallen opponents that at glance, it looked as though his very facial features had changed. Blood and flesh went flying as soldiers were crushed under the Baian’s forepaws. From the back of his neck to his face, Orba was covered in darkish gore. The Baian roared and seemed about to devour the corpses when Orba pulled on the reigns with all his might and kept it in restraint.

In a moment, and from both sides, black lightning bolts streaked upwards. Twisting his torso and dodging the spear, Orba stabbed the enemy’s neck with his own spear.

While he was doing so, a group of foot soldiers came rushing to the front of him, so he kicked the Baian’s flanks even harder than before.

The dragon’s roar seemed to shatter the earth. It started surging forward, half leaping as it did, and several soldiers faltered in fear at its onrush. With only a backwards glance, Orba and his men pushed further and further on.

''This is unexpected'' – Orba thought fleetingly as he clung to the Baian’s heaving back.

The charge was proceeding unexpectedly smoothly.

The Spear of Flames Division should have been a wall obstructing their advance, yet that wall was weaker than expected. Of course, the enemy was desperately trying to halt their charge, but their movements were disorganised. Although their brave and fearsome warriors were assembled, each was acting individually, disconnected from the others, and they were being overwhelmed by the force of the charge.

''Perhaps'' – Orba thought, perhaps the enemy general Zaas Sidious had been killed in the melee, or had been wounded and fallen back from the front.

Mowing down his enemies left and right, Orba had the Baian charge onwards. The suicide unit, Gilliam in the lead, followed behind him. He did not have the luxury to be able to look behind him, so he did not know who was still alive and who had already been lost.

News of the current battle progress had, of course, reached the Mephian commander, Folker Baran.

Again and again, messengers to the rear guard came from all over to announce that the front line had been broken through.

''Right.''

Folker Baran would start to stand up but –
''No.''

This man who never lost his composure would change his mind every time. There was no doubt that the enemy had a detached force. If he sent out his soldiers now, they would probably seize that chance to swoop in and attack.

So instead, Folker had his own Black Steel Sword Division align themselves in ranks and take up position to defend against the enemy’s suicidal charge.

Although they had been divided lengthwise, the Spear of Flames Division would surely be in hot pursuit at the enemy’s back. And with that, the enemy force that had broken through would be caught in a pincer attack from the front and rear.

Furthermore, the rifle units had been moved to either side of the headquarters. Since both the enemy and the allies who were chasing after them would be coming from the front, guns could not be used. That being the case, he had chosen to have them ready for the enemy’s detached force that would be appearing from their flank. In place of soldiers with guns at the ready, the heavily armoured Black Steel Sword Division were aligned in rows before the headquarters.

If Folker could be lured into stirring even slightly, an opening might yet be found, but seen from Orba’s side, his defence was literally impregnable.

And at that point, the charge led by Orba gradually started losing its vigour. Not unexpectedly, exhaustion was setting in and also, and as Folker had speculated, the raised battle cries of the Spear of Flames Division could be heard from behind them. Zaas Sidious himself was not taking command but his officers of long military standing had brought the troops together.

“Uwaah!”

“Faster!”

Orba could hear the voices coming from behind him. The ones who had not already been shaken off were nipping at their heels.

Orba’s unit collapsed.

The formation which had pushed its way through as sharply as an arrowhead, was falling into chaos left and right; which meant that it was losing the strength and vigour of its charge rather than being pushed back by the enemy approaching from the front. From behind them, the foot soldiers of the Spear of Flames Division, seeing a chance for revenge, raised their spears, hammers, and axes.

“Fight!” Orba yelled as he fended off the sword of a mounted warrior while the screams of his own allies resounded. “Don’t disperse, stand firm! Fight your way out!”

At that moment –

“Im-, po-, ssible.”

Impossible, an enemy rider had said from in front of him, but it sounded strangely slow.

Orba felt a violent blow from below.

He wondered if he had been pierced by a spear.

In fact, while his attention was taken by the rider, a foot soldier had seized the chance to slice into the Baian’s leg with an axe. As the dragon writhed furiously in agony, he soon found himself on the verge of being shaken off. Orba’s hands grasped the reigns with the strength of a vice and his thighs held tightly to the Baian’s trunk.

''If I fall now'' –

He would die, his instinct told him.

The instant that the Baian lowered its head, he felt a portent of violent death and a spear aimed straight at Orba’s head came flying. He bent his torso and returned a stroke that pierced the enemy soldier’s chest.

But by that time, new enemies were already approaching.

He could no longer deal with them with a spear. He drew the sword from at his waist and repelled the swarm of steel in one movement. In an attempt to charge again, he kicked the Baian’s belly, but this was this dragon’s first battle. Driven to a frenzy by the blood and the pain, it did not readily obey.

Orba was also starting to be pressed back. If he could not match his movements to the dragon’s breathing, his sword would not reach the enemy soldiers on the ground. His focus spontaneously turned to defence only.

He considered whether he should instead jump down from the dragon and run on foot. However, if he lost the pressure that came from the Baian, he would only fall victim to a line of readied spears.

And then, a rider rushed up from behind and a soldier who was lunging at him from in front with a spear had his head fly off.

Gilliam.

He plucked the spear from the hands of the headless corpse as it slumped and threw it towards Orba.

“Use this.”

This was no time for being courteous.

As they spurred horse and dragon onward, the two of them unleashed certain death at a single stroke against the enemy soldiers who rushed towards them.

Thinking about it, it was the first time he and Gilliam had fought side by side like this. Both of them displayed peerless strength on this battlefield, but in a situation in which they could neither advance nor retreat, their stamina was necessarily consumed at a violent rate. The way before them did not open, nor did the one behind them, and the enemy gradually approached even as they dealt with each row of them.

Around half should already have been defeated.

With no time to obey orders from his brain, Orba acted on instinct, jabbing with the spear and riding the dragon, but his heart was screaming from his having pushed himself beyond his limits and the veins in entire body no longer seemed to have blood coursing through them but fire. It felt as though that fire would burn his life away before he ever fell to an enemy sword.

Every person there was but one warrior, so there were none who had not thought of death. One had to be prepared for it. Orba alone however could not resign himself to death.

If ‘Gil Mephius’ allowed the shadow of death to coil about him now, the soldiers still fighting would lose their morale. So as to survive to the end, he had to fight to win.

Spears clashed in mid-air. Orba’s spearhead stabbed the enemy soldier in the neck, the tip of the enemy soldier’s spear struck Orba on the forehead.

With no time to even grimace from the pain, he drew out his spear and prepared for the next attack.

A new cloud of dust rose to his side. Another group was charging forward.

''New enemy troops'', he thought.

For one split second, he stopped moving.

Sweat was running down his face. Even though he had not been conscious of it until now, he watched a drop trickle down and mingle with his opponents’ blood.

It stung to the point of being painful.

He closed his eyes.

‘Death’, which he had been shaking off right until this moment crept up from the darkness behind his eyelids.

The next instant, he opened his eyes.

“Pashir!”

The name of the mounted warrior leading the charge escaped from Orba’s mouth when he realised who it was. Pashir’s detached force was soaring from within the trees at the side.

Having sensed that the plan would have been modified, he had changed his route and remained on standby, holding his breath, for an opportunity to join up with Gil’s dash.

In a sense, this was the moment in which the army that Orba was leading achieved its greatest coordination. Leaning forward, Pashir, in his relentless charge, mowed down the enemy soldiers before Orba. He could well be described as a gale.

Seizing the moment, and all but begging it, Orba kicked the Baian’s belly. Go – rider and dragon were connected in way that went beyond words and at Orba’s kick, the beast seemed to turn into a fearless warrior. With a roar, it starting running again.

The Black Steel Sword Division had been solely focused on what was in front of them, so the unexpected attack threw their ranks into disarray. With the accuracy of a needle drawing thread, Gil Mephius tore through that open seam, Pashir to his right, Gilliam to his left.

The mounted soldiers following behind them had recovered their vigour. More than half of them were already unable to fight, having either fallen from their horse or lost their lives, but the remaining braves, their hunger sharper than ever, steadily pulled the enemy soldiers apart, tearing the open seam into a gaping hole.

In no time at all, the defence formation that Folker Baran had established was engulfed in the dust of melee fighting.

“Don’t do it!” Folker shouted instinctively.

Although he had accepted that some sacrifices would be necessary, that was when he had not believed that the enemy would be able to draw this close. At this time, Folker Baran did not follow in Nabarl Metti’s footsteps and do as he had during the battle with Taúlia.

He had ‘eyes’ that could evaluate the situation. He did not underestimate the enemy simply because their numbers were lower. ''We’ll concede this one to them'' – he decided.

First and foremost, there was no need for Folker to consider this their final battle. Said otherwise, the reason why the enemy fought so desperately was because they had nothing left after this. The enemy knew that if they let slip the chance – not to say the golden opportunity – of victory at their fingertips, the initiative in this war would pass entirely to the Mephian army.

''And besides, there’s no need to play along with them in taking huge losses.'' If they temporarily withdrew to Birac and reorganised their troops, it would be easy next time to repel the enemy. The detached force that Folker had been the most vigilant against had already appeared. Their greatest gain from this battle was that they now knew the enemy’s entire strength. As they had moreover crushed two of their bases, the next time that Folker led his troops, he would be aiming straight for Apta.

There was no longer anything blocking them.

Folker decided to temporarily retreat from the front lines.

First, as there was no longer any need to watch out for a surprise attack, he called back the rifle units from either side of the camp and informed their captains about the paths of retreat that the main body of the troops would be using.

“Find suitable locations to conceal yourselves in. Divide yourselves up by company. Prevent the enemy from chasing after us.”

Once the riflemen understood their orders and had left, he hurriedly sent messengers to Generals Zaas and Yuriah.

Folker was an able commander who was good at assessing a situation. But he did not have a nose that could smell the atmosphere on the battlefield. Unlike Orba, he had never learned the viewpoint of a regular soldier.

At this point in time, Folker’s judgement could be said to be correct.

But the very fact that he had made the correct decision was most certainly the ultimate piece of good luck brought forth by Orba’s charge.
 


Having received their orders, first Yuriah’s flagship – struggling to disperse the airship force as it did so – drew back, then the scattered Spear of Flames Division withdrew. Intending to join up with them, Folker pulled up their headquarters.

The enemy were still hot on their heels but, “Ignore them,” Folker shouted in an unusually resonant voice. “Right now, their desperation and resolve is greater than ours. We pull back in order to win.”

If the enemies got lured into closing the distance with them, the riflemen spread out beforehand would deal with them. The one opening the vanguard was Gil Mephius’ impostor. Which meant that they might be able to shoot down the enemy commander-in-chief.

However –

“Halt the horses,” he suddenly raised his arm. He himself brought the Baian to a stop. One after another, his men did the same.

As they were wondering why it was that he was throwing away such a good chance of pursuit, he said –

“Raise a victory shout.”

The riders who had halted their horses, the foot soldiers who had paused their footsteps did as they were ordered, each raising swords, spears or guns, and roared.

Since they came from the same country, it was quite natural, but this was the same victory shout as that of the Mephian army. There could be no greater humiliation for Folker’s troops than to hear it at their backs.

But wanting the enemy to taste nothing but disgrace, Orba did nothing to check his troops.

He waited until just before Folker, having put some distance between them, was about to set up another camp, then gave a new order. He finally brought out the three cruisers that they had snatched from Jozu Fortress. The ships, which had abundant reserves of ether as they had not been used in the battle line-up until then, started out and advanced whilst bombarding the enemy.

Their effectiveness was greater now that Yuriah's air force was in shambles. The riflemen lying in ambush along the path of retreat were smoked out by the flames, and Folker was furthermore unable to establish a new camp.

''That man'' – even Folker could not help but shiver. The enemy had anticipated this pursuit right from the start. In a situation in which they were clearly at a disadvantage, he had expected to undoubtedly receive a chance at victory and had kept resources in reserve.

He was no ordinary person.

Or perhaps he was just an utter idiot.

''And here I was going to make myself into a great fool, but the enemy was better at it.'' He did not however have the luxury to stay and gnash his teeth in frustration.

"Retreat, retreat," Folker reluctantly repeated.

And in response to that, Orba cried out – 

"Pursue, pursue."

Under his lead, the cavalry units, infantry units, as well as Odyne's riflemen who had joined up with them once more, advanced.

But there was one other person who considered that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Not Orba, who was on the offensive, but rather Walt, the former commander of Jozu Fortress, who was now on the defending side. He and his men had volunteered to be the rear guard for Folker's troops.

Having watched his fortress burn down before his very eyes, Walt's ardour was considerable. Having borrowed some riflemen, he had initially been going to have them shoot from the hill on which the headquarters was established. Under their protective fire, he had then attempted to clash with the enemy forces, but – 

''What?'' Walt was left dumbfounded.

Leading in the vanguard, the figure of Gil Mephius –  or rather of the man that he wasn't sure was Gil Mephius –  loomed large. Before he had even noticed that the man was approaching faster than expected, Walt's horse was frightened by the Baian's suicide attack and was preparing to flee.

"Eei!" Giving up on the horse, Walt dismounted and grabbed a spear with an especially long shaft from one of his men. The enemy was already so close that he could smell the stench particular to dragons. "Now – "

''Come'' –  he was just about to launch a jab for Gil's chest with the spear.

When the tip was sliced off and sent flying with lightning speed. As it had simply been too quick, the astounded Walt followed the spearhead as it flew through the air until he could see it no longer.

From atop the saddle, and instead of returning the blow he had stopped, Orba for some reason started heaping jeers on Walt.

"Do you still not get it, you utter fool?"

"F-Fool?"

"It's praiseworthy of you to face me. Still, I wouldn't have thought that there could be man with eyes as clouded as yours. Come! I'll show you the fight of a true king."

There was no reason for Walt to obey when told to come. But he was simply stunned. And while he was stunned, Orba quickly drove the Baian onwards.

How to best explain Orba and Walt's emotions at that point in time? You could say that Orba had liked this man at first glance, while Walt would have to admit that he was increasingly wondering if this might not, in fact, be the real Crown Prince; although he would have been unable to put that into words or to formulate any reasons as to why.

In conclusion, Walt had, by that point, given up on giving chase.

And Folker was forced to retreat further. If they pulled back one step, the enemy was a step and a half behind them, and so they steadily continued to withdraw.

As evening drew near, the enemy air carriers were at long last unable to maintain flight capability any further and landed, but they then launched several airships that threatened Folker from overhead.

''This isn’t good.'' Morale was being whittled away minute by minute. Folker decided that it would be simpler to head straight for Birac. Since it had turned into a forced march, they resolutely abandoned their cumbersome packs and cannons. Without sparring the time to sleep, they continued their retreat.

Similarly, Orba was continuing the chase even though night was falling. He was now on horseback. Horses were better suited to long-distance pursuits than dragons. The dragon unit, the Baian included, had been left with Ran at the back.

“Don’t rest,” he called out to his utterly exhausted men. “You can rest once we’ve taken Birac.”

This was more than repelling the enemy offensive. He was claiming that they would seize the enemy base, Birac. If Folker had been able to hear him, he would not have been able to take him seriously, but Orba himself was entirely in earnest.

When Birac was finally close at hand, Folker dispatched his adjutant to the city and meanwhile spread out a defence line, temporary and impromptu though it was, to cover his men’s evacuation.

''If we can just hold out here'' – victory was assured. That thought kept Folker energetic. As he was a man whose expression never changed, he was hard to understand from the outside, but at least there was none of the wretchedness of a defeated army. He raised his reedy voice and vigorously encouraged his men.

And yet it was, in that moment, that Folker Baran’s iron nerve was shattered.

“Impossible,” when he received the report from his adjutant, who had returned in a panic, his expression turned incredulous.

The gates of Birac were shut.

Maybe its lord, Fedom Aulin, had realised that Folker’s army had taken flight and had chosen to let neither them nor the enemy in; but at any rate, no matter how much they beat on the gate, they received no answer. And, as they were doing so, Gil Mephius’ troops were drawing closer.

As though to flaunt their overwhelming resources, cavalry and artillery units, accompanied by airships overhead, were approaching left and right like messengers of death.

''Curse you, Fedom!'' Folker’s expression turned into one that even his long-time subordinates had never seen before. He had finally realised that he had been lured into retreating. The fake Gil and Fedom had been colluding from the start.

Once they lost their path of retreat, they were helpless. Having come to this, there was even the fear that Birac’s garrison might ambush them.

''Pathetic.'' Folker trembled in anger such as he had never felt in all his life. ''To be prepared to lose so many soldiers when fighting, yet to be completely at a loss as soon as someone I trusted as an ally betrayed us.''

But even anger was transient. With the enemy fast approaching, wallowing in regrets and self-pity was not his style. Folker Baran was, to the very end, composure incarnate.
 


After that, and with no opportunity to hear Yuriah and Zaas’ opinions, Folker sent a message of surrender to the enemy side. Orba received the messenger and, along with accepting Folker’s surrender, he ordered him to have his men disarm.

“If you comply, we will not needlessly take your soldiers’ lives,” he promised, and Folker obeyed.

Having gotten his men to prepare to follow that command, Folker rode alone to Orba’s camp.

“Been a while,” Orba called out to him, even though he knew neither his face nor his name.

For the first time, Folker Baran beheld the man who was their ‘enemy’.

He and Gil Mephius truly were like two peas in a pod.

And standing next to Gil, on either side, were Rogue and Odyne, not looking in the slightest as though they had been ensnared by sorcery, completely unchanged from the generals he was use to meeting in Solon. In that moment, various conflicting emotions within Folker seemed to burst with a pop.

“Your Highness,” he bowed just as he would when facing the crown prince. “Please let me ask you one thing.”

“What is it?”

“The western army that appeared near Bafsk...”

“Did so at my instigation.”

“As expected.”

“I asked them to move close to the border in order to entice you to us. Don’t worry, they won’t be crossing into our country.”

“Aye.”

For Folker, hearing that alone was enough.
 


And thus, the battle of Tolinea came to a close.

Orba led his entire army into Birac. Fedom must have been vigorously spreading propaganda beforehand within the city, because the populace received them as though cheering the return of a victorious army.

''Finally'' – still on horseback, Orba breathed a sigh while being showered in cheers.

Before entering the stronghold, he had carefully wiped all the blood from his body and had changed his armour and clothes to look tidier, but naturally he could not wipe the exhaustion from his face. It had been a fight that left him feeling that he just wanted to rest without thinking of anything for a while, but he would soon be made to realise how great the price of victory had been.
 



 
Through the death of Imperial Guard Shique.




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