Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume2 Chapter7 (section)

===Part 1===
Over thirty swords and guns took aim at the Mephian statesmen. The nobles turned pale, and even the commanders were left momentarily speechless in the face of the silent, murderous intent directed towards them. The guards responsible for protecting the stadium tried to rush them.

“Don’t move!” A voice from amongst the soldiers brought them to a sudden halt.
“Not a single one of you move! Take even one step, and we’ll start shooting one by one!”

With the target of the threat being Mephius' central figures, they were rendered impotent.


“Y-Your majesty...”

The Emperor brushed aside the arm of Empress Melissa, who had tried to restrain him, and stood.

“Identify yourselves!” Guhl Mephius declared, his white beard trembling in rage. “On whose order is this? Do you fools understand who you’re pointing your guns at?!”

However, these men who wore helmets over their eyes, did not even flinch at his thunderous roar. He was aware that their equipment came from Mephius, but they bore no crests nor carried any sort of war flag that may have disclosed their origins. It was impossible to tell whose subordinates they were, or if they possibly belonged to a completely separate power that had stolen the equipment from Mephius.

“Tch!”

Commander Rogue Saian's hand gripped the pommel of the sword at his waist, but there was nothing he could do in this situation. The young Romus clung to his leg. He hugged the boy’s shoulders, and muttered “I’ve blundered,” repeatedly to himself.

“I will not have you come any closer to the princess, you ruffians!”

“Theresia, stand back.”

Her mistress, Vileena, was of course also present in the midst of this insurgence. A cold sweat ran down Vileena’s whole body but she kept constant watch in all directions.

Her composure made the nobles’ trembling stand out like a sore thumb. Having no means to protect themselves, some had left their seats while some had cowered at the sight of the guns. Others, their bodies frozen in fear, had absentmindedly called on the names of their retainers; hoping that this was nothing more than a bad dream.

''So '''this''' is what the current Mephius amounts to.''

Only a single person, Zaat Quark, found himself submerged in a torrent of satisfaction, and alternately, one of despondency.

''Unaware that they have been cornered by Noue and Oubary’s artifice, I, who have brought them up to where they are now, can, with a single swing of my blade, have them surrender this easily. '''This''' is the current Mephius.''

Zaat swallowed his laugh with difficulty. The Garrison flagship had been a hurriedly prepared substitute. He had stolen his own troops aboard the ship with the order to seize control of the ship immediately after receiving notice of the rebellion.

The next step would be for him to stand up and step out of the encirclement. At that time, the Emperor and his foolish retainers would finally realize who it was that dared to point his sword at them, and who it was that held their lives in his hands.

And he would declare himself to be the one to lead Mephius.
 
Of them all, the majority would no doubt choose to be his ally. He had been dissatisfied with the emperor from the beginning and only pretended to be a loyal retainer so that he could one day do this.

''They never had the talent to flatter the emperor. They’re the same as wild beasts that obey the strong.''

Dissenters were to be imprisoned. Of course, the emperor and his family were no exception.

''What face would Guhl Mephius make?'' The mere thought sent Zaat trembling in excitement. This time, he would be the one to stand over that old man who disregarded the thoughts of others.

Zaat, at the peak of his pride, raised his back at long last. He tread that first step towards creating a new country.

But, before he could even finish that step, his hands were forcefully detained.

“What are you—” he began, but was interrupted by the pressing of a dagger's tip against his neck.

To those present, it appeared as though an insurgent had captured Zaat in his attempt to escape. 

Ineli and some others near him fumbled out of their seats with cries. 
Only Vileena's face showed recognition: the one who had stopped Zaat’s movements was the beautiful slave girl she had seen before.

''Is she also a part of this?'' Vileena thought. 

Zaat also thought the same thing.

“What are you doing?!” He confusedly whispered in a small voice. “Aren’t you a slave who also knows about the plan?! The soldiers here, the whole lot of them, are my—”

“That’s ''exactly'' the thing.”

The slave's disrespectful tone caused Zaat to go wide-eyed. 
That voice did not belong to a woman. The force detaining his hands also did not belong to that of a frail woman. And as the slave continued to point his dagger at Zaat, of all persons, he spoke with a clear, resounding voice.

“Gathered ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to say that there is something I must inform you of in the midst of this crisis; and for that I beg your forgiveness. However, I am convinced that this is something that would tickle the interest of all you ladies and gentlemen. For of the mastermind who staged this rebellion, and who would hold such misgivings—I shall try to provide those answers to you.”

“What?!” Zaat shouted, as dumbfounded as everyone else. 

Finally, Vileena alone noticed the slave's true identity: the clean cut, a charming gaze, a thin nose bridge and such good looks that it was no surprise that he would be mistaken for a woman-

“It can’t be...Shique? Of the prince’s imperial guards...?”

The slave dressed as a girl winked at her.


“The imperial guards, you say?!” Rogue Saian spat out.
“B-But your actions can be seen as nothing more than supporting the rebellion. Who’s the mastermind? Go ahead and say it!”

“Do you not understand? Just now, I was in the middle of presenting that to you fair ladies and fine gentlemen.”

Despite having been found out as a man, Shique flashed a bewitching smile. “Ah,” Rogue and Simon both responded, dumbstruck. 

With the dagger still pressed against Zaat’s neck, he used the noble as a shield and turned to face the soldiers.

“It is as you see. Now, what will you do, Mr. Soldiers-who-just-landed-from-the-sky? Why haven’t you lot taken a single step for some time now? Do you worry for Zaat-dono’s life? Why is it that amongst His Imperial Majesty and the mass majority of the statesmen you’ve restrained within your sights, he alone is not among them?”

It was as Shique had mentioned. As the soldiers faces were all covered, their expressions were unreadable, but it was clear from their behaviour that they were trembling.

And at this time, on the other side of the arena below, a riot was occurring.

At roughly the same time as the soldiers had landed from the air carrier, several men had tried to climb the watchtower there. They had, until then, posed as security guards and hidden their real identities. However, as they tried to move according to plan, an obstacle had suddenly barred their path.

''It seems a certain someone made the right choice.''

Shique muttered, and sent a fleeting glance towards Vileena.

''They were likely planning to make use of the confusion, knock down the guards, and snipe down the princess.''

But because a certain someone had anticipated it, the ‘plan’ had been obstructed. This was in fact, done by the imperial guards who disguised themselves as slaves and were deployed into the surrounding area. The snipers, taken by surprise, offered no forms of resistance and were all apprehended.

Taking notice of the signal, Shique broke into a deep smile.

“This makes it a stalemate now, doesn’t it?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean. Unhand me, slave! How long will the likes of you continue to touch me?! The likes of you are much more suspect to be the mastermind.”

“You’re contradicting yourself, Zaat-dono. There’s no way the likes of a slave could be the mastermind. Why do you think they haven’t moved for the longest time now? Come, feel free to shoot the both of us together.”

As Shique made a step forward, they nervously took a step back. Everyone within the arena now watched him. The citizens who were previously in a panic came to a halt, and the grand nobles who once lost their wits also shifted their attention towards him, unable to tear their eyes away.

Zaat’s mind was now beginning to wander, and just before he lost all hold of himself, he suddenly remembered there was one final hope left and formed a grin.

“Damned fool. You said you were an Imperial Guard, I believe? All the more reason that there’s no way you can sit back and let him be killed, can you? That blundering idiot of a crown prince that was caught by the slaves, that is!”

With Prince Gil still captured by the slaves in the arena, it was only natural that this would prevent Shique from moving recklessly.

Everyone’s attention turned to the arena, as Zaat chortled.

“If you understand, then unhand me, you filthy mongrel!”

Shique, however, did not waver.

“So he says, my prince,” he called out.

At that point, Zaat’s eyes came across an unimaginable sight. The rope that should have tightly bound the prince’s hands easily slipped off and dropped to his feet. The prince walked forward towards him. None of the slaves tried to stop him.

“You bastard.”

The only reaction he saw was that of Pashir tightly clenching his teeth. No, the slaves were sending glares filled with animosity and hatred towards the prince, even if they had not moved a single step.

Gil—Orba, aware of this, felt bitter.

His being taken hostage by the sword slaves had been a ploy from the start. Naturally, the one to order this was Orba himself. Orba had taken the young slave girl of the detention camp loved by all the slaves, Mira, hostage in order to confront them.

His blood had run cold when he had been discovered together with Kain, but even the strong-armed Pashir had been unable to fight back with Mira being used a shield. He had Kain thrust his gun at the young girl, made mention that he had ‘heard the entire plan from Orba’, and contained the slaves’ movements. With their plan exposed by the imperials, their resolution to fight to the death crumbled. The slaves collapsed on their knees in despair.

Only Pashir continued to stare at the prince with a gaze so intense, that if a gaze could kill someone, it wouldn’t have been enough for Orba no matter how many lives he had. And how he shared this sentiment within. Orba pushed down his own feelings in spite of himself whilst seized by this gaze.

This alone would have been enough to put a stop to the slaves’ rebellion, but it was not enough to corner the enemy. The plan needed to be drawn out to its second phase at all costs, and thus, he wanted a situation where a rebellion would occur.

However, if the rebellion were to actually take place, the damage would be great. An uprising without a single death easily came to him—one where the vital point required for Gil Mephius to be captured by them.

“You’ve gone and said it, Zaat,” Orba boomed as the arena began to quieten. “How you tried to use them, and how you yourself participated in the uprising. Now it’s clear as day that you’re the mastermind behind it.”

Zaat’s face flushed a deep red.

“Is that true, Zaat?”

Simon Rodloom stood up and shot in a pained voice.

“Is it really true that you planned this rebellion?”

Zaat turned his head away. He did not want to see the anger, despair, and pity in Simon’s eyes.

Emperor Guhl, Empress Melissa, the Mephian statesmen—everyone wordlessly watched Zaat and the imperial guard who held a sword against him. An uncanny silence befell them. Orba, without any indication of pride at his accomplishment, looked up indifferently. He did not notice the shadow slowly approaching his back.

“Prince!”

The first to perceive this was Vileena. 	

Orba quickly turned around, and caught sight of a single slave behind him delivering a slash. He quickly twisted his body and narrowly dodged it, but immediately fell on his knees. It was natural that his body did not catch up to his thoughts, considering the damage his body had accumulated in the previous battles.

With a twisted expression, the slave attacked again. From his side, an arm fell down on him like a gale and grabbed him. It was Pashir. Without giving the man any time to struggle, he threw the man down onto the ground with tremendous force and pinned him down.

“You bastard. Are you going to let Mira die?”

Pashir said, his body trembling with anger. And then he made a scowl.

“Of course. You were the one who told me about the plan. Then that also makes you the one who hid the fact you were conspiring with that noble from us. You planned to have us walk to our deaths and make use of that, didn’t you?!”

The man looked up at Orba, his eyes on fire, when suddenly he spurt out blood from his mouth. His body convulsed, twice, thrice, and shortly after, he died. He had swallowed poison. The snipers the imperial guards had captured also met the same fate at that moment.

In this instant, like a cornered beast, Zaat made his final act of resistance. As Shique was distracted by the ongoings in the arena, Zaat suddenly pushed him off, pulled the hand of the nearby Ineli, and used her as a shield.

Ineli didn’t even have time to scream. With suddenly swift movements as if he had broken out of a trance, he boarded an airship under the directions of his soldiers.

“H-Help!”

Ineli stretched out her hands. But the nearby Baton did nothing but back away with his tail behind his legs. Zaat forced the struggling Ineli into the airship, and continued to soar up into the skies before their eyes.

“Help me!”

Her cries grew distant. “Help me, mother!”

Zaat’s soldiers rose up into the sky one after the other. There was an air carrier ahead of them.