Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume3 Chapter6 (section)

===Part 1===
Vileena Owell had boarded Apta’s only cruiser and departed from the fortress city—.

That piece of news brought mixed feelings to Ax Bazgan. They were currently smack in the middle of preparations to deploy. 

There were soldiers in armour everywhere as medium-sized and large-sized dragons sluggishly emerged one after the other from the dragon stables. 

“Is he having the Garberan princess take shelter in a safe place? Which means he’s finally decided Apta as the place where we’ll hold the deciding battle.”

“No, it’s a clever move.”

Ravan Dol appeared. Walking around with his favourite potato stuffed in his cheeks might as well have reduced the famed strategist’s dignity to rubbish, but he had until recently been in command of moving the dragons out from their cages. No matter how ferocious the dragon, they were equivalent to a tamed dog once subjected to Ravan’s wiles, which he was well known for.

“What is?”

“Consequent to him suddenly sending their only carrier away from Apta, we will worry over where that carrier is headed. It might load itself full of soldiers and return, or maybe conceal itself in our advance route.”

“Let’s say he’s getting reinforcements. In that case, things will be fine as long as we swiftly attack and crush them before the ship returns. With a distance of a few hours at most, they don’t have enough soldiers to exceed ours, right? And if it’s to ambush our troops, that isn’t too much for us to concern ourselves with. Your strategy, in the first place, was to attack from multiple fronts. As long as one of the routes we use breaks through and captures the centre, it is our victory.”

“Mmhm.” With a most fitting nod, Ravan plopped a potato into his mouth. “Or perhaps, it might be to incite us quicken our pace in this way. That he’s done this to provoke us must mean he’s confident in Apta’s defense, and also in finishing up the battle shortly.”

“And we’re supposed to be intimidated by that? We set up a strategy knowing we allowed ourselves to be provoked. Don’t get cold feet now. Now, call together all the commanding officers. We’re going to review our strategy one last time!”

Prince Gil was most likely assuming they were going to make a direct attack on Apta. Since Taulia held the upper hand in terms of might, it was only natural that they would employ blitzkrieg tactics. So as far as Gil was concerned, luring the enemy in deep was the premise on which he worked his plans.

Ravan Dol had therefore proposed attacking from multiple directions, in a way that facilitated a multi-faceted attack at different intervals. Even supposing the enemy had been running their mouth and now lay in wait, he did not believe Apta currently had the forces to hold off a second or third attack.

Of course, they would also suffer some damage, but it was still much better than concentrating their forces as their enemy hoped. Ravan certainly did not underestimate the Mephians, namely Gil Mephius.

“Oooh. Can we use those?”

Ax, discovering a new species amongst the dragons being carried out from the cages, revelled in delight. “Yes,” Ravan Dol responded in concert with a rare chuckle.

Three metres long with rust-coloured scales, the most notable aspect of this medium-sized dragon was the horn growing from the centre of its head. The one-horned dragon Yunion. A selectively bred variant of the Baians. Its four limbs had grown fat and short, but they were far more agile than their appearance suggested, and its scales repelled swords and spears even up close.

Ravan had, with the Baians as the basis, crossed many species of dragons, and by some miraculous probability, arrived at this usable breed after several generations of painstaking efforts raising them from hatchlings. He prided in their fierce capabilities, but more than that, they were intelligent and obedient to humans.

Mephius’ main force were in the Baians. They certainly grew quickly and there was also no problem with their battle prowess, but the number of eggs they laid in a single setting were few and they had tempers; they could only be handled by a select few. The Yunions could be said to account for this weakness.

“They will be a great addition. —All right! We move at sunset. Let that Mephian brat sit arrogantly in his chair believing he’s got us caught in his trap.”

He put on his helmet, a heedlessly large horn attached, and affixed his slightly curved long sword to his belt.


Straddled onto a Tengo, Ax Bazgan raised the six-metre dragon lance fixed on the saddle and spurred his men.

“It’s time to set off. Men, you are soldiers who have conquered demons. They may try to swing their ''dull'' blades and fire their pea-sized bullets, but remember! Those frail Mephian men can’t even lift so much as a finger against our cattle. We shall illuminate the magnificent glory of the Bazgan House greater than the sun, and show them the very meaning of blinding! Now, words won’t be needed from hereon. Push forward!”



On the other end, the Aptan inhabitants had fully taken shelter. There were those who relied on their relatives and moved to another town, and those who carried food to the cellars and readied to spend several days there, and then there were the remaining majority who followed the soldiers’ instructions.

All their faces showed unease. If Apta became a battleground, the houses and fields would get damaged, regardless of victory or defeat. To make matters worse, the Garberan army had left the fortress, and even Princess Vileena departed. Not so much as a single soldier had come in response to their request for reinforcements. In everyone’s eyes, the chances of victory were slim.

Orba, on that day, established the fortress hall as headquarters and sat at its heart.

Many of the men around were busily moving about, but Orba alone sat umoving. His arms were folded as he stared at the map opened before him, and he would occasionally look up and gaze into empty space.

There, Pashir came along. He was sprucely dressed in the set of clothes Orba had previously given him.

“Is everything in position?”

“Yes.”

He wore a grim face, but it was his usual one, devoid of tension and anxiety. Pashir’s independent infantry unit was assigned to the southern gate.

“...”

“If there’s something you want to say, then say it. You have the status of a commander. If you, the commander, continue to carry unease, it will affect your troops’ morale.”

“What are you saying this point in time?” Pashir’s nose creased, “As if there’s even a single person who isn’t uneasy over this war. If there’s a far-sighted person amongst the enemy soldiers surely marching here now, and he could see over ‘here’, he would be up for a surprise. Because, there’s no one here at all!”

Orba’s lips swerved up, and with a small snigger, offered no further reply. This time was different from his usual indulgences. Even he, if he had to admit it, was nervous. This was on a different scale from simply commanding his Imperial Guards and undergoing covert operations.

He was constantly shadowed by an unease that there was something he might have been mistaken about. Would it be better if he made a change to that plan? Would it be better to assign those men some other location? Did they have enough bullets? Were the guns and cannons in perfect condition? What about about the dragons?

If he had to speak his real mind, he would rather get off his seat and go around the fortress interior than play commander in a place like this. The things he wanted to confirm through his own eyes were innumerable. But he had already done this time and time again leading up to this day. So Orba was going to stay here, even if it meant suppressing his own emotions. Just as he had spoken of to Pashir, any negative emotions a general carried within him—worry, apprehension, fear, dismay—could not be allowed to show.

''A leader’s strength soaks in steadily, like soil does from the ground. But it only takes an instant for his weakness to show. Like a fuse lit on fire.''

That was something Orba was instinctively familiar with.

“More importantly, you really meant it, right?” Pashir brought a different topic to the conversation. “That if we reap merits in battle, you’ll free all of us from the status of slave.”

“Of course. <!--It’s because of that,-->It’s for that reason that they desperately fight. They’ve also seen how you became the infantry commander with their own eyes.”

“I see.” Swallowing his various emotions, Pashir suddenly assumed attention. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my station. I’ll also relay the words you said just now.”

“Ah, Pashir, except...”

“Hah?”

Pashir’s feet stopped right as he began to leave. And at Orba’s following words, he made an indescribably complex expression.

“Your life alone won’t be set free. You’ve already become the infantry’s commanding officer, and my subordinate. I don’t have any intention of letting you go.”



It was that time when the sun began to set.

''They’ve come.''

In the headquarters, Orba stood up from his seat. 

On the Yunos River border, Ax’s army’s flag waved. The timing was as Orba had predicted, but their positioning was strange. 

The river’s chasm lay between them; they were on the other side. As the forest’s shade blended into the dark sky, they began to align two long-range cannons. 

Naturally, Orba ordered the northern battery bordering the river to aim across the valley and fire. Twice, thrice the cannons roared. The enemy quickly pulled the cannons back and retreated towards the forest, but it was not a complete retreat. The tall pole bearing Taulia’s flag stayed up, firm and unmoving.

''Are they aiming for a protracted battle?''

He considered this, but what Ax Bazgan was afraid of most were Mephius’ reinforcements. He should have known full well that, due to the original difference in both countries’ strength, if he overlooked this chance the fortress would no longer be for the taking.

The sun soon set. Because the enemy had not lit a single fire, the cannons could not take aim. Nonetheless, Orba ordered them to repeat fire at fixed intervals to hold the enemy in place.

Each second passed itched him in impatience. Orba’s plan was, as Ravan Dol had foreseen, to lure them in and then surround them. If the enemy would not move, then they also would not move. Orba took countless deep breaths. His body’s pains had considerably receded. Now, it was not beyond him to take a sword and plunge into the enemy ranks. However, this time he had no intention of shouldering such a role. Nay, he mustn’t.

“Prince.”

Gowen came running.

“They are also coming from the south. They seem to be advancing along the same route as last time and are making sure to scrupulously examine the path ahead this time, so it appears they will take some more time.”

“What are their numbers?”

“According to the scout’s report, roughly three hundred. Judging from their speed, they likely have no cannons.”

''He split the army, huh.''

The force across the river was likely meant to divert their cannon fire. There was no other reason why Ax would purposely expose his valuable long-range cannons.

“Harden the gates. Shoot them from the watchtowers and steeples. Have Pashir and the others remain on standby.” 

The cannons stationed on the south-eastern tip fired at the area in front of the southern gates. The Taulian soldiers came running through the dirt exploding in the field. A skirmish line. The few-membered forces each displayed orderly movements. 

Retreat followed advance. Advance followed retreat. Pashir leaned against the parapets, watching the battle taking place below him.

''Oh!''

He ducked. A cannon nearby the gate exploded. Stone and wooden debris rained down his back, accompanied by the smell of gunpowder. The Mephian assumption that they ‘had no cannons’ was wrong. It wasn’t a mistake to assume this from their rate of advance, but the Taulian army had two of their newly bred Yunions pulling each of the cannons. 

Even as the Mephians tried to shoot it down, the Yunions would pull back to be replaced by gunners and archers pushing forward. Their aptitude in freely commanding the dragons could possibly be said to be greater than Mephius’.

“Prince, shall I sortie the airships?”

Neil Thompson, the commander of the airship squadron, exerted his determination and as he did so his red face grew even redder. Even as the impatience inside him grew, Orba answered,

“All right, form two three-unit groups and head out! Your destination is across the chasm from Apta on the other side of the river. Your role is only to restrain them. Don’t go too deep! All you have to do is earn the northern battery time before it can be used.”

“Yes sir!”

With a vigorous kick off the hall flooring, Neil darted off. 


''That’s the spirit.''

As the footsteps resounded in his ears, Orba retook his arms-folded posture.

They were already long aware the Mephian side had prepared a trap in wait. With that in mind, they utilised tactics to offset that aim. If they were to entrust themselves to numbers and storm in, things would have advanced as Orba predicted, but they were slowly whittling away at his forces and were already prepared to sustain a certain degree of damage.

His body ached. The colour of his blood right now was most likely black. It seethed black, coursing through his body just under his skin. He felt it molding itself into another one of himself. 

That other him was eagerly clamouring to take that sword from his waist and go running into the battlefield right this instant. ‘It doesn’t suit you to sit still in a place like this. Now, take that sword and gun and go towards the place of killing. Evade the enemy’s gunfire, climb over your men’s corpses, and soak your sword in the enemy’s blood. Isn’t that exactly your specialty?’—

''Tch.''

Orba grit his teeth painfully and ordered an imperial guard squad leader to call Shique.

Pointing to a spot on the map, he relayed his instructions

“Take command of the gunners and exit the side gate on the east. Use the shortcut through the ridge to flank their rear. Have one ship act as a decoy. Perform volley fire on them in that opening.”

And at the same time, he hurried a messenger to Pashir.

“Have the Black Armoured Division act as reinforcements. Once Shique and the rest succeed in their surprise attack, launch your attack.”

Shique left with twenty gunners. Just as they were about to leave the urban districts, the enemy cannon fired and broke the wall’s upper tip. They crouched and left running out from the fortress walls, all while the firing of each round sent chills throughout their entire bodies.

The urban areas held a number of secret exitways, and after going through one of these, they followed along the route Orba had given them. A single airship crossed up over the gate. Enemy fire shifted towards it. <!--(Optional: Aiming for this moment,)-->

“Fire!” Shique ordered.

A barrage of gunshots, loud enough to drown out all other sounds, rang out in succession. The enemy soldiers were caught defenceless, but owing to their spread out formation, it didn’t throw them much into confusion and caused little damage. <!--(At this juncture(Continuing, At this moment, Next)-->Next, the gates opened and Pashir’s troops sprung out armed with their swords. 


Pashir started with the nearby approaching soldiers, slicing through one of their torsos, then stopping a overhead axe swing with his sword, he ran it straight through the Zerdian’s head. And without a second’s delay, he turned his body and cut off the arm together with the spear of the soldier who launched at him behind.

The foot men following behind, starting with Miguel Tes, also let loose in a frenzy.

They were men who before were already prepared to face execution. Even with a gun pointed at the tips of their nose, even if the enemy’s sword they failed to parry struck a blow to their shoulders, even if an arrow pierced their toe, they drove forward unfaltering. 

In the meanwhile, Shique provided cover fire for the infantry while trying to corner the enemy’s cannon. However, the scattered Taulian platoon laid their bodies low and bathed him in a shower of bullets. One soldier beside Shique about to load a bullet took one to the face.

The battle in front of the main south gate was, however, altogether moving in Mephius’ favour. The Black Armoured Division, seeing this as the proper timing to push out joined the melee fray and the Taulians were forced into a gradual retreat.

Thus, the Mephians began concentrating their forces to the front.

A soldier came rushing into headquarters carrying bad news for Orba.

“N-New enemy forces approaching from the west!!”

“West?” Orba sat up. “Their air carrier huh. So they still had reserves. Tch, turn the cannons—”

“It’s not only air carriers! There are also enemy dragoons. They’re attempting to ford the river on their dragons!”