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=== Part 1 === Oubary Bilan reached Apta some two hours after sunset. By all rights, he should have arrived while it was still daylight, however this was Oubary: having tarried too long with the women at the post-station town, he had ended up being late. But then, there was no reason to hurry. From what he had heard, after having been violently attacked by Taúlia, Apta had finally been forced into an alliance with them. He felt depressed just imagining the wretched atmosphere of defeat that must be pervading the inside of the castle. Although... ''Since it's that prince who had supposedly oh-so changed from being so juvenile.'' That being the case, it didn't feel all that bad. Oubary harboured a grudge against the heir to the imperial throne, Gil Mephius. On the occasion of the prince's first campaign, he alone had been recognised for his meritorious deeds; at the time of Zaat's rebellion, his “going along” with Noue was supposed to result in Oubary playing the role of the patriotic hero, but because of the prince, that plan had completely fallen through and instead his disappearance in the midst of the rebellion had caused him to incur the emperor's displeasure. Because of that, when a slave revolt broke out in Kilro, an area to the southeast of Solon, Oubary had volunteered to personally suppress it. As a general who boasted a long military career, turning his sword against something like slaves wasn't something he could puff out his chest about. He had accomplished his mission regardless, but his pride in his noble self had taken a severe blow. ''Be it that time or this.'' Oubary felt that it was all Prince Gil's fault. That the slaves had staged an armed uprising at that point was probably because of Zaat's rebellion. But Oubary believed that Gil's lenient attitude in appointing slaves as soldiers of the imperial guard, or in making the sword slaves who had risen in revolt his personal subordinates, was also to blame. “Humph.” Reaching a point from which Apta Fortress came into view, Oubary could clearly tell that its appearance had changed because of bombing raids. It seemed badly damaged. Oubary smiled nastily. Even the castle gate was not yet halfway through repairs. “General Oubary Bilan, entering the castle.” With that proclamation, he passed through the partially destroyed gate. ''Oh?'' Setting foot in the town's streets, Oubary drew together his finely manicured eyebrows. He had an uncomfortable feeling. Enemy fire had also altered the appearance of the fortress. Of course, it was to be expected that the damage would extend to the street. He had thought that the place would be sunk in gloom, yet contrary to his expectations, the townspeople who were coming and going as well as the soldiers with whom they were chatting light-heartedly all had cheerful countenances. Oubary continued beyond the brightly lit main avenue and dismounted from his horse. As the castle hall was said to currently be unusable, he was guided to the largest of the barracks. Once he passed through the entranceway, Oubary's sense of disbelief grew increasingly. In the spacious hall, a banquet was being held. All around, red-faced soldiers were walking hand in hand with women who appeared to have been gathered from the town to serve as waitresses. Mountains of food were piled high; wine cups were being refilled as soon as they were emptied; it was as if they were celebrating winning a battle. “Oh, General.” “We were expecting you to reach here today, but you've arrived rather late.” Oubary's subordinates from the Black Armoured Division who had been stationed at the fortress were also all in high spirits. Oubary caught hold of a company captain called Bane. “What’s all this? Did the defeated prince fall ill from despair?” Bane grinned derisively as though he had heard something outrageous, his appearance as unprepossessing as ever. “This is a victory celebration.” “What, a victory!?” “Even though it was Taúlia's Ax Bazgan, he captured him within this very Apta. The prince – that man is truly skilled at warfare!” Oubary got a detailed explanation about the battle from Bane. When he learned that after luring the enemy in, the prince himself had bombed the fortress, he almost involuntarily yelped in surprise and it was only with effort that he held himself in check. “That's not all.” “"Once again", it was all he could do to give a forced smile, "A ground-breaking campaign, one without precedent. It certainly isn't something that just anybody could do. Although one should be careful not to fool themselves into believing they are rich just because they have money and material possessions." Even though those words left his mouth, ''It's strange'', was what he was thinking. He had never spoken with Prince Gil before the latter's first campaign, however he had of course heard many rumours about him. Tales of how he was a fool who spent every day playing around had no doubt even reached other countries. Yet despite that, he had defeated Zaim Fortress' supreme commander, Ryucown, and had prevented a rebellion in Solon. And now, here in Apta, he had captured Ax Bazgan and even brought about a mutual alliance. Furthermore, he had done it without receiving reinforcements from his own country. ''It's as though Gil were a general with years of military service.'' It wasn't simply that it gave him an unpleasant feeling. He was obviously different from the prince that Oubary had heard about. One could have put it down to his having excellent staff officers, but here in Apta there were no other generals present, and almost all of the prince's attendants were former slaves. Even though he was royalty, was it possible for people to transform thus in such a short time? Then, was it because he was a fool that, one after another, he came up with plans that other people would never dream of? Not only Oubary, many of Mephius' courtiers harboured doubts at the prince all but turning into a new person. “Ah, Your Highness.” “Your Imperial Highness, congratulations for your work against Taúlia.” Within the hall, that Gil Mephius appeared before him. ''Ah!'' Shique and Gowen, Orba's long-time acquaintances who were in the hall drinking with their respective comrades, exchanged glances. Even from a distance, they could tell that Orba was drunk. Staggering unsteadily around the room, he smiled sloppily at the people who called out to him. His face was as red as though scarlet pigment had been poured over it. He probably wasn't putting on an act either. Above all, they both knew that Orba had never been good with alcohol. When Orba – though of course, to the people in the room, he was the first successor to the imperial throne of Mephius – spotted Oubary Bilan, he walked towards him, waving exaggeratedly. “Oh, general. So you've arrived. You're late though, I was starting to get worried.” “Your Highness”, Oubary bowed courteously, “I am unworthy of your concern. To my shame, as the matter in Kilro was unexpectedly troublesome, I did not arrive in time for the battle with Taúlia.” “It doesn't matter. Come, have a drink.” As he seemed about to topple over, a nearby chamberlain hurriedly made to catch him. Rudely shaking him off, Gil grabbed some wine from a tray and offered it to Oubary. As his face came closer, Oubary politely declined. Gil's steps were unsteady and his eyes unfocussed, but upon that, he glared. “You won't drink my wine, general?”, he asked threateningly. Smiling sourly, Oubary took the wine cup and drained it. The prince watched him fixedly then, “Your Highness!” Without paying attention to the shouts of astonishment from the people nearby, he smoothly drew the sword from at his waist. Naturally, Oubary rapidly narrowed his eyes at this, “What is this, Your Highness?” “Shall we perform a sword dance, general?” “A sword dance?” Sword dances were a speciality of Solon's wherein several men would perform a dance while wielding swords. On the occasion of the Founding Festival, such a dance was held at the palace. “Even though this is called a celebration, the entertainment is lacking. At times like this, the people of Mephius shouldn't be celebrating so crudely. It’s unrefined. So let's perform a sword dance, you and me. Everyone, rejoice.” Thinking that the prince wasn't sober, Oubary's thin lips formed into a smile, “Although a gratifying proposal, Oubary Bilan is not worthy of crossing sword with the Crown Prince. Ah, why don't we settle down over there and have a leisurely chat? I would very much like to hear about the battle against Taúlia.” A sharp crack rang across Oubary's cheek. Gil had slapped the general's face with the back of his hand. Rather than rise in uproar, the room went deathly silent. As the shocked onlookers held their breath, “You won't cross swords with the crown prince? A cute thing to say. Then this crown prince orders you. Come, draw your sword.” Gil made a thrust with the sword he held. Oubary 's smile went stiff but he maintained it even as he drew back. “Your Highness, Your Highness”, he appealed. The prince's posture was unsteady, so evading him wasn't difficult, however when his third thrust skimmed over the top of the general's shoulder, a sharp rush of air struck Oubary's cheek. A small cut opened on his skin. When they saw red drops trickle down his cheek, the women screamed. [[File:Rakuin no Monshou v04 025.jpg|thumbnail]] "Ge-general." "Your Highness, Your Highness, please wait." The soldiers also clamoured from all around. Although Shique and Gowen were trying to make their way through the surging crowd towards the sweating Gil, he still continued to swing his sword. Oubary's hand went to his own waist. Seeing that, Gil's mouth twisted into a ferocious smile when – A metallic sound resounded with a clang. The sword was flung from Gil's hand. He and Oubary both stopped moving and gazed at the new sword that extended sideways from them. The one holding it was a strong-bodied man. The former sword-slave who had competed with Orba in the final round of the Founding Festival's gladiatorial games – Pashir. He had swept Gil's sword away from the side. Pashir's eyes were partially concealed in shadows as he expressionlessly sustained Gil's burning gaze before returning his sword to his waist. Around them, all was in uproar. "General!" Oubary held up his hand to take command of the soldiers who were rushing up. "That... Wasn't that a little too much for a jest made under the influence of alcohol, Your Highness?" Gil had picked up his sword and, though tension still surrounded him, he returned it to its scabbard. "Then you should have agreed to a sword dance." He shrugged as though completely uninterested. Then, with a sidelong glance at Pashir, "every last one of you is unbearably tedious. That's why they say that the people of Mephius don't know how to set the mood during festivities." With that, he left the room, his steps still unsteady. His hand held against his cheek, Oubary watched him leave. More than just turning pale with rage, his entire body was shaking. "What was that?" He murmured to himself. "He's crazy to call that a festivity. Or was that him showing his true colours as a fool?" In the doorway on the other side from the one the prince had disappeared through, a single silhouette stood stock still. Vileena Owell. She had been on the roof only a short while ago but had come rushing when she heard the disturbance. Although she had arrived a little too late, she could understand the gist of what had happened from hearing what the people around the room were saying. She stood for a moment dumbfounded then quickly crossed the room to chase after the prince.
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