Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume6 Chapter6 (section)

=== Part 1 ===

The sorcerer had fallen forward and didn’t move. While gasping for breath, treading as cautiously as a cat, Orba slowly approached the corpse.

He could certainly picture the sorcerer having two or three hearts and suddenly reviving to bare his fangs. But it looked like a normal corpse. The remains of the broken staff were scattered about and there was no sign of the snake that had threatened Orba.

The man had called himself “a passageway for Garda”. Of course, he didn’t understand what that meant but in all likelihood, he wasn’t Garda himself.

Orba pulled the sword from the corpse’s chest then, perhaps thinking of something, knelt by it with his longsword still in hand.

When he left the temple a few minutes later, he found Stan waiting with some horses. Colour had returned to his face. As Orba had guessed, the sorcery’s trickery seemed to no longer be in effect now that the sorcerer had been killed. The soldiers in the street wore the same expressions on their faces as though they had suddenly been awakened from sleep.

But being pulled from the illusions did not dispel the panic. The air carrier – Orba could now clearly see that it was no dragon but an aircraft with ether engines – was still in the sky. Every time it dropped bombs, a white light illuminated his face and houses went up in flames.

For the people rushing to escape, it felt as though even though they had opened their eyes, they were still caught in a nightmare. A great many were running without being able to tell if this was a dream or reality.

Orba and Stan leapt onto horses and galloped down the street. There was a ground-shaking thud and the buildings they had passed exploded and scattered into debris. Flames and smoke mingled together and filled the sky over Kadyne.

Within the sounds of explosions, screams and roars that almost seemed to have taken over their ears, they heard Shique calling shrilly.

“Orba!”

Each and every one from Orba’s unit was gathered by the city’s southern gate. None of them had any conspicuous injuries. It was fortunate that their entrance into the town had been delayed.

“What the hell happened?” Gilliam’s face was a mixture of irritation and anger.

“Instead of all hanging around squawking like new-born dragons, why aren’t you going to fight?” Orba gave them a brief explanation of the situation. When he told them about killing the sorcerer at the temple, Talcott shrank back with a start.

“Ugh, scary. You might have been cursed for all time.” Being a former sailor, he was superstitious. His fingers drew some kind of charm to ward off evil.

“Anyway, we’ll be the ones who will cut Garda down. There’s nothing scary about being cursed by one or two sorcerers,” Kurun puffed out his chest. The inexperienced recruit was unexpectedly bold.

Orba watched as each of their faces returned to their usual expression. “From here on, this is our counterattack,” he said.

First, he left upwards of thirty mercenaries with Gilliam to mop up the enemy soldiers. As for the rest, “We’re taking that down,” he said as he pointed towards the sky.

Similarly to Shique and the others who had, by a stroke of good luck, been near the end of the line, the slow-moving artillery had also been nearby. The guns they had to hand included five cannons taken from the enemy. Orba decided that it would more or less be enough.

As for Orba himself, his intention was to rally  assistance so as soon as he had given instructions to immediately assemble the guns outside the city, he promptly jumped back on a horse. He called out to each of the soldiers who were wandering aimlessly outside the town walls. Since both units and personnel were scattered, the chain of command had completely broken down. There were a lot of soldiers who had already fled from the town.

The ground shook once more and small stones struck Orba’s mask. He clicked his tongue inwardly. He couldn’t stand Surūr but the troop of warriors from different countries that the man had brought together, apart for Orba’s unit, should not have disintegrated into chaos. But this,

''A single sorcerer can cause this much mayhem?''

There was neither policy nor plan for something like this.

Just managing to collect a good number of people, Orba gathered them all where the roads intersected at the centre of the city. While they were cantering along, he drew a simple copy of the city map that he had memorised and wrote down where to place the guns.

“Don’t all fire at once. I’ll send a signal. You absolutely must fire following that order.”

Among those he gave instructions to were many Helian soldiers who had fought alongside Orba’s unit at the relay-station town. Of the Zerdians other than them, there were not a few who displayed reluctance towards receiving his peremptory orders but,

“We will act as decoys.”

They weren’t able to voice any complaints as a small group of riders led by Orba rode their horses to a position where they would attract the enemy ship’s notice.

Explosions erupted fast and furious just behind where Orba and his group galloped by. Despite it being his first time in the town, Orba, who was in the lead, chose the way with precision, but one of the mercenaries at the end of the line was struck by the shock of an impact and fell. He broke his neck and died.

Before long, they had done almost a full round of the downtown area and had arrived at a square with a park when, from atop his horse, Orba suddenly raised his arm.

The sound of cannons echoed like a roar.

One or two shots missed but it still served as a threat that guided how the enemy ship moved. It turned in the sky to put itself at a distance from the shelling. At that moment, the air carrier’s movements slowed.

“Fire!”

At Orba’s command, this time a volley of fire came from the surface. The ship’s large frame was seen to shake, flames spouted from the underside and it immediately listed then fell.

Shouts of joy rose from the streets of Kadyne.

Looking at it again, the city was now overtaken by flames and soot, and countless corpses concealed the roads from sight. Many of the populace had been killed and most of those who were still alive were standing in a daze, were grieving over the bodies of their family and friends, or were clinging to each other, simply crying.

A particularly high-pitched voice reached Orba’s ears. Looking to his side, a young woman was clawing at the surface of the road. Listening to her sorrowing words, it seemed that she had lost her new-born baby.

Orba tightly shut his lips and let his horse canter once more.

The old trees planted in a row along the outer walls were engulfed in flames and sparks repeatedly flew overhead. He searched for the figure of the commanding officer, Surūr, but what he found was a group of soldiers who were carrying his corpse on their shoulders.

''A man not blessed by the fortunes of war''.

If instead of being the commander of an entire army, he had simply lead a battalion into battle, he might have been a man who would have earned greater achievements. Orba sighed, his thoughts gloomy.

“Orba-dono,” Bisham, the company commander hailed him. As a sensible, quick-witted man of action, even in these abnormal circumstances, he tried as much as possible to remain calm and gather the soldiers in one place.

“It seems that Garda uses sorcery to throw people’s hearts into disorder.” His voice was shaking slightly. He had wounds to his arms and legs, telling of how he too had fought the demons.

Orba nodded. “Yeah. But even sorcerers die if they’re cut down.”

This truth that Orba had made apparent was virtually the one ray of hope for the Zerdians who had suffered the bitter experience of seeing half their unit destroyed. They had been told the legend of Garda in place of lullabies. In the real world, in the short time since Garda had revived, he had taken control of nearly half of the Tauran region. They didn’t know his true essence, they couldn’t seize his true shape, they didn’t even understand his true objective.

Although they had triumphed in Cherik, there were those among them who doubted whether he was an opponent that swords and spears could reach. Just a short while ago, they had felt for themselves the terror of sorcery. But Orba had killed it. If you pierced them with a sword, their lives were severed and the effects of sorcery would cease.

But,

“That’s also a trap. It’s all a trap!” There were those who screamed, half-crazed. They pointed towards Orba. “Why were you the only one to stay conscious? You accursed Mephian gladiator, everything, it’s all a trap. You’ll deceive us and drag us into a hell worse than this!”

Perhaps because sorcery had shaken their hearts, there were not a few voices raised in agreement. The air around them was once more becoming laden with nervous tension. Bisham was about to regain control of the situation but this time, it was Orba who forcefully pushed the company commander aside and stepped forward.

“Yeah, these gladiators.”

“What?”

“They’re treated like cattle. They fight anyone they’re ordered to, that’s what gladiators are.”

“T-That’s…” For some reason, the soldier couldn’t continue. Orba increased his pace and was already within a stone’s throw of him. His hand quickly reached out to stay the spear that the soldier had instinctively raised.

“To amuse the people, be it their parents, their brothers or the son of their own blood, they have to take their sword and kill each other. That is what us gladiators are. But we don’t get deceived by illusions. Because we don’t have nightmares. Since actually, every day of our lives was a nightmare.”

What Orba was saying was complete nonsense. He himself had almost been killed by the illusion of demons after all. But in this situation, the truth didn’t matter. Although Zerdians loathed Mephians, in this critical situation, would the powerful feeling of camaraderie that came from coming back from the brink of death together overcome that hatred?

''Two or three lies at this point in time…'' Hadn’t his life been coated in lies when he was in Mephius itself, Orba thought self-mockingly.

When he was a hair’s breadth from the tip of the spear, he suddenly and forcefully drew it towards himself. To the soldier’s confusion, the spearhead seemed in an instant to be biting into Orba’s neck.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Don’t you want to test it?”

“Test?”

“Whether or not I’m the sorcerer’s comrade. The sorcerer I cut down bled red blood but you probably won’t believe that. What colour blood does a sorcerer spill in your imagination? Do you want to test it out on my body?”

Orba was going to draw the spear even closer to him but the soldier resisted unconsciously. From the other side of the mask, those unblinking eyes stared straight at the soldier’s face. He gulped.

Gilliam was about to step forward to put a stop to Orba’s insane behaviour. A hand stretched out before him. Shique’s.

''Why are you getting in the way?'' The glare that Gilliam threw at Shique abruptly lost its intensity. Shique was staring only at Orba. His expression showed far more strongly than Gilliam’s that he was on edge and that any moment now he might take out his swords and strike down the soldier.

Orba and the soldier continued their silent confrontation. As the Zerdians watched, holding their breath, a loud voice was heard.

“What are you doing!”

Feeling as though they had just had insults hurled at them, the startled soldiers turned around and saw a middle-aged woman leaning on the back of the young mother that Orba had observed a short while ago.

She was still clawing at the surface of the road. Her broken nails had drawn a trail of blood along the ground. She had cried until her voice had died out and only groans as hoarse as a man’s now escaped from her cracked and parched lips.

As for the middle-aged woman who was trying to stop her, her clothes were burned to tatters. One of her breasts was all but exposed. When they were out walking in the streets, Zerdian women showed almost no skin. But right then, that custom had no significance. As the soot blackening her cheeks was washed away by her own tears streaming endlessly down, she held the young mother close and stroked her back, desperately trying to encourage her. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” she repeated those and other such empty and meaningless words.

As the hot wind struck his nostrils, Orba let go of the spear.

“I’m going to Eimen.” His voice wasn’t particularly loud but it reached the ears of every one of the soldiers gathered there. “I’m not afraid of Garda. I’m not terrified of sorcery either. During the march, what I probably need to look out for won’t be Garda’s clever magical traps but you bastards getting in my way of killing him and turning your swords against me.”

As soon as he finished saying so, Orba jumped nimbly onto the back of a horse.

“Shique, Gilliam! Everyone in my unit, follow me. I’ll defeat Garda myself long before any Zerdian can!”

“Yeah!” The mercenaries raised their fists in the air and shouted in unison. Most of them were genuinely moved by Orba’s words and attitude, but Talcott was rueful about letting himself get carried away and his face was red as he raised his fist.

“Hah, that brat,” even as he railed against him, Gilliam also quickly chose a horse and put his foot in the stirrup. He turned his eyes towards Shique, who was likewise making his way to a horse. “What is it, Shique?”

The reason he asked was because although he had expected him to look thoroughly satisfied, he was staring at Orba with a somewhat forlorn expression. Shique softly shook his head.

“Nothing,” he answered then muttered in a low voice, ''No matter where he is and even if he himself wanted to live peacefully, he surely…''

“What?”

“I said it was nothing.”

As though to shake off his sentimentalism, Shique vigorously leaped on his horse and immediately set off at a gallop, hurrying after Orba’s back.

“After them, after them!” From the ground, Bisham waived his arm to rouse the soldiers to action. “We’re going to fall behind the Mephians. The ones to defeat the sorcerer and take back Tauran with our swords should be none other than we Zerdians!”

To compete with those who had left, the Zerdians did as they had and caught the warhorses that were running wildly through the smouldering streets of Kadyne. Terrified by the fire, the horses were neighing madly and had to be brought under control with equal ferociousness before the soldiers could start to head north from Kadyne.

Orba only looked back once to check that the Zerdian soldiers were rushing after them.

''Can we really not use dragons?'' Horses were one thing but any dragons had probably long since broken through the walls of Kadyne and scattered outside. Even if they hadn’t, carelessly approaching a raging dragon would only infuriate it further and might endanger the lives of those of the city’s people who had survived.

''If only Hou Ran were here…'' That thought fleeted across his mind. Be it a war of capture or a battle beginning with a charge, even a single dragon was preferable to none. But right now, they had to settle for the fact that the entire troop hadn’t been annihilated.

''Sorcery…''

He ground his teeth fiercely and turned to face the oncoming wind. As long as he had steel at his waist and a heartbeat in his chest, defeat was impossible. Orba grappled with the stormy feelings that raged within him by forcing himself to believe that.



Orba guided the troops himself, choosing not the highway but a road that cut through the mountains that spread to the north of Kadyne. He had crammed into his head the maps of the surrounding area for just such an occasion. When the sun went down, they were able to set up an encampment on an even piece of land at the foot of the mountains.

Orba had decided to follow a narrow path that ran at the top of a gorge. A river that flowed into Kadyne’s wetlands had once run through the bottom of the valley but its course had been altered to irrigate Zer Tauran’s pastures and now the gorge had now dried up.

Prudence was essential for passing along this narrow path. Marching at night would be even more dangerous. Orba had a watch set up and decided to make camp overnight. It was impossible for him not to feel impatient. But no matter how quickly they hurried, it would take them upwards of a full day to reach Eimen.

When they bivouacked for the evening, Orba asked Bisham to get the platoon leaders to do roll-call and to verify their numbers. The army stood at about four hundred. The rest had either been killed in action in Kadyne or had forgotten themselves because of the sorcerer’s trap and had fled.

Since they hadn’t brought any non-combatants, they could of course afford to march for extended periods of time. If they couldn’t receive supplies at Eimen, their isolated unit would have no choice but to retreat to Cherik. But the enemy might see it as a good opportunity to deal them the finishing blow. The result: annihilation.

“Is this what they call fighting with your back to the wall?”

At Orba’s words, Gilliam, who was in the same tent and who had his shoulders turned as though to show how much of hassle it all was, spoke up.

“If you want food to eat and a bed to sleep on then first take over the castle, huh. Heh, plain and simple like that is good enough for me. Better than sorcery and strategy, anyway.”

“That’s fine for now.”

“What’s fine?”

“What you said about eating a meal. Bisham-dono.”

“Can I do something for you?”

“Would you pass those words on to the soldiers.”

Although when they had left Kadyne, Orba had been of the opinion that he had to rouse and stir up the soldiers, he was wondering if they weren’t feeling a bit too encouraged. Hurrying too eagerly would lead to their own ruin. Gilliam’s words felt like they would get that excessive vigour to drop.

“Understood, but…” Bisham looked at Orba, smiling somewhat at his surprising request. “Wouldn’t it look just as good if you were the one to tell them?”

“That kind of attitude is a pitch for the commander-in-chief. I’m too young.”

''Is that so'', Bisham said in a low voice. It would certainly be difficult for a Mephian to lead Zerdians. Still, Bisham longed for a land that was different and in which this boy would distinguish himself ever further.

''It’s fine for now. It’s fine but alternatively, it’s dangerous. This man, just like he said himself, he’s too young''.

To Bisham’s way of thinking, this man could not be the one to defeat Garda. It had to be a Zerdian. And furthermore, it should be a man who would in the future shoulder the weight of Tauran.

Bisham was the commander of a Helian infantry company. Although he was a capable man, the horizons he saw where by no means wide. That a man such as he should at this time come to think beyond his country’s borders and take the whole Tauran region into account was caused by Garda and by none other than Orba.