Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume2 Chapter4 (section)

===Part 2===
Lined up on the table were freshly looking fruits and drinks. There was a plentiful selection of meat, as if indicative to that of a glutton, that was more than likely to make one sick following their morning bout.

Orba barely delved into his meal, having only eaten one or two mouthfuls of bread. Though that is to say, this was not a problem of time or his health.

It was because he was joined by the emperor for his morning meal. Guhl, Melissa, Ineli, and the younger sister, Flora, and not limited to the members of the imperial family, Simon Rodloom, the military commander, Odyne Lorgo, and one of the senior statesmen, Colyne Isphan, were included in this breakfast meet.

The emperor had, in this manner, received those who sought his audience and invited them to join him for his morning meal, where he would listen to their concerns. Though it could be considered a vain act, it was a custom that had not changed since long past, and was still enacted to this day.

It was Orba’s first time participating in such a gathering. Until now, one reason or another was used to excuse himself from attending. Fedom wanted to avoid having the person acting as Gil meet with his own family and those immediate relatives who knew him well. But this time was different. He had kept Fedom out of the knowing. Had Fedom known, he would have used all means to obstruct him, and might have even forced his way into Orba’s company.

''Well then.''

Orba was nervous, but he had awaited this chance; the talking had reached a point of complete silence. Orba took a deep breath, and then opened his mouth.

“Father.”

Everyone looked on at Orba in light surprise. The former prince Gil might have refrained from speaking out. The emperor’s eyes also widened as he faced Orba.

“What is it?”

“I would like to make a request.”

“Oh? Could it be that you want something? A horse maybe? Or could it be you want the position of general? If it’s the crown you desire, it’s still too early for you.”

The emperor said to his good humour. He had most likely anticipated a rather ‘lively’ response, but Orba did not notice it.

“It is about the gladiator games.”

[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v02 167.jpg|thumb]]
“Speak.”

The emperor’s mood did a complete turnaround, as he spoke in ill humour. Since morning, he had been downing the fruit wine as if it were water. It wasn’t as if Orba had’nt noticed the change in ambience, but for now, he assertively voiced his thoughts.

“I would like you to allow a member of the Imperial Guards, the one who defeated Ryucown, to participate in the gladiator games held during the festival.”

The unexpected proposal provoked murmurs of interest from everyone, with the exemption of the emperor. Oubary and the rest shone with anticipation. The emperor snorted at Orba.

“Again, why now of all times?”

“I have heard of how many hope for Orba to participate. The people too will certainly be joyed.”

“What do you think you’re saying?” The emperor stared directly at Orba. “The people will be joyed? You’re just using that as a pretence. You hope for your Imperial Guard to win so that you will have more to brag about, do you not? Rather, why don’t you participate yourself? It’s not as if no member of the imperial family ever participated before.”

“Y-You must be joking.” 

Orba quickly lowered his head, fearful the emperor might have seen through him as the gladiator he was. Orba was sure this was the reason, but the emperor, Guhl Mephius’ gaze held a pressure on a completely different scale compared to those he had faced until now.

“Hmph,” the emperor snorted. “Well, it might not hurt to let things go as you want it. At the very least, I want to see a victory deserving of a hero.”

“P-Please wait, Your Imperial Majesty!”

The one who had cut in was Simon Rodloom. A strained mood hung in the air. Naturally, it was because everyone present was well aware of the incident that occurred in the Dragon God’s Shrine.

“If I may have a word, I implore you to not just let things run its course, but take a deeper look at the implications of an Imperial Guard participating in the games. Yes, gladiators may not wholly be slaves, but to allow a member of his royal highness’ Imperial Guard to be killed in front of the audience’s eyes will somewhat damage our authority.”

“Ho.”

“Your majesty previously mentioned that in the history of Mephius, it was not without incident that a member of the imperial family participated in a gladiatorial match, but the circumstances of the era were far too different and should not be used as a comparison.”

“Ho,” the emperor said once more. He placed his chin against his arm that rested against the armchair and glared at Simon through his heavy-lidded eyes. At that time, Colyne Isphan spoke up.

“Is it not all right? We of Mephius are a country of swords and dragons. Birthplace and lineage have no dealings in it. It is in our blood for us to compete.”

“Still—“

“And also, the Imperial Guard who defeated Ryucown is most certainly a hero. However, he was also originally a sword slave, and as such the people too will hesitate in openly praising him. If I may venture, have the lords and each and every one of the generals not likewise, been at a loss over whether or not it be appropriate to invite him to tonight’s evening party? It stands to reason that there is meaning in that Imperial Guard competing for Clovis’ seat.”

“Well put.”

The emperor nodded his head approvingly, as Colyne humbled himself. Colyne excelled in plays such as these. He read the emperor’s feelings, and even if the emperor held any sentiments, he warped the reasoning behind it, making it seemingly appear even more sound when he spoke it. 

“Those who have obtained the same honour that Clovis and his aide Felipe have, supposing that they were born a slave, competed every year for that title. They are by all means a hero. Amongst them are also those who have risen to become a general. —This instance dates back no more than thirty years ago in our history, does it not, Simon?”

“—Yes.”

Every year, the gladiator tournament held during the festival awarded the winning two gladiators, who won through all others, as heroes. On the final day, those heroes would lead the two hundred remaining slaves and fight against the dragons as part of the main event. Even in Mephius’ history, the hero Clovis and his aide Felipe and all those who followed after them were, regardless of their origin, officially enlisted into the Mephian forces.

“Up to the remaining last, they have all been heroes that do not shame their title. Those who lose are only able to amount to that much, but those fallen warriors who compete for the seat of Clovis are great men who sacrifice themselves for Mephius’ tradition. There will be no damage to our authority or anything of the like.”

“Ohh.”

“I see, that certainly holds true.”

The other nobles showered him with praise, after which Simon offered no further protest. Like this, they had left the prince in question out of their conversation. During this time,

“So you listened to my request, brother.”

Ineli stealthily sneaked out a smile that spread across her whole face.

Orba did not respond to her with even a simple “ahh,” or “yea.” Even so, she didn’t mind. She was already lost in her own thoughts.

“Were he to say, win as the champion, I must by all means be the one to hand him the golden helmet that is proof of Clovis. At that time, I will announce him as the hero who had also saved the imperial princess, Ineli, from the claws of a dragon.”

Orba being Orba was at present, preparing for the next phase of his plans in his head, unaware that Ineli was talking like a young girl who spoke of her dream, and that nested within were malicious sentiments that sought to come into possession of the masked gladiator, Orba.

Rumours of Orba’s participation spread throughout the palace in no time at all. Though he may have been a former gladiator, it was an unprecedented situation where a member of the imperial guards participated in the games. People’s responses naturally went both ways.

“The prince has been living up to our expectations.”

There being those wholeheartedly approved of it,

“Is the prince not only pulling along at the glory of his first campaign?”

There were also those who criticized him behind his back.

One person, Fedom Aulin, upon chancing on these rumours exploded into a fit of rage. For him, the puppet, Orba, whom he had gone through great lengths to put in place, was nonsensically throwing his own life into harm’s way under his very nose. However, Orba had directly appealed to the emperor and it was already something Fedom could no longer overturn.

“Only two or three battles to go.”

Orba, concealing his plans of trapping Noue and Oubary, spoke in a carefree tone.

“Now this odd. Right now, in this whole world, you’d think the one worrying most for my life would be you.”

“Shut your mouth.” Fedom’s expression stammered, as if he were seriously about to faint. “Listen well. You mustn’t die. That much is obvious, but you also mustn’t get hurt. It will be suspicious when you return as the prince. Argh, curses!! You better prepare yourself. Once the festival is over, I’ll tie you up in chains like when you were a slave!”

And of course, that rumour had also reached Vileena Owell’s ears. As soon as she heard this, she shook off Theresia’s restraint and headed towards the prince.

In preparation for tomorrow’s stage appearance, Orba left his room and first headed over to the stadium grounds.

His decision to take part in the games was obviously not because the people had wished it. He thought to obtain a means of contacting Pashir through this tournament. Oubary had clearly mentioned this sword slave’s name. There was no doubt Pashir played a significant role in his plans. Orba would rile up his plans in every way possible.

“Oh?”

Just then, he happened across Vileena, who ran his way. Her lips were closed shut and her eyes twisted upwards. Last night, when she had come to visit him, her aggressive manner remained well hidden. It now resurfaced now once again. And it was ever more so direct. It was as if he were guilty of having done something that earned her disfavour.

“Why?”

Vileena began her accusing inquiry.

“Why, being?”

“Orba. Why did you make him participate in the games?”

“Oh. Does he have something to do with the princess?”

“He—“

Vileena, who had flown into a rage, found herself tongue-tied. Orba began to walk past her a second time. He would never have thought the princess’ business was about himself. Now knowing this, he no longer felt like arguing with her.

“He is a dear friend.”

As those words tore at him from behind, his feet suddenly came to a halt.

The fourteen year old princess strengthened her gaze.

“...That is why this is a matter not unrelated to me. Up until now, he has lived through difficult battles, overcome them, and he has finally been freed from those bonds and become a free man. You are forcing him to fight just as he was made to when he was a slave. And to what ends?”

“Garbera’s princess does not know of it. You view the gladiator games as a living hell, but it’s Mephius’ top entertainment. That even a single more well-known gladiator participates will liven the mood of the festival.”

“Are you not selling yourself to the festival’s mood so that you will receive everyone’s attention? Even if you have to sacrifice Orba’s life to do it!”

“He won’t die,” Orba said with a brooding face.

The foreign princess’ cheeks flushed and she drew even closer to him. Her face was reminiscent of one other time. It completely matched the one she made when she squared off against the prince as they proceeded for Zaim Fortress for not making a single move.

“Why do you say so?”

“That’s...because he’s Orba. He’s never lost once. As his dear friend, you should trust in his abilities.”

“That is not what I am saying!”

“This is also what Orba wants. Do not speak any further on this, princess.”

No matter how he tried to suppress it, his irritation continued to build up. The way he spoke of himself appeared the same way those very Mephian nobles would.

“Still, to think you were his friend,” Orba ridiculed. What do you know about him? Do you know how many lives he’s taken? Someone like you and those ‘prided’ nobles and knights find battles to be grave, honourable, and meaningful. He fights not for any of these reasons, but only so that he can survive. He stains himself with flesh and blood ''only so that he can survive.''

“That is because you Mephian nobles...”

“SHUT UP!!”

Having exceeded his emotional threshold, Orba’s anger ran rampant in his words. 

“Do not call yourself Orba’s friend a second time. Do not speak to him. Don’t act as if you know everything just because you are royalty.”

Vileena instantly became enraged. However, contrary to her appearance, she stood stock still and did not utter a single word.

Orba, lost in his emotions and not knowing what to do with them, quickly left the scene.

''Who am I?''

His heavy footsteps, together with the throbbing of his heart gnawed away at him as Orba questioned his own sense of self.

"As a gladiator, I am someone who cannot become something like the princess’ friend."

"As a slave, I cannot stand when the princess speaks as if she is aware of the circumstances of a slave."

"As the prince, I don’t mind even if Orba has to be sacrificed to accomplish my goals."

"Who...am I?"

As he repeatedly questioned himself, he quickly lost all awareness of the outside world.



This day, Orba headed towards the stadium and arrived shortly before the sun set. The games for the day had already come to a close, and there were no traces of people on the stadium seats.

The sword slaves emerged little by little onto the stadium grounds. Of the gladiators participating in the tournament, all those that held the status of slave were held in a stadium-equipped detention camp. There, they passed the day working their bodies on the vast stadium grounds in preparation for their match the following day.

The guards kept an eye on the centre, where the gladiators freely swung their swords, practiced their footwork, and engaged in one-on-one mock battles.

Then the masked gladiator suddenly appeared. Naturally, stares were thrown at him from all over. They likely had heard stories of him to some extent, and although they did not seem surprised, they neither called out to him nor approached him. Instead, a stadium attendant came up to him.

“I have heard stories of you. However, there is no need for you to go out of your way to stay here. On the day of your battle, we will send over a guide to pick you up.”

“It’s an atmosphere I haven’t experienced in a while. I’d like to get used to it.”

The attendant gave out a baffled response, and then brought out a sword for him. Orba began his stretches and then proceeded to swing his sword. And once again, the slaves only watched. It could also be said that they were unable to disregard him and clear away their interest in him.

He pretended to do his exercise routine, directing his gaze at the slaves countless times, but never eyed Pashir amongst them.

The gladiator games had two days remaining. If Pashir was taking part in Noue’s plans, regardless of what his role was, he would likely make his move within these two days. He held the status of a slave, and could not move as he pleased. This meant Noue’s plans would progress within the detention camp.

Until then, he needed to get closer to Pashir and grasp the entirety of his plans.

Orba felt impatient, but also firmly thought to himself, ''I can’t rush things.''

What lay at stake was Mephius’ future, in other words, the hope he had at long last attained, the position of Prince Gil.

''—The princess’ life, huh''

He twisted his body around and stepped one foot out as he slashed the sword diagonally downwards.