Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume8 Chapter6 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

''It can’t be'' – he had thought but there was no doubt.

It was unmistakably the Garberan princess, Vileena Owell. who lay collapsed, casting a dark shadow on the ground that was illuminated by the fire.

Initially, Orba was going to ride by the village without stopping. Even if Mephian soldiers were running amok, he judged that his first priority was to hurry towards Apta and halt the enemy advance.

But as he was about to leave the village behind, he had run into Zerdians fleeing from it. They were Kiril’s subordinates who had been the first to shoot at the search party in an attempt to divide the enemy. Chasing immediately behind them were Taúlian soldiers.

The ones appointed to escort Orba recognised them as comrades and helped them drive away the Zerdians.

“What’s going on?” asked the escorts.

“We found the Garberan princess,” answered the soldiers from the search party.

While Orba was still doubting his own ears, they rapidly explained the situation. He realised that they had been tricked by the enemy into splitting up. He had no memory of what had happened after that. By the time he noticed it, he was lying low on his horse’s neck as it galloped on. Because it was impeding the run, he flung off his hooded cloak.

Every time the horse’s hooves drilled holes into the ground’s surface, sending earth and sand flying, he got closer to the din from the village and the heat of the fire. And along with that, feelings that were hard to describe were raging darkly through Orba’s chest.

And now – Vileena lay collapsed.

It was a relationship that he had once severed.

From the moment he had cast his mortal enemy, Oubary, into the flames, Orba had decided to abandon his false face. But not only his face. Among the many things that he had thrown aside, there was also the princess from Garbera. Now they had met again in another small village where sparks were flying. Orba’s loudly throbbing heart pounded.

Kiril, for his part, had already recovered his stance after the sudden charge. Seeing that his enemy’s attention was momentarily turned away from him, he threw the boomerang.

Coming back to himself, Orba instinctively made to cut it down. However, it soared far above the range of his sword. He urged his horse onwards without paying it any further heed. A smile appeared on Kiril’s face. As though guided by the enemy, it turned and started to hurtle towards Orba’s back. The enemy was drawing close. And the shadow of death chased right behind him.

The hair at the back of Orba’s neck stood on end.

A sign.

Back when he had been a gladiator, Orba had often felt that sign of death, and he had learned to trust himself to that instinct. He pulled his foot from the stirrup and leapt at once. And looked beneath him.
Humming as it spun, the weapon swept beneath his feet and hit the horse’s neck. It cut halfway through the flesh. With a pitiful neigh, the horse lost its balance and pitched forward.

Orba landed on the ground and, with his sword in his right hand, he moved to attack Kiril once again.

Kiril had absolutely not expected him to vault off but, as though he too were compelled by instinct, he dodged out of the way. He did so with a combination of cartwheels and somersaults and twice, thrice, Orba’s sword sliced through the air. His acrobatic fighting style was different from any other enemy Orba had ever faced.

While dodging for a fourth time, Kiril attempted a counter-attack with his dagger. Orba nimbly pulled back but, in a complete turn-around, this time it was Kiril’s attacks that did not halt. Kicking the ground left and right, he rained down violent blows. It was difficult for Orba to read his rhythm. Just when he was considering attacking downwards from the side to make use of his long reach, Kiril held his elbows tight to his flank and fired off a short stroke like he would an arrow. Moreover, his back was bent or in the middle of a cartwheel, Kiril easily released his blows while in the most unbelievable positions.

Wildly.

From above, from below, from the right, from the left – his movements were devoid of sense for a swordsman. Nor could Orba seize an opening to counter-attack and he could only dodge the swooping sword.

“Ah!” The tip of the dagger just got in and sliced a vertical tear in Orba’s tunic.

Sensing victory, Kiril’s eyes gleamed white. He made a movement with his right hand and launched himself from the ground with particular strength.

He attacked as he leapt, but Orba was narrowly able to avoid it.

“Unh,” Kiril made a slightly uneasy sound.

''The bastard’s gotten used to it'' – was the sentiment that appeared on his face. While intently dodging his blows, Orba’s body had memorised his opponent’s fighting style or, in other words, his unique rhythm. As proof of that, he was gradually able to push back Kiril’s sword.

A mass of steel sliced through right above Kiril’s head.

“Shit!”

He dodged the next attack by doing a back flip and drew another boomerang from at his waist. Seeing that, Orba tried to cut the distance between them but Kiril broke free and widened it. He raised the weapon high.

“I won’t aim for you,” he grinned broadly. Unconcerned, Orba was about to rush at him sword in hand but – “I’ll slice that woman’s head off.”

Kiril threw the boomerang. Realising the meaning of his words, Orba suddenly came to a stop. He then simultaneously swung his body around while racing in the opposite direction from Kiril.

This time, it was Kiril who chased after Orba.

Vileena’s collapsed figure was reflected in Orba’s trembling line of sight. Turning his eyes upward, the boomerang had gathered kinetic energy and was hurtling towards her with terrific force.

He wouldn’t make it in time.

Kiril’s equally terrific strides had him hot on his heels. At almost exactly the same time that Vileena’s neck would be sliced through, Orba would also take a blow from behind.

Intuiting as much, Orba immediately drew his sword behind his shoulder.

He hurled it with all his strength.

He had taken a single instant to measure what he was doing by eye, and less than an instant to reach his decision.

The longsword tore through the night air.

Sparks flew on either side. The sound of steel resounded before it pierced the ground. The boomerang veered slightly away from Vileena’s head and fell in almost the completely opposite direction from where her body lay.

“So you did it.” Orba heard that whisper at his ear.

They were separated by the distance of a single sword stroke. When he turned around, the tip was right before him. As Orba swung himself around, he forced his strong legs to kill the momentum with which he was running. Kiril continued to race fast and the sword he swung was turned aside before his eyes.

Kiril however was also good at shifting his own body weight. Or rather, it looked as though from the outset, he had no such thing as body weight and he immediately doubled back to be in front of Orba.

There was no longsword in Orba’s hand.

The gleam of the dagger approached.

Orba bent the upper part of his body. When he was so close to Kiril as to be too close, he extended his hand to his waist. He drew his short sword and in the same movement drove it into Kiril’s belly.

“Gaha!”

This time, after the steel sank into his abdomen, it was Orba’s short sword that hummed through the air as it aimed for the swaying enemy who had fallen to his knees.

As the steel was about to slice through his neck, a faint smile seemed to form on Kiril’s lips. Perhaps he felt that even his own death was an offering consecrated to the Dragon Gods.

Orba knew nothing of his enemy’s circumstances.

At that point, the escorting soldiers that Orba had left behind belatedly came rushing up. They seemed to cleave through the confused fight between the soldiers from Mephius and Taúlia.

The Mephian soldiers, who had been dragged into the fray, had from the start no will for fighting. Seeing the numbers for the opposite side increase, they immediately prepared to run and fled from the village.

“Ah, Dear! Open your eyes!”

“Please. Please open your eyes. Open your…”

Now that the fighting had settled down, men and women were everywhere clinging to the fallen corpses. Orba was familiar with those tears and those screams.

He had no intention of getting involved but among the slain there was one man who might still be breathing. He half-forcefully pushed aside the wife and child that were embracing him to take a look at his condition. He was bleeding heavily from his abdomen, so Orba threw off the tunic that Kiril had torn and wound it around him in place of bandages.

Naked from his waist up, he immediately called for the Taúlian soldiers.

“Send a messenger to the nearby relay base. Have them send doctors and medicine by airship.”

He gave orders as though it was completely natural. With no reason to go against him, the soldiers hurriedly sent a horse as they had been told.

“Don’t move him. Have faith in him and wait for help,” Orba said to the woman who seemed to be the daughter.

The woman nodded wordlessly.

That was when – 

“Uwoh”

Hearing a voice that was like a lamentation, Orba turned around.

A lone man was standing there. He had bandages wrapped all around his body but it was too fast for him to have been treated for wounds received during this assault. He had severe burns on his face, almost no hair on his head, and one of his eyes was blocked up, so it was difficult to imagine what his original face had been like. The man pointed at Orba with a trembling finger.

“The brand. The brand is burning.”

Orba was naked from the waist up and there was certainly a slave brand etched into his back. While pointing at it, the man’s hideously burned lips flapped open and shut.

“Did you summon these flames too? Uwoh, uwoh, uwoh! It’s burning, it burns all. Those who see that brand will all be cast into the flames!”

He seemed to have lost his sanity. His steps unsteady, he screamed those cryptic words until finally he stumbled to the ground. The woman who appeared to be the daughter of the man Orba had treated hurriedly rushed over to the bandaged man.

''The brand?''

Orba turned his eyes away from the man and his legs started moving as though he reached a decision.

A crowd of men were currently working to extinguish the fires, and as they angrily shouted out while pulling down buildings and fetching water, the noise was unceasing.

Several Taúlian soldiers had assembled in a corner of the village. They were all crouched in a circle and were calling out to a collapsed figure. That figure – Vileena Owell, was limp. Orba pushed his way through the soldiers and bent down next to the princess’ side.

He placed his hands behind Vileena’s neck and back and raised her upper body. As though she had just been lifted out of water, sweat covered the nape of her white, slender neck and her long hair clung to her like seaweed.

At the sight of her lifeless face, Orba’s heart pounded furiously. From the time he was born, Orba had never once prayed to anyone, so at this time, he did not know how to alleviate the feelings of dread in his heart. Unthinkingly, he was about to shake her with all his might and loudly shout her name.

But just before he could do so, Vileena’s body shuddered in his arms. It was as though she was having a violent coughing fit.

As Orba, panicked, was propping up her back again, he took a long, deep breath that seemed to be wrung from the very bottom of his lungs.

Just as he was wondering if the princess’ eyelids were going to quiver incessantly, they started to slightly open.

As though a curtain had lifted, her moist pupils were directly reflecting Orba’s face.

Without realising it, Orba made a noise in his throat.

Vileena’s parched lips parted.

She whispered something then, as if she had lost all her strength again, her head fell forward to her chest. Quickly bringing his face near to hers, he realised that she was breathing. Apparently, she had lost consciousness.

With another shuddering breath, Orba carried her to where the injured were being gathered to rest.

Looking down at the sleeping girl, who seemed lost in a dream, for some reason he slowly raised his hand and stroked his own face.
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v08 277.jpg|thumb]]
There was the touch of iron.

Without a doubt.

He had been wearing the iron mask the entire time.

''But even so…''

When Vileena had opened her eyes and gazed at Orba, she had looked blank for a moment but had then said –

“So it’s true after all… You’re a liar.”

Then, with a smile, she had immediately fallen asleep again.

Gil Mephius is a liar. He had told her that himself during the last time he had spent with her in Apta. He had spoken that line because he had been feeling guilty towards her, who was starting to trust him and who he was going to have to betray.

But to the very last, that had been as Gil Mephius. It had not been as the masked former gladiator, Orba.

“…”

From the midst of her hazy consciousness, the princess had seen something when she had looked at his mask, no, beyond his mask. For a while, Orba stood still, but he soon remembered that he had very little time left.

“What should we do with the princess?”

While he headed towards the soldiers who were consulting together, he said –

“The princess will stay here.” The startled soldiers turned towards him. “She is uninjured and will soon wake up. At that time, I’d like you to give her a message.”

“W-What?”

“Tell her a welcoming party from Apta will be coming to fetch her immediately.”

“You, what are you saying?”

“You can’t have forgotten what Old Master Ravan told you?”

The soldiers looked at each other repeatedly. Their duty was one thing but this man was absolutely impossible to understand. He had rushed to save the village that they had thought he was going to ignore, the Garberan princess that Taúlia was searching for had been found there, and now he was saying that a welcoming party would be sent from Apta. However, from his every action, they could feel that he was someone who was separate from the common of men, as befitted the hero who had slain Garda.

“Master Ravan seems to have entrusted you with something concerning Mephius.”

“Sorry, but…”

“I get it. You probably can’t talk about it. Hmm, in that case, we’ll go with you. So we will just leave the princess like this?”

“Please.”

He was a man who seemed arrogant yet who adopted a suitable manner when people were being conciliating.

''He’s a bit like that much younger cousin of mine'' – thought the man who had been assigned as the leader of Orba’s escorts. Incidentally, that cousin was fourteen years old.

Although they were already near the border, and there was no longer any need to worry about the mask being seen; Orba, for some reason, deliberately went looking for the hooded cloak that he had discarded and once more wrapped it around himself.

Borrowing a horse from one of the members of the search party, they set off once again. With the black smoke rising from the village at their backs, they hurried on and on. After they had arrived at the border in one trip, Orba and his escorts joined up with the other group which had also recently left Taúlia.

There were a number of men in the cage pulled by dragons. When Orba and the others were spotted coming up to them, the cage was flung open. Under the soldiers’ surveillance, the men were made to line up in a row. None of them were Zerdians and none of their faces were known to Orba.

Among them, there was one man whose face was hidden by a hooded cloak. Exactly like Orba. The soldiers also seemed awfully mindful of that person and did not high-handedly order him around.

Orba gave that figure a glance and a smile formed under his mask.

''As expected of Ravan, he thinks of everything.''

But the smile immediately disappeared from his face as they started to follow the Yunos’ course.

He did not know who it was who had attacked the village. However, it did not look like they would arrive before Mephius’ troops crossed the border.

Orba’s mask had started to reflect the pale light of dawn.