Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume9 Chapter3 (section)

=== Part 3 ===

When he spoke, the people in the hall fell into a state of almost utter confusion, unable to comprehend Nabarl’s words.

''His Highness Gil. Did that fool Nabarl say that?''

''Yeah, that’s what I heard too.''

''Preposterous. Was the cretin so terrified of His Majesty’s wrath that he lost his mind?''

For all that the imperial family of Mephius was said to be descended from a Dragon God, once humans were dead they could not resurrect from beyond the grave. When they heard that Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius, who had fallen to the bullets of assassins in Apta, had once more appeared there for the purpose of advising the Emperor to halt the attack on Taúlia, it was impossible for most of the people there not to doubt Nabarl’s sanity.

''This is…''

Folker listened to Nabarl’s voice in understandably blank amazement, then looked to the Emperor to see his reaction. The expression of interest that Gil’s father, Guhl Mephius, wore when he had first summoned Nabarl had disappeared, and instead he now rested his chin on his hand with an air of boredom.

Nabarl finished speaking and waited for the Emperor’s response. His rotund body looked small.

Before a heavy silence could descend, Folker opened his mouth to speak.

“Sir Nabarl. Did you see this for yourself? Did you make certain that it was Crown Prince Gil with your own eyes?”

“I saw. Clearly, with my own eyes.” Nabarl glanced towards Folker and his own eyes were as dark as those of ghost. “Not only myself but also my men, the people of Apta, and both Generals Saian and Lorgo. Without a doubt, that was Crown Prince Gil himself.”

''Impossible.''

The commotion swelled. There were some who opened their eyes wide, those who exchanged whispers again, those who were forcing themselves to laugh – and, among the various responses, there were those who speculated that – ''this might be some sort of entertainment that His Majesty arranged for the pre-battle ceremony''.

Only Nabarl’s face was pale. “After His Highness, the Garberan princess, Lady Vileena, whose whereabouts had been unknown, also returned to Apta. As she said that her life had been saved in the west, it became impossible for me to interfere any further there… And thus, I have come to entreat Your Majesty for your august judgement.”

“Nonsense”

The air in the hall grew tense. The hundreds of whispered words suddenly stopped and everyone’s gaze converged on Guhl Mephius.

With his cheek still resting on his fist, Guhl continued, “A trick which could not be more foolish and which could not make more of a mockery of Mephius.”

“A trick,” Nabarl half shrieked. “A trick, you say?”

“What else could it be? Gil Mephius is dead. I cannot say that I have not felt like clinging to even the smallest sliver of hope. But how much time has already passed since the report of Gil’s death? I have already lost all hope. I cannot cling to empty wishes forever. Nabarl, you appear to be a person who loves the imperial family but those feelings have been used by the west. They must have sent an impostor Crown Prince Gil with the intention of spreading mayhem within our Mephius.”

“B-But, but, Your Majesty. An impostor, that distin… No, that person who claims to be the Crown Prince, he looks just like Lord Gil. Neither General Saian nor General Lorgo held the slightest doubt, and both of them seemed to accept him as the Crown Prince.”

“In the west, there is a legend of an abhorrent sorcerer,” said Guhl, with no indication that his mind had altered in the slightest. “The Bazgan House, which betrayed Mephius, borrowed that sorcerer’s power to found Zer Tauran. There is nothing mysterious in assuming that this loathsome sorcery has been passed down to this day. That being so, Nabarl, you should have dragged this insolent villain, who calls himself the Crown Prince, to Solon by brute force if necessary. With these eyes, I would certainly have been able to clearly distinguish the true from the false.”

“A-Aye.” Faced with unfaltering criticism, Nabarl could only prostrate himself.

Because the people there had not actually seen this “Crown Prince Gil”, they were readily able to agree with the Emperor’s words. The surprise at Prince Gil still being alive had already faded, and in its place was a sense that Nabarl truly was a unrivalled fool. Among those present, the proportion of those who were sniggering increased.

“I will send a messenger,” Guhl fired off his words as he was rising from his chair. He brandished the crystal-tipped sceptre. “Tell Rogue and Odyne to seize this scoundrel and bring him to Solon. I’ll cut his head off myself and perform a new oracle.”

''Oh'' – a different kind of commotion now filled the room.

Three or four years earlier, the Emperor had held an ‘oracle’ during the war against Garbera. It was something like a promise that the imperial family, who were his descendants, exchanged orally with the Dragon God. However, the previous oracle could not be honoured due to peace with Garbera, so there was a strong probability that it would be forgotten by history.

''Will this oracle be left in the annals of history?'' Folker thought to himself while the ripples of this new commotion spread throughout the hall.

''Be that as it may, His Majesty has a heart of iron. People say my nerves are strong, but when he learned that there was a chance, however slight, that his son might still be alive, he threw it away right from the start. That must be what they call royalty, a ruler. It might indeed be proper in a statesman, but…''

At that moment, Folker chanced to catch a glimpse of Mephius’ Imperial Princess Ineli. As was to be expected from a young girl, unlike the Emperor, she had not been completely without reaction. The blood had drained from her face and, just like Nabarl, she was frighteningly pale. But, as Folker was wondering if, among the race known as royalty there might not be one part which did after all resemble him, that fleeting prospect was ruthlessly betrayed by the smile that curved along her lips.
 


Ineli took her leave from the hall at about the same time as the ceremony for the departure for war ended. This was unusual for her as, normally at a party, she would stay behind even after the host had left their seat; she would sit surrounded by her close friends and by young noblemen with promising futures or those from the military.

Perhaps she was in a bad state for, as she headed towards the Inner Palace, her feet stumbled repeatedly and her hands kept hitting the walls.

“Older Sister.”

Even when her younger sister Flora, who was walking behind her, called out to her, or when her ladies’ maids held out their hands to her, she did not appear to notice them in the slightest and simply continued to stagger onwards. Then, the hem of her dress got caught by her high heel. She almost tripped over and Flora, in a fluster, made to catch hold of her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!”

When her sister turned around with vehement speed, Flora almost stopped breathing for a second. Her pale face and flaring eyes were like those of a completely different person and was more like those of a witch appearing in a nightmare. Then –

“Oh, Flora,” recognizing her sister, Ineli’s expression changed. Her face relaxed and her eyes became gentle. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, umm, Older Sister, you…”

“My, were you worried about me? Such a sweet little sister.” Ineli stroked the dark, reddish-brown hair that Flora had inherited from their father. “But I’m fine. It’s alright. More importantly, how are you? We talked about it last time, didn’t we? Are you reading diligently and studying?”

“Y-Yes, Older Sister,” Flora bobbed her head back and forth. “I have a music teacher and a history teacher since last month.”

“We~elll, that’s good.” Ineli nodded exaggeratedly as she smiled.

Her smile and the swift gesture with which she brushed away her golden hair as it rhythmically beat against her shoulder both belonged to the older sister that Flora adored, yet for some reason, Flora’s eyes became even more frightened than earlier.

“Study seriously and become the princess that His Majesty hopes for. You might also one day be sent in marriage to another country. When that happens, you must not be embarrassed as a princess of Mephius.”

“Y-Yes.”

“And also,” Ineli pointed a slender finger at her little sister’s forehead, “it seems that recently, you’ve been inviting a girl from the people to come and play. Please stop that now. It’s not an issue that concerns you alone. If you are looked down on because of it, it is Mephius’ imperial family which will lose face.”

Ineli seemed to be in a good mood as she spoke then, accompanied by her ladies’ maids, she continued forward. Her gait had regained its usual self-confidence.

Flora did not follow behind that retreating figure.

“Princess?”

Even when the ladies’ maids attached to the second Imperial Princess called out to her, she only shook her head. Her thin legs had been trembling since a while earlier.

''She resembles her'' – she whispered in such a tiny voice that it would never reach other people. ''Mother. Yes, right now, Older Sister is just like Mother was back then.''

Anxiety and dread were forming within Flora’s small chest like dark clouds gathering.

Ineli and Flora’s mother, that was to say, the current empress, Melissa, had lost her first husband, who had been the girls’ father. He had not held any private territory within the country, but he came from a family boasting one of the most venerable lineages in Mephius.

But Melissa had clearly not been content with that. Again and again she had talked about wanting her husband to be more proactive about associating with the key figures at Court.

In her childish mind, Flora had thought that – M''other wants Father to be even greater''.

However, her father was by nature an easy-going person and, rather than spending his days on Court intrigues, on manoeuvring to outwit others even if only by small margin, and on becoming embroiled in secret feuds, he seemed far better suited to playing with his two daughters at their mansion.

Eventually, her mother, by who knew what thought process, had suddenly decided to join the Dragon Gods’ faith. Her father had objected but her mother had refused to listen.

“When have you ever listened to me?”

When he was asked that, her father had nothing to reply.

And then ''it'' started.

Flora remembered, even if only partially.

After her mother had joined the Dragon Gods faith, her father’s physical condition changed. He, who had always been the picture of health, abruptly started to frequently fall ill. Usually he would recover his vigour after staying in bed for a day or two, but each time his round cheeks turned increasingly hollow; the flesh fell from his legs and arms, which had once not moved an inch even if both his daughters swung from them, and in no time at all, his entire body grew gaunt.

In the end, Melissa’s untiring nursing and his two young daughters’ prayers were in vain, and he became unable to take a single step out of bed. Doctors responding to her mother’s appeals had visited the mansion again and again, but her father’s health had never recovered.

“I’m sorry,” that morning, when Flora had brought him breakfast, her father had softly stroked her head. His smile had been almost frighteningly serene. “Next month is the Founding Festival. Flora, you hate the gladiatorial games, don’t you? Well then, while your big sister and your mother go to the tournament, how about you come shopping with Father at the festival?”

Her father had remembered how, at the previous year’s festival, his daughter had gazed in fascination at the brilliant sights while tirelessly peaking outside of the window of their carriage. Flora had wanted to leave the carriage but her mother had chided her, saying that it was improper to mix with the townspeople to go shopping.

So Flora had been delighted at her father’s promise. Because of the shopping, of course, but also because her father never lie; so she believed that if he had said that, it meant that by next month he would be completely better and they would be able to go outside together.

Her father passed away that night.

The day after the first time he had lied to her.

Dressed in the grey clothes of a widow, Melissa had stroked the heads of the sobbing Ineli and Flora and had said –

“There is nothing for you to worry about. This isn’t the end of everything. Rather, something might just have begun.”

Flora remembered the smile that Melissa had shown to none but her daughters at that time. It had felt as though her entire body had been paralysed.

There was a close resemblance between her mother’s smile back then, her mother’s gaze back then, and Ineli just now.
 


Meanwhile, having arrived at her own room, Ineli sent her ladies’ maids away. They received strict orders not to let anyone approach her room until she herself had given them permission to do so.

''It’s the same as when His Highness Gil died.''

''Does she intend to seclude herself again?''

Even though they did not speak, their feelings were clear to see. Ineli ignored them and closed the door to her room, then she threw herself onto the bed without changing her clothes.

After rolling about from left to right, she lay face-downwards. Her slender shoulders and wavy golden hair slowly began to shake.

Nabarl Metti was a man whose name she barely knew, but those words he had spoken during the audience in the great hall...

They were still reverberating in her ears.

“It was His Imperial Highness Gil. The one who gave me the order was a member of none other than the imperial family of Mephius, Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius!”

Nabarl’s voice had been shaking.

In the instant she had heard that, Ineli had felt like she had been struck by a thunderbolt and had almost fainted. She had even forgotten to breathe for a while.

She tossed about on the bed again.

Although her now upwards-facing body still trembled, a smile was unmistakably etched across the face which was framed on either side by voluminous hair.

''I knew it.''

Ineli muttered in her heart.

''I knew it, he’s alive.''

''I knew it, that man is alive.''

Unlike Ineli who had been in a state of shock, her step-father, Guhl Mephius, had decisively declared it to be an impostor. As Ineli turned that scene over in her mind, her smile broadened.

''Indeed, Father. That is an impostor. But only I need to know that. Because the one holding the Crown Prince’s secret and the one who will expose it is none other than I, Ineli Mephius.''
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v09 119.jpg|thumb]]
Soon, unable to contain herself any longer, Ineli sprang up from the bed. She summoned the ladies’ maids that she sent away earlier and told them –

“From now on, any and all information related to the Crown Prince is to be brought to me.” Faced with the bewildered ladies’ maids, she continued, “the vile west, in its hostility towards Mephius, is starting a war of information. In order not to be misled by wild rumours flying around, it is necessary to tighten things in the Inner Palace.”

From there on, Ineli launched herself into activity. Seizing any pretext, she held balls and tea parties to which great crowds of people were invited, making it hard to believe that the Inner Palace had been closed to the outside since the news of Gil’s death.

Among the ladies’ maids at Court, there were those with acquaintances among the children of the nobility and the army officers. Leveraging these connections, she invited to her parties people with whom she had barely exchanged pleasantries up until then. With her natural sociability, Ineli could quickly become friendly with anybody.

She intended to build herself an intelligence network.

Hers was by no means a patient personality. Rather, since she was more the type to blow up quickly and cool down immediately if she did not immediately receive the information that she wanted, she was apt to easily give up. Yet now she displayed patience, which was unusual for her.

And then, less than half a month after Nabarl had returned, a certain interesting rumour reached her ears.

It was said that a suspicious-looking man had shown up in front of the palace gates. He claimed to be a subordinate of General Oubary Bilan and requested a meeting with the general. However, as the general’s health had been destroyed from being incarcerated for so long, he was currently undergoing medical treatment; and besides, since the man’s appearance was extremely dubious, he had promptly been driven away.

The man was yelling as he was being pushed by the soldiers who were forcing him to leave, and this was overheard by the soldiers of a separate unit that happened to be passing by at the time.

“I know. I know the truth about the resurrected Crown Prince!”

Ineli’s eyes started glittering sharply. The one telling her this was a company commander whom she had only just become acquainted with, who was part of Solon’s garrison, and who was in charge of an area mainly inhabited by the populace.

“Find that man at all cost,” she ordered the company commander, “and bring him to me without attracting anyone’s notice.”

Meanwhile, at almost the exact same moment that Ineli was issuing that order, the former Council President, Simon Rodloom, was still at his mansion under house arrest.

Nowadays, Emperor Guhl Mephius did not bring up Simon’s name even in idle gossip. Was it because of lingering fury against the faithful subject who had remonstrated with him, or was it because, what with the west or the impostor prince, he had so many things that he needed to sort out that he had completely forgotten about him?

Recently, Simon had been absorbed in reading books. Every day, he would instruct a page to bring him books and the next day, as proof that he had read them, the piles of books stacked in a corner of his room would grow taller.

Being as he was, he gave the impression of an ascetic hermit who had cast aside all connection to this mortal world, leaving behind everything concerning the Emperor and Mephius.

Yet even Simon showed an interest when he heard about the affair with the Crown prince, rumours of which had spread not only within the Imperial Court but also throughout Solon.

“His Highness, Gil Mephius?”

For a moment, he lifted his head from his book.

“Even if,” he whispered to himself. “Even if Rogue and Odyne have been ensnared by the west’s black magic, they won’t have awakened to the kind of lust for power that can change a person.”

After which, he did not say another word. Although actually, he did speak, but not in a voice that could reach his page.

''It will soon be time to decide once and for all. His Majesty, those in authority who did nothing for fear of change and, of course, I myself''.

Simon’s eyes turned back to the book in which he had written down what was already ancient history.




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