Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 8, Chapter 5: The Lion and the Girl, and the gravestones

Part 1

Two days after Orba had been placed under restraint, Bouwen Tedos went to visit the sage Ravan in his room.

Originally, he had wanted to cross-examine the matter as soon as he had heard about it, but with the reinforcements from all over arriving in Taúlia one after another, he had been delayed. Which was why it was not only about Orba’s affair that he felt like venting his complaints to Ravan. It was also because of the rumour that Ravan planned to delay Taúlia’s Governor-General Ax Bazgan’s return to the castle.

“This is going to sound like whining but I cannot handle everything by myself.”

“This also counts as experience.” Ravan was lying on his stomach on a sheet spread over the floor. He was smoking.

In theory, he had recovered sufficiently to be able to stand and walk, but he needed to use a cane to do so. Although the old man looked like he did not care about the gazes of others, Bouwen knew that he was, in fact, a mass of pride. As long as he was unaccustomed to a cane, he would hate having his ungainly figure being seen. He probably had no intention of taking a single step outside until he became much better at walking with it. Because of that idiosyncrasy, Bouwen, whom he trusted, was seeing him in postures like this one where he was lying on his belly.

“When the time comes, you will have to issue the orders to lead the troops from other countries. You should look over each of their faces in person. If you do not meet them personally, it will make a world of difference in the future.”

“I understand that but – right, Master, what is more important right now is Orba,” Bouwen cut to the main topic.

The one who had spread the surveillance net around Orba and his companions had been Natokk, the commander of the Sixth Army Corps. Upon asking him, he heard that he had received the order from Ax and had obtained permission from Ravan.

I didn’t hear a single word about it – although thinking that he should not be making complaints, although believing that he should not be making complaints, considering that he was basically Taúlia’s current commander-in-chief, still he felt abashed by it.

“What’s going on with him at the moment?”

“He is under confinement. He won’t talk even when he is asked about sending a secret messenger to Mephius. Normally he would be tortured on suspicion of being connected with an enemy country but... Anyway.”

He was the hero who had defeated Garda. Moreover, he had just recently achieved success in the battle against Mephius. But when push came to shove – that is, when it came to defending the country – Bouwen was capable of cold-blooded ruthlessness. If Orba’s attitude was too obstinate, sending him to the underground torture chamber was an option.

“Hmm,” Ravan breathed out tobacco smoke, “but even if he sent a secret message, what were the contents? Given that it’s Mephius, there are very few things worth reporting to it about our troop formation. When all’s said and done, this war is the same as last time; and a surprise attack won’t work anymore. Conceivably, Orba and his companions could take action from within Taúlia simultaneously with an attack from Mephius but... that’s not realistic either. Orba and his friends are too few in number.”

The difficulty of how to deal with Orba's unit also arose. It could be assumed that the Mephian Gilliam, who had gotten in the way of Natokk's men, was an accomplice in the betrayal; but what about the likes of Talcott or Stan, who had been mercenaries in Taúlia before Orba had arrived, or Kurun, who had been an apprentice soldier in Helio?

Of course, since they could not be left as they were, like Orba, they had all been imprisoned in a large chamber.

In other words, both in Apta and in Taúlia, the two cities separated by the River Yunos, Orba and quite a few of his acquaintances had been deprived of their freedom.

"That is why we need Orba to tell us with his own mouth what the contents were. Master Ravan, could you not go and see him in person?"

"Sorry, but I am not going on a fool's errand," Ravan said very plainly. "Even if I go now, the mask won't speak. He will come begging for mercy at some point. A more important problem is maintaining provisions for Taúlia," Ravan moved onto another topic, bringing to a close the topic of Orba for the time being.

The next day, however, as Bouwen left the castle building to go and receive the regular report from the border guards, "Sir Bouwen" – someone called out to him from horseback. He had a dark black beard and wore blue armour. Going by rumour, he was the Blue Dragon of Kadyne, Nilgif.

He had just arrived in Taúlia late the previous day. But only he and his older brother had passed through the gate. When asked about the Kadynian soldiers that they were supposed to be leading, they had nonchalantly replied that– "they were slow. They'll probably be arriving in two or three days."

Although at first glance his body looked heavy, Nilgif jumped nimbly from his horse without a trace of difficulty.

"I heard about Orba," he said.

"Orba?"

"Don't play dumb. It seems he's being detained."

Bouwen brazened it out. But he cursed inwardly. Orba's arrest was supposed to be a closely guarded secret. Officially, he had not yet recovered from the earlier gunshot wound and it had been decided that he should concentrate on his medical treatment.

Who let that out?

"Is it because he's Mephian?"

"What do you mean?"

"The rumour among the people of Taúlia is that as he is a former inhabitant of Mephius, you intend to make an example of him and have him executed."

"Ridiculous."

"Right. It's ridiculous. I haven't repaid my ‘debt’ to him yet. Besides the fact that he saved my family, our fight during the war was also left hanging. I'd be bothered if he was arbitrarily disposed of."

"Nilgif, where are your manners?"

This time, it was the Red Dragon, Moldorf, who appeared. Bouwen had seen him from a distance during the battle at the Coldrin Hills. Although that time, he had been an enemy.

"Sir Ax is the hero who saved the entire western region and Orba is known as his strongest 'sword'. Nilgif, rumours can't be trusted. Sir Bouwen will have realised long ago that if he were to be executed, Taúlia would come under blame from every corner of the west." Although Moldorf apologised for his younger brother's rudeness, his words were an insinuation directed against Bouwen.

"Indeed," Bouwen shook his head, his expression studiously blank, "Orba is a mercenary under our Taúlia. Although you are our partner in the alliance, I cannot simply disclose where he currently is, nor what assignment he has been entrusted with. With that..."

Bouwen sprang his horse and got away from the Red and Blue Dragons, but of course, that would not settle the situation. If it was even being talked about among the people, they would no longer be able to conceal the situation with Orba. But if the truth came out about how he had been confined for having sent a secret message to Mephius, morale in Taúlia would fall into chaos.

Eei, he's a difficult man to deal with. Now, at this point, why Mephius?

Bouwen's ire rose. If it had to come to this, it would have been better if the gunshot injury had gotten worse and he had died. Would they end up secretly taking his life, or, out of consideration for his achievement in defeating Garda, would they take his mask and throw him out?

But, it's a pity – Bouwen thought. 'Now, at this point' also applied to him. That man would be a loss. Isn't there some other way?

Because of that thought, on the afternoon of the same day, Bouwen filled an interval of his busy working schedule by going in person to the room in which Orba was imprisoned.

"There are rumours about you,' said Bouwen. "Apparently, there are many voices among the people pleading for your life to be saved. Did you spread the rumour yourself expecting things to turn out this way?"

He was only trying to surprise a confession out of Orba, who had been there ever since that night and who had seen no one other than Taúlian soldiers.

For his part, Orba was silent. In that dreary room, with only a table and chair inside it, he was like a chained dragon crouching patiently and quietly. But even as he maintained that pretence, the sharp gaze concealed behind the mask seemed to say that he was sharpening his fangs and claws, and that any human who carelessly got too close would be torn to shreds and devoured in a single strike.

Take off that mask! – Receiving no reaction, Bouwen was seized with the impulse to scream and forcefully tear off the iron mask. His face hidden, there was no indication of the other's feelings or intentions.

But he bore with it.

Just as Bouwen was about to leave, Orba opened his mouth.

"The third day."

"What?"

"Today is the third day since I came here. Is that correct?"

"That sounds right."

A trivial thing. He assumed that trivial thing was an excuse to start talking but, contrary to his expectations, Orba shut his mouth again.

Bouwen Tedos stood there, unmoving, for a short while, but there was still a ton of things he needed to finish before the day was done. In the end, he left.

Even after Bouwen had left, Orba remained seated in the chair.

While it appeared nothing had changed, the way he occasionally stood up and wandered restlessly around the room showed that this was not because he had remained calm and composed. But if he focused on only one thing, he feared he might become paralysed by it.

He occasionally acted as though he were practicing with a sword even though he was empty-handed. As to what he was thinking about, it had no direct connection with either Mephius or Taúlia, but was rather along the lines of – if I was up against an opponent like Moldorf or Nilgif on horseback, how should I deal with it?

The time spent waiting was frustrating. When Bouwen had come to visit, he had almost spontaneously jumped at the opportunity, since he knew he would have to wait a long time again if he missed it.

So he instead reminisced about the battlefield. The great generals Moldorf and Nilgif were masters at wielding spears on horseback. He had fought against both, but it would be hard to say that he had seized a clear victory in either case. From here on, when he was up against opponents like them, how should fight them?

At the outset, Orba assumed a two-stage attack with spear and sword. He wouldn't be able to match them in a frontal attack with a spear. So he would hold the reins in his mouth and while he threw the spear with his right hand, he would use the momentum to draw the sword with his left and chain the thrusts.

He even practiced the movement. Of course, since he was under confinement, every kind of weapon had been confiscated from him and he could not really practice by wielding a sword. However, despite Orba's young age, he had a wealth of experience in practical fighting. Memories of a great many fights helped with the image training.

It's not bad but...

After he had repeated it enough for his breathing to quicken, Orba groped about for another method. It was difficult to freely handle a horse or a dragon with a weapon in both hands; and even more so if it became a chaotic mêlée. Besides, if he was wielding both weapons from the start, it would be easy to guess his intentions.

So keep the sword at the waist and start with the spear.

Orba stared intently at the darkness and the figure of the Red Dragon Moldorf loomed out of it. At a distance that was neither too far nor too close, he threw the spear. There was no need to do so with all his strength. On the contrary, in order to be able to smoothly execute his next move, it should be neither too strong nor too weak. Since it was Moldorf, he would easily repel the spear. Orba leaned forward and sprung his horse onwards. Having knocked away the spear, Moldorf thrust out his own spear and galloped headlong towards the now empty-handed Orba. He could feel the wind whistling past his face.

Now –

For a split second, Orba seemed to fall forward then drew the sword at his waist.

The horses passed by each other. With a sweeping stroke to the torso, Moldorf was falling from the horse - His mental image could get to that point.

What was important here was that the movement of unsheathing the sword drawn from at his waist and the movement of striking his opponent's torso should truly be one and the same.

I shouldn't use a longsword.

The length of the short sword that he had received from his brother Roan would be about perfect.

Orba, alone, repeatedly practised bending at the knees and slouching from a forward position while drawing a sword. He was starting to sweat and while he was absorbed in moving his body without conscious thought, he was briefly able to forget his impatience and his regret. It was not a way of escaping from reality, but rather of driving away the negative emotions that were otherwise liable to take control of his body and mind.

And then, right after Bouwen Tedos had left, Orba, remaining behind, sat thinking in the chair.

The third day is it?

By his reckoning, if Shique had galloped onwards during the day, he should already have reached Apta. If he was to go there another three days from now, as promised in the letter, he would have to leave here before tomorrow nightfall at the very latest.

There wasn't so much as the shadow of a person in his surroundings. Sound had died out to the point of it being oppressive.

I made a stupid mistake.

The feelings that he had almost forgotten while moving around were unintentionally resurrected. He burned with a fierce regret and his head seemed to be seething.

He had set his resolve when he had written that letter. He did not need Shique to remind him of that. Because so far - all through the fight against Garda in the west - he had not thought about a future in which he would throw off the mask.

But where was I even looking back then?

He was always someone who made meticulous preparations, to the point that it irritated his comrades, yet this time he had been in such a rush to move forward that he had completely neglected to observe his surroundings. And as a result, he was now in a situation where he couldn't move at all.

I wasn't looking at anything. I didn't have a clear answer to who I was or who I wanted to be.

Without realising he was doing so, Orba took the mask in his hand.

What do I want to do?

Over the past three days, he had not once been able to unravel that problem. He could never come to a decision without having doubts.

Thinking of being the Crown Prince of Mephius again, of taking back that face was –

To stop the war with Taúlia. But what then? Continue as Crown Prince? Plan to get involved in all the wars in this world? Pretend that I can create a world where nobody is ever sad and nobody ever loses their life?

Even though I'm no Badyne believer.

I –

Had wanted to become a hero.

Leading an army of ten thousand, guiding his country to victory, that was the kind of hero he had yearned to be. The kind of existence that would be talked about in future histories along with splendid illustrations.

"Hah," Orba suddenly stood up and exhaled sharply. He nearly pitched forward from the left-over momentum and next drew the invisible sword at his waist and swung it horizontal line.

Ha –

"Ha ha ha."

If there had been someone assimilated into the shadows, closely observing Orba inside that room, they might have wondered if he had finally become mentally unhinged.

Having burst out laughing, Orba rolled on the floor, then looked up towards the ceiling as he repeatedly hit the ground with his fist in a fit of mirth.

Who was he?

He had continued to ask that since early childhood.

His older brother, Roan, had said that no one could know something like that.

His childhood friend, Alice, had said that something like that was stupid.

And then, a bold fourteen-year-old princess from Garbera had asked Orba himself – Orba, who am I?

Orba chortled uncontrollably for a while then, after his laughing fit ended, he suddenly went still as he looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s stupid,” a short whisper fell from his parched lips. “You’re right, Alice. It’s stupid, something like that.”

He closed his eyes.

It was impossible to say who recurrently appeared in his thoughts, nor what scenes or from when and where.

Orba suddenly threw both legs up in the air and then, in the same breath, lifted his body as they swung back to the ground.

I’ll do it.

My opponent in this fight is Guhl. That bastard. The people, the future, like I care about that now.

You who would take everything away from me, you who would once again burn the people I know. That’s it. That’s enough.

Part 2

As the rumours about Orba spread further and further, a great many people descended upon Bouwen Tedos to plead for mercy for him.

“If you’re already getting this worked up because of a baseless rumour, what will you do when Mephius starts an actual information war?”

Most of them went away when Bouwen rebuked them, but there were some among them who could not be ignored. The commander of Helio’s dragoons, Lasvius, and the Blue and Red Dragons of Kadyne. Both parties had sent a letter. Although, ostensibly, they took the stance that “this news is unreliable”, the contents were in effect a petition

Or at any rate, above his full formal signature, Lasvius had written that:

... while granted that there may be certain circumstances, as His Highness Rogier Helio looks forward to meeting Orba again sometime in the future, we remain in the expectation that he will be treated with leniency.

While the Twin Dragons of Kadyne asserted that:

...our lady, Princess Lima Khadein, is greatly concerned that, at this time of invasion by Mephius, something unfortunate may happen to Orba as he is Mephian. We firmly believe that we will hereafter laugh with the princess over her utterly groundless fears.

When Bouwen showed him the two notes, Ravan Dol laughed. And laughed so much that he choked on the tobacco fumes, which caused his back to shake and, for a moment, he blacked out from the pain.

“Well,” by the time he spoke, it had been quite a while since he had run his eyes over the letters, “and the third one?” He asked.

“Eh?”

“There wasn’t any letter? So it was said to you first-hand?”

“... Yes,” Bouwen reluctantly admitted.

There had been one more person who had gone to see Bouwen to verify the rumours that they had heard about Orba.

Esmena Bazgan herself.

When he was informed of it, the strategist spoke again –

“Whether he can make a move at this time or not, there's no doubt that man is troublesome. Until our liege returns, the only thing to do is to keep him discreetly locked up."

"What do you think about this affair of a secret message?"

"That man's actions are far too baffling for it merely being a matter of colluding with Mephius. What should I do in a situation like this? I'll think about what to do. Right, now I'll stop worrying about it."

Bouwen could only sigh in answer. Ravan's eyes were shining brightly. They were burning with intent because life was worth living again now that he had found someone new, besides Ax, to play the role of the student; but Bouwen himself did not realize that at all.

"At any rate, we've extended our forces along the border and are already on lookout against Mephius. Natokk is strengthening the watch on the inside. So there's harm. So I left it. The other side will definitely make a move. But then," he waved the two letters with a flutter, "there is movement from another direction. I was expecting it, but it goes beyond what I had thought."

"You were expecting it?"

"Yes, I'm the one who spread the rumour about Orba."

"Master," Bouwen was taken aback.

According to what the old strategist explained, he had not taken part in the battle in which Garda had been subjugated, nor had he been able to afterwards assess the situation in the various western countries with his own eyes. And so, as he had not been able to gauge Orba's influence first-hand, he had acted in order to be able to measure it.

"If it were only small, any problem caused would soon disappear by just leaving him locked up as is. If it were large, we would need to carefully consider how and when to use him."

Bouwen felt depressed but, as he still had something other than the letters to tell the old man, he rallied his energy. Above all else, this other communication proved that everything was going according to the old man's predictions.

"Orba says he wishes to see you, Master. Maybe he will reveal everything then."

"Oh, would you force out an old man whose legs cannot stand?"

"It cannot be helped. I implore your assistance."

As he lowered his head, it was the first time that Bouwen felt like hating the old strategist whom he had always loved and respected. It was the same sort of feeling that Ax Bazgan often had.

Ravan headed towards the room where Orba was locked up as fast as his legs would carry him. His back was bent crookedly and his gait was clumsy, as he was still unaccustomed to walking with a cane. Armed guards escorted him on all sides, but when they inadvertently stretched out a hand as Ravan seemed about to stumble, the old man shot them fierce glares.

He endured the humiliation until they finally arrived, then Ravan ordered everyone to clear out of the room. The door was locked shut and the soldiers stood guard outside it.

The old strategist and the young hero faced each other from either side of the table.

"I believe this is the first time we meet face-to-face, Sir Orba."

"..."

"Oh? Did you not call me here because you had something you wished to talk about? If you have no business with me, I'll be leaving. I only have a short time left in this world and cannot afford to waste it."

"I," Orba spoke, looking straight at Ravan who was leaning his weight on a cane to support his back. "I would like you to allow me to go to Mephius."

"To Mephius?"

"Yes."

"And what would you do there?"

“There is a general that I am acquainted with in Apta. I also know his personality well. If I can win him over, this war might be stopped before it begins.”

"Oh? Well you were a Mephian gladiator. It's not so strange that you would be acquainted with a general but still, you're naive."

"Naive?"

"This situation won't change from no more than the feelings of a single general. The one who issued the command was Emperor Guhl Mephius himself. By all accounts, this war is being positioned as revenge for the crown prince. Quite the slogan. Because of that, the raised swords cannot be returned to their sheaths unless the emperor himself decides upon it. In those circumstances, winning over a single general would only at best allow us to buy some time."

"Guhl Mephius does not have faith in his retainers, and his retainers in turn no longer have faith in him. If even a single general opposes him and raises the banner of righteousness, there will be many who will go along with him."

“Even so.”

“I am being naïve?”

“Exactly. You talk as though you are well-acquainted with Mephius' internal situation, but you demonstrate no basis for that. In actual fact, when there was that disturbance in Mephius and that man Zaat rose in revolt, no one followed him. From what I can see, Guhl was able to skilfully pull the country together. Although the way he does so is practically through a reign of terror, his ability to bind the country together without raising any turmoil is undeniable."

"Zaat had no unifying force. Nor did he brandish any great cause."

"So according to what you're saying, this general you know has the unifying force to be able to overthrow the emperor's rule? What's his name?"

"Rogue Saian. There is also a high chance that Odyne Lorgo, who is with him at Apta, would support him."

"I've heard of those names. Indeed, they are both outstanding generals. Even so, the chance of setting off an avalanche is pitifully low. As expected, it would lead to no more than stalling for time. Well, that would be one way. Our side could think about how to interfere using the opportunity of the enemy's internal quarrels. It might be better to do so than not."

"No. I would like the west to refrain from interfering unnecessarily."

"What did you say?"

"I will not tolerate a single soldier from either side crossing the border beyond this point. Is what I said."

"You will not tolerate it?"

"Indeed."

“You talk very grandly. Then I’ll ask: who are you? You know Mephian generals, have detailed knowledge of Mephius’ internal situation and are also giving both it and Taúlia orders for self-restraint.”

Ravan glared at Orba’s mask as though he could see through the iron but Orba for his part was calm.

“The point you are asking about is something an old master like yourself should already have understood, is it not”

"What did you say?"

“Or do you really not know? A man such as you, Ravan Dol, the feared strategist of Taúlia?” his voice carried clear mockery.

In that moment, Orba undoubtedly made a mistake in his handling of the old man. Ravan Dol’s gaze instantly relaxed, he returned to his usual easy-going expression and rose from his chair in a leisurely fashion.

“You act the great man. But that’s quite enough and I, Ravan Dol, do not have time to play second fiddle to you.”

He snapped his fingers to summon the guards.

The door unlocked and several soldiers with hawk-like features came into sight. Ravan silently passed through the entranceway.

"Master Ravan." When a voice called out to him from behind, the old strategist did not halt his steps. He ordered the soldiers to close the door.

The door made a heavy sound but just as it started to swing shut, he heard him say,

"It seems that the war fan was returned safely."

Ravan stopped suddenly. Orba continued –

"I heard about Raswan Bazgan's uprising. Thinking about it, I feel relieved that it was returned with the right timing. If someone as anti-Mephius as Raswan had taken the throne, it would have been a problem for me too."

Ravan stretched out his hand. Just before the door could close, he slipped back past it through the gap. His face expressionless, he once more gave the soldiers the order to withdraw.

When the door sounded shut, Ravan strode towards Orba. When he was close enough to him to feel his breath on his face, he said,

"Take off the mask."

Orba did not respond. But beneath the mask, he smiled. Staring at him from straight on, Ravan opened his eyes wide and changed his words,

"Please, is it not possible for you to remove the mask?"

Orba's smile widened and anger immediately suffused Ravan's face. And then that fury melted like ice.

Some time had passed.

"No wonder," said Ravan.

The iron mask was placed on the table.

Ravan whispered again, "no wonder." As always, the old man wore an expression overflowing with detachment from worldly concerns, but there was a slight tremor in his dark brown hands.

"... Why did you not reveal your face from the start? It would have been far more effective than running through a hundred words."

"I figured that suddenly revealing my face would be more likely to increase suspicion," Orba gave a slight shrug. "Besides, Taúlia has only just been at war with a sorcerer like Garda. I was also worried that I might be accused of using sorcery."

"So you even know about Garda."

"Strategist... Strategist.... who was it that killed Garda was?"

"Ah, oh. Yes, that's right..." Ravan nodded repeatedly, completely unlike a cunning strategist. Then he sighed deeply. "It's not that the thought didn't cross my mind. But it was just too... It was just too ridiculous. I am getting old. Although I tell myself not to be blinded by common sense, I was caught by it at the pivotal point. It was the same in Apta that time. You... No, Your Highness, you bombed your own fortress as though ridiculing my predictions."

"..."

"Certainly, if you were to issue an order to the generals, you might well be able to alter the present state of affairs. But it is a dangerous gamble. Mephius might be engulfed in the fires of civil war."

"We will have to do what we can to prevent those fires from spreading. And to that end, Taúlia's – no, the west's cooperation will be necessary," said Orba. His way of speaking and his tone of voice were the same as when he was wearing the mask yet he somewhat projected the atmosphere of a different person.

"Of course," Ravan Dol nodded as before but, from that single gesture, it was clear that his manner had changed from what it had been earlier. "To avoid a war with Mephius, we will demonstrate our power to the utmost."

"You will trust me?"

"Huh?" Ravan opened his eyes wide in bemusement. With an abruptness unbefitting of an old man, his expression turned strangely humorous. "Yep. After this, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to see something as mysterious or suspicious ever again. At a time like this, 'Prince', what do you think I will do?"

"Well now..."

"I will stop worrying." Ravan laughed, displaying unexpectedly white and healthy teeth. "Above all else, this situation is interesting. It is worth gambling the humble head of a single old man."

"I am obliged to you."

"Then, will you be leaving for Apta?"

"Immediately, if possible."

"I understand," Ravan assented.

After Orba had once again put on the mask, Ravan clapped his hands and called for the soldiers to come. After an exchange of no more than a few minutes, Orba was readily released.

Once the soldiers had hurried off to make their report, the two were left alone once more.

"We cannot wait for long," said Ravan. "There are the war preparations that have been made up until now. After Your Highness has left, and if it looks as though Mephius is once more going to invade, we will of course defend ourselves to the utmost and will think about how to attack if we see any opportunity to do so."

"That's fine."

"In that case, can we say that Orba, the hero in the iron mask, died?"

"Killed by Mephius or executed because he was plotting betrayal, whichever you prefer." You would not have thought that Orba was talking about himself from the way he spoke, but then, "however..."

"However?"

"Princess Esmena greatly supported me from behind, so please tell her the truth, and thank her for her help."

"I will certainly do so."

Having been released from confinement, Orba appeared at Taúlia's eastern gate just before the day grew dark. He was on horseback and the hood of the cloak he wore concealed his eye-catching mask. At his waist, he had a brand-new sword and his usual short sword.

He was not leaving alone. In exchange for cancelling the order to monitor Orba's unit, Ravan had given Natokk new instructions to choose a few men and have them escort Orba.

"Accompany him to the Mephian border. You are not to let him suffer a single scratch."

When he received that order, Natokk was naturally somewhat suspicious but he had absolute faith in Ravan Dol. He assumed that he had some plan in mind.

Moreover, and also at Ravan's order, by the time Orba departed for Apta, another group had already gone ahead and left Taúlia in a cloud of dust. It had several people locked in a cage that was being pulled by dragons.

At any rate, Orba was given six guards, all of which were riding horses. One of them looked up at the sky which was turning dark and lit a pine torch. When he approached Orba, the flames were reflected in the mask under the hood.

"We going?"

As he did not know what kind of attitude he should adopt, his speech was rough. This was a swordsman who was a hero and who was also suspected of treason.

"Yeah," that self-same Orba simply nodded once.

Each of them whipped their horses and broke into a run. In the sky overhead, one star then two started to twinkle.

From under the hood and behind the mask, Orba's eyes were fixed in the direction straight ahead.

Their gaze was set on Apta.

The fortress that he himself had once received.

And also the land that he himself had once abandoned.

The time to take it back was approaching.

Part 3

A group of Zerdian pedlars were walking along a road that branched off from the highway.

Although that was certainly how they appeared, and the horse-carts were carrying packages, an onlooker would, however, have definitely noticed an unusual sharpness in their eyes and behaviour.

They were more than fifty and most of them were Zerdians, although none of them were currently living in the west. Instead they dwelt in the Dragon Gods' shrine in Solon, the capital of the west's current enemy, Mephius. When the elders had still resided in the mountains at the border, they had been the warriors charged with guarding them and thus were familiar with the surrounding terrain.

The twenty following behind them were Mephian soldiers.

They were the party that had been sent from Apta to search for Vileena. The Mephians wore tense expressions. When they had been told that they would be crossing the border north of the River Yunos, they had wondered – Are you serious – but the Zerdians did not hesitate. They had previously split into small groups and had separated, probably to go and get information from members of the same mountain tribes as themselves, but now they had stopped dividing their numbers and, after everyone had regrouped, they advanced with firm steps.

Moreover, the Mephians were given a humiliating task when they crossed the border. They were made to strip to the waist and had their hands bound by rope. This was so that when they were challenged by the garrison guards, they were able to give the excuse that "we caught soldiers who fled from the battlefield." They completed the story by explaining that they were going to sell them as battlefield slaves. Guards stopped them two or three times as they proceeded along the border but, since Zerdian merchants were unquestionably burly and bold, everyone believed them.

Since they were dealing with Zerdians, the Mephian soldiers suspected on more than just one or two occasions that they were being led into a trap, but they had received orders from General Narbal; besides, they could not see any advantage for the Zerdians to capture them anyway.

They travelled south down the River Yunos for about a week.

The Zerdians stopped.

There was a village in sight. The houses were like stone bulges rising from the gently undulating ground.

"Is it there?" the Zerdian who was leading – the man called Kiril whom Nabarl had met with – pointed when he saw the village. A Zerdian who was slightly older than the rest of those chosen to be part of the search party nodded.

Which meant that Princess Vileena was there.

Kiril scratched his pointed goatee.

"Would it be best to eradicate it so as to not leave an undying grudge?"

"Eradicate what?" One of the Mephian soldiers berated him. "That village?"

"Don't be stupid," another one of them objected. "We just need to tell them that we've come to fetch the princess from Mephius. They won't particularly put up any resistance."

"This is enemy territory."

"I-In which case, it'll be fine if you Zerdians pretend to be on a mission from Taúlia. We'll lend you our armour and weapons. If you disguise yourselves as Taúlian soldiers..." Realizing that the others were serious, the Mephian soldier made a hurried suggestion.

They should avoid unnecessary fights. As Kiril had said, they were in enemy territory. An uproar might attract the attention of nearby enemies.

Then –

"Over there," a Zerdian who was around the same age as Kiril pointed to the only road leading to the village.

Kiril stared hard then in a harsh voice said –

"Your suggestion is rejected."

A line of people was approaching the village. Judging from their appearance, the armed group was undoubtedly Taúlian soldiers.

Vileena had already spent eight days in the village. In the time since her waking up, she had recovered to the point of helping the Jayce family with their work.

With that said, the work that Vileena could help with was very limited. In the morning, she fed the chickens then received fodder from Rone, after he returned from the mountains, and took care of the horses. She also drew water from the village well and carried it to Rone's wife who was working in the fields.

She had once taken a meal to the man who slept in the detached room. She had heard beforehand that Rone had saved the man's life, but he was lying with his back towards the door and took absolutely no notice of Vileena. He sometimes let out a voice as though he was having a nightmare.

Although she was limited in what she could do, the time passed in a blink of an eye while she worked. She had often heard Garberan nobles go on about how "when I left the city, I went to do some work in a village and it was truly leisurely, like a completely different world from this bustling court," but she had always thought that was an outright lie.

In the evening, she ate her meal and then spent the time before the sun had completely set with Layla.

Layla loved Vileena like a real little sister. Each of them had their own circumstances, and they never talked together about their pasts, but from that Layla was able to understand all the more that Vileena carried a wound in her heart.

On the evening of the eighth day.

"Your hair is really so beautiful, Luna," Layla marvelled as she combed Vileena's hair from behind.

'Luna' was the fake name that Vileena was using.

Except in the higher-class families, Zerdians did not have custom of bathing in hot water. In this village also, as there was a river nearby, people would go and wash themselves in it or would take water in a bucket to wash their hair and body with. At first, Vileena had been embarrassed to be naked in front of another person, however had no choice but to go along with it since her life was dependant on others. At times like these, Layla took care of Vileena like a little sister.

"There aren't any Mephians nor, although this rude of me, Zerdians with hair this beautiful. You're..."

Layla suddenly fell silent. She felt bad about prying thoughtlessly. Although Vileena was grateful for all the consideration she was receiving, it was also painful.

Layla smoothed over the situation by talking about various funny stories that had happened in the village. While doing so, she took the time to carefully clean Vileena's hair.

Suddenly reminded of her mother and Theresia, Vileena looked up through the window to the sky that was studded with innumerable small lights.

It's all so far away.

Her chest felt constricted from the overwhelming homesickness.

Garbera, the country of meadows. A country defended by gallant knights and fast airships. As she vividly recalled the royal court, where she had lived until she was fourteen, with its familiar paths and the flower gardens that they each had led to, Vileena's eyelids grew hot.

How she would run away from her studies and play about here and there. Theresia would chase after her every time but Vileena had hiding places all over the palace. There were also the times when she would go to where the adults were working, but the cooks, the gardeners, the blacksmiths, and everyone working on the air carriers were all Vileena's allies; so when Theresia came calling, they would feign ignorance. When her brother Zenon was at court, they would often play tag or have duels with toy swords.

And then there was also her grandfather, Jeorg. How she looked forward to going to have fun once a twice a season at the royal villa where her grandfather lived.

Grandfather...

The heat behind her eyelids became unbearable so Vileena closed her eyes and let the flowing water wash away the tears she shed.

She wondered if the people from her native country heard that she had turned traitor on Mephius and betrayed secret information. How had her grandfather reacted when he had heard? Had he applauded her, exclaiming that he expected nothing less from a daughter of Garbera and his granddaughter, or had he lamented that his grandchild had been swayed by the feelings of the moment and had hurt their national interests?

Thinking about it was to no avail. She had already long since passed through that inner conflict and reached her decision. But saying that she had reached a decision did not contradict the fact that she still had doubts.

Perhaps because she had noticed Vileena’s feelings, Layla invited her to her own bedroom that evening and talked with her for a long time after the lights had died out, their pillows lined up side by side. She talked about some of the young men from among the villagers. Even though 'Lennus from next door' was younger than Layla, having the unsophisticated boy look at her warmly left her feeling not only half embarrassed but also half proud.

“But doesn’t it look like you’re going to steal him? At any rate, since you arrived he’s constantly been looking at you.”

“Something like that...” Vileena denied it, feeling uncomfortable. She was not used to this kind of girly conversation.

Layla giggled unintentionally.

“Don’t worry about troubling anyone. Look for someone good, Luna. But you have to tell me if you find him.” Layla gave Vileena a light nudge to the side with her elbow. “Marrying someone, having your own child... That happiness can definitely be found anywhere. Even if the culture and values are different, even in a different land and different country, that’s the normal course, definitely.” Layla’s voice was almost a whisper.

That kind of life – was probably possible, Vileena thought. If she had not been raised in the royal palace... if she had been born as an ordinary town girl, although her unruly personality might have caused trouble for her parents when she was little, but as she grew into an adult she would also have grown conscious of the opposite sex, spending entire nights gossiping about it with other girls her age. And then, before long, she would have married someone, becoming a parent with a child of her own in her arms...

Layla’s words, which were saying – you can stay here forever if you want, echoed a voice in her heart.

Vileena was afraid of the her who almost wanted that kind of life; and if her stay here was prolonged any longer, that desire would surely grow stronger.

I was born in the royal family.

That was a fact that would not change, no matter what kind of life she hoped for.

Since she was born in the royal family, she had a duty. Even if she barely had any power.

The face of her grandfather, whom she had remembered earlier, once again came to her mind. That of her father did too.

There was also one more in Vileena’s heart: the face of a young man who, despite coming from an exalted lineage, was looked down upon by the people of his country and neglected even by his own father, but who had overcome every hardship.

And so she decided, as she greeted the morning of the ninth day, that after working until dusk, she would broach the matter with the Jayce family during the evening meal.

Tomorrow, I will leave.

Taúlia or Apta. The time to make a decision was approaching.

Vileena turned her back on Layla’s kindness and, as though that back was being pushed, she made her decision.

The end of that day came in the blink of an eye and a certain group was drawing near to the village.

As though they had been waiting for Vileena’s decision, those figures appeared like the embodiment of the future she had chosen. Wearing light armour and armed with slightly curved swords as well as old-fashioned guns, the ones advancing on horseback were the group of thirty that had been despatched from Taúlia. Before long, about half of them were waiting at the ready outside the village while the remaining half were having a talk with the village chief.

“We heard that there was a girl who looks as though she is from a foreign country in this village.”

When he heard what their business was, the village chief thought that the girl had, after all, proved to be a cause of trouble; but the soldiers simply said that they had “come to fetch her” and the air about them did not make him feel that there would be a fight.

“Please wait a while,” for the time being, the village chief seemed about to step out of his house.

Since he could not grasp the situation, he thought that he should ask the girl’s opinion but –

“Ah!” He heard the soldiers near the house raise a clamour.

The moment he himself exited out of his house, the cause of that was right before his eyes.

Vileena had personally stepped forward. Before the confused Jayce family that was accompanying her, she called out to the leader of the search party.

“I have caused you trouble.”

“The only thing that matters is that you are safe,” said the captain with heartfelt relief. “We were saved thanks to you, Princess. If we had lost our benefactress, we would have been able to face neither our ancestors nor our descendants. By good fortune, we have received the honour of being able to come escort you, Princess; you who stand equal with the hero who slew Garda.”

The villagers were speechless.

Vileena politely expressed her gratitude to the village chief and then walked up to the Jayce family. Even though they looked about to speak, she did not know what to say. So Vileena simply placed a hand to her chest like a Garberan court aristocrat and bowed deeply.

Included in it was the meaning of leaving behind the her that was not the princess of Garbera.

Rone and his wife exchanged glances. Layla could only let her mouth hang open in amazement.

“Now’s a good time,” said Kiril at the same moment.

They were lying low not far from the village. He had chosen several of his men, as well as the Mephian soldiers, to follow him. Then he had given separate orders to the remaining Zerdians and had them go off and do something else.

The place where Kiril and the others were lying hidden seemed to be the public cemetery and, from a hill of densely piled up earth, they had an excellent view of the Taúlian group as well as Princess Vileena.

“A good time?”

“To attack them.”

The Mephians gazed at Kiril in horror.

“Don’t be stupid. If we come out now, the princess might get hurt. We should draw back instead and place soldiers ahead in ambush along the way they’ll be going. Once they’re far enough away from the village, we can attack them by surprise and...”

“There are currently only a few enemy soldiers. We should be able to recover the princess with a swift surprise attack.”

“You’ve gotta be joking.”

“If you won’t do it, I will make you do it.” Both his eyes gleaming strangely, Kiril raised his hand.

In the next instant, gunshots resounded. The Mephians had no time to reign in their surprise.

The men that Kiril had left behind had crept up to the Taúlian soldiers waiting near the entrance of the village and, at his signal, had started shooting. After firing first, one then two volleys, they immediately retreated. Several soldiers who had escaped from becoming casualties hurriedly threw themselves on horseback and gave chase.

“E-Enemies.”

“An attack!”

It was a trap to divide the soldiers in two.

The mood in the village did a complete about-turn.

The people, who had been gathering in the area in front of the village chief's house, all screamed and, while pulling the women and children by the hand, started fleeing towards the houses.

While the Mephian soldiers were in shock, Kiril once more waved his hand.

More gunshots. This time, they came from close by.

Smoke rose from the walls and surrounding ground of the houses. One man, who had been slow to escape, was hit in the stomach and folded without a sound. Kiril’s men spread out around the village.

And they were not only armed with guns, as the sound of arrows also whizzed over people’s heads.

With fire at their tips, the arrows pierced the roofs of the houses and the piled-up stacks of hay. Smoke and flames started to rise from all over the village. The chaos grew even worse.

In the instant that those flames brilliantly lit up the side of his face, Kiril suddenly stood up and started racing down the hill. As he did so, he shouted –

“Mephian soldiers! I’m being chased by Mephian soldiers. Please help me!”

And there were undoubtedly armed soldiers from Mephius lying undercover where he pointed.

This is ridiculous!

More than being surprised or angry, the Mephians were completely dumbfounded.

From among the mothers and children, who were trying to escape from the gunshots and the flames, several of the Taúlian soldiers, as well as a number of ardent young men armed with hatchets and hoes, rushed one after another to where the Mephian soldiers were hiding.

They closed the distance before they could escape.

“Ngh!”

Unable to endure it, one of them rose up drawing his sword and sliced at the villager who was in the lead. He had a remarkably pockmarked face and was at an age where he could still be called a boy. The arm in which he held his hoe was severed halfway and sent flying in the sky.

“Lennus!” Layla screamed, but of course, the name meant nothing to the Mephian soldier.

Further screams and roars exploded with ear-splitting force.

Vileena instinctively held back Layla as she was about to run to the crouching boy whose arm had been cut off.

Thrown off balance and forced to fight back, the Mephians could not fathom Kiril’s intentions.

Having used the Mephian soldiers as bait, Kiril and his men were easily able to get closer to the princess. But it would, of course, be difficult to get her out of the village. Which was why the Mephians could not understand what he was thinking. The answer however was simple.

Kiril did not intend to get her out. He would draw up to her in the midst of the chaos and would kill her. Furthermore, it was not necessary for they themselves to survive. They were to accomplish their duty as they were ordered to, and die as they were ordered to. That was all they existed for.

Such fun.

Every time he kicked away from the ground, the distance to Vileena shrank. Kiril’s usually apathetic face was now radiant and lively.

Just as that Mephian had said, of course it would have been easier to take down the Taúlian soldiers if they had shot at them once they had left the village, and they certainly would have been able to capture the princess as well.

But that wouldn’t have been any fun.

As he felt the ether that was rising up from the many dead stream across his face, he yearned for death. Because then he would be called to the Dragon Gods. He was a pious believer who had offered them many deaths and much ether.

While paying careful attention to what was going on behind, and pretending to flee, Kiril measured by eye the distance between himself and Vileena. He put a hand to his breast. What he withdrew was a smallish, V-shaped battle-boomerang. It was mainly composed of the weightless metal made from refining dragon bones and was a weapon for assassination.

With it in hand, he made a large swing in an upwards motion and threw it.

The air had become so hazy that it was hard to see anything anymore and the boomerang was swallowed by the sky. From there, it drew an arc and returned, cleaving through the wind. He had calculated that it would strike Vileena’s head perfectly.

At that moment, Layla pushed Vileena aside to race forward but stumbled to the ground. Surprised, Vileena reached out her hand and leaned down. The boomerang sliced by above her head. A few strands of hair scattered in mid-air.

Kiril clicked his tongue but as the startled Vileena turned to look back, she was the very picture of defencelessness. He wiped all expression from his face and started running straight towards her.

“Princess, this way!”

The captain of the search party broke in between them. Naturally, he had not seen through Kiril’s scheme and was planning to lead the princess to a safe place because of the attack from Mephius. This was to earn him harm.

Kiril ran past him. Blood spurted from the captain’s neck and he toppled sideways. A dagger was clasped in Kiril’s hand. Its tip dripping blood as though to sketch a red line behind him, he drew closer to Vileena.

“Who!” Vileena cried. But she had no weapon at hand. She was going to dodge Kiril’s charge when, at that moment, she stumbled over Layla who was crouched at her feet.

Vileena fell, her body covering Layla’s. Instinctively, she tried to at least protect that life. The warmth that Vileena felt against her own body was the same warmth that had been protecting her these past several days.

Seeing a perfect opportunity, Kiril raised his blade.

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