Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 8, Chapter 6: Return

Part 1

At around that time, a great many people were gathered at Apta’s dragon training ground.

Thick stakes were being driven one-by-one into the ground of that open space. Each of the more than fifty stakes would soon be used to crucify[1] someone. The members of the prince’s former Imperial Guards.

By the time Rogue Saian noticed the commotion, the preparations were already more than half complete. Odyne, who had been relaxing in his room, also caught wind of it and came rushing along with him. The two of them had sternly questioned Nabarl about it, but Apta’s current commander-in-chief coolly replied that,

“We will shortly be performing an execution here.”

“You’ve arbitrarily decided that on your own?”

“It will not be all of them. As His Majesty will want information, some of them will be spared. For the rest, it is a question of troop morale. With the present uproar, the soldiers were getting irritated that it was taking so long to be resolved. Public executing the pack that conspired with Taúlia to assassinate the prince will raise their spirits.”

The uproar was that a dragon handled by Hou Ran had mauled some of Nabarl’s men to death. Rogue’s expression grew bitter.

“When we asked her about it, she explained that it was protecting her. So far, there is no evidence that they’re connected with Taúlia. Are you not being overly-hasty?”

“Were there any witnesses who could support that woman’s excuse? That’s right, there were none. I believe my subordinates’ report. If you were in my position, you would too.”

“However...”

“Besides which, are you calling for evidence? His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince, was shot and lost his life. The Imperial Guards originally blamed that crime on General Oubary, however the general has already been released in Solon and His Majesty has declared that it was Taúlia’s doing. General Saian, do not speak so thoughtlessly. Your words just now could be taken as direct criticism of His Majesty.”

The colour of blood rose to Rogue’s face.

While arguing down the veteran general, Nabarl had been curt from beginning to end. In point of fact, the matter did not interest him. Executing the Imperial Guards was, after all, no more than something to be added to his justifications for having lost the battle, and was not something that would be particularly productive.

Before many more days had passed, the troops of each of the twelve generals would probably be despatched to Apta and, if that happened, there was no guarantee that he would remain the supreme commander. Nabarl dearly wanted to lead another assault against Taúlia with his current military power. The execution was something like a ritual. It meant both wiping the slate clean of his defeat as well as stoking the soldiers up.

“I have lost my cherished soldiers,” Nabarl closed his eyes. “There would have been a meaning to their lives being cut down on the battlefield, but instead they were mauled to death by a dragon being controlled by a female slave. How can I explain it to their families who are awaiting their return? Please do not try to stop me, Sir Rogue. As we are now, this is something which is necessary. There must certainly be an execution along with the dawn.”

When he was told that it would be at dawn, Rogue closed his mouth.

According to the letter, it was at about that time that Crown Prince Gil Mephius would arrive. This allowed Rogue to take a gamble.

If he comes, good. But if he doesn’t...

“Do you believe it?” asked Odyne who was walking beside him after they had left Nabarl.

“Believe what?”

“What we were discussing.”

Rogue Saian had shown Odyne the letter that Shique had delivered. His reaction had not been very different from Rogue’s own. He had been surprised but not flustered. Nor had he stated what he intended to do with regards to it.

As they walked shoulder-to-shoulder, Odyne cautiously lowered his voice.

“Isn’t it because you believe it that you backed down for the time being?”

“Well...”

Despite it being the dead of night, the figures of a multitude of people could be seen by the light of the fires that had been lit in the iron baskets all around the training grounds. They were there to watch the executions.

“What does ‘well’ mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know either. But... whether it’s true or not, I’m grateful for that letter.”

“Grateful?” Odyne’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected words.

Rogue Saian smiled. “It gave me the impetus to reach a decision.”

“...”

“Although I was dissatisfied with all sorts of things about Mephius’ current state, I was not going to do anything about it. I made excuses about already being too old and that it was a job for the young. I didn’t even realise it myself.” As they walked, Rogue narrowed his eyes as though he was looking at something dazzling. “And so, without that letter, I too might have led my men over the border with Taúlia in the end. But thanks to it – and whether I believe it or not is separate matter – I decided to wait the three days as a Mephian warrior. And I will give my answer having thought about it as a warrior. I was made to realise it... Odyne, if at dawn the prince does not appear, then...”

“Then?”

“I will stop the execution. Even if I have to strike down Nabarl himself.”

“General!”

As though expecting to suddenly be shot at, Odyne cautiously swept his gaze around their surroundings. There were several soldiers standing sentry nearby but those words did not appear to have reached them. Rogue himself was still smiling.

“As long as there is life left within me, I will not let a single soldier cross the border. His Majesty will naturally be furious. But I am proud of belonging to the Saian House and we have supported the country as Mephian warriors from generation to generation. If that self-same Saian House demonstrates its military power for the last time, even His Majesty will become conscious of something.”

“Sir Rogue...”

“You are young. You do not need to follow me. For me, my men are like my family. They are of the same mind as me. But I do not intend to involve any but my family in this.”

“Even I...” Odyne was about to declare that he shared the same will, but stopped just short. No matter how much antipathy he felt towards the emperor, who was so lacking in righteousness, if he aligned himself with Rogue’s actions, then not only would he himself be in danger, but his family back in Solon would be too. The way Rogue had clearly spoken of his “family”... in other words, he was prepared to sacrifice them.

Odyne’s breath was taken away when thinking of his own hesitations compared to the depth of the veteran general’s resolve.

Perhaps because he noticed Odyne’s thoughts, Rogue laughed cheerfully. “Before this, we were not particularly close, but I am glad to have made a friend after coming here. But you will live. If all those who share this same heart are killed in action, Mephius will be covered in even greater darkness than it is now. So you will live. I want you to live and endure as you bide your time. Then maybe, if there are any who feel that my actions held some righteousness, you will be able to win them over to your side. Even one would count as a victory.”

Rogue’s face was calm as he explained a plan that worked on the premise of his own death. Perhaps he was feeling brighter now that he had gotten all that off his chest, as Rogue’s face looked refreshed while he thumped Odyne on the shoulder.

“Mephius’ future is bright. Don’t you think so? Right, this evening, let’s drink together. I won’t let you say no. The men are kicking up a ruckus while they wait too. Right, let’s go.”

The two generals left the training grounds behind them.

When Odyne fleetingly looked back, he felt as though the stakes illuminated by the fires were like the gravestones for Mephius itself, and shuddered.

Seven figures on horseback raced on, torches held aloft. They had left from Taúlia.

Because these were times of war, units like these could be seen patrolling far and wide, even away from the cities. The soldiers were not only from Taúlia but also from Helio, Kadyne or Cherik. Orba’s face was concealed beneath his hood. He went unnoticed.

Although on the way they would stop by an airship relay base that also doubled as a camp for the guards, it would still take two days to reach the border. And near Apta there was the River Yunos as well. The group was mostly silent as they sped their horses onwards.

There was a lot to think about. The Taúlian soldiers had not been informed at all about what Orba was planning on doing; while Orba had the strong impression that he was riding hard along a road that he would never be able to turn back along, exactly as though he were racing along a bridge that was burning behind him.

And yet, he was not plunged into regret.

It’s a fight. A fight.

As proof of that, his blood was stirring.

The enemy is colossal.

Although he had gone through battle after battle, the enemy was much larger this time. So in order to fight against it, he would also have to be large.

One by one, he mentally went over the processes to achieve that. However there was not a single thing among them that he took for granted. He could only think of the many pitfalls that laid along the path ahead.

Even that feeling of tension currently felt good to Orba.

The die has been cast. He was no longer wavering between this and that. Orba was never so lively as when he had reached the stage where there was nothing to do next but take action.

A day passed by as they went by the site the had been turned into a battlefield not long ago.

They took a nap at the relay’s barracks then immediately left again. There were, of course, only men at that camp, but there had been an exception only about a week earlier. Someone who had also been a foreigner. But Orba did not know that.

As the day was dying and they were riding fast through the dusk –

“Oi, over there,” said one of the Taúlian soldiers.

When they looked, it seemed as if flames were rising from the side. Because it was in the same direction as the setting sun, they had not been noticeable before, but now that the burning rays of sunlight had dimmed, the riders could see the flame’s light.

Upon asking, it seemed that there was a small village in that direction. The soldiers began to make a stir.

“It can’t be an attack by Mephian forces?”

“There was no news about them crossing the border.”

“Could the bastards have sneaked up on the border guards?”

Each of them pulled on their reins and brought their horses to a standstill. Orba was no exception.

A village is being attacked.

His expression had changed under his hood. In his mind he saw flames rising from every house and people running between them, trying to escape. An army troop clad in black from head to toe chased after them. The screaming women and children who were crushed under the horses’ hooves, the young men whose heads were sent flying when tried to resist – one by one the images flashed by then faded. That time from his own childhood had overlapped with the present.

“What do we do?”

The Taúlian soldiers started a discussion in front of Orba.

“If it really is Mephian troops, it’ll be impossible to get any closer to the border.”

“Let’s return to the camp. We can notify Taúlia with the airships there.”

“First things first, I’ll go check the situation. The rest of you stay here on standby and...”

The outcome was that the group would be split into three. Two would go towards the village to act as scouts and two more would return to the camp. The remaining three, Orba included, would stay where they were on standby, but –

“No,” Orba shook his head. “We’ll get as close as we can to the border.”

“What?”

The Taúlian soldiers were aghast. Orba was already urging his horse onwards. At the sight of his arrogant behaviour, the youngest soldier in the group snarled.

“You’re just going to be jumping into the enemy’s arms. Mephius has already forded the Yunos.”

“There’s no time.”

“Time. Time for what? We haven’t been told anything. Even if it doesn’t matter to you, that’s one of our villages over there. That’s...”

“If you’re not coming then do whatever you want. I’m going ahead,” Orba flung at him and whipped his horse.

Leaving the soldiers behind, he travelled steadily forward. Under the swaying hood, his eyes gleamed sharply. He did not want to abandon the village either. He too was worried that Mephius might be occupying the border, but that was even more so a reason to hurry onwards.

On the other hand, the leader of the Taúlian soldiers he had left behind reached a decision.

“At any rate, we need to check the situation at the border.”

After giving each group, one heading towards the village and the other returning to camp, their respective orders, he then, with the youngest soldier in tow, chased after Orba.

“Tsk,” the young soldier reluctantly made his horse move its legs.

Orba was not going to look back.

A gunshot resounded in his ears.

It was not from some far off direction – in other words, it was not from the village. It was from close by.

He grabbed the sword at his waist.

A number of figures had suddenly jumped out from the side of the road.

A gunshot.

At the same time, Kiril leapt backwards.

“Don’t move.”

His smoking gun muzzle firmly fixed on Kiril, Rone Jayce walked towards him. They faced each other with the princess and Layla between them.

“Forget it.”

As he spoke, Kiril once again swept his arm in a wide movement. From it, a black shadow shot through the air. Rone instinctively stepped back and it flew over his head. Having seen it pass by, Rone was about to angrily pull the trigger when,

“Duck!” Vileena cried out in the same instant.

He realised just in time what the weapon that had been about to end his life was doing. His warrior instincts sprang back to life at the sharpness of that voice. He was originally a man who had sufficient enough skills to be chosen as one of the emperor’s own Imperial Guards. When Rone stooped, Kiril launched himself and broke into a run.

Rone adjusted the gun’s aim, but was too late.

A kick from Kiril’s long legs sent the weapon flying. Then, using the recoil from his action to whirl like an acrobat, he caught the boomerang in mid-air.

He landed behind Rone. At almost the same moment as the former Imperial Guard released the glint of a blade at his waist, Kiril swung the dagger he held in one hand, aiming for Rone’s back in the same movement. With a timing that was almost artistic, the swords collided.

Sparks flew.

Both turned towards the other. Their faces were close. They exerted their strength to break that balance. Rone had the advantage in both weapon and physique. He gradually overwhelmed Kiril with brute force.

Suddenly, Rone pitched forward. Kiril immediately relaxed his strength and crouched down, pivoted on his right foot and, as Rone started stumbling, tripped him to the ground.

“Father!”

His daughter’s voice ringing in his ears, Rone quickly rolled over as a blade drove after him. Twice, thrice, he narrowly dodged it but Kiril’s movements were ruthlessly precise and on the third time, the blade cornered him into a position from which he could no longer avoid it.

“Wait.”

Vileena.

Without anyone realising it, she had picked up the gun that had been kicked out of Rone’s hand and was standing to their side.

Kiril did not falter for a second. His sword swung down towards Rone’s neck.

“Guh!”

He cried out like a bird of ill-omen and staggered back. A cloud of dust rose from the ground. The tip of his feet had almost been blown through.

Having fired the shot, Vileena narrowed the distance between them and once more put herself at the ready. Kiril’s eyes filled with surprised admiration.

“You actually did it, Princess.”

“You called me ‘Princess’? Judging by your behaviour, you know who I am?”

“Of course. The third princess of Garbera, Vileena Owell. An exalted existence, the like of which there is no second in this world.”

When he formally announced her name, Rone and Layla gasped. Vileena however had no attention to spare for them. Her heart was pounding. The stench of gunpowder filled her nose to the point of bringing tears to her eyes.

Abiding by her grandfather’s instructions, and so as to be able to protect herself, Vileena had not failed to continue gun practice, but this was of course the first time she had shot at a human.

“Hmm,” nevertheless, she raised her slender chin and her manner remained haughty to the last, “if you have business with me, then it has nothing to do with the villagers. Why did you do something like this?”

“For the sake of achieving my goal, I could not afford to choose my means...” Kiril’s expression fleetingly turned sorrowful but, “...that would be a lie. I did it because it was fun.”

“Fun?”

“Having gone out of our way to come this far, it would be boring if the only prey were small-fry Taúlian soldiers. If the battle isn’t a maelstrom of screams and blood, the ether that humans release before dying won’t be refined.”

White-hot anger flared in Vileena’s eyes. From the corner of her eye, she saw the tumbling corpse of a man who had been pierced in the abdomen by a Mephian soldier. While the youth whose arm had been cut off, and who was even now faint with agony, was certainly the one called Lennus who had given flowers to Layla.

“Scoundrel.” Vileena voice sounded as though it could have cut him down. “Don’t move. If you value your life, throw down your weapon and surrender with your companions.”

“Since I don’t value it, I’ll be resisting you on that.”

Kiril gave a wicked smile and flung the boomerang in a swift movement. Startled, Vileena shifted her eyes left and right and in that instant, Kiril broke into a sprint. Moving as fast as though he were flying, he cut down the distance in a heartbeat. When the princess realised it, she lifted the gun in front of her but it was too late. Kiril slammed his fist into her abdomen.

Vileena wordlessly crumpled to her knees. For a second, it felt as though all the oxygen had been snatched from her body. Kiril easily grabbed the gun from her shaking hands.

“You should pay close attention. There won’t be a second sacrifice as noble as you. To enhance the quality, I’ll have you hate and despair even more.” Kiril licked his lips.

At precisely that moment, a Taúlian soldier raised his sword behind Kiril and aimed for him but the weapon that Kiril had thrown some time earlier came back, tearing through the wind, and hit the soldier, who was only a few steps behind him, in the back of his neck

Unconcerned by the blood that was gushing like a raging waterfall, Kiril smoothly pulled it out. Like a doll that had been tossed away, the soldier fell to the ground.

His victim’s blood smeared on him like makeup, Kiril once more turned his eyes towards the Jayce father and child.

“Stay away!” Rone shouted, but not to Kiril. To his wife who, her face pale, was about to run to them. He himself stood to face Kiril, sword in hand.

Vileena could barely keep the two of them in sight. It was hard to breathe. Black shadows hung from her eyelids and if her consciousness slipped just a little bit more, the two figures would be engulfed in a wave of darkness. As a voice whispered to her that it would be more comfortable that way, she gritted her teeth and rejected it.

Damn it! – The resentful curses that the Garberan soldiers had sometimes spoken echoed in Vileena’s heart.

Even though she was doing her utmost to stay conscious, she could not freely lift so much as a single finger. Unaware that drool was coming from her mouth and that her eyes were overflowing with tears, Garbera’s third princess cursed her own powerlessness as she was unable to even move.

Always... always... At times like these, she was made to realise what an insignificant existence she was, good only to be knocked around without being able to do anything.

As the distance between the two narrowed, the feeling of oppression coming from the fire seemed to increase. Rone was on the verge of swinging his sword. But not because he was seizing an opening but because he could no longer bear the tension – in other words, Kiril had made him move. Even Vileena, an amateur, could see it. And just as she had imagined, Rone moved in a straight line which Kiril was easily able to dodge before burying his right hand into Rone’s abdomen.

“Guh!”

A dagger stabbed deep into his belly, Rone grunted as he started to topple backwards. Kiril moved to hug his body close to prevent that from happening. Screams from Rone’s wife and child echoed.

“Stop!”

The voice that only barely sprang from Vileena’s lips pierced Kiril’s ears more keenly than any other. He turned around with a somewhat surprised expression. In that time, Rone’s body collapsed.

“My. You still have courage enough to speak.” Though Kiril's eyes were once again filled with admiration, strange words followed. “Such a waste. Such a high-quality existence should be kept to milk ether or be of use to Lord Garda. It really is a waste, but it’s an order, so there’s no help for it.”

“What are you...”

“Well, be sure to shed tears of blood as you watch in frustration.” Kiril turned his back to Vileena. His complete disinterest stoked the fire of her anger.

However, a black curtain had already more than half fallen over her consciousness. Her entire body had gone numb and in a few more seconds, she would no longer be able to speak and would fall unconscious.

Is a woman this powerless? Away from the protection of the soldiers and the people, is the royal family this insignificant?

She remembered that night. Wandering along the mountain path while being afraid of the dark. The Jayce family had saved her from that. She had learned that even though she was royalty, if she took just a single step out of their territory, no, out of the area that she herself knew, she was reduced to this powerlessness.

Although light from the fires should have been illuminating her surroundings, at some point, the sky that stretched out over her head had become incredibly dark. There was not the faintest glimmer of hope in that ink-black sky she gazed up at. As the fear from that time came back to her, she lost the strength to cling to the present.

I am... the royal family is...

Even as her soul was about to be consumed by the night, Vileena asked herself until the very last moment.

The royal family is – yes, it’s a “light”.

A scene suddenly flashed through Vileena’s consciousness. At Zaim Fortress, when she was facing the gallant young general, Ryucown. Vileena herself had said that to the man who's overwhelming grief for his country had driven him to violence.

“The royal family is not the cornerstone of a country. The sense of pride in the retainers and the people is the same – you can find the same light in that nation.”

Because of that...

She had wanted to become stronger. She had wanted to become a cornerstone for the royal family. The people and the vassals each had different concepts of happiness but hope was something they could share. The close future was something they could imagine.

It was just after the battle at Zaim had ended – as she could still hear the groans of the injured, the weeping of the Garberan soldiers, and also the ragged breathing of the masked swordsman Orba who had killed Ryucown – that Vileena Owell had thought that she wanted to become a “light” similar to those guiding principles.

That’s right, even though I myself am small and powerless...

Vileena exerted the last of her strength. She let out the last of the air in her lungs and, not caring that she might lose consciousness or even her life because of it, she opened her mouth.

“Somebody,” she cried. “Is anybody there? Is there anyone to defeat these scoundrels and protect the noble blood of Garbera’s royal family? Hurry... hurry...”

The only answer was Kiril’s loud laughter. “Splendid. If royalty such as yourself gives the order, will your loyal subjects come running even from the ends of the earth? You truly have a splendid attitude.”

Vileena continued without paying him any attention.

“Is anybody there? Is there no hero to answer Vileena Owell’s voice? If there is someone here – someone that I do not know or cannot see, even someone who is currently fighting against us – who is willing to quickly lift up their sword; I, Princess Vileena, will praise you as a hero!”

Her sight was already virtually covered up. Vileena’s mouth shut and her consciousness was almost gone.

Kiril drew up towards the screaming and crying Layla. Rone’s wife rushed to protect her but he thrust her away with a simple “later.”

He lifted the wet, red blade.

“Somebody...”

Her voice husky, Vileena called out to the end as her eyelids closed.

Kiril continued to laugh loudly. For him, the ‘ceremony’ was reaching its peak and he could feel the highly-concentrated ether against his skin.

He was about to stab his blade with all his strength.

There was a loud neighing sound.

A black wind blew to Vileena’s side.

It blew up to Kiril. Just as it was about to collide into him, the figure of a man on horseback was reflected in Vileena’s eyes. The astounded Kiril leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the horseman’s charge.

“Bastard!” He yelled unintentionally as his opponent was neither a Taúlian soldier nor, obviously, a Mephian one.

He wore an iron mask.

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.

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.

Part 3

And thus, dawn had finally started to break.

Compared to the outskirts of Solon, nights in Apta were surprisingly chilly. Only the night’s dark shadows were receding, leaving that cool air behind. That morning, the wind was especially clear.

It would have been nice if it had been tomorrow – thought Rogue Saian as he breathed in the scent of the invigorating breeze.

As was typical for the air forces, most of Rogue’s men were young. They had not been in Apta for long but he had heard that there were many among them who had immediately started making advances towards the servants in the fort and the town girls, and who were thoroughly enjoying the time before they headed off to the battlefield.

That morning was a fine day for taking a stroll. Rogue was thinking that if the execution had been the next day, they could have leisurely spent this special period with their lovers.

But the time was drawing near. He had no intention of reversing his decision anymore.

At about the same time that the ridgeline of the Belgana Summits was starting to shine white in the west, the former Imperial Guards were lead into the open space. When their figures came into sight, the people gathered around the training grounds all burst into jeers and angry shouts.

“How dare you betray Lord Gil!”

“Ingrates!”

“We’ll piss on your corpses!”

Gil had served as lord of Apta. It had only been for a very short period but, because he had accomplished many heroic actions from there, his popularity among the townspeople was high. Compared to the people in the capital, Solon, their feelings of grief were far greater.

Among them however were also those who kept their mouths shut as they watched the former Imperial Guards being tied to the cross-shaped stakes. Because the prince’s popularity was high, every piece of gossip associated with Gil was discussed at length in Apta. The story about how his Imperial Guards were mostly former sword slaves who had become the prince’s hands and feet, and occasionally his eyes and ears, was easy for the people to empathize with and was widely whispered about in support of him. Therefore, there was a segment of the population that distrusted the tale that the Guards had planned the prince’s assassination and who, in part because they were far from Solon, openly gossiped that – “it was definitely all invented so that the emperor could start a war with the west.”

And so it was that as a crowd of people looked on, the men were one after another bound to the stakes they were to be crucified on. If they tried to resist even a little, they were hit with swords and pikestaffs.

“Shit!”

“We haven’t done anything. Let go!”

On top of not originally being regular enlisted soldiers, they had been accused of a crime they had not committed. They could not be said to be resolutely going out to meet death. There were even some who struggled so violently that it needed several guards to subdue them. It was to the point that it looked like they might be killed before the execution.

Among all that, neither Pashir nor Gouwen had lost their composure.

In Pashir’s case, he was thinking that – So Mephius will have killed me after all, huh? When he had first made up his mind to at least return a blow to Mephius and fight, at that time, he had already given up on life. Because the strange existence that was Gil Mephius had barged into it, the end of that life had been extended. That was all there was to it.

Gouwen for his part had been the commander of the former Imperial Guards.

Under normal circumstances, he was in a position to give testimony directly to the emperor if he was charged with a crime, but of course, Emperor Guhl Mephius did not wish to know the real situation or rather, he viewed those who knew the details of the affair as a nuisance. Narbal had divined as much and had placed Gowen’s name at the top of the list of those to be executed.

Gowen himself was as calm as Pashir was. He also found some salvation from the fact that his adopted daughter Hou Ran had, for now, escaped execution. Although the fate that awaited her was unlikely to be good – she’s a clever girl. Much trickier than those people who look down on her.

He felt that since it was Hou Ran, in a few days’ time, she would be de driving the dragons into the horizon with an unconcerned look on her face and without worrying about herself. Gowen grinned broadly as he was being bound to the crucifixion stake.

Originally, he had not felt any great unhappiness about his life as an overseer of slaves, but at the same time, he did not remember getting any warmth from it either. He sent slaves out to their deaths and expected to simply die in obscurity one day. Then he had gone to work for Orba, who become the crown prince’s body double, and had started living with his adopted daughter. Those days had been like a dream. So he no longer had any regrets in this world.

It was only that –

That guy, where is he and what is he doing?

Orba’s figure suddenly came to his mind.

And like that, the fifty men were tied to the stakes.

In a moment, the uproarious noise stopped completely. The quality of the air grew different. As though to plug the yawning gap that had opened up within the noise, a row of soldiers carrying guns had appeared in the open space. Commanding them was the adjutant, Gareth. If one went back to the origin, it was he who had suggested executing the Imperial Guards.

As their surroundings fell quiet, and while their steel helmets were bathed in the pale light of the early morning sun, the soldiers each took up their positions.

Fixedly watching the proceedings, Rogue Saian gave a single sigh.

Finally.

When Gareth raised his arm and gave the order to “Fire!”, Rogue’s men would rush in to stop him. Then Rogue himself would draw the sword from his waist and challenged Nabarl. He would use him as a shield, capture his soldiers, and release the Imperial Guards. Afterwards, he would wait for the sentence from Solon.

And, just as he had declared to Odyne, until the moment his doom was upon him, he would not allow a single soldier to cross into the west.

His feelings were clear. He had barely eaten or slept during the past three days. Anyway, he would only be woken by nightmares if he lay down. Rogue’s family was in Solon. Even if he tried not to think about it, the worst possible scenarios of the treatment the enraged emperor would inflict upon them came to his mind.

He would see scenes of his young wife and childish son becoming silent corpses.

Forgive me – he prayed, closing his eyes.

When he opened them once more, the soldiers had finished lining up. All of them had their guns at the ready. Then, as Rogue was breathing a deep sigh, another person suddenly appeared.

“You...”

Odyne Lorgo. He gave Rogue a sidelong glance and said, “I’m going with you. I have my men lying in wait outside Apta. Even if Nabarl’s subordinates send out messengers, they will be able to buy us time.”

“O-Odyne...”

“General, I am not lightly choosing death. My mind is made up. Let’s wage war on the emperor of Mephius, the two of us, here from Apta. From here, we will call out to our fellow-countrymen and gather comrades.”

“We can’t. Who will gain from it if we revolt now? If I stake my life on...”

“It’s too late. General Saian, I am no one’s slave. I think for myself and decide for myself.”

Rogue and Odyne’s gazes met.

Meanwhile, Gareth stepped in front of the criminals and read the charges out loud. Once he had finished, he withdrew to behind the soldiers. Is it finally the time? The people held their breath at that sign.

The sun had risen over the mountain ridgeline and the stakes were casting long, black shadows that bisected the shapes of the people with black.

Gareth’s arm rose.

As many guns as there were criminals were lifted onto shoulders.

In the instant that Gareth's mouth opened and he seemed about to order “Fire!” –

A figure suddenly came running.

“General, General!”

Gareth and Nabarl were not the only ones to be astounded, Rogue, who had been about to signal his men, was too.

Something like a burning hope welled up in the old general’s chest. However –

“Taúlian soldiers,” the guard who had been monitoring the border that was the River Yunos knelt in front of Nabarl. “Taúlian soldiers have been sighted on the other side of the River Yunos!”

When Rogue and the others, Nabarl included, rushed to the top of the cliff that projected westwards, they saw that Taúlian soldiers were indeed lined up side-by-side along the opposite shore. They did not, however, seem to have set up camp. Their attention was drawn to a single airship. It was flying a black-and-white bisected flag.

It denoted a messenger.

“They don’t seem to have hidden any guns.” Nabarl had borrowed binoculars from the border guards and was peering into the distance. He gave his permission for landing.

Everyone looked tense as the airship swooped down.

And when the man – the messenger from Taúlia – alighted, he said something strange to Nabarl.

“The soldiers who were captured by Taúlia that last time will hereon be returned to your country by boat.”

Rogue could not understand the timing: why now? Nabarl however was nothing but pleased.

“The enemy is afraid of us. They’re definitely doing this in the hope of avoiding all-out war.”

Regardless, they had no reason to refuse.

Once Nabarl gave his permission, a number of small boats were put to water on the opposite shore. On each of them, several men were placed on board. Naturally, Nabarl did suspect that it might be some kind of trap, so he gave the order that the border guards were to fly their airships with their guns trained and ready. After all, the enemy might be trying to divert their attention while they attacked elsewhere.

The first of the boats landed at the bank. One of the soldiers who had gone out to meet it was heard to raise his voice in delight. It seemed that he knew them. Which meant that they were undoubtedly the Mephian war prisoners.

The sun had fully risen by then and the River Yunos was a bright white. Because of the glare from the surface of the water, Rogue narrowed his eyes to see.

As he watched the men clamber onto the bank, then climb up the path carved into the cliff, Rogue’s eyes narrowed for a different reason. Most of the captives were all but naked, but among them there was one person who wore a deep hood that hid their face. Nor was that person obeying the soldiers’ instructions and he was boldly striding forward.

Nabarl thought that he must be someone from his own unit. No doubt he wanted to apologise for the humiliation of having been taken prisoner. Nabarl smiled and was about to greet him, intending to generously clasp him by the shoulders, when –

“What’s the meaning of those stakes?”

“W-What?”

The man wearing a hood jerked his chin towards the line of stakes that was visible even from where they were.

“I’m asking what you intend to do next.”

T-This bastard. Nabarl’s smile had frozen and his eyes were flaring angrily. At any rate, it seemed he was not one of his men. Nor, judging from his manner, was he someone who had been taken captive. Which meant that he must be an envoy from Taúlia. Nabarl did not know if he had accompanied the restoration of the war prisoners intending to establish negotiations, but at any rate his manner of speaking was haughty.

“There is no need for talk. Even with the return of the prisoners, Taúlia’s crime will not disappear.”

“Crime?” amidst the pale morning sun, the man once again looked down towards the line of stakes that seemed oddly detached from reality. “Rogue,” he called out to the old general who stood beside Nabarl. Addressing him without any title of respect. “What do you think?”

He shifted his gaze beneath the hood. In that moment, Rogue Saian’s expression had grown extremely tense.

“What do I think a-about what?”

“Is Taúlia really guilty of such a heinous crime?”

“T-That...”

The soldiers near Nabarl looked doubtfully at Rogue’s flustered state. Thereupon, without waiting for an answer, the man addressed the general who stood on the opposite side of Nabarl from Rogue.

“Odyne.”

Odyne Lorgo in his turn stood straight as though he had been jolted by an electrical current. His eyes were open wide, as though turning the corner of an alleyway, he had suddenly seen the face of someone who should have been dead.

“I’ll ask you too. What is this crime that General Nabarl talks about?”

“That,” Odyne’s voice got caught in his throat. He coughed loudly to clear it. “Taúlia’s crime is that of having assassinated the crown prince.” Perhaps because he was so agitated, his wording was unusually stiff.

Nabarl sneered in ridicule. “The Taúlian savages don’t seem to know courtesy. You’ve already finished your business. So hurry up and turn tail back to your own land. Although how much longer that land will be yours is...”

“The crown prince’s assassination?” Ignoring Nabarl, the man in the hood spoke without inflection. With a sidelong glance at Nabarl, whose face was going crimson with anger, he looked at Rogue and Odyne in turn. “Then I’ll ask you one other thing. Do you believe that? That Taúlia really did assassinate Crown Prince Gil?”

“I... no, we...” Odyne started to answer but then stopped.

It was Rogue who carried on. “We did not witness the actual scene. From start to finish, it was His Imperial Majesty who investigated the situation, and who concluded that this was the case. What could we do but abide by his words? It was the same for everyone here, from the generals to the soldiers.”

It was at about that time that the soldiers who were gathered on the bank held their breath and started to watch what was going on.

“Indeed,” Odyne started speaking a second time, “Once, a certain person told me something. ‘Are you a slave who only lives according to somebody’s orders,’ he asked me. Even though it felt like he was slicing through my chest, national affairs are not so simple. Within Mephius, only the imperial family has the authority to decide things and to move the country.”

“...”

“They which they can see through is the whole world to us; and it is only their plans that have the authority to move the country, or in other words, to move us ordinary people. Both that world and that authority are essentially Mephius’ future. If we forcibly bring about a future other than the one His Majesty the Emperor has decided on, simply on the pretext that we dislike obeying this or that order, the politics of Mephius will end in failure. The dominion will be split in two or three, and even the peaceful life that the people are barely able to hold on to will disappear in flames.”

What are they on about? Nabarl’s shoulders shook incessantly as he grew more and more irritated.

He needed to end this farce quickly and get back to the execution. Nabarl intended to send messengers to appeal directly to the emperor immediately afterwards. They would once more strike at Taúlia with their military might. Now, when the opponent was showing weakness by returning the captives, should be a good opportunity.

Bah – there was no need to lend an ear any further. He was on the verge of raising his voice to send the Taúlian messenger away. And as he was doing so, that messenger said something that he could not let pass.

“So then. What if the future that the imperial family sees is misguided?”

“What!”

“What if the imperial family tried to force its authority down a path that was clearly wrong? Would you still obey like dogs? If you knew that Mephius would perish and its people would be cast to the flames, would you still slavishly work to implement that future?”

“Y-You bastard,” Nabarl was almost lightheaded from rage. “Somebody seize this fool! Tie him to a stake. Let the Taúlian savages on the other shore watch his execution!”

Rogue calmly held out an arm to stop the soldiers who suddenly started to spring into action. Then he spoke –

“At that time,” his voice was hoarse, “we would fight. If the future seen by old eyes is mistaken, we would usher in young eyes to view a new future.”

“Same,” Odyne nodded. “However, we are but small people. It is as I said earlier. We do not have the clairvoyance to see the distant future. It is the same regarding judging whether or not the future that His Majesty the Emperor sees is mistaken.”

“The emperor is mistaken.” The man said clearly.

It felt as though a soundless commotion was blowing like the wind across the entire area.

The sky was dimly blue, the clouds were light and low.

Nabarl had already passed beyond anger and was utterly dumbfounded. Next to him, Rogue asked –

“Why do you think so? How can you say that so surely? Do you have a tangible reason to say that His Majesty is currently mistaken? And can you prove it to us?”

“That –”

“Eei, enough, enough!” Nabarl shouted out as his emotions finally crossed the line. "Just how far is this stupidity going to go? If no one else will do it, I will. I will destroy with my own hands the fool who claims that our illustrious Majesty’s words are mistaken.”

His hand went to the sword at his waist that he was about to draw in a single movement.

For a moment, it seemed to those watching that a terrifically strong wind blew –

In actual fact, the wind remained calm. However, everyone there had the illusion that the swords swung by Rogue and Odyne, that were now crossed in front of Nabarl, had summoned the wind from either side and that at the same time, that wind had swept back the man’s hood.

“T-This...” Nabarl’s eyeballs seemed to start out of their sockets as he suddenly found himself with two blades pressed at his throat. “What kind of behaviour is this? I’ve been thinking for a while that you were babbling nothing but nonsense, but did you bastards also cross over to Taúlia? So, you’re traitors to the imperial family and enemies of Mephius!”

“Take a good look, General Nabarl,” Rogue’s expression was that of someone who was swallowing down irrepressible emotions with a grim determination.

“What?”

“Take a close look with your own eyes at who you were about to point a sword at.”

Nabarl removed his gaze from the swords and turned it instead towards the man standing before him. The glimmering River Yunos shot countless darts of light into his eyes. Bordered by that gleam, the man’s face at first appeared as a dark shadow that he could not clearly make out.

When Nabarl’s eyes finally grew accustomed to the reflected light, his voice burst out in a shout –

“Ah!”

His sword fell to the ground with a loud clang.

“P-Prince...”

A name left his trembling lips.

“Crown Prince... Gil Mephius!”

That was the moment in which the crown prince, who was supposed to have lost his life in Apta, returned once more to life in Apta –

The moment in which Gil Mephius returned to the front stage of History.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ This is most likely the Japanese variant of crucifixion in which criminals were tied to crosses then killed with spears (replaced here by guns). This method of execution was not generally a form of prolonged torture, unlike the Roman tradition involving nails, flaying and leaving the condemned to die.

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