Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 9, Chapter 5: More than a Bouquet of Flowers, a Crown on your Head is what I…

Part 1

In the Kingdom of Garbera, the seasonal winds were at their peak.

The strong winds that made the green meadows ripple like the blue water’s surface and that set innumerable petals dancing as freely as though they were white feathers fallen from the wings of fairies had, since long ago, been an oft-selected subject for poems and songs.

However, there were also days in which the sky was overcast with heavy grey clouds and the howl of the rising wind would play a strangely ominous melody.

It was on just such a day.

“Father!”

When Zenon Owell opened the door and stepped forward, King Ainn Owell the Second was utterly unable to hide his expression that said – here comes a troublesome one.

Their location was a chamber for the exclusive use of the royal family within the palace. A terrace with vivid flowers extended outwards from it. Also within the room with Ainn was Zenon’s older brother, the First Prince of Garbera, Razetta.

“How disgraceful for the commander of a knightly order to walk with such rough footsteps.”

“I heard about Salamand. Why did you give that man the role of envoy?”

“Ah, yes, it’s that, is it?” Ainn repeatedly nodded up and down. “You’re a brother who loves his little sister. I should have said something to you. But since you were in Mavant and it was urgent, I decided to leave it to Salamand who had personally come to volunteer.”

Volunteer nothing – whether it had come from volunteering or from something else, Salamand had managed things well this time around. That much was news that Zenon had long since caught wind of.

Salamand Fogel was the vice-commander of the Order of the Badger. He was a man who displayed peerless ability on the battlefield, but he was also a man who was not always able to control his ardent personality, who had disparaged the royal family a little too much in his admiration for Ryucown, and who had thus once even been imprisoned.

It seemed that recently, Salamand had frequently been approaching the King on the subject of Princess Vileena.

“My King, Mephius makes little of the life of a member of our august royal family. Even if we must do so a little forcibly, we should go and meet with the princess.”

As a matter of fact, it was doubtful whether Vileena was even still alive. But Salamand contented that since Mephius was delaying making any official announcement, they should go and verify things for themselves.

Unfortunately, at the time, Zenon had left for Mavant, where his troops were garrisoned, while there were a great many nobles and officers from the anti-Mephius faction at the Court. That was of course why Salamand had chosen that opportunity.

The image of his father growing flustered under the pressure of these many retainers suddenly appeared before Zenon’s eyes.

Salamand had further added, “And to think that they have accused Princess Vileena of the disgrace of being a traitor. At this rate, the people will also lose sight of the power of the Garberan royal family and who knows if the country might not likewise fall into chaos. I beg of you, please give me duty of envoy. I will without fail bring the princess back to this palace. And also, I would like to sit in discussion with Mephius to ask them for an explanation in the name of the King.”

Considering that his position was merely that of vice-commander in a knightly order, his speech made him himself sound like someone who made little of the royal family.

However, not even King Ainn could afford to ignore the rumours that were coming from Mephius. Whether it was because he was worried for his beloved daughter or for some other reason, if he dismissed them as mere hearsay, it would undoubtedly tarnish the prestige of the royal family. Equally however, if they forcibly took back the princess, it might put the alliance in jeopardy and led to a resuming of hostilities.

That was when a noble in the prime of life had intervened –

“Your Majesty, please be at ease on that point. Mephius appears to currently be in some kind of a dispute with the West. Moreover, it seems that the fight is harder than they had expected. They will not want to have to face our country in addition to that. We have also received information that the general who lost the battle has, in his despair, begun to claim that we instructed the princess to betray them. This proposal might allow us to gain the upper hand.”

Having received this explanation from a vassal in which in he had no little faith, King Ainn authorised Salamand’s proposal. The King himself penned a letter to the emperor and gave it into Salamand’s keeping.

That damn Salamand; just when did he acquire that kind of political influence?

Zenon had been completely astounded that Salamand, whom he had viewed as a hot-headed fighter, had bided his time to make that speech after he had increased the number of his allies.

However, that was proof that Salamand’s, or rather Ryucown’s, influence was still considerable. Or perhaps there was another ringleader somewhere, and Salamand had merely been chosen as the advance guard.

“Are you aware that Salamand is taking the entirety of his troops with him? If he is going as an envoy, what need does he have to command such a large number?”

“As to that,” the King explained, “Salamand said that he intended to take up station at Zaim Fortress until permission to cross the border was received. If we give a bit of a demonstration of our military might by strengthening our forces near the border, Mephius will judge that they can’t dismiss the situation and will receive our envoy.”

Zenon unwittingly raised his voice, “No! Once he receives permission from Mephius, that scoundrel intends to push through with his troops.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Salamand can’t do anything with the numbers he has under his command.”

“There are those within the country that want to continue the war with Mephius. If you include those who harbour the same wish in secret, the numbers become nothing to despise. There is no doubt that his actual intention is to create an opportunity to direct the mood within the country against Mephius.”

“Zenon, if we’re talking about those who want to continue the war with Mephius, aren’t you also one of them?” Razetta interjected. “Have you forgotten how many times I’ve rebuked you over it?”

“That was the case, but it’s different now.”

Zenon cast a glance towards his older brother. The Kingdom of Garbera’s First Prince was currently thirty-three years old. As his hair was bound back, his broad forehead was even further emphasized. His personality conformed to the gentle cast of his countenance and he was not knowledgeable about war.

He turned once more to their father, “Salamand has deceived you, Father. As evidence of that, that scoundrel loaded weapons into several ships and sent them beforehand to Zaim.”

“What? I haven’t heard anything like that.”

“If you prick up your ears a little, it’s the sort of thing that will naturally end up reaching them. Although, if you were a bit more cautious, Father, we wouldn’t have to be stopping them at the very last minute.”

“Watch what you say, Zenon!” Even Razetta, renowned for his gentleness, ended up raising his voice.

Zenon however continued to protest and to reason at length with the King that this was an urgent situation for Garbera.

“Salamand is essentially the same as a cannonball fired towards Mephius. It will fly towards its target then explode. The wind will fan the fire at the point of impact and Garbera will be showered with the sparks. Salamand intends to die. And with his death, he plans to tear through the curtain which had been brought down on the war against Mephius.”

The King and the First Prince, no doubt growing concerned, occasionally exchanged worried looks.

“S-So, what do you want?” Razetta asked.

“Permission for subjugation,” Zenon answered without a second’s hesitation. “Before he arrives at Zaim, I’ll get there ahead of him by ship. The crewmembers of the ships Salamand sent beforehand have probably seized possession of Zaim, or maybe they had collaborators already lying low there, one or the other. I’ll start by capturing Salamand, or subduing him if he resists. After that, I’ll wrest back control of Zaim.”

King Ainn Owell wore an expression of profound anguish.

What statesman did not fear divisions within his country? It was better said that all statesmen had to exercise great caution and vigilance. If what Zenon was saying were true, Salamand certainly had to be stopped, but right now, it was no more than speculation. If they over-reacted, it might instead stir the anger of those who harboured an unvoiced desire for war with Mephius.

“Your Majesty.”

“Wait. It is not yet certain that everything is as you say,” his father said. Whereupon –

“When meeting Salamand directly, start by talking to him. Even if he is planning something reckless, he won’t turn his sword against a member of the royal family who has rushed over to reason with him,” his older brother added soothingly.

Zenon felt that it was as if, for the two people who were weighing the pros and cons in front of him, he himself was the danger that would bring division to the country.

No matter how much time I spend here, nothing will come of it – he concluded.

“Very well,” he assented for the time being. “May I have your permission to take a ship? I will start by hurrying to where Salamand is with only a few men.”

“Yes, doing it that way, you won’t put him on his guard any more than necessary.” Razetta was delighted at how reasonable his younger brother was being.

But when Zenon had said “start”, he had done so on the assumption that there would be more to follow.

Less than half an hour after leaving the royal palace, Zenon was at the air carrier launching ground.

Just as he had promised the King, he would “start” by flying to Zaim with a few men. However, he had already arranged for his own Order of the Tiger to ride in separate ships and to be ready to fly off from various different locations.

A ship that was originally used for transporting the troops of the Order of the Tiger had been prepared. Rinoa Kotjun, who had arranged for the ships in those various other parts of Garbera, had come to the port to see Zenon off.

Since talking together at the party, the two of them had rapidly grown closer to each other. When Zenon had been in Mavant, they had several times used Kotjun couriers to exchange letters and he had received the news about Salamand making his move from none other than Rinoa.

Zenon had immediately contacted his friend Noue Salzantes. Noue’s reply had been just as prompt. He had told Zenon that he should hurry preparations to send the knights of his Order to Zaim. And for that, Zenon had asked for the assistance of the Kotjun House.

“I’m grateful,” Zenon thanked Rinoa. “Even if my heedless father and brother don’t realise it, it’s practically certain that the scoundrel has bared his fangs against the royal family.”

As the launch ground for air carriers was in an elevated position, the wind was strong there. Rinoa had wound a shawl embroidered with gold and silver thread around her head. “Don’t worry about it. The truth is... this might not be unrelated to my father.”

“What do you mean?”

Rinoa’s father, that was to say, the current head of the Kotjun House, was shrewder than the previous heads of the family and did not content himself with just Garbera, having secretly sent his private prospectors to other countries. According to reports, her father had found a yet untouched ‘dragon graveyard” in southern Mephius.

“In other words, untouched dragon fossils... There’s a vein of dragonstone?”

“In order to get his hands on it, my father, always under the guise of parties and starting with Salamand, gathered prominent members of the anti-Mephius faction and concluded a secret alliance.”

“To not notice that movement...”

“I’m very sorry. I was convinced that Salamand was only getting closer to my father because he wanted war funds.”

“Not you. It was my oversight,” Zenon shook his head. Considering that it was thanks to Rinoa displaying her inborn intuition that they had gathered information around Salamand, he should rather be saying that she had been a very great help.

Each person has their own convictions.

Even though those who were born and raised in the same country had the same love for that country, each of them had their own way of expressing it through their actions.

Those who cannot recognise them all might not be fit to be king – he thought.

But we are not gods or demons, and there can be no such humans – he also believed.

Right, he who was no god could do what he could with his own strength.

Just before Zenon flew off, Rinoa had said –

“Salamand is a man whose broodiness makes him dangerous. In that respect, he resembles General Ryucown, whom he so admired. As Sir Salzantes has already told you, Prince, he has already made up his mind to die and intends to implement this plan thanks to his own death. Please bear that in mind.”

“I understand.”

Zenon took Rinoa’s hand and kissed it to show his gratitude.

After which, he boarded the ship and had soon traded the earth for the sky. He had arranged to meet up with Noue at a supply base along the way.

The ship had no weapons but it could carry over twenty fully armoured soldiers. Nor did it shake in the strong seasonal winds.

With the royal capital Phozon beneath it, the ship soared to the north.

Part 2

Just as in Garbera, signs of internal strife were on the rise in Mephius.

The first was the news that greeted Orba when he had just returned to Apta from Taúlia.

He was told that when Nabarl had returned to Solon in lieu of a messenger, Emperor Guhl had curtly refused to recognise this Prince Gil as anything but an impostor and had sent a letter directly to Rogue and Odyne.

“Well now, what pleasure awaits?” The generals crowed that day when an official envoy from Solon arrived in the early afternoon.

Although Gil Mephius specifically offered to meet him, the envoy refused. He met only with the two generals and handed them the letter directly. On the whole, the contents were exactly what Orba had expected.

Seize the impostor Gil and drag him to Solon.

After casting his eyes over it himself, he asked –

“So what will you do, Generals?”

“Well, I have no idea what His Majesty is talking about.”

“That’s for sure.”

Air carriers were flying today too from Apta port. Recently, the Haman House had been increasing its number of flights.

“Go-o, sky-o,” the crewmember’s sing-song voices could be heard as they sent the ships into the sky with that age-old call that was like a short verse. Apparently, it had originally been a rowing song along the River Yunos.

“Father has made his decision about me.”

Even when he had sent his own letter, Orba had never expected the emperor to view it with favour. It had simply been a signal to inform the emperor, and with him, the entirety of Mephius, of his survival. He also needed to take the feudal lords and generals into account.

In order to get them moving – the first thing that was needed was to display determination, action, and undeniable ability.

Be it Orba, Rogue, or Odyne, they still all looked calm; but this was based on their understanding that the path ahead would be a truly difficult one.

Back in Solon, capital of the Imperial Dynasty of Mephius, after a few more days had passed. A that time, there was a greater crowd than usual in the palace’s audience hall. The envoy who had been dispatched to Apta had finally returned with the reply in hand.

Everyone had been surprised at the news of an impostor crown prince having appeared, and everyone was curious about it. To be perfectly blunt, they found it entertaining. Quite apart from the tension due to imminent war, the Court at Solon was constantly enshrouded in an oppressive atmosphere, so this situation, which in a way was starting to shake the imperial family’s authority at its very roots, was viewed with amusement by people.

But when they saw that the envoy’s face was as white as paper, most of them realised that this would not end as amusement or as a joke.

“And why have you not brought the villain who calls himself Gil?”

The emperor was as displeased as he could be right from the start.

The retainer Colyne Isphan took the letter from the hands of the envoy, who had respectfully prostrated himself, and passed it to the emperor.

“This is?” Even as he asked that, he spread it open to read.

And every single one of the assembled people came to regret having chosen to go there that day.

Emperor Guhl Mephius’ expression suddenly changed and in the next instant, he had crumpled the letter in his hands.

“Signed with Gil Mephius’ signature, it says that I need to reconsider advancing on the west.” Although his voice was soft and low, it reverberated throughout the wide audience hall. Guhl hurled the crumpled-up letter to the ground at his feet. “And to top it off, Rogue and Odyne’s names are written alongside it. The west’s black magic is truly wonderful! Or maybe they were seduced by Taúlia’s sweet words and plan to use this opportunity to rebel against me?”

Apart from the emperor, nobody in the entire hall was able to utter a single sound anymore. Aggressively trampling on the letter, Guhl Mephius rose from the throne.

“I hereby declare that Folker and the others are to suppress the rebel army which has occupied Apta!”

Two days after Guhl had spoken, armed troops started from Solon. Commanded by Folker, it was originally the second Taúlia capture force but its purpose had now been changed to that of a liberation army.

The townspeople who had come to see it off did not do so with their usual liveliness. There were some who voiced their apprehension that the opponent might well be the real Gil Mephius, but for the most part, the reason was because people could not comprehend this war. Civil war would only weaken the country.

In any case, the force numbered three thousand. Since on Orba’s side, there were currently about a thousand two hundred troops stationed in Apta, this was more than double their amount. If Solon dispatched a second or even a third wave of reinforcements, those numbers might increase another twice over. Since Birac, where the liberation army would be stationed, was Mephius’ centre for foreign trade, it would be able to host a force of this size for an extended period of time.

So when he heard about this troop formation, Orba decided –

“First, we’ll defeat these three thousand.”

In fact, having arrived at Birac, the commander of the liberation army, Folker Baran, was watching for what move Apta would make while anticipating the arrival of support troops.

They had half a month.

If it took them longer than that, Apta would potentially find itself isolated. As they would not be able to replenish supplies, voices of dissatisfaction would arise among the people and soldiers, and when that happened, the unifying power of the impostor would easily collapse.

The emperor however had set a delay of one month for liberating Apta.

“If we ignore that fool who claims my son’s name, it will only drag the imperial family’s name in the mud.”

Those words probably represented his real thoughts on the matter, but to Folker’s mind, the emperor had one other consideration – he might be thinking that he cannot afford to ignore the effects this might have.

The news of the crown prince's survival had spread with the speed of the wind, not only within Solon, but to every town in Mephius.

There was also the fact that the long-serving generals Rogue and Odyne were following him. Then there was also the feudal lords who were starting to think that maybe...

The unrest among the officers was especially marked. Emperor Guhl Mephius had branded it a rebellion of the two generals', but the military men who were well-acquainted with their personalities could not easily accept that.

Furthermore, they had received reports that as an example to others, the emperor had their families detained. If their families were executed, and Rogue and Odyne demonstrated their respect for Crown Prince Gil to the bitter end, Mephius would find itself confronted with the fires of civil war.

Previously, Zaat Quark, one of the twelve generals, had plotted to take over Mephius, and it was Gil who had prevented it. Ironically, the ringleader this time was calling himself by that very name, 'Gil Mephius'.

Certainly, we can't let this go on for long.

Folker felt that he could understand the impatience swirling in the emperor's heart. If they met with any delays, the confusion and unrest that were hanging over Mephius would pour oil on the fires of rebellion.

"Failure will not be tolerated.”

But for all that he felt that way, Folker also undeniably wanted to take more time so as to play a sure hand, and he was having a hard time because of this contradiction.

On the other hand, Yuriah and Zaas, who were under his command, were optimistic.

"General Saian and General Lorgo are both commanders to be respected, but in the end, they only have a very small force."

"General Baran, should we start with a single swift strike to show them that we're serious about this? Wouldn't the enemy collapse from within without us even having to encircle them?" They enthused.

"I see, Folker Baran, is it?" Rogue groaned during the council of war.

It was the day after the Apta Liberation Army had arrived in Birac, to their north.

"My Prince, do you know him?"

"Well, maybe I do." Orba prevaricated.

Although he had intended to memorise the names of all of Mephius' key figures during his time as a body-double in Solon, he could not recall at all the names of the three generals who had been chosen for the liberation army.

"To be sure, he is not a commander who stands out if one were merely to list instances of distinguished service," Odyne was the one to speak but both generals were in agreement.

"You can't let your guard down around him," they said in unison.

"Yuriah and Zaas are newcomers among the twelve generals but both of them are skilled. Zaas especially. Not only is he a formidable swordsman himself, but his spirit on the battlefield is so fierce that it transforms even his men into demons of war.”

"That kind of opponent tends to be rather easy to deal with."

Orba was even terser than usual. But when the two generals had all but started to wrap things up, he called their names again.

"General Rogue, General Odyne."

"Aye," the two respectfully answered.

"It goes without saying that from here on, the enemy is Mephius."

"Aye."

"The ones your swords will be slicing through and your guns will be aimed at will be Mephians."

"..."

Can you do it? He was going to ask.

But no further words were spoken. Not because he had turned timid. With the two before him, he did not think that ne needed to check their resolve at this point in time.

In the end, Orba did not say anything and, with a nod, they left.

Shique, from the Imperial Guards, had also been attending the council of war.

“I was expecting you to question them much more thoroughly,” he said after the generals had gone and the two of them were alone. He was not talking about their readiness to fight against their own country, “usually, you’re frantic about gathering information about the enemy.”

“The enemy currently has twice our numbers. There’s no point using excessive measures to try and smash them. Thinking about our own procedures is more important right now.”

Orba replied while dropping his eyes to a map. It showed the outskirts of Apta as well as the fortress’ interior. Within the forest that stretched out between Apta and Birac, there was a small fortress called Jozu. When he had previously been stationed in Apta, it had been no more than a air carrier supply base. After Taúlia’s surprise attack, he had expanded the base out of necessity.

The fortress itself was newly-built, but Orba had the surrounding terrain fixed in his mind, that was because he had intended to gather woodcutters in that area and have them organised as a group. At the time, Orba had entrusted the management of the woodcutters to Kalgan, an administrative official that he had brought with him from Solon.

Kalgan was the third son of the lord of Idoro, Julius. Orba had only recently heard that he had refused his father’s insistent invitation to move to Idoro and was currently still in Apta, and had called for him earlier.

“I see, so that means that you’ve already traced the path to victory in your head.”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about me but about your own health. You're still not fit to walk about much, are you?”

“Your concern makes me so happy, I might even cry. But I can’t go and sleep when the fighting is so close. I’ve said it before, but you can’t do anything without me.”

“So you say.”

It was the same frivolous exchange as ever, but Shique looked as though he still had something to say. He closed his mouth however as though he changed his mind.

Orba’s eyes did not move from the map. Although this was the same attitude that he always had before a fight, Shique found it difficult to shake his uncomfortable feeling.

Part 3

During the second council of war, Orba described the strategy that he had drawn up. Gathered there were Rogue, Odyne, Shique, Gowen, and several officers with ranks equivalent to vice-commander from each of the military units.

“In the first step of the strategy,” on the map spread out over the desk, Orba pointed to Birac, the city north of Apta, “we must make Folker’s force move from there, where they’re currently stationed.” Everyone was of course well aware that if they waited too long, the enemy’s numbers would increase. Which was why Orba had decreed that the first step was to make the enemy troops move. By deliberately drawing the enemy to them, and with enough preparations, they could contrive to ambush them.

“Can we not ask Lord Fedom, the master of Birac, to lend us his assistance?” Suggested Gowen. He pointed out that Fedom Aulin had once adopted an attitude like that of a guardian towards Crown Prince Gil, “there is a high chance that gentleman would side with us. May I respectfully suggest secretly getting in touch with him and having him attack the enemy forces from the rear?”

Fedom was the one who had been behind making Orba into a body-double. He had reluctantly put Orba in place to avoid political chaos at a time when the political marriage with the Garberan princess was close at hand – or rather, he had worked out a stratagem to further his personal ambitions.

Since Orba was still alive, Fedom’s mind was sure to be in disarray. As far as he was concerned, Orba’s existence was nothing more than means to achieve those ambitions, but at the same time, because he knew all of his plans, Orba was also a tricky opponent for him to deal with, and it would not take much threatening for him to speedily agree to cooperate. Since Gowen was aware of this, he was implicitly pointing it out. But –

“My acquaintance with Fedom certainly runs deep. With a single letter from me, he would believe in my continued existence and since he is also a man who previously lamented my father’s egotism, he would spare no effort to help us. However, his attacking from the rear won’t get us anywhere,” Orba shook his head. “The defence of that trade city is mainly assured by the twelve generals or by their assistants, who take it in turns to do so in yearly units. Even though Fedom is a lord, he is not a military commander. In a crisis, he is in a position to station to take control of all the forces stationed in Birac, but if he were currently to declare that he was going to follow the Prince, Folker and those under his command would not obey. Which means that the troops he can move at will are only those of his private army of about five hundred. Not enough to be effective for a surprise attack from the rear.”

“I see.”

“Well then,” Orba looked at each of those present in turn, “first we have to make the enemy move at all cost, and then use every possible to repel them. If we defeat a frontal attack with our own might, it might have the effect of sending a shock throughout the whole of Mephius.”

“Most certainly. However, the difference in our numbers is beyond our control,” Odyne said with such a serious expression that he almost looked gloomy. “Your Highness, have you then already thought of a plan to bring about victory?”

“Of course.”

Orba laid out the details of his strategy. He took time to explain each procedure. No one spoke. Although the contents were startling, they seemed to generally be accepted.

But when it came to the last step,

“Y-Your Highness!”

Rogue and Odyne both expressed disapproval.

In the final stage of the strategy, Orba – or rather, from their point of view, Crown Prince Gil Mephius – would have to take his sword and fight. Moreover, on the frontline.

“That stage is too dangerous for Your Highness to be involved in.”

“Please, will you not let us take care of it? Unworthy and incompetent though we are, we will show you our best exertions in the face of death and fate.”

“No,” Orba shook his head with a obstinate expression. “I fully recognise your determination. But whether, once in battle, the soldiers can maintain that level of determination is a different matter. Not only are we outnumbered, our opponents are our fellow countrymen. When they raise their sword, or have their fingers on the trigger, they might have a second’s hesitation and confusion. And that second can mean the difference between victory and defeat. At that time, what they need is a banner.”

“......”

“With that banner flying above them, not matter how weary they are, they can fight to the full because they can believe that they will have both victory and a future. They can plunge forward, their spirits high, fearing neither their own deaths nor having to kill their opponents. And in this instance, that banner is me.”

Orba spoke with unusual fervour. He was perfectly aware of the danger. He knew what it was to slip past hundreds of bullets and drawn blades to seize victory.

If Gil Mephius' figure was there among them, if he was inhaling the same gun smoke, if he was advancing with them while being showered like them in the blood of their defeated opponents, the soldiers would be roused. For this commander – the figure of Gil Mephius would represent a future worth risking their lives for.

This was how war was since time immemorial. What was originally just a scramble for power between blood relations, or a desire to snatch land in the name of national interests, was presented as a great cause which statesmen brandished as banners capable of making the soldiers take action. Put otherwise, an ideal future that was worth dying for and killing for was born simply from the cause that was the banner.

Rogue and Odyne said no more.

At the end, Orba once again looked at each of the warriors in turn, as though to confirm their determination.

"In this fight, we cannot afford to miss any opportunity. That is all. What is most important above everything else is that each and every one has a strong will and resolve. You are, of course, well aware that this is not a battle that we can win without losing soldiers. By all accounts, Folker appears to be an outstanding commander, but negligence is sure to arise since their numbers exceed ours. Go for their throats the moment you see an opportunity. And once you have them by the throat, never let go. Beyond the corpses of the friends we will have to step over, at the target we are charging towards, lies the true Mephius that we long for."

Lately, not even Shique had been able to speak with him. He had only shown his face once then had immediately flown to the west and, since then, he spent so much of his time in councils of war that you might wonder if he had actually come back. The outline of the strategy was set, but in order for it to work in practice, there were a ton of smaller issues that needed to be decided for each part of it; and in three days, Orba had personally taken part in over twenty smaller-scale meetings.

Even so –

At this rate, things are going to get ugly.

Orba's fleeting thought was not about the lack of soldiers or the insufficiency of supplies. As he was walking in the castle early that morning, giving instructions to the soldiers, he had unexpectedly passed by Theresia. Noticing it was Gil, she stopped and stood aside with a curtsy; but as he passed by her, the glance that the Garberan former head lady's maid flashed his way was as sharp as a blade. He could actually feel it piercing his back.

Thinking back on his actions since being reunited with the princess because of it, he came to that conclusion –

Definitely ugly.

Orba reached a decision and contacted Princess Vileena through his page, Dinn.

"We should have supper together once in awhile."

And thus, the two of them sat face-to-face in the dining hall that was reserved exclusively for aristocrats. With deep-fried fish from the River Yunos, venison, nuts, goat's cheese and the like lined up along the table, Orba and Vileena went through their meal without speaking.

Vileena's manner was aloof from start to end.

Even though you were the one who invited me – she thought. After their initial greetings, Gil Mephius had remained silent.

Observing him anew, his way of eating was coarse. She had thought that this might be the Mephian style, but having had a number of occasions to eat with the country's leading nobles, their manners were clearly different from his. It was, so to speak, 'the Prince's style'.

It was hardly surprising as Orba's table manners had been terrible since his days as a gladiator. With a book open at his side, he would not eat unless he was reading. Because of that habit, he still sat with his back hunched during meals. Vileena was seized with the urge to stick behind the Prince and instruct him in the etiquette for dining.

Meanwhile, Orba, who was eating cheese that he had picked up with his hand, was wondering bewilderedly – what can I talk about?

On the whole, he was a man who was not good at making small talk. His interests and concerns were mostly directed towards military matters, and you could say that he did not know anything about anything else. Additionally, since he was acting as Mephius' crown prince, he naturally could not talk about the things he usually had with the gladiators and mercenaries.

Even so, as he was definitely finding the silence uncomfortable, he decided to speak.

"Princess."

Vileena lifted her head. She was making a show to the Prince of eating 'modestly’.

"What is it?"

"You said that you spent a while in Taúlia, was there any food there that you liked? Apta is the only place to have resumed trade with the west. If there's something you like, I can have it ordered for you."

"Well," Vileena's gaze fell as she continued her meal. "I was there for a specific reason, so I did not eat at the castle. Oh, but, when I was in the villagers' care, I was given grilled green rabbit meat. In spite of its appearance, it was delicious."

"Yeah, I've tried it too. Although there's not much of a distance, it seems that green rabbits are rare animals in Apta. I'll have it ordered later."

To Vileena's utter amazement, Orba seemed satisfied with their conversation. Feeling that he had achieved results just from their actually having talked to one another once, he continued eating.

What a strange person – the princess thought to herself.

She could not exactly say that she herself was used to conversing with members of the opposite sex of around the same age as her, but the Prince was even worse. Still, Vileena felt that this situation called for tactics.

"Prince"

Since the meal was almost over, it was practically a surprise attack.

"W-What is it?"

Convinced that he fulfilled his quota, Orba had been utterly at ease and, as per the princess' intention, had been unprepared for the assault, almost dropping his knife.

Vileena observed the Prince intently through almost half-closed eyes.

"Next month, I will be turning fifteen," she said. "It will be my first birthday in Mephius. I will be looking forward to my present."

“R-Right,” Orba recovered himself. “Is there something you want? Given that it’s you, Princess, I guess you might like an airship, or maybe even a large carrier? If it’s clothes or some kind of accessory... that’s difficult, I don’t know anything about them. Shique’s more knowledgeable about that sort of thing. I’ll get him on it, so just say whatever it is you want and...”

“It is not a thing,” the princess decisively interrupted Orba. “If possible, I feel that I would like to return to Garbera next month,” she said, as though declaring their separation.

“Princess”

“Of course, it would only be temporary. And I would definitely like you to come with me, Prince.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I would like you to meet my grandfather. Don’t you think it would be beneficial for someone like you to receive a scolding from Grandfather at least once?”

Orba had no comeback to that.

Vileena finished her meal, aloof to the end. However, just as she was about to leave her chair –

“The battle this time around,” her voice dropped, “... I will not say anything more. My being wilful will only cause trouble to others again. So please think only of yourself as you wage war. I’m happy for your solicitude in inviting me for a meal like this, but it is perfectly fine for you to forget about me.”

“...”

“Your victory is...”

“My victory?”

“I knew from the start that since it is you, Prince, there was a good chance that you would take it at face value, but my saying that I wanted us to go to Garbera together was simply a joke. What I truly wish for is your victory. If you win, Prince, the ties of friendship and peace with my native country, Garbera, will remain unbroken.”

“I get it.”

“You say that so easily. When it comes to something like this, you are able to answer straight away,” Vileena unintentionally burst out laughing. “Very well, please let me see what you are capable of. As I said just now, I have absolutely no intention of doing anything unnecessary or of disregarding your wishes, Prince. I just want to watch.”

In point of fact, Vileena’s promise was destined to be broken in the not-too-distant future. But setting that future aside, at the time, she truly did not intend to do more than watch the Prince fight. She was not optimistic. She did not know much about war, but she could well imagine that this fight would be harsher than any the Prince had experienced so far.

Furthermore...

Family – the opponent the Prince had to fight was his own father.

The soldiers would have to turn their guns and swords on the comrades who had once stood alongside them on the battlefield.

Vileena had always been asking herself about the meaning and duty of royalty. Her heart could feel no joy over a country being torn apart and blood relatives crossing blades.

Since being informed that a punitive force had been dispatched from Solon, she had spent more than one sleepless night worrying over the problem of – is there no way other than fighting?

Every time, as the morning sun washed over her through the chink between the curtains, she reached the same conclusion: the Prince has already made his decision.

Even though Gil Mephius was a despicable liar, he was by no means a thoughtless fool. Despite being incapable of thinking about people's feelings, he was a man who was surprisingly considerate of the people and of the oppressed slaves.

And that prince had decided to fight.

Which means that there is no way to avoid this battle.

And since Gil Mephius had decided to fight, that meant –

That there is a chance of victory.

Vileena Owell could not help finding it strange. Although he had betrayed her so many times, she felt a certain trust towards the prince.

Orba, meanwhile, naturally did not know the intricacies of the princess’ heart. However, he was no dullard lacking in perception. He realised that the princess did not have only one or two things she wanted to tell him, but rather fifty or a hundred. Military strategies aside, how did the prince intend to act from now on – specifically, what were his intentions regarding his relationship with herself and with Garbera?

Yet Vileena purposely remained silent. In a way, it resembled how he had deliberately refrained himself from asking Rogue and the others "can you fight your fellow countrymen?"

And so Orba had stopped trying to line up the right words to explain himself. In terms of determination, Vileena held the same resolve in her small chest as Rogue and Odyne did.

When the meal was over, the two of them turned to leave the dining hall at the same time. Both their attendants were waiting by the door. Dinn seemed to be doing so a little impatiently and just before Orba reached him, he held out a napkin to him. Realising from that that he had sauce stuck around his mouth, Orba wiped it away with a sour expression.

Damn it Princess, you couldn't even tell me – he glanced towards Vileena.

And in doing so realised that Theresia was not the only lady's maid waiting for her. There was a young woman beside her.

"Who's that?" Orba asked with no real interest, to which Vileena answered –

"She is someone who has recently started working for me."

"I am called Layla," the woman bowed her head.

Maybe it was because she was nervous about meeting the crown prince face to face, but she did not look well.

"Layla?"

As Orba repeated it, there was something that was bothering him. He had heard that name. Also, he remembered the woman's face.

Vileena clapped her hands together as though having remembered something.

"Oh, yes. Prince, would you please let her meet with Orba one of these days? He saved her father and she has been saying for some time that she would like to thank him."

"R-Right"

At that, Orba finally remembered. He had seen the woman in the Taúlian village that he had rushed into to save Vileena. If he remembered correctly, she had been clinging to her father who had been stabbed in the abdomen.

"I heard about it from Orba. Is your father well?"

"I-I am grateful for your concern. Thanks to the princess and to your Highness, he will be able to continue to live long."

Layla kept her head bowed. Vileena tilted her head –

"Speaking of being saved by Orba, I was too. Wanting to thank him, I have looked all around Apta for him, but I have not seen him since then. Where is he at the moment?"

"Working out of sight," Orba replied with a sullen face. He had thought that he had gotten out of a tough spot by having a meal arranged, but now the things he needed to do had just increased.

After that, Vileena, Theresia and Layla took their leave.

Layla – Layla?

Even though he remembered the woman, he seemed to recall having heard the name 'Layla' some other time in some other place. The two memories did not coincide.

“Your Highness? Is there a problem?”

“No”

“Are you planning something? You are not going to come out with something outrageous again, are you?” Dinn spoke resentfully. The boy had gone to a certain place on Orba’s orders, and had only just returned to Apta the day before.

“Now I get it. Well done, Dinn.”

“W-What?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not sending you anywhere. There’s somewhere I’ll be heading myself tonight. I need you to get things ready immediately.”

Orba smiled enigmatically. From his manner of speaking, it was just as though he were going for a long ride in the area, but with ‘that’, he was going to make his opening move against Folker’s army.

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