Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 9, Chapter 8: The Battle of Tolinea (Conclusion)

Part 1

“Your Highness.”

“Your Highness!”

For a moment, Orba did not realise that all the voices calling out were calling to him. The fear that froze him was so great that he had even forgotten the existence of the very ‘mask’ the had gone through so much trouble and effort to maintain.

“Orba.” Only a voice whispering quietly in his ear got through to him, the shock of it reverberating through him as though metal had pierced through his brain.

Shique.

Orba gazed with startled eyes at his long-time acquaintance – at the man who had also been a gladiator, living in an environment in which neither of them knew if the next day would ever come.

Shique drew himself up with a slight smile.

“Your Highness, I believe that I understand you.”

I know you.

In this situation, Shique mischievous eyes seemed to be conveying a message intended only for Orba.

“You are a kind person and are worried about our lives.”

To the point of being an idiot.

The gunshots and small tremors continued. While the fortress’ roof might cave in at any moment and come down from above, Odyne and the assembled commanders watched in silence.

“Apparently Zaas Sidious is using slaves as a shield, but from what I have heard, the slaves volunteered to take to the battlefield in exchange for their freedom. If they can win their lives and freedom, then they gladly go to face death. Naturally, it is the same for us."

Orba, that’s like you.

“We have entrusted you with our lives. What we wish to obtain with that price is a bright future for Mephius. Everyone is of one heart.”

“...”

“Does Your Highness think that we are dolls? Is that you cannot bring yourself to damage the dolls that you are somewhat fond of? Pardon my rudeness, but that is looking down on us a little too much. Be it generals, soldiers or slaves, we all have hearts. We can use our own heads to think and our hearts to choose our future. Since we are not being forced to die by an unknown somebody, there is no reason either for anybody to worry about how we use our lives.”

Shique once again came up to Orba and this time stretched/extended his hand to his waist.

With a sound of sliding steel, the short sword that he wore there was drawn. Shique placed the tip of the blade against his own white neck. Before Orba’s eyes that opened wide in surprise, he said –

“Die.”

As everyone suddenly held their breath,

“Come, die. Go ahead and die – It is perfectly fine for Your Highness to simply give that order.” He gave a faint smile then continued, “we have already decided that our ideal future is the future that you, Your Highness, aspire to. In a manner of speaking, we have chosen a future of being killed on your orders. Therefore, there is nothing for you to fear. Please use our lives as you see fit.”

Was it mere coincidence or had it been Shique’s intention all along, but the word ‘Orba’ engraved on the blade seemed to collect all of the lamplight within the command room and to emit it as its own glow. What came to Orba’s mind was of course the figure of his brother Roan, who had given him the sword. But the scene he pictured him in was not one that Orba had seen himself.

It was his figure as he fought and gave encouragements to his companions in Apta Fortress. Wearing armour and a helmet that didn’t suit him, wielding a sword that looked too heavy, he was desperately fighting to survive. He had heard from Sodan, the master blacksmith, that those had been his brother’s last moments.

Believing to the end in the commanding officers who had already deserted their men, Roan had rallied his comrades and defended the fortress.

Believing.

Orba felt an intense pain in his forehead. The scar left from where a fragment of the mask had bitten into his flesh was giving off heat.

Roan believed.

Although he had given the soldiers the order to defend Apta to the last, General Oubary had abandoned them, had used them as nothing more than a way of buying time, and had fled.

Orba’s rage against him was unfathomable, but –

Right now, I’m doing the same thing.

In the sense that he was betraying trust.

Orba had felt pity towards the nameless soldiers. He had felt guilty at making those nameless soldiers fight. But wasn’t it a greater betrayal towards those soldiers if he failed to grasp the victory before his eyes because he was too busy worrying about them?

He remembered the time when he himself had wielded his sword as a mercenary. If Ax Bazgan, or Duncan and Surūr, who had been his direct superiors, had worried excessively about the soldiers of whom Orba had been a part, and had been fixated on keeping them alive, their allies would probably have faced complete annihilation.

I would kill that kind of commanding officer.

The faint glitter of the sword now dimly illuminated Orba’s eyes. Those nameless soldiers entrusted their lives to someone other than themselves when they fought, buying victory with those very lives.

On the battlefield, where the line between life and death was extremely thin, that person other than themselves that they had to believe in from beginning to end, the one who gave them encouragement and sent them out to fight, was their commanding officer.

It was not somebody else.

It’s me. Because this is my fight.

An unusually strong tremor shook the entire fortress. Exactly as though he had been waiting for that opening, Orba once more stood up.

He grabbed the short sword from Shique with all his strength and returned it to his waist.

“Anyone would think you were in charge of bringing me up, Shique.”

“Your Highness, I could never hope to be so blessed.”

Dust was raining down incessantly from the ceiling but Orba paid it no attention as he opened his mouth wide and laughed –

“Since a father is a father,” he said, then looked at everyone in the command room.

Their bewildered faces showed that they were wondering if that was something they should be laughing about.

Orba’s expression immediately went back to looking serious.

“Then die,” he cried. While they were looking as though they had just been struck in the face, he once more gazed at each of them in turn. “It doesn’t matter if it’s for my sake, or for Mephius, or to leave your names in history, or for some other, better reward. Whatever the case, if you are hoping for victory, die. Go ahead and die.”

Shique bowed his head deeply as Orba continued sharply,

“An order to the soldiers. We’re heading out. Don’t be so much as a second late.”

“Aye!”

“Aye, aye.”

Odyne among them, the various commanders had started to move as though this had all been decided beforehand.

While watching their brisk movements, Orba repeated taking breaths at short intervals to calm himself down. He remembered doing the same thing back when he was a gladiator in the small, partitioned-off antechamber. Once he took a step outside, what was waiting for him was the scorching sun, the earth-shaking roars of the crowd, and an enemy intent on killing him.

Although the positions of crown prince and slave were as far apart as heaven and earth, the situation hadn’t changed all that much. The only point of difference lay within Orba himself.

His heart still held a fear that he did not understand and which did not leave him, as though it were now deeply ingrained in his body.

Orba’s life was no longer his alone. Now that he had recognised this, this fear would probably never leave him during battle.

In which case – rather than struggling uselessly to shake it off, it would wiser to tame it. He would need to grope for a way of doing so from now on.

I’m still like a baby.

The thought flitted across Orba’s mind. When he thought of how, despite his being somewhat used to handling a sword, there were those who could easily block him; and how, as commanders, there were those who had earned so many military exploits, he was seized by the feeling that he needed to study again from the beginning.

His eyes turned to Shique, who was hurrying the preparations despite looking pale.

Right. There’s still a lot I need to learn from you.

Orba’s arms were showing a tendency to shake, so he tightly clenched his fists to keep them under control, then he silently called out to all of those who were there with him as well as to all those others who were not there but who were fighting for the same future –

Everyone, entrust your lives to me.

The violent gunfight continued on.

At first, Zaas’ troops had fallen to the rattle of the ambushing troops’ gunfire, but still they plunged in, prepared for sacrifices. Under the cover of their bullets, the infantrymen continued to press on, and, as the enemy were few in number, they became gradually unable to hold their position.

Finally, the inner gate was destroyed and Zaas’ infantry ran up the stairs, like a torrent rushing towards the soldiers lying in ambush along the corridors.

The fortress soldiers started escaping with startlingly well-coordinated steps. They had received a signal from Orba, but Zaas Sidious, pushing forth, did not realise that.

“Ignore the escaping soldiers,” he shouted from beneath the horned helmet that had been passed down to him by his father. “Hurry and secure the main positions inside the fortress. Go, go, go!”

According to future historians, Gil was good at “coordinated evasions”.

It was hard to imagine from the historical facts handed down about his exploits and personality, but where Gil displayed exceptional ability was in defence rather than in attack. Using terrain and setting soldiers in ambush was easier to do when defending. Later historians and scholars of military science all agreed that Gil Mephius’ strong points were defensive battles that made use of small castles and forts, manoeuvre warfare[1], and that he excelled at luring the enemy by pretending to run away. Above all else, he had an outstanding “eye” for discerning opportunities.

Or perhaps, to echo Shique’s earlier words to Gowen, it was closer to a “nose” than to an “eye”.

He could smell with precision the air on the battlefield. Morale, bloodlust, arrogance, nervousness – being able to sense each fluctuating situation within both enemy and allied ranks, he could move in such a way as to create for himself the next “situation”.

Perhaps, rather than an innate talent as a commander, it was something that he had developed by standing on the battlefield as a soldier.

Judging that all the enemy soldiers had evacuated, Zaas had his men rush up to the top of the fortress. They were to fly the standard bearing the crest of the Sidious family.

But they were spared the effort. The fortress’ large structure was shuddering. Cracks appeared in the wall right before Zaas’ eyes.

“The hell!” He wondered whether his own men had bungled things and were continuing the bombardment.

This however was an old trick of Gil’s. He had commenced firing on his own fort.

His artillery had been positioned behind it in advance. There had been no way for Zaas to realise that this was not so as to provide support fire for the fortress, but so as to as to aim for the fortress itself.

To reiterate what had been said before, both Tolinea and Jozu were decoys. Orba had never had any intention of prolonging the battle. Or rather, they did not actually have the reserve power for a drawn-out fight; and besides, there was absolutely no need to preserve Jozu Fortress for posterity.

Needless to say, as well as the soldiers having retreated, everyone else within the fortress had been ordered to evacuate beforehand.

“The tactics of desperation!”

Although rage coloured Zaas’ entire face when he learnt about the enemy bombardment, he gave the order to withdraw from the fort. The attack had come as a surprise, but it was a truly ridiculous tactic. The actual harm done to his side was minimal.

Conversely, having lost their base, the enemy should be feeling cornered both physically and mentally. Since they were now all but naked, all Zaas needed to do was to regroup the formation and charge at them.

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

“They have commenced bombardment from the rear of Jozu Fortress,” a non-commissioned officer announced upon receiving the report from a messenger.

“They’re early,” next to him, the general of the Dawnlight Wings Division, Rogue Saian, muttered vaguely.

While flames rose from Tolinea and Jozu Fortress was drawing the fires of a bombardment, the area where they were was almost unbelievably dark.

“They were unable to draw ground troops to Tolinea. We have also received a report that the defence of the enemy headquarters remains firm. They will no doubt have decided to accelerate the plan.”

“Fine, it was never going to be an easy war, anyway.”

Rogue Saian had experienced countless battles. He was not going to be shaken because things were not proceeding according to strategy. It was far rarer for a battle to go perfectly as planned.

His manner entirely the same as usual, yet the order he gave to the men scattered around him was undeniably strange –

“Surface.”

Part 2

From the very start of its existence, it had not really been appropriate to call Tolinea Fort a fort. It was simply an assembly of abattis and turrets built overnight; and now, having been engulfed in flames, those man-made structures had been burnt to nothing.

In the sky above, Yuriah’s flagship and the three other cruisers ignored the flames and turned to fly towards Jozu. The airships that had bombed Tolinea led the way.

Standing on the bridge of the flagship, the general of the Bow of Gathering Clouds Division, Yuriah Mattah, looked back only once to confirm the results of the battle.

He chuckled to himself. It would be nice if those huge, vivid flames could cross the border to the west, he thought.

Our next opponents will be the western savages.

With the traces of the flames still smouldering behind his eyelids, he turned forward.

At that moment, behind him, the flames ‘cracked’.

What had been one huge mass of flames now split apart into innumerable fragments and were thrown in the air, but Yuriah had yet to notice.

“E-Enemy ship!”

Yelled the soldier who was observing the surroundings from above the deck. His voice reached the bridge through a speaking tube.

“Putting in an appearance at this point?” The smile still remained on Yuriah’s lips as he spoke.

Everyone on the bridge turned as one to look back.

And Yuriah’s smile instantly faded. To their eyes, it looked as though Tolinea Fort vanished to ash amidst the flames, and a new ‘life’ seemed to be reviving from within the fire.

The Reinus, flagship of the Dawnlight Wings Division.

With branches and leaves that were still alight clinging to it, the dark red hull suddenly surfaced from within the flames.

Yuriah’s fleet had no time to manoeuvre. The Reinus aimed at them from behind and opened fire. One of the cruisers took a direct hit and sunk instantly. Another of the ships had part of the structures above deck blown away and, although it just managed to maintain flight, after receiving a further a succession of shots, it became unsteady and started falling.

“C-Come about, come about!”

Filled with the roars of soldiers, the bridge was in such turmoil that it seemed like a completely different place from what it had been just a second earlier.

By the time Yuriah’s flagship had finished turning, the Reinus had risen further into the sky and had released its airship force.

You’re joking – Yuriah was still in shock even as he sent a message for the airship units to return – you’re joking, they were concealed? During the bombing, surrounded by fire, under that? Impossible...

Tolinea was, of course, a decoy to attract the enemy. On top of it being hastily built, Orba’s side could not afford to divide their already inferior numbers. And so, they had concealed the battleship under what looked like a large pile of leaves and branches. The plan was that, once the enemy firmly believed that Tolinea had fallen and turned their rudder towards Jozu, the instant their behind was turned, the bombardment would begin.

However, that was the last stage of the plan and was only supposed to have happened after Folker had left the enemy headquarters open to attack. It was meant to facilitate Pashir’s assault by mowing down the air force besides causing the enemy’s attention to lose focus. Orba having, as it were, switched over to brute force tactics, they were playing what should have been their final hand.

At the command of the Reinus, Rogue understood that they had been compelled to change the plan. Because of that, just like Yuriah, or perhaps even more so, he was shouting out encouragements to his men.

“We have to take the skies at all cost. Never mind if we have to slam into the enemy’s main force, as long as we cover our allies’ attack. Sky Fang Unit, Wolf Fang Unit, give the signal to send out your platoons!” While shouting on from the bridge, he brandished his trusty sword.

A beacon was sent up from the deck and the airships, that had earlier been pretending to defend the sky above Tolinea but which had actually been making a speedy and calculated escape, now returned. The ships that had launched from the Reinus joined up with them. Without missing a beat, they launched an attack from the sky on the enemy ships.

Opposite them, Yuriah had his airships spread out in a defensive formation. He intended to use that chance to have the ship fix its position and start shelling the Reinus.

Ship and ship passed by each other at speed.

Gunfire was exchanged.

Mephian airships were built to look like flying dragons. The scene in the skies above the Forest of Tolinea was like that of a clash between the last surviving winged dragons.

On the ground below.

While Zaas Sidious was temporarily evacuating Jozu Fortress, he intended to round up his fleeing men.

I’ll regroup the formation, then charge again. That was the only thing on Zaas’ mind, so when a roar to make all of one’s body hair stand on end erupted from the side of the fortress, he naturally went rigid.

It was the dragoons that Orba had kept in reserve as shock troops. Their slimy wet scales glittering, reflecting the colour of the flames, a mixed force of the medium-sized Baian and Yunion dragons plunged towards them.

The effectiveness of cavalry charges against infantrymen lay in the speed of the horses and the pressure put on soldiers who could see themselves being trampled under their hooves. All the more so with dragons. Zaas’ unit, which had already lost formation, lost to the pressure from the oncoming dragons and fled just as it had from the fortress.

One of Zaas’ allies was caught by a dragon’s tusk and was writhing and groaning. Zaas was about to go and try to somehow save him when,

“General, this way!”

A company commander pinned his arms behind his back and dragged him away.

“Let me go!”

This commander was one who had served since his father’s time and that was another thing that Zaas could not stand. He felt as though on top of being played by the enemy, even his allies were saying – you’re still just a child.

“Holding our ground is what the enemy wants. General, if you want to win, for now, we have to pull back.”

“For the enemy, this is their last chance at victory,” another one of the commanders joined in to persuade Zaas. “They won’t get us with this. With our numbers, we just need to get back into formation and demolish them!”

Zaas Sidious reluctantly gave his men the order to further withdraw.

Meanwhile, Orba had, of course, also left the fort.

Just before the bombardment began, he, along with Shique and the others, had taken a shortcut to the forest west of Jozu Fortress. The assault unit, Gowen and Gilliam among them, had been kept waiting there. All of them were leading horses, but there was one Baian dragon mixed in among those.

“It’s started?” Gowen called out when he noticed Orba.

Realising that Orba was only smiling with his eyes, he corrected his tone.

“... Has it already begun?”

Before answering, Orba looked around at the assault unit. Two hundred cavalrymen, one hundred foot soldiers. In a way, they were the choice picks, but that was with regards to the ground troops of which there had, right from the start, not been enough. Moreover, the most able had preferentially been incorporated into Pashir’s detached force, so it was inevitable that, compared to them, they were at a disadvantage.

The mounted soldiers especially had been taken from Rogue Saian’s troops and a few dozen soldiers who were “good at handling horses” had even been separated from Odyne’s riflemen. Apart from that, what stood out were the Imperial Guards whom Orba knew well.

“After this, we’re going to be running into the enemy headquarters,” he said. He paused for a moment but none of the soldiers’ faces showed any trepidation. “Don’t turn around, not even once. Pay no attention to your comrades. Those who gallop forward gallop only forward. Those who fall from their horses are to hold back and kill as many enemy soldiers as they can even if they are alone.”

Neither Orba’s voice nor his expression was tragic or heroic. It was exactly as though he were simply saying – there’s a guy I can’t stand so I’m going to go beat him up.

Yet everyone there understood the situation. What would be coming next would be a suicide attack pitting their meagre numbers against six hundred ground troops. Moreover, even if they managed to break through, the same number of troops again would be waiting for them at the headquarters.

Thinking about it normally, there was no hope for them to even first break through. However, and although the procedure had been a little different from the original plan, they had dealt a serious blow to Zaas’ ground troops and to Yuriah’s air forces.

They would stab at that opening.

There was no saying how long the enemy would have that opening, but if they launched a swift, sharp attack through it, there was a chance that they would be able to stretch it wider.

“What’s the reward for taking Folker’s head?”

Gilliam had his vaunted battle-axe hefted onto his shoulder. Orba flashed his teeth as he laughed –

“A word of praise from me,” he answered.

“There’s something to be grateful for. So much so, I could cry,” Gilliam roared with laughter.

Orba walked up to the Baian that the dragon-groom from Apta was keeping chained. He had made a snap decision to choose not a horse but this medium-sized dragon. The original plan had been for Orba and the others to lure the enemy reinforcements. Now however they were aiming for a central breakthrough of the enemy lines. Accordingly, it would be better for Orba, who would be leading the unit, to be riding a dragon.

It was a dragon that Hou Ran had been taking care of since their time in Tarkas’ Group, so Orba wasn’t without any connection to it. The Baian groaned as though it had been waiting impatiently. While touching the nape of its neck the way he had seen Ran do, Orba unfastened the dragon’s chains.

Leading the unit, he took a shortcut through the forest.

They were able to confirm the retreat of Zaas Sidious’ troops simply by looking. Most of the dragons that had charged at them were riderless, at most there were three dragoons among them. Hou Ran herself, riding a small Tengo dragon at the very back of the unit, was getting the dragons to move according to instructions from those three.

Orba immediately had the Baian run up to Ran’s side.

“Move the dragons away towards either side,” he called out to her.

Once they were excited by the blood, the dragons would lose the ability to distinguish friend and foe. They might well hinder the charge.

On the Tengo’s back, Ran gave a slight nod and blew on the small flute that hung at her neck. She had once said that the flute had been carved out of the bone from a dragon’s talon.

Although Orba could not hear a sound, the effect was immediate. At Ran’s signal, the dragons moved quickly – some of them too quickly – to get their large bodies out of the way, parting towards the right and the left.

As soon as the path ahead was free, Orba yelled “Let’s go!”

That shout itself seemed to cleave through the enemy. Raising a spear, he started charging.

Trailing a wreath of dust behind them, a group of riders and foot soldiers cut in a straight line towards Zaas’ troops.

“What!”

“U-Uwaah!”

The Baian sent one soldier flying in the air. Following behind him on horseback were both Gilliam and Shique, one wielding his axe, the other a spear. To the left and to the right, two soldiers who were just managing to respond to the attack were cut down.

“I am Gil Mephius!” leaning forward as the Baian ran on, Orba himself claimed that name. “Fools who understand neither justice nor the times. Prostrate yourselves and make way!”

His voice resounded so clearly and sonorously that it seemed unbelievable that he was being violently jolted up and down as he rode the dragon.

That the enemy commander-in-chief – who was also a man who claimed to be the heir to the throne of Mephius – would charge out to the front line on a dragon was a situation that was well and truly outside the expectations of the Mephian soldiers.

Moreover, his face was perfectly identical to the crown prince’s, and for those among them who had ever so much as caught a glimpse of Gil, the shock of engaging him on the battlefield was identical to that of being pierced by a spear or a bullet.

“His Highness!” One soldier fell on his backside as soon as he caught sight of that face.

“That’s the C-Crown Prince! Pull away your spears!” Another ordered, turning to his comrades.

On the other hand,

“Gil Mephius, you said?”

In the middle of retreating, Zaas Sidious heard the voice saying that – or rather, he heard the commotion raised by the agitated and bewildered soldiers. Although he should have regained his calm, once he heard that the enemy commander had come out, he lost it once more.

His blood was not only raging from the prospect of earning the greatest achievement in this war, he also wanted to check the enemy’s real appearance with his own eyes. Zaas shook off the company commander’s attempts to stop him and turned back along their escape route. While shaking away his men who were getting in his way as they agitatedly escaped, he arrived to see the Spear of Flames Division, feared since his father’s time, being effortlessly cleaved in half.

But that was not the only thing that made his eyes open wide.

Huh!

The one riding the dragon in the lead was, without the shadow of a doubt, Gil Mephius.

And even as he recognised that, he drew the sword that had temporarily been sheathed.

“Damned impostor!” the cry flew from his lips.

Having run through battlefields since he was young, Zaas had inwardly despised the crown prince. In the Sidious family, what determined the worth of a ‘man’ was one simple and unequivocal rule: how many enemies he could slaughter. And so, whenever he caught sight of the prince and gave him his greetings at the palace, Zaas would look down on him. When I was your age, I’d already reaped the heads of plenty of enemy soldiers on the battlefield.

Thus it was unthinkable for that Crown Prince to be splendidly leading troops like this, and furthermore to be charging in the lead. Even though their facial features might be identical, Zaas could only see them as completely different people. In a way, it was because he had such a simple and unequivocal rule that he could so easily see through to the truth.

“We fight!” Zaas shouted and spurred his horse onwards.

As Gil continued to strike down the enemy forces, Zaas once again mowed his through his allies to confront him head-on.

Orba did not recognise this opponent as Zaas Sidious, but he could tell that the young warrior charging straight at him was a formidable enemy.

With all the strength of his youth, Zaas first threw the sword that was in his right hand. Orba knocked it away with his spear. Countless sparks came to life before him.

While Zaas’ horse shied a little to the right as the sparks were still scattering, Zaas himself extracted his spear from his saddle.

The distance between Orba and Zaas was now that of a single blow.

And then, a galloping rider weaved his way into that distance.

Zaas’ spear was struck from two directions.

It was Shique, wielding his double swords.

“Your Highness, leave this to me.”

Hearing Shique call out, Orba nodded from atop the Baian. As he himself had thoroughly hammered into his men, he raced forward without paying any more notice to what was going on behind him.

Zaas was close on his heels but Shique skilfully rode his horse to block his pursuit. He drew up so close to him that the horses’ heads were almost touching.

“Eei, move!”

“I won’t be moving.”

“A paper warrior like you thinks he can be my opponent?”

Zaas gave a broad swing of the spear in his right hand. Shique bent his upper body and returned the blow.

In that time, Orba’s assault troops rode past Zaas, raising a cloud of dust behind them.

Seeing through their strategy, Folker Baran had, on the one hand, driven them into a corner, but their desperate charge was also certainly bringing them some pieces of luck. First of these was that they had been able to reel in the Division commander, Zaas Sidious. Having lost sight of him, the Spear of Flames Division had at the same time lost their centre of command. Be it rallying the soldiers to encircle the enemy from the front, sending the best among them after Gil only, or any other plan to halt the enemy’s charge, they could implement none of them.

And simply because Shique understood this –

“Hah, according to rumours, the Sidious House has fallen. You can’t gauge your enemies’ strength. Looks like you aren’t half what your father was,” he jeered.

Zaas silently thrust at him. The blade swept over Shique’s shoulder. While sweeping it away with his right sword, he was going to slice through him with his left, but the distance was too great.

Ha ha.

Atop his horse, Shique laughed. He was not trying to provoke his opponent, but Zaas became even more piqued and spurred his horse closer. Zaas’ spear and Shique’s swords flashed as they sped, creating a fighting space that no one else could approach.

Oh, what the hell.

Zaas’ spear grazed Shique’s side. He had expected a burning sensation but felt no pain. He immediately shifted into a counterattack and blew away Zaas’ shoulder pad.

Neither side faltered.

They lunged for another attack.

The Spear of Flames Division having thus, in effect, been abandoned by its commanding officer, Orba’s charging troops tore right through it.

However, there were many lower-ranked commanders that formed its backbone. Even amidst the chaos and panic, they remained unaffected. And many among them recovered quickly, gathered up their platoon or their company, and were starting off in pursuit.

“Give chase!” The company commander who had once pinned Zaas’ arms and urged him to retreat now yelled, brandishing his spear above his shoulder. “This is nothing but a desperate charge. We’ll catch the enemy in a two-sided attack along with the defence line at Headquarters!”

Although their battle formation had been thrown into disarray by a series of surprise attacks, there was still room to recover. Even though they had the momentum of the charge, taken the other way, that was all they had. If they could obstruct even one step of their advance, they would be able to overwhelm them with their numbers.

“Give chase, give chase!” All around, Zaas’ troops were turning around and were about to start their pursuit.

In that moment, a furious roar thundered again.

But this time, it was not dragons.

Because so many canons had fired at the same moment, the overlapping reports had sounded just like a dragon’s roar. One by one, holes were carved open into the backs and chests of the soldiers who had only just turned around. They toppled forward as blood and screams gushed out of them.

“Second row, in position. Fire!”

The one issuing the command was Odyne Lorgo. On either side of the enemy group, his riflemen were laying in position, lined up in threefold rows.

These were the soldiers who had originally lain in ambush at Jozu Fortress and who had fought Zaas’ troops there. At Gil Mephius’ signal however, they had temporarily drawn back to the rear of the fortress, and had then once more advanced in time for his assault.

When Gil Mephius had been fighting hard to cut through the enemy, a sidelong glance had told him that the riflemen had moved in to flank each of the groups to either side of him in which enemies and allies were mingled.

At that time, Odyne had given strict orders not to shoot. Desperate to provide cover for the crown prince, he had felt like giving the order to fire immediately, but given the situation at the time, they would inevitably have injured their allies. And so, they had been waiting eagerly, hidden behind debris blown away from the fort or nearby trees.

And then the crown prince’s troop finally opened a gap through the enemy and the entire group surged through it. Just when the enemy was about to start off in pursuit, Odyne quickly raised his arm overhead.

“Fiiire!”

Under shooting so intense that the area around them was filled with white smoke through which it was almost impossible to see, the platoons and companies of the Spear of Flames Division collapsed.

“Bastards! Come back, come back!” – Some of the units broke up into small groups of fleeing soldiers, while others once more turned around and lunged towards the riflemen. But before they had run even halfway towards their objective, a hail of lead bullets pierced through their entire bodies.

“Bring the cannons here!” The company commander who had earlier issued the order to give chase shouted as he lay flat to the ground. The shooting was so relentless that, if he lifted his head even a fraction, he would probably have his brains blown out.

Dragged on rattling wheels, the cannons finally arrived, but by that time Odyne had already pulled back. After that, his men spread out by company and took up positions that had been determined beforehand, from where they continued shooting, dulling the Spear of Flames Division’s pursuit as much as possible.

The effect they achieved was steady, but Odyne was unable to find ‘the right opportunity’. They had lost their base and in their current situation of being without protection from cavalry or infantry, the riflemen were fragile. They would eventually be crushed.

Actually, several units had already been annihilated. That was because there were many among the enemy troops who had turned and fought back, fearless of bullets. It showed that, although Zaas himself might be lacking in experience, the Spear of Flames Division itself was highly skilled.

“Withdraw.”

Odyne gathered his men at the point in the forest which had also been fixed in advance as their last line of defence.

How much time have we been able to gain with this?

Since the crown prince was at the front line, no matter how long they were able to hold them in check, it could never be long enough.

As he quickly reorganised his men between the trees, Odyne watched for the chance to move forward. It went without saying that if ever Gil Mephius were killed, then no matter how bravely they fought or how hard they struggled, their defeat would already have been set. And so, Odyne could not afford to fear the destruction of his troops. When it came down to it, he was determined that they too would attack without worrying about the future.

Part 3

Orba and the others charged like thunder, thrusting their spears and brandishing their swords. At each step forward, enemy swords and spears flew through the air to prevent them from taking yet another step. Orba himself had taken blows from spears to his shoulders and legs. Not that he minded them. From his expression, it was as though he had himself turned into a dragon unconcerned with human weapons, and he continued to urge the Baian onwards as he unleashed his spear only on the soldiers who one after another tried to block his way.

A third or more of their troops had already fallen. There were those who had tumbled when their horses had been deliberately shot, those who had been pierced by the foot soldiers’ spears, those who had been knocked unconscious when their horses violently collided with each other...

But their energy did not abate.

To stop was the same as losing their lives, and the entire group intently pushed forward, wrapped in a haze of blood.

In the sky, the fight also continued.

Under Rogue Saian’s command, the Reinus’ surprise attack was a success, but Yuriah’s side still had their flagship. The airships on both sides competed fiercely, moving continuously while releasing restraining fire to try and seize even the slightest advantage.

Gunshots and the roar of cannon fire intersected ceaselessly, fragments from fallen airships and cannon balls that shattered into the ground fell like endless rain, and amidst it all, Gil Mephius’ troops kicked their horses’ bellies and raised clouds of dust as they slaughtered enemies to move relentlessly forward.

At their head, Orba’s entire body was so covered in the blood of his fallen opponents that at glance, it looked as though his very facial features had changed. Blood and flesh went flying as soldiers were crushed under the Baian’s forepaws. From the back of his neck to his face, Orba was covered in darkish gore. The Baian roared and seemed about to devour the corpses when Orba pulled on the reigns with all his might and kept it in restraint.

In a moment, and from both sides, black lightning bolts streaked upwards. Twisting his torso and dodging the spear, Orba stabbed the enemy’s neck with his own spear.

While he was doing so, a group of foot soldiers came rushing to the front of him, so he kicked the Baian’s flanks even harder than before.

The dragon’s roar seemed to shatter the earth. It started surging forward, half leaping as it did, and several soldiers faltered in fear at its onrush. With only a backwards glance, Orba and his men pushed further and further on.

This is unexpected – Orba thought fleetingly as he clung to the Baian’s heaving back.

The charge was proceeding unexpectedly smoothly.

The Spear of Flames Division should have been a wall obstructing their advance, yet that wall was weaker than expected. Of course, the enemy was desperately trying to halt their charge, but their movements were disorganised. Although their brave and fearsome warriors were assembled, each was acting individually, disconnected from the others, and they were being overwhelmed by the force of the charge.

Perhaps – Orba thought, perhaps the enemy general Zaas Sidious had been killed in the melee, or had been wounded and fallen back from the front.

Mowing down his enemies left and right, Orba had the Baian charge onwards. The suicide unit, Gilliam in the lead, followed behind him. He did not have the luxury to be able to look behind him, so he did not know who was still alive and who had already been lost.

News of the current battle progress had, of course, reached the Mephian commander, Folker Baran.

Again and again, messengers to the rear guard came from all over to announce that the front line had been broken through.

Right.

Folker Baran would start to stand up but – No.

This man who never lost his composure would change his mind every time. There was no doubt that the enemy had a detached force. If he sent out his soldiers now, they would probably seize that chance to swoop in and attack.

So instead, Folker had his own Black Steel Sword Division align themselves in ranks and take up position to defend against the enemy’s suicidal charge.

Although they had been divided lengthwise, the Spear of Flames Division would surely be in hot pursuit at the enemy’s back. And with that, the enemy force that had broken through would be caught in a pincer attack from the front and rear.

Furthermore, the rifle units had been moved to either side of the headquarters. Since both the enemy and the allies who were chasing after them would be coming from the front, guns could not be used. That being the case, he had chosen to have them ready for the enemy’s detached force that would be appearing from their flank. In place of soldiers with guns at the ready, the heavily armoured Black Steel Sword Division were aligned in rows before the headquarters.

If Folker could be lured into stirring even slightly, an opening might yet be found, but seen from Orba’s side, his defence was literally impregnable.

And at that point, the charge led by Orba gradually started losing its vigour. Not unexpectedly, exhaustion was setting in and also, and as Folker had speculated, the raised battle cries of the Spear of Flames Division could be heard from behind them. Zaas Sidious himself was not taking command but his officers of long military standing had brought the troops together.

“Uwaah!”

“Faster!”

Orba could hear the voices coming from behind him. The ones who had not already been shaken off were nipping at their heels.

Orba’s unit collapsed.

The formation which had pushed its way through as sharply as an arrowhead, was falling into chaos left and right; which meant that it was losing the strength and vigour of its charge rather than being pushed back by the enemy approaching from the front. From behind them, the foot soldiers of the Spear of Flames Division, seeing a chance for revenge, raised their spears, hammers, and axes.

“Fight!” Orba yelled as he fended off the sword of a mounted warrior while the screams of his own allies resounded. “Don’t disperse, stand firm! Fight your way out!”

At that moment –

“Im-, po-, ssible.”

Impossible, an enemy rider had said from in front of him, but it sounded strangely slow.

Orba felt a violent blow from below.

He wondered if he had been pierced by a spear.

In fact, while his attention was taken by the rider, a foot soldier had seized the chance to slice into the Baian’s leg with an axe. As the dragon writhed furiously in agony, he soon found himself on the verge of being shaken off. Orba’s hands grasped the reigns with the strength of a vice and his thighs held tightly to the Baian’s trunk.

If I fall now –

He would die, his instinct told him.

The instant that the Baian lowered its head, he felt a portent of violent death and a spear aimed straight at Orba’s head came flying. He bent his torso and returned a stroke that pierced the enemy soldier’s chest.

But by that time, new enemies were already approaching.

He could no longer deal with them with a spear. He drew the sword from at his waist and repelled the swarm of steel in one movement. In an attempt to charge again, he kicked the Baian’s belly, but this was this dragon’s first battle. Driven to a frenzy by the blood and the pain, it did not readily obey.

Orba was also starting to be pressed back. If he could not match his movements to the dragon’s breathing, his sword would not reach the enemy soldiers on the ground. His focus spontaneously turned to defence only.

He considered whether he should instead jump down from the dragon and run on foot. However, if he lost the pressure that came from the Baian, he would only fall victim to a line of readied spears.

And then, a rider rushed up from behind and a soldier who was lunging at him from in front with a spear had his head fly off.

Gilliam.

He plucked the spear from the hands of the headless corpse as it slumped and threw it towards Orba.

“Use this.”

This was no time for being courteous.

As they spurred horse and dragon onward, the two of them unleashed certain death at a single stroke against the enemy soldiers who rushed towards them.

Thinking about it, it was the first time he and Gilliam had fought side by side like this. Both of them displayed peerless strength on this battlefield, but in a situation in which they could neither advance nor retreat, their stamina was necessarily consumed at a violent rate. The way before them did not open, nor did the one behind them, and the enemy gradually approached even as they dealt with each row of them.

Around half should already have been defeated.

With no time to obey orders from his brain, Orba acted on instinct, jabbing with the spear and riding the dragon, but his heart was screaming from his having pushed himself beyond his limits and the veins in entire body no longer seemed to have blood coursing through them but fire. It felt as though that fire would burn his life away before he ever fell to an enemy sword.

Every person there was but one warrior, so there were none who had not thought of death. One had to be prepared for it. Orba alone however could not resign himself to death.

If ‘Gil Mephius’ allowed the shadow of death to coil about him now, the soldiers still fighting would lose their morale. So as to survive to the end, he had to fight to win.

Spears clashed in mid-air. Orba’s spearhead stabbed the enemy soldier in the neck, the tip of the enemy soldier’s spear struck Orba on the forehead.

With no time to even grimace from the pain, he drew out his spear and prepared for the next attack.

A new cloud of dust rose to his side. Another group was charging forward.

New enemy troops, he thought.

For one split second, he stopped moving.

Sweat was running down his face. Even though he had not been conscious of it until now, he watched a drop trickle down and mingle with his opponents’ blood.

It stung to the point of being painful.

He closed his eyes.

‘Death’, which he had been shaking off right until this moment crept up from the darkness behind his eyelids.

The next instant, he opened his eyes.

“Pashir!”

The name of the mounted warrior leading the charge escaped from Orba’s mouth when he realised who it was. Pashir’s detached force was soaring from within the trees at the side.

Having sensed that the plan would have been modified, he had changed his route and remained on standby, holding his breath, for an opportunity to join up with Gil’s dash.

In a sense, this was the moment in which the army that Orba was leading achieved its greatest coordination. Leaning forward, Pashir, in his relentless charge, mowed down the enemy soldiers before Orba. He could well be described as a gale.

Seizing the moment, and all but begging it, Orba kicked the Baian’s belly. Go – rider and dragon were connected in way that went beyond words and at Orba’s kick, the beast seemed to turn into a fearless warrior. With a roar, it starting running again.

The Black Steel Sword Division had been solely focused on what was in front of them, so the unexpected attack threw their ranks into disarray. With the accuracy of a needle drawing thread, Gil Mephius tore through that open seam, Pashir to his right, Gilliam to his left.

The mounted soldiers following behind them had recovered their vigour. More than half of them were already unable to fight, having either fallen from their horse or lost their lives, but the remaining braves, their hunger sharper than ever, steadily pulled the enemy soldiers apart, tearing the open seam into a gaping hole.

In no time at all, the defence formation that Folker Baran had established was engulfed in the dust of melee fighting.

“Don’t do it!” Folker shouted instinctively.

Although he had accepted that some sacrifices would be necessary, that was when he had not believed that the enemy would be able to draw this close. At this time, Folker Baran did not follow in Nabarl Metti’s footsteps and do as he had during the battle with Taúlia.

He had ‘eyes’ that could evaluate the situation. He did not underestimate the enemy simply because their numbers were lower. We’ll concede this one to them – he decided.

First and foremost, there was no need for Folker to consider this their final battle. Said otherwise, the reason why the enemy fought so desperately was because they had nothing left after this. The enemy knew that if they let slip the chance – not to say the golden opportunity – of victory at their fingertips, the initiative in this war would pass entirely to the Mephian army.

And besides, there’s no need to play along with them in taking huge losses. If they temporarily withdrew to Birac and reorganised their troops, it would be easy next time to repel the enemy. The detached force that Folker had been the most vigilant against had already appeared. Their greatest gain from this battle was that they now knew the enemy’s entire strength. As they had moreover crushed two of their bases, the next time that Folker led his troops, he would be aiming straight for Apta.

There was no longer anything blocking them.

Folker decided to temporarily retreat from the front lines.

First, as there was no longer any need to watch out for a surprise attack, he called back the rifle units from either side of the camp and informed their captains about the paths of retreat that the main body of the troops would be using.

“Find suitable locations to conceal yourselves in. Divide yourselves up by company. Prevent the enemy from chasing after us.”

Once the riflemen understood their orders and had left, he hurriedly sent messengers to Generals Zaas and Yuriah.

Folker was an able commander who was good at assessing a situation. But he did not have a nose that could smell the atmosphere on the battlefield. Unlike Orba, he had never learned the viewpoint of a regular soldier.

At this point in time, Folker’s judgement could be said to be correct.

But the very fact that he had made the correct decision was most certainly the ultimate piece of good luck brought forth by Orba’s charge.

Having received their orders, first Yuriah’s flagship – struggling to disperse the airship force as it did so – drew back, then the scattered Spear of Flames Division withdrew. Intending to join up with them, Folker pulled up their headquarters.

The enemy were still hot on their heels but, “Ignore them,” Folker shouted in an unusually resonant voice. “Right now, their desperation and resolve is greater than ours. We pull back in order to win.”

If the enemies got lured into closing the distance with them, the riflemen spread out beforehand would deal with them. The one opening the vanguard was Gil Mephius’ impostor. Which meant that they might be able to shoot down the enemy commander-in-chief.

However –

“Halt the horses,” he suddenly raised his arm. He himself brought the Baian to a stop. One after another, his men did the same.

As they were wondering why it was that he was throwing away such a good chance of pursuit, he said –

“Raise a victory shout.”

The riders who had halted their horses, the foot soldiers who had paused their footsteps did as they were ordered, each raising swords, spears or guns, and roared.

Since they came from the same country, it was quite natural, but this was the same victory shout as that of the Mephian army. There could be no greater humiliation for Folker’s troops than to hear it at their backs.

But wanting the enemy to taste nothing but disgrace, Orba did nothing to check his troops.

He waited until just before Folker, having put some distance between them, was about to set up another camp, then gave a new order. He finally brought out the three cruisers that they had snatched from Jozu Fortress. The ships, which had abundant reserves of ether as they had not been used in the battle line-up until then, started out and advanced whilst bombarding the enemy.

Their effectiveness was greater now that Yuriah's air force was in shambles. The riflemen lying in ambush along the path of retreat were smoked out by the flames, and Folker was furthermore unable to establish a new camp.

That man – even Folker could not help but shiver. The enemy had anticipated this pursuit right from the start. In a situation in which they were clearly at a disadvantage, he had expected to undoubtedly receive a chance at victory and had kept resources in reserve.

He was no ordinary person.

Or perhaps he was just an utter idiot.

And here I was going to make myself into a great fool, but the enemy was better at it. He did not however have the luxury to stay and gnash his teeth in frustration.

"Retreat, retreat," Folker reluctantly repeated.

And in response to that, Orba cried out –

"Pursue, pursue."

Under his lead, the cavalry units, infantry units, as well as Odyne's riflemen who had joined up with them once more, advanced.

But there was one other person who considered that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Not Orba, who was on the offensive, but rather Walt, the former commander of Jozu Fortress, who was now on the defending side. He and his men had volunteered to be the rear guard for Folker's troops.

Having watched his fortress burn down before his very eyes, Walt's ardour was considerable. Having borrowed some riflemen, he had initially been going to have them shoot from the hill on which the headquarters was established. Under their protective fire, he had then attempted to clash with the enemy forces, but –

What? Walt was left dumbfounded.

Leading in the vanguard, the figure of Gil Mephius – or rather of the man that he wasn't sure was Gil Mephius – loomed large. Before he had even noticed that the man was approaching faster than expected, Walt's horse was frightened by the Baian's suicide attack and was preparing to flee.

"Eei!" Giving up on the horse, Walt dismounted and grabbed a spear with an especially long shaft from one of his men. The enemy was already so close that he could smell the stench particular to dragons. "Now – "

Come – he was just about to launch a jab for Gil's chest with the spear.

When the tip was sliced off and sent flying with lightning speed. As it had simply been too quick, the astounded Walt followed the spearhead as it flew through the air until he could see it no longer.

From atop the saddle, and instead of returning the blow he had stopped, Orba for some reason started heaping jeers on Walt.

"Do you still not get it, you utter fool?"

"F-Fool?"

"It's praiseworthy of you to face me. Still, I wouldn't have thought that there could be man with eyes as clouded as yours. Come! I'll show you the fight of a true king."

There was no reason for Walt to obey when told to come. But he was simply stunned. And while he was stunned, Orba quickly drove the Baian onwards.

How to best explain Orba and Walt's emotions at that point in time? You could say that Orba had liked this man at first glance, while Walt would have to admit that he was increasingly wondering if this might not, in fact, be the real Crown Prince; although he would have been unable to put that into words or to formulate any reasons as to why.

In conclusion, Walt had, by that point, given up on giving chase.

And Folker was forced to retreat further. If they pulled back one step, the enemy was a step and a half behind them, and so they steadily continued to withdraw.

As evening drew near, the enemy air carriers were at long last unable to maintain flight capability any further and landed, but they then launched several airships that threatened Folker from overhead.

This isn’t good. Morale was being whittled away minute by minute. Folker decided that it would be simpler to head straight for Birac. Since it had turned into a forced march, they resolutely abandoned their cumbersome packs and cannons. Without sparring the time to sleep, they continued their retreat.

Similarly, Orba was continuing the chase even though night was falling. He was now on horseback. Horses were better suited to long-distance pursuits than dragons. The dragon unit, the Baian included, had been left with Ran at the back.

“Don’t rest,” he called out to his utterly exhausted men. “You can rest once we’ve taken Birac.”

This was more than repelling the enemy offensive. He was claiming that they would seize the enemy base, Birac. If Folker had been able to hear him, he would not have been able to take him seriously, but Orba himself was entirely in earnest.

When Birac was finally close at hand, Folker dispatched his adjutant to the city and meanwhile spread out a defence line, temporary and impromptu though it was, to cover his men’s evacuation.

If we can just hold out here – victory was assured. That thought kept Folker energetic. As he was a man whose expression never changed, he was hard to understand from the outside, but at least there was none of the wretchedness of a defeated army. He raised his reedy voice and vigorously encouraged his men.

And yet it was, in that moment, that Folker Baran’s iron nerve was shattered.

“Impossible,” when he received the report from his adjutant, who had returned in a panic, his expression turned incredulous.

The gates of Birac were shut.

Maybe its lord, Fedom Aulin, had realised that Folker’s army had taken flight and had chosen to let neither them nor the enemy in; but at any rate, no matter how much they beat on the gate, they received no answer. And, as they were doing so, Gil Mephius’ troops were drawing closer.

As though to flaunt their overwhelming resources, cavalry and artillery units, accompanied by airships overhead, were approaching left and right like messengers of death.

Curse you, Fedom! Folker’s expression turned into one that even his long-time subordinates had never seen before. He had finally realised that he had been lured into retreating. The fake Gil and Fedom had been colluding from the start.

Once they lost their path of retreat, they were helpless. Having come to this, there was even the fear that Birac’s garrison might ambush them.

Pathetic. Folker trembled in anger such as he had never felt in all his life. To be prepared to lose so many soldiers when fighting, yet to be completely at a loss as soon as someone I trusted as an ally betrayed us.

But even anger was transient. With the enemy fast approaching, wallowing in regrets and self-pity was not his style. Folker Baran was, to the very end, composure incarnate.

After that, and with no opportunity to hear Yuriah and Zaas’ opinions, Folker sent a message of surrender to the enemy side. Orba received the messenger and, along with accepting Folker’s surrender, he ordered him to have his men disarm.

“If you comply, we will not needlessly take your soldiers’ lives,” he promised, and Folker obeyed.

Having gotten his men to prepare to follow that command, Folker rode alone to Orba’s camp.

“Been a while,” Orba called out to him, even though he knew neither his face nor his name.

For the first time, Folker Baran beheld the man who was their ‘enemy’.

He and Gil Mephius truly were like two peas in a pod.

And standing next to Gil, on either side, were Rogue and Odyne, not looking in the slightest as though they had been ensnared by sorcery, completely unchanged from the generals he was use to meeting in Solon. In that moment, various conflicting emotions within Folker seemed to burst with a pop.

“Your Highness,” he bowed just as he would when facing the crown prince. “Please let me ask you one thing.”

“What is it?”

“The western army that appeared near Bafsk...”

“Did so at my instigation.”

“As expected.”

“I asked them to move close to the border in order to entice you to us. Don’t worry, they won’t be crossing into our country.”

“Aye.”

For Folker, hearing that alone was enough.

And thus, the battle of Tolinea came to a close.

Orba led his entire army into Birac. Fedom must have been vigorously spreading propaganda beforehand within the city, because the populace received them as though cheering the return of a victorious army.

Finally – still on horseback, Orba breathed a sigh while being showered in cheers.

Before entering the stronghold, he had carefully wiped all the blood from his body and had changed his armour and clothes to look tidier, but naturally he could not wipe the exhaustion from his face. It had been a fight that left him feeling that he just wanted to rest without thinking of anything for a while, but he would soon be made to realise how great the price of victory had been.

Through the death of Imperial Guard Shique.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ Manoeuvre warfare is a military strategy that advocates attempting to defeat the enemy by incapacitating their decision-making through shock and disruption.

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