Vol 4 Chapter 1 (1/2)

Chapter 1: Dark Clouds over Apta

Part 1

Oubary Bilan reached Apta some two hours after sunset. By all rights, he should have arrived while it was still daylight, however this was...o...b..ry: having tarried too long with the women at the post-station town, he had ended up being late. But then, there was no reason to hurry. From what he had heard, after having been violently attacked by Taúlia, Apta had finally been forced into an alliance with them. He felt depressed just imagining the wretched atmosphere of defeat that must be pervading the inside of the castle. Although...

Since it's that prince who had supposedly oh-so changed from being so juvenile.

That being the case, it didn't feel all that bad.

Oubary harboured a grudge against the heir to the imperial throne, Gil Mephius. On the occasion of the prince's first campaign, he alone had been recognised for his meritorious deeds; at the time of Zaat's rebellion, his “going along” with Noue was supposed to result in Oubary playing the role of the patriotic hero, but because of the prince, that plan had completely fallen through and instead his disappearance in the midst of the rebellion had caused him to incur the emperor's displeasure.

Because of that, when a slave revolt broke out in Kilro, an area to the southeast of Solon, Oubary had volunteered to personally suppress it. As a general who boasted a long military career, turning his sword against something like slaves wasn't something he could puff out his chest about. He had accomplished his mission regardless, but his pride in his n.o.ble self had taken a severe blow.

Be it that time or this.

Oubary felt that it was all Prince Gil's fault. That the slaves had staged an armed uprising at that point was probably because of Zaat's rebellion. But Oubary believed that Gil's lenient att.i.tude in appointing slaves as soldiers of the imperial guard, or in making the sword slaves who had risen in revolt his personal subordinates, was also to blame.

“Humph.”

Reaching a point from which Apta Fortress came into view, Oubary could clearly tell that its appearance had changed because of bombing raids. It seemed badly damaged. Oubary smiled nastily. Even the castle gate was not yet halfway through repairs.

“General Oubary Bilan, entering the castle.”

With that proclamation, he pa.s.sed through the partially destroyed gate.

Oh?

Setting foot in the town's streets, Oubary drew together his finely manicured eyebrows. He had an uncomfortable feeling. Enemy fire had also altered the appearance of the fortress. Of course, it was to be expected that the damage would extend to the street. He had thought that the place would be sunk in gloom, yet contrary to his expectations, the townspeople who were coming and going as well as the soldiers with whom they were chatting light-heartedly all had cheerful countenances.

Oubary continued beyond the brightly lit main avenue and dismounted from his horse. As the castle hall was said to currently be unusable, he was guided to the largest of the barracks. Once he pa.s.sed through the entranceway, Oubary's sense of disbelief grew increasingly.

In the s.p.a.cious hall, a banquet was being held. All around, red-faced soldiers were walking hand in hand with women who appeared to have been gathered from the town to serve as waitresses. Mountains of food were piled high; wine cups were being refilled as soon as they were emptied; it was as if they were celebrating winning a battle.

“Oh, General.”

“We were expecting you to reach here today, but you've arrived rather late.”

Oubary's subordinates from the Black Armoured Division who had been stationed at the fortress were also all in high spirits. Oubary caught hold of a company captain called Bane.

“What’s all this? Did the defeated prince fall ill from despair?”

Bane grinned derisively as though he had heard something outrageous, his appearance as unprepossessing as ever.

“This is a victory celebration.”

“What, a victory!?”

“Even though it was Taúlia's Ax Bazgan, he captured him within this very Apta. The prince – that man is truly skilled at warfare!”

Oubary got a detailed explanation about the battle from Bane. When he learned that after luring the enemy in, the prince himself had bombed the fortress, he almost involuntarily yelped in surprise and it was only with effort that he held himself in check.

“That's not all.”

“”Once again”, it was all he could do to give a forced smile, ”A ground-breaking campaign, one without precedent. It certainly isn't something that just anybody could do. Although one should be careful not to fool themselves into believing they are rich just because they have money and material possessions.”

Even though those words left his mouth, It's strange, was what he was thinking.

He had never spoken with Prince Gil before the latter's first campaign, however he had of course heard many rumours about him. Tales of how he was a fool who spent every day playing around had no doubt even reached other countries. Yet despite that, he had defeated Zaim Fortress' supreme commander, Ryucown, and had prevented a rebellion in Solon. And now, here in Apta, he had captured Ax Bazgan and even brought about a mutual alliance. Furthermore, he had done it without receiving reinforcements from his own country.

It's as though Gil were a general with years of military service.

It wasn't simply that it gave him an unpleasant feeling. He was obviously different from the prince that Oubary had heard about. One could have put it down to his having excellent staff officers, but here in Apta there were no other generals present, and almost all of the prince's attendants were former slaves.

Even though he was royalty, was it possible for people to transform thus in such a short time? Then, was it because he was a fool that, one after another, he came up with plans that other people would never dream of? Not only Oubary, many of Mephius' courtiers harboured doubts at the prince all but turning into a new person.

“Ah, Your Highness.”

“Your Imperial Highness, congratulations for your work against Taúlia.”

Within the hall, that Gil Mephius appeared before him.

Ah!

s.h.i.+que and Gowen, Orba's long-time acquaintances who were in the hall drinking with their respective comrades, exchanged glances. Even from a distance, they could tell that Orba was drunk. Staggering unsteadily around the room, he smiled sloppily at the people who called out to him. His face was as red as though scarlet pigment had been poured over it. He probably wasn't putting on an act either. Above all, they both knew that Orba had never been good with alcohol.

When Orba – though of course, to the people in the room, he was the first successor to the imperial throne of Mephius – spotted Oubary Bilan, he walked towards him, waving exaggeratedly.

“Oh, general. So you've arrived. You're late though, I was starting to get worried.”

“Your Highness”, Oubary bowed courteously, “I am unworthy of your concern. To my shame, as the matter in Kilro was unexpectedly troublesome, I did not arrive in time for the battle with Taúlia.”

“It doesn't matter. Come, have a drink.”

As he seemed about to topple over, a nearby chamberlain hurriedly made to catch him. Rudely shaking him off, Gil grabbed some wine from a tray and offered it to Oubary. As his face came closer, Oubary politely declined. Gil's steps were unsteady and his eyes unfocussed, but upon that, he glared.

“You won't drink my wine, general?”, he asked threateningly. Smiling sourly, Oubary took the wine cup and drained it. The prince watched him fixedly then,

“Your Highness!”

Without paying attention to the shouts of astonishment from the people nearby, he smoothly drew the sword from at his waist. Naturally, Oubary rapidly narrowed his eyes at this,

“What is this, Your Highness?”

“Shall we perform a sword dance, general?”

“A sword dance?”

Sword dances were a speciality of Solon's wherein several men would perform a dance while wielding swords. On the occasion of the Founding Festival, such a dance was held at the palace.

“Even though this is called a celebration, the entertainment is lacking. At times like this, the people of Mephius shouldn't be celebrating so crudely. It’s unrefined. So let's perform a sword dance, you and me. Everyone, rejoice.”

Thinking that the prince wasn't sober, Oubary's thin lips formed into a smile,

“Although a gratifying proposal, Oubary Bilan is not worthy of crossing sword with the Crown Prince. Ah, why don't we settle down over there and have a leisurely chat? I would very much like to hear about the battle against Taúlia.”

A sharp crack rang across...o...b..ry's cheek. Gil had slapped the general's face with the back of his hand.

Rather than rise in uproar, the room went deathly silent. As the shocked onlookers held their breath,

“You won't cross swords with the crown prince? A cute thing to say. Then this crown prince orders you. Come, draw your sword.”

Gil made a thrust with the sword he held. Oubary 's smile went stiff but he maintained it even as he drew back. “Your Highness, Your Highness”, he appealed. The prince's posture was unsteady, so evading him wasn't difficult, however when his third thrust skimmed over the top of the general's shoulder, a sharp rush of air struck Oubary's cheek. A small cut opened on his skin. When they saw red drops trickle down his cheek, the women screamed.

”Ge-general.”

”Your Highness, Your Highness, please wait.”

The soldiers also clamoured from all around. Although s.h.i.+que and Gowen were trying to make their way through the surging crowd towards the sweating Gil, he still continued to swing his sword. Oubary's hand went to his own waist. Seeing that, Gil's mouth twisted into a ferocious smile when –

A metallic sound resounded with a clang.

The sword was flung from Gil's hand. He and Oubary both stopped moving and gazed at the new sword that extended sideways from them.

The one holding it was a strong-bodied man. The former sword-slave who had competed with Orba in the final round of the Founding Festival's gladiatorial games – Pas.h.i.+r. He had swept Gil's sword away from the side. Pas.h.i.+r's eyes were partially concealed in shadows as he expressionlessly sustained Gil's burning gaze before returning his sword to his waist.

Around them, all was in uproar.

”General!”

Oubary held up his hand to take command of the soldiers who were rus.h.i.+ng up.

”That... Wasn't that a little too much for a jest made under the influence of alcohol, Your Highness?”

Gil had picked up his sword and, though tension still surrounded him, he returned it to its scabbard.

”Then you should have agreed to a sword dance.” He shrugged as though completely uninterested. Then, with a sidelong glance at Pas.h.i.+r, ”every last one of you is unbearably tedious. That's why they say that the people of Mephius don't know how to set the mood during festivities.” With that, he left the room, his steps still unsteady.

His hand held against his cheek, Oubary watched him leave. More than just turning pale with rage, his entire body was shaking.

”What was that?” He murmured to himself. ”He's crazy to call that a festivity. Or was that him showing his true colours as a fool?”

In the doorway on the other side from the one the prince had disappeared through, a single silhouette stood stock still. Vileena Owell. She had been on the roof only a short while ago but had come rus.h.i.+ng when she heard the disturbance. Although she had arrived a little too late, she could understand the gist of what had happened from hearing what the people around the room were saying. She stood for a moment dumbfounded then quickly crossed the room to chase after the prince.

Part 2

”What on earth where you thinking!”

The group of people she was chasing through Apta recognised the figure of the princess who was holding up the hem of her skirt in order to rush towards them.

Held up between s.h.i.+que and Gowen, the prince, who had been leaning against the wall to walk, looked as though he was hearing something incredibly annoying.

” What do you mean, 'what'?”

He didn't stop walking. She stomped towards him.

”I am asking if this time again, there was a deeper meaning to your actions. Up until now, no matter how foolish your behaviour appeared, you have always a secret reason that I couldn't begin to imagine.”

”The fact is, His Highness acted that way because he was drunk.”

Although s.h.i.+que tone was placatory, his words had the opposite effect on Vileena. Her doe-like eyes widened even further.

”He did it because he was drunk? Hmm, is that so? In that case, let me change the question: becoming so drunk that you couldn't tell right from wrong and attacked a retainer with a sword, why on earth did you do it?”

”I was drunk. Because of the wine.”

Gil grumbled in a thick voice. He sounded like a typical drunkard. Feeling even more incensed, Vileena started to draw closer. Just as s.h.i.+que hunched his shoulders as though preparing himself for a thunderbolt, Vileena's furious expression suddenly crumbled.

Because she had remembered.

The prince's appearance, looking exactly like he was grovelling on his knees as he sobbed. Perhaps getting himself dead drunk also had something to do with that; as that thought occurred to her, Vileena lost the energy to be angry.

Entering the room that had been allocated to him in the barracks, Gil - or rather, Orba, threw himself on the bed. Gowen was the first to open his mouth.

”What happened?” He asked Orba, who was moaning softly. s.h.i.+que turned towards Dinn, the page who had been awaiting the prince's return, and sent him back out saying ”It's fine for today”, then, having driven away the soldiers standing guard with a few glib words, he closed the door.

”Nothing happened.”

”Orba”, Gowen said in a low voice. Orba, who was currently as red in the face as Gowen was tanned, gave him a broad grin.

”Oh, right now, you've gone back to your slave overseer face. When they got up in the morning, everyone always knew what kind of mood you were in from the expression on your face.”

”Is that right? Then I'll say this: right now, my mood's the worst.” Gowen glared down at Orba who was burying himself in his pillow. ”Destroying everything you've risked your life to protect up until now by going off and drowning yourself in alcohol is something not even a kid would do. This isn't like your usual calm self. You should be grateful to Pas.h.i.+r; if he hadn't stopped you, you'd have caused your own downfall.”

”You're being too serious, Gramps.”

”Orba!” Gowen barked angrily. He was raising his thick arms when s.h.i.+que hurriedly stopped him.

”Now, now now, Gowen. Orba is constantly having to steel himself, so he must be exhausted. Suddenly going from being a sword-slave to the country's crown prince; given the circ.u.mstances, it's fine if he sometimes indulges in alcohol, right?”

”It's not.” Gowen's breathing was ragged. ”Orba, you said it yourself, didn't you? Making you a body-double was probably something Fedom did on his own. If anyone else in Mephius discovers you real ident.i.ty, you'll be sent straight to the guillotine. Even you can't be ready for that. And also, if your real ident.i.ty is discovered, we'll also be suspected of being conspirators and our lives will be forfeit. It's not just your problem if your neck gets sliced.”

Orba stopped smirking and now lay facing upwards on the bed. Realising it, he turned over again so that his back was towards Gowen and s.h.i.+que. ”Orba”, Gowen continued to press him for a response when he heard in a voice that was almost a whisper:

”There's no more reason to continue being the prince.”

Gowen suddenly stopped pacing around. He exchanged a glance with s.h.i.+que.

”There's no reason to let him live.” Orba's back was shaking and his words tumbled out unevenly. ”My brother died here. He abandoned him. Alice and my mother too, they were probably killed. Because of him. He set fire to villages from his own country of Mephius with his own hands!”

Just a short while ago, Orba had seemed in high spirits from the wine, but now he did a complete turnaround, shouting then immediately after sniffling.

”This 'he' you're talking about...”, began s.h.i.+que. Gowen continued,

”Don't tell me you're talking about that general you attacked with a sword. If I remember correctly, he's called Oubary, right? What did that man do? Had you met him, before you became the prince?”

Even as Gowen was still asking those questions, a possible explanation for all that Orba had just said dawned on him. He already knew that Oubary Bilan was the general previously in charge of defending Apta. Since Orba's brother had died here, could it mean that he had been a soldier stationed at the fortress?

”You say... That he set fire to a Mephian village? Orba, it can't be”, as though realising something, s.h.i.+que raised his voice, ”it can't be that you're planning to get revenge on him?”

Orba, his back still turned, didn't answer.

Which also meant that he didn't deny it. s.h.i.+que gave a large gulp while next to him, Gowen sighed deeply. Up until then, Orba had always been somewhat mysterious. He had a side to him that was very cool-headed, but also he also had a side to him that would see his emotions suddenly burst out. From an outside perspective, the balance maintained between those two conflicting halves looked precarious. Because it was quite possible that at any moment, his emotions might overflow and destroy Orba's fragmented personality.

Is that moment going to be now?

Two years ago – no, it was probably more like three years now, at the time they first met, he had thought that this was a guy he couldn't take his eyes off. It wasn’t just the iron mask, his heart also wore a mask, so it there was no way to grasp his real intentions. Yet now, as he stifled his weeping, Orba's back could not have been more defenceless. The man who boasted of being undefeated with a sword was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any trace of the man whose enemies fell into the traps of his all-encompa.s.sing strategies. The shape of that back was just that of a young boy's.

However, Gowen deliberately kept his tone strict,

”Revenge, huh? If you say your family was killed, then sure, it's not something you can just forgive. But here and now, if you let revenge take priority, you'll lose everything. Everything you've obtained by somehow surviving certain death, you'll…”

”Everything, huh? This 'everything', what is it?” Orba screamed in an almost hoa.r.s.e voice. ”I've already lost everything. What else is there? My life? Then I'll give my life. If in exchange he gets to taste the anguish of h.e.l.l, I'll give it any time!”

”You have duties to fulfil, Orba. You think that anything is fine if you're tired of messing around with the position of crown prince? But that position comes with responsibilities. Whether you want them or not. Give me one good reason why you should just do as you please.”

”...”

It was the first time that s.h.i.+que had seen Gowen be so talkative while admonis.h.i.+ng someone.

From the time when he had been an overseer of slaves, he had never been a man to become deeply involved in other people's s lives. He would teach them swordsmans.h.i.+p, and he would teach preparedness and the tricks to pull through. However, he never showed anything like concern for other people's circ.u.mstances. It was a world were out of a hundred sword slaves that he trained, he could never know if even one of them would still be alive a year later. Learning about each and every one of them beyond what was needed for the job wasn't possible.

It had barely been about half a year since Orba had become the crown prince. During that time, the bewildering change of situation hadn't only affected him; which was to say that Orba hadn't been the only one to change.

That was why,

”That's right, Orba.” s.h.i.+que also tried to reason with Orba who was in such a state. ”Our situation aside, you promised Princess Vileena reinforcements for Garbera, didn't you? If you kill Oubary here, you definitely won't be able to keep that promise. Since general Oubary is currently staying in Apta, there is no risk that you'll lose your chance to act. If you want, as Imperial Guards, we can help you keep an eye on him. It will fit right in with performing our usual duties.”

Orba didn't say anything.

When the two of them left, utter silence filled the room. On the bed, Orba lay completely still.

Right after returning from Taúlia, Orba had spoken with the master blacksmith Sodan and learned of his brother's death. He had long realised that there was no possible way his brother could still be alive, but somehow he had still clung to hope – no, it couldn't even be called hope, more like illusions.

Even if he himself was living through days of h.e.l.l, as long as those he had been separated from, his brother, his mother, Alice and the others were alive somewhere, then maybe, before he knew it, there might suddenly come a day when they might meet again. However, when he formally heard the truth about his brother from Sodan, the fragile illusions that Orba had held within shattered. It wasn't just his brother: Alice, his mother, and everyone he had known before - all his illusions crumbled as he was made to realise from the bottom of his heart that none of them were anywhere in this world anymore.

He had wept. He had wept until his tears dried up, leaving way to burning emotions that raged from within him. He thought of slicing Oubary Bilan's neck. Or perhaps, when Oubary himself was within the fortress, Orba should face him with real intent to kill and without worrying about the consequences.

However, Oubary hadn't yet arrived at Apta. Orba's violent anguish was left with no target. Returning to his room, and without listening to Dinn's advice that he stop, he gulped down wine. One cup, two cups; as he got through them, Orba forgot his own limits. In truth, he didn't feel the least bit drunk. Yet when, after the sun had set, he heard that Oubary had arrived, he had found it difficult just to get up from his chair. After that, the events in the hall had occurred.

Tsk.

The alcohol he wasn't used to was starting to make him feel sick. He swallowed his own saliva several times and twisted his body left and right as he couldn't find a comfortable position. Under the weight of the acc.u.mulated fatigue from the battle at Apta to his visit to Taúlia, his body cried out for sleep.

”Brother...”

That word fell from rough, dry lips.

His brother had left to go beg for work as a merchant's a.s.sistant here in Apta, the fortress town nearest their village. Two or three times a month, he would take a holiday and return to his family. To Orba, for whom the sky and ground of the narrow gorge they lived in was everything, the stories he would listen to about life in the town were like something from a different world. Up until then, Orba hadn't known of the existence of ether-powered airs.h.i.+ps that flew through the sky, nor had he known of the existence of the circular arenas in which games were held where slaves competed against each other. Though apparently for those slaves, winning the right to live one more day was enough of a reward, Orba had insisted that ”If I became a slave, I'd earn money!”, which made his brother blink. In a village as rural as the one Orba lived in, there was also no opportunity to meet people from the slave cla.s.s.

Orba's outlook had been broadened by the tales of his brother Roan's travels and by the many books he brought home. His brother had also been the one to teach him how to read and write. Orba became engrossed in what was written in those books. Ill.u.s.trated stories for children; books about popular games; books which wrote of the time mankind had left the Old World; books that told of the ancient king Zodias and of his miraculous invention of magic; and, best of all, the many historical tales of heroes.

He would lose himself in reading, then be struck with despair since, after all, such tales would never happen to someone like him. But maybe, someday - if he could break away from that narrow village and step into the wide world - he held the faint hope that he too might live in that world of legends. He wanted to gaze upon the endless blue sea; he wanted to experience for himself the radiance of thickly piled snow in winter; to find out what kind of place the Golden Palace, said to be a nest of intrigue, really was.

Orba thought that his brother - who would open books one by one and also eagerly explain this and that to him - was like him. Since in town his brother had become familiar with the world that he himself didn't know, and since his brother was so much better than him at cleverly dealing with things, since he had always been ahead of him, Orba's young mind thought that his brother must have already set foot in the world that Orba only knew from books.

Within a murky sleep, Orba was dreaming.

In Orba's most vivid childhood memory of his brother, they were sitting side-by-side outside the barn. Above them, the stars were twinkling.

This is...

It was back in that time; just a few days before his brother had been drafted to Apta. Orba had been scolded by his mother after getting into a fight with Doug from the neighbouring village, and his brother had come to talk with him.

”n.o.body knows what kind of person they truly are.”

After he said that, his brother looked up at the sky that was bathed in the pale moonlight. For as long as he lived, Orba would never forget those words his brother had spoken then.