Volume 6 Chapter 5 (1/2)

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The time had finally come.

Resolve burst from Raswan's brow like sparks struck from a flint. His eyes were stretched open wide and as he marched roughly forward, his usual cold expression replaced by one so different that he seemed like another person.

It was in that state that Raswan, fully armed and with more than twenty soldiers following behind him, appeared before the castle gate. The soldiers too wore helmets and armour. Only one in that group was not carrying a weapon: a lone middle-aged man. His face was pale and he appeared to be considerably agitated.

”What is going on?”

It was no wonder that the soldiers standing guard looked astonished. Incidentally, the soldiers acting as guardsmen for Taúlia's castle - which could more aptly be called a manor - were subordinates of Toún Bazgan, Raswan's father.

Without stating his business, Raswan simply said, ”I'm going in. Move.”

”I will go and fetch Lord Toún. Please wait a moment,” sensing a somewhat dangerous atmosphere, one of the guards headed away from the gate. The gleam of his sword aimed at that soldier's back signalled the start of Raswan Bazgan's uprising.

Blood spurted and screams broke out from the a.s.sembled court servants. Raswan expressionlessly stepped over the guard's corpse. He and the soldiers entered the castle.

The guards there couldn't hide how shaken they were at facing Toún's son Raswan. Above all, the vigour with which he strode through the castle was no ordinary thing. He gave the impression that if you approached him he would cut you down. Perhaps because the soldiers were overwhelmed by this, Raswan proceeded unimpeded into the castle.

The guards in front of the ma.s.sive doors to the audience chamber however held their spears crossways and barred his path.

”Stand back.”

”Stand down!”

They shouted in unison but here again Raswan didn't waste his breath and resorted to force of arms. In the blink of an eye he cut down his fellow countrymen and soldiers, and wrenched open the imposing door to the throne room.

Within were Queen Jaina and Archduke Hirgo Tedos. They were in the middle of a meeting with the goodwill envoys had been sent from the various western countries. Having of course heard the commotion, they had all risen from their seats and had been on the verge of fleeing. Screams arose from the delegates at the sight of Raswan's drawn and b.l.o.o.d.y blade, and even Jaina gasped.

At that point, fifty or so soldiers led by Toún Bazgan belatedly drew up behind Raswan. They glared at his soldiers who were blockading the still open door. Both sides unsheathed their swords simultaneously but Toún was so shaken and confused upon learning of his son's actions that he was unable to give any orders.

”Raswan!” He called out loudly but Raswan neither answered his father nor even turned to look at him, merely fixing his gaze on the throne with eyes as piercing as a hawk's.

”Have you gone mad, Raswan?” Archduke Hirgo shouted. He was the adoptive father of Bouwen Tedos, the commander of the Fifth Army Corps, and had served since the time of Ax's father.

Raswan's mouth twisted into a sneer.

”Mad? No, I have come to claim my rights as a legitimate descendant of the Bazgan line. Since that throne appears to be empty, won't you give it to me?”

”What nonsense is this!” A tremor pa.s.sed through Jaina's cheeks. Her daughter Esmena greatly resembled her and she was usually a very gentle woman, but her expression now was markedly different from that usual. ”This throne belongs to the father of the country, my husband Ax Bazgan. You should know that well!”

”The Bazgan throne is the throne of Zer Tauran. Isn't that Ax's favourite phrase?”

”What has that got to do with your behaviour?” Hirgo shouted over Raswan's head to a point behind him. ”Toún, seize this lunatic. For all that he is your son, this is nothing less than rebellion against Taúlia!”

The soldiers on both sides were as tense as a drawn bowstring, keeping watch for any sign of movement. But,

”Now, now. Hang on,” Raswan, the person responsible for this mayhem, spoke with startling nonchalance. ”I've brought someone with me. Let's first of all hear what he has to say.”

As he spoke, Raswan drew towards him the middle-aged man who was the only unarmed member of his group. He was a craftsman from the town. His face had been drained of all colour from the sudden bloodshed. His breathing was ragged and he seemed about to collapse at any moment.

But the words spoken by that nondescript man threw the hall into turmoil.

”Ridiculous,” Hirgo groaned but even his face had gone pale.

According to the man, roughly half a year earlier one of Governor-General Ax Bazgan's subordinates had come to see him and had requested that he make a war fan. Moreover, he had asked that it be made to look the same as the one which usually hung from Ax's waist. He had described the design of the handle in particularly minute detail. The handle of Ax's favourite war fan encased the sovereign's seal of the Magic Dynasty.

”You all remember it, don't you?” As though to thoroughly observe the unrest caused by the man's testimony, Raswan slowly swept his gaze around his surroundings. ”Governor-General Ax Bazgan was captured at Apta during the campaign against Mephius. After that, Taúlia and Mephius suddenly made peace. Do you remember what was said at the time when the war fan disappeared for a while from his waist?”

”You, what are you trying to say?” Jaina asked, her face ashen. Raswan chuckled softly.

”Are further words necessary? Governor-General Ax had the fan, and thus the sovereign's seal of the Magic Dynasty, stolen from him by Gil Mephius. It was then used to threaten him into binding us in alliance with Mephius. As a member of the Bazgan House, no as a Zerdian, to have lost the sovereign's seal is a dishonour. Yet Ax went further and in order to deceive those around him, he had this man make a subst.i.tute fan.”

The hall erupted into a furore. As Toún's men looked at each other, Raswan alone listened coldly to his own words. The middle-aged man he had brought along was certainly a craftsman but he had in reality received no request from Ax to make a war fan. As Ax certainly understood that this was a situation which could influence the entire country, Raswan had not immediately been able to uncover any evidence. Ax had probably commissioned it abroad where he could conceal his ident.i.ty. Or perhaps he had sealed the mouth of the craftsman who made the fan by having him killed in secret?

If he had a little more time, he would have investigated in more detail but he was in a hurry to press on. He had reluctantly and at great cost hired this man who was well-known within Taúlia. Naturally, since he would become a hindrance in the future, Raswan intended to kill him quickly and pretend that he had gotten caught up in the drama of the rebellion.

However that may be, the hall was pulsing with agitation. Raswan took the opportunity to raise his voice.

”That d.a.m.n Ax no longer has the right to be the head of the Bazgan House. Don't you agree? I will take back the war fan with my own hands. Don't we need a new ruler who will push anew for the revival of Zer Tauran?”

”D-Don't be absurd,” sensing that the mood within the hall was turning, Hirgo also spoke in a deliberately loud voice as he inched his way towards Raswan. ”Enough of your speculations. We should verify all this when his lords.h.i.+p returns. Since you deliberately chose a time when he was away, your schemes are as clear as day. Pull back here, Raswan. No matter what the circ.u.mstances, your actions are inexcusable.”

”You still don't get it? If his lords.h.i.+p returns, then what? Do you think that Ax, who has had the sovereign's seal s.n.a.t.c.hed away from him and who has lost the right to be governor-general, will be able to overcome Garda? Now that the threat is closing in on the whole of the west, Taúlia needs a new leader.”

”I told you to pull back. Stand down now before it is too late.”

Even at the best of times, Raswan was an irascible man. When things didn't go the way he wanted, creases would wrinkle his brow. He was filled with ample resolve and his nerves were stretched to breaking point for this grand, once-in-a-lifetime performance.

As the distance was short, Hirgo was unable to see it coming. At that moment, Raswan's right arm swept upwards and brandished his sword, still dripping with blood, over his shoulder.

”Archduke!”

Jaina's cry was too late. In one strike, Raswan's blade tore through Archduke Hirgo Tedos from his right shoulder to his chest. Hirgo staggered, a b.l.o.o.d.y froth dribbled from his mouth then he collapsed backwards. For a moment, there was complete silence.

”S-Seize him!”

Now that it had come to this point, even Toún was forced to make a decision. He waved his right hand and gave his men the order to attack.

A bunch of spears gleamed within the hall. But the spearheads pointed towards Raswan amounted to no more than twenty. Of the remainder, twenty were turned against their comrades and ten were pointed at Toún himself who had just given that order. He had been about to draw his sword and personally charge forward but was stopped in his tracks.

”You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds,” he muttered in blank surprise as he stared at his subordinates' faces. He didn't know of course. That his men who were supposed to come rus.h.i.+ng in reinforcement were all being held back in front of the castle gate. More than fifty of the soldiers who followed Raswan were there with their weapons at the ready.

”These are Lord Toún's orders,” they announced and allowed n.o.body to pa.s.s inside. To make matters worse, the one who was leading them was the vice-commander and Toún's right-hand man. No one except Toún Bazgan had the authority to countermand his orders, and Toún was inside the castle. Thus the soldiers who came running from elsewhere were disposed of.

Raswan didn't spare a single glance for his father who was faced with those spears. He looked down at Hirgo's remains at his feet and, his eyes dark, he muttered:

”I'll declare war on Mephius and definitely take back the sovereign's seal with my own hands. And then, Zer Tauran will be restored.”

At that moment, Ax's daughter Esmena Bazgan had only just returned to her chambers. She had come back from paying a get-well visit to Bouwen who had been moved to a room inside the palace.

Esmena was relieved that her childhood friend's health seemed to be improving steadily. It was just that having lost so many of his men, he couldn't help but feel depressed.

”I wonder if there is some way of cheering Bouwen up.”

”You should go and visit him every day, Princess. Lord Bouwen will feel better from that alone.”

”Is that right?”

”That it is.”

”You are all smiling very strangely.”

In fact, the ladies' maid found it heart-warming and lovely how Esmena was busying herself over Bouwen. As for being in low spirits recently, it was the same for Esmena. While worrying about her childhood friend's health, the princess' body and mind were gradually recovering and that made the ladies' maids happier than anything.

The sunlight was warm; it was just another peaceful day.

Moments later, the atmosphere inside the palace changed completely.

The soldiers guarding the inner quarters thought that they could hear violent footsteps running.

”It seems like there is some kind of disturbance inside the castle. Princess, please don't set a foot outside of here.” Having said that, they ran off with the same energy that they had arrived with.

Esmena's heart started pounding.

After that, the ladies' maids went out in turn and brought back the information they had received from the guards. When Esmena heard that soldiers led by Raswan Bazgan were attempting to seize control in the audience chamber, she felt as though reality was cras.h.i.+ng down. She did not have a particularly good impression of Raswan but she would naturally never have imagined that he would plot a rebellion.

It went on. News flew that even Archduke Hirgo Tedos had been cut down. It also seemed that the castle gates were being blockaded and that the other soldiers would not be able to rush in to help. Which meant that the castle's military strength amounted to the thirty men who were guarding the inner quarters. They had held a discussion behind the locked doors and had apparently agreed that when the time came, they would go and cross swords with the soldiers who were holding the gates.

The ladies' maids were also thrown into a furore. At the head maid's instructions, they were piling up sofas and desks in front of the door to build a temporary barricade.

Lord Gil. Amidst the flurry of her surroundings, Esmena felt like she wanted to collapse on her bed. Now when her father was away on the battlefield, the only one she could rely on was but a memory.

”Lord Bouwen has left his room,” the lady's maid who had volunteered to act as liaison with the outside informed them through a gap at the door. ”The overseer for the pageboys wanted to stop him but he was carrying a sword and glaring so fiercely it sent him running.”

A sound caught in Esmena's throat. Archduke Hirgo Tedos was Bouwen's adoptive father. He must want revenge. Even though he was recovering, he had been badly injured in battle. Could Bouwen really stand up to Raswan alone?

Ah, as Esmena rubbed her shoulders, she felt as though everything she knew was crumbling away. Her father wasn't here, Archduke Hirgo had been slain, even Bouwen was hurrying towards the jaws of death. Even though the sun had risen on what should have been a normal day like all the others. Thinking about how the world had changed completely in so short a time caused her to feel almost dizzy and Esmena unsteadily sat down on her bed.

Unconsciously she reached for a packet that was leaning beside the bed and hugged it close. Simply from that, she felt as though it were transmitting warmth to her.

This is the proof of Mephius' alliance with Taúlia.

She would never be able to forget that voice with which the parcel was handed over.

Originally, it had been a gift from Gil Mephius to her father, Ax Bazgan. However, having brought it back, Esmena did not immediately hand it over to her father nor did she check its no doubt valuable contents, but instead hung on to it for a while. That was unusual for the docile Esmena. She had wanted to bask in the lingering scent of her one encounter with Prince Gil at Apta and for that she was prepared to afterwards face her father's wrath.

A few days later, she had finally been about to deliver it to him when news of Prince Gil's death had struck her ears like the toll of a bell announcing the end of the world. Gil's death and these events happening now all seemed like a bad dream.

A nightmare. Yes, a nightmare. I have been tormented for so long by a nightmare.

From the depths of darkness, the sorcerer who claimed to be Garda was calling Esmena's name. From the other side of those piled up shadows, hands stretched out to grab her hair and shoulders. Esmena felt that these current events were all a continuation of the nightmare that had once afflicted her.

Lord Gil, please come quickly. Dispel the demons that have taken hold of Taúlia. Dispel my bad dreams. Please.

As Esmena shut her eyes and held the parcel tight, taking refuge in the warmth of her memories, an eerie laugh crossed her mind.

Startled, her eyes flew wide open. For a moment, it had sounded like Garda's loud laughter which has terrified her so many times in her nightmares.

Isn't this supposed to be funny? That Prince Gil is alive?

But it was a laugh that had been uttered by the Mephian gladiator that she had invited to her chambers previously.

Gil is dead.

Begging your pardon, but what does the princess know about the crown prince? That kind of man should just be forgotten.

Esmena's shoulders trembled. Now, the words of that insolent gladiator sounded to her like a rebuke from Gil himself.

She certainly knew nothing about Prince Gil. She didn't have the right to cry and indulge in sentiment. But… But even so, she felt like she understood. Crown Prince Gil Mephius would certainly scold her if he could see her now.

How would she appear to him, this woman who was crying and frightened, who could only beg for help when the country was in danger?

Esmena Bazgan's steel-grey eyes were clouded with tears, but determination flickered within them. And when she once more picked up the parcel, she understood its meaning for the first time.

Blood spurted from the nape of his neck and Orba was on the verge of breaking his stance and falling backwards. The enemy continued to leap towards him..

His sword didn't connect. It had only been a light thrust to keep it at bay but even so it should have struck the demon's head, yet it pa.s.sed right through.

”Guh!”

As he continued to retreat, Orba's entire body went cold. When it came to battle, no matter what the situation was, his blood would be boiling, yet now it ran as cold as if it were freezing. The feel of the sword that he grasped in his hand. The weight of the steel that was transmitted to his arm. As a swordsman who had faith in his ability to tear down any kind of obstacle, it was impossible not to fall into despair when his sword utterly failed to prevail, and despair in the middle of battle led only to death.

Sorcery.

It was something that should no longer exist in the human world, something that perhaps transcended the human world. Orba's movements had unwittingly lost their vitality. He was unable to do anything but simply continue to retreat until his back hit the wall of a house.

”Don't mess with me!”

In that instant, Orba's instinct for survival turned his fear into an anger whose embers' burned bright. But his blood still ran cold. It was no more than the desperate counterattack of a heavily wounded beast.

The black demon flapped its wings and dived diagonally down, barring its claws downwards. Orba stepped forward to intercept it and was about to swing his sword in a side sweep.

At almost exactly the same moment, the dragon spewed thunder again and as the colour of flames burst into sight to his right, Orba closed his eyes out of reflex.

d.a.m.n it!

Let alone his blood, it felt for a second as though every one of his bodily fluids had frozen solid.

He halted his sideways swing and was going to pull the sword towards his chest for a single blow from beneath but for some reason his body wouldn't move that way. His sword moved by an instinct that overcame reason and came into position in front of his face. And that sword parried a blow that came from directly opposite him.

”What!”

Staring wide-eyed, Orba noticed the figure of a demon swooping down from the side. But his awakened instinct told him to prepare for an attack from a different direction than the sight that was reflected in his eyes. Orba switched his body-weight to his heels, bent his knees and jumped two, three steps to the side.

He's…

The real attack differed from that which was visible. Above all, the wind that now struck him from the front was one that carried a stench that Orba's nose was familiar with - it was a wind created by a steel sword. To close his eyes for an instant and be able to grasp that correctly was thanks to his experience as a gladiator who had survived for six[1] years.

In that case - As he faced the demon that was leaping towards him, Orba pretended to stagger and lowered the tip of his sword. If the enemy was human, then it would attack the weak point that had been exposed. If his reading was off, it meant Orba's death.

The demon swooped down from the side - that was what was visible but an unhurried bloodl.u.s.t was blowing from right in front of Orba. It was something which had also radiated from the bodies and swords of the gladiators that Orba had fought one-on-one and was a sensation particular to a sword.

Orba dropped the tip of his blade downwards and put all his energy into bending his knees and sinking towards the surface of the ground. Above his head, a raging tempest swept down. A t the same time, Orba's sword leapt like lightning from the ground and plunged into something.

The demon should have been on the verge of leaping at him from the right. But at that moment, the demon's figure vanished from sight and in its place appeared the black shadow of a person. Clad in black from head to toe was a swordsman with human limbs. The sword that Orba had thrust out was plunged deeply into its abdomen. Orba put all his strength into pulling it out.

”Guh!”

The swordsman gasped and fell forward. He was clearly dying. A cloth hung from his helmet so that his face couldn't be seen, but there was no doubt that viscous, clotted blood was flowing from his abdomen and from the area around his mouth.

Breathing raggedly, Orba gazed at the blade that was smeared in blood and human fat then once more examined his surroundings. Black-winged demons were chasing after the figures of the people and soldiers who were running, trying to escape. It was a strange scene. But was that entire pack of demons black-clad swordsmen like the one he had just struck down?

Is that the real nature of sorcery?

Did it dazzle people's eyes or trick their minds? Either way, it seemed certain that creatures such as these demons did not really exist. It looked like the aim was to plunge the soldiers who had entered Kadyne into chaos by having these soldiers who were cloaked in illusions commit repeated slaughter.

Orba considered exposing them one-by-one thanks to the sense that he had started to develop in the fight just now, but the number of enemies was unknown. If they realised that he had noticed their true shape, they would swarm around him alone.

That being the case - he couldn't go around breezily doing the right thing by saving the people and friendly soldiers who were about to get killed. In the current situation where only Orba had seen through the enemy, Kadyne seemed headed towards annihilation.

A man entered his field of vision, screaming and helpless to do anything as a demon's claws attacked him. At a distance he might be able to cross in time if he ran, a woman was lying in the street, s.h.i.+elding a child.

Orba closed his eyes.

But after that one brief instant, he resolutely opened his eyes wide and burned into his retinas the moment in which that man and that mother, whose names he didn't even know, lost their lives. Teeth tightly clenched, Orba turned back to the building he had come out from a little earlier. He intended to get Stan and leave the place at once. He needed to check whether s.h.i.+que and the others had already entered Kadyne, then, if possible, he could give them his orders and they might be able to overturn the situation.

Stan had already raised himself on the bed.

”Orba.”

He raised his eyes feebly. Orba was about to tell him not to move but, ”Outside, there's an incredible amount of ether swirling about. Even just from here, my head feels like it's about to split.”

”Ether? You can sense it?”

”Like this, it's the first time. This isn't normal. ……But, Orba,” even though Stan's eyelids were trembling, his eyes were filled with strong purpose as he stared at Orba. ”No matter how huge it is, there is only one will controlling it. Take me with you. I might be able to tell where the enemy is.”

Orba's thoughts spun quickly. He didn't really understand half of what Stan was saying. But however much sorcery lay outside the boundaries of common sense, even though it seemed like something out of a nightmare, if it was something that was handled through human skill,

I can stop this ma.s.sacre.

If it could lead to that simple conclusion, he would consider any number of ways to fight.

If it came to it, he was a man who made decisions quickly. By nature, Orba believed that speed was of the essence in a fight.

”Right,” Orba decided promptly. At any rate, they needed to hurry; while things stayed as they were, the damage would increase.

Since Stan himself had decided to go, there was no point worrying about his health. Orba led him outside but then clicked his tongue. The horses were gone. They should have been tethered to a wooden post by the gate, but they had been frightened by the explosions and, violently tearing off the rope, had bolted.

Orba and Stan resolutely decided to run through the streets. While waiting for Stan, who tended to fall behind, Orba peered around the corner of the alleyways to check that there weren't any demons - or rather, enemy swordsmen.

Engulfed in flames, screams still swept through Kadyne. The roads were filled with corpses that could no longer speak. Soldiers, women and children. Had it have been the work of demons, one could only tremble at the sight of such a scene. But now Orba knew. This wasn't the doing of unfathomable monsters but was the result of living humans swinging their swords.

Hoh.

Looking up at the sky, his eyes widened slightly. The black dragon was flying in the air. But looking at it once more after having concluded that it couldn't exist, he guessed that it must be some kind of air carrier. No doubt something that belonged to Garda. It would have been concealed in the outskirts of the town and once the sorcery was put into effect, it carried out an aerial bombing.

To burn to the ground from the sky a territory that should be under one's own control. It was the same thing that Orba had done in Apta.

Stan showed the way as they went. It was unclear how he was sensing ether, but as they advanced further and further, his simple and unaffected face clearly revealed the pain he was in.

”They're being sucked up,” now and then, he would groan as though in the grip of a feverish nightmare. ”The ether and the hearts of the dead are being sucked up.”

Evading the enemy's sight, grieving bitterly as they abandoned the hunted populace, the destination they eventually arrived at was the temple of the Dragon G.o.ds faith that was near the castle buildings. I see, thought Orba as he ran. It was a fitting place for the enemy leader to be.

”Wait,” unsurprisingly, Stan's utterly exhausted frame sank down beside the staircase leading to the temple.

Orba firmly grasped the hilt of his sword and rushed in. He expected that there might be a large number of Garda's troops, but instead, the inside was deserted and there was no sign of life. As he went further in, the staircase sloped downwards and across from it a hall lined with columns came into view.

A single man was inside. The hooded figure wore long robes and in his hand he brandished a staff. Encrusted within it was a jewel sparkling with the seven colours of the rainbow which was emitting some kind of wave. Although it was invisible to the eye, and although he couldn't sense it as well as Stan could, that was undoubtedly ether.

Killing his presence and stifling his breathing, Orba slowly and quietly stepped out from the shadow of the columns.

Suddenly, without warning, the man turned around. Orba was prepared for that too and ran down the hall with his sword in one hand.