Volume 8 Chapter 2 (1/2)

Zerdian merchants carrying goods were taking a rest along a mountain road; when suddenly there was a rumbling tremor, like an earthquake, and they stood up.

A cloud of dust flew up along the highway that they would be travelling along later. Slipping in and out of view from within it was a group of horses and dragons along with the warriors who were riding them.

At the same time this scene could be observed over and over again throughout the west. Nomads, taking a short break from herding their sheep, and city-dwelling Zerdians, ploughing their fields near the outer walls, could see the whirling clouds of dust and hear the echo of horses' hooves along with the violent footsteps of dragons coming from across the plains or from hills overlooking them.

If it had been before they would probably have thought, half-resigned - Ah... another city somewhere is starting a war.

But it was different now. They halted their hands that were working and their feet that were travelling, raised their arms overhead and stamped their feet, unanimously praising the valour of Zerdian soldiers.

In Kadyne, there were two brave generals known as the Twin Dragons.

The older brother Moldorf, the Red Dragon, and the younger brother Nilgif, the Blue Dragon. When they raised their spear on horseback, it was said that there was no warrior in all the western lands who did not tremble.

It was past midnight when the notification reached them.

They were sitting on their knees facing each other, in the middle of a drinking contest.

Kadyne had suffered under Garda's control for a long time, and had furthermore been bombed, so even among the western lands the damage it had received was considerable. During the day, even bold generals took part in the city's reconstruction. With sweat on their brows, they carried away debris from the town area and helped with the building work. Moreover, a great many people had been injured during the bombing raid and, as there were not enough doctors to treat them, Moreover, a great many people had been injured during the bombing raid and, as there were not enough doctors to treat them, Nilgif and others rode their prized horses and travelled to and from Eimen, carrying more doctors.

As they were so busy during the day, the brothers drank the k.u.mis they both enjoyed together at night. Although both of them were willing to endure a frugal lifestyle for the sake of their country's reconstruction, when it came to alcohol, it was impossible for them to resign themselves to thrift and honest poverty.

Kadyne's princess, Lima Khadein, understood that well.

”Consider that all the alcohol remaining in the town brewery is for the Twin Dragons,” she had told the va.s.sals.

The two had become ”serious”. Both of them had bet something in this drinking contest. Moldorf had wagered his cherished collection of crafted artworks; Nilgif had bet a fine horse he had inherited from their father. Since things had come to that, they were not going to stop. Even the warriors who would typically keep them company during banquets, when they heard that those two were ”serious”...

”There's still tomorrow to think about.”

”Oh? My old woman's calling from across the way.”

Mumbling similar excuses, they dejectedly ran off.

When Moldorf and Nilgif became ”serious”, it wouldn't be over until the next morning. It wasn't only about the time, there was nothing half-baked about their pace either. Even a hard drinker would collapse within an hour if they tried to keep up with those two.

With an intense light in their eyes, both were resolutely and continuously gulping down wine, when an urgent summons arrived from Lima.

Apart from Lima Khadein, the entire royal family had been executed by Garda's army. The eighteen-year-old girl who had been left behind was their current master and the sole heir to the throne.

There was no going against orders. Moldorf promptly stood up while Nilgif followed, heavily dragging his body that looked like a wine barrel. No matter how strong he was, this was right after downing no ordinary amount of liquor, and he seemed to be having trouble walking.

”Can't it wait until tomorrow?”

”How unseemly, Nilgif. This is proof that your current training is lacking. Do you realise that your liege has personally summoned you and...”

As he was scolding his younger brother, Moldorf staggered, grabbed a nearby pillar so as not to keel over, and ended up spinning around it once. Nilgif laughed with far too much relish and blood rushed to Moldorf's head.

A few dozen minutes later.

”Oh my,” said Lima Khadein before the Twin Dragons, who had come running.

Their faces were swollen all over.

”There is someone in Kadyne able to injure the Twin Dragons?”

”A thief broke in. A very formidable thief.” Nilgif said. ”It was probably a survivor from Garda's army that broke in. Right, Brother?”

”U-Uh huh,” Moldorf nodded vigorously. But -

”The only ones who could injure the Twin Dragons are those self-same Twin Dragons. Moldorf, you are already at an age when you might be holding a grandchild. I won't tell you not to drink but please show some self-restraint.” Lima said firmly. She had always had keen discernment. In front of the eighteen-year-old girl, the two of them couldn't help but shrink their huge frames into themselves.

”A messenger just came from Taúlia,” when Lima cut to the main issue, the two quickly came back to themselves.

As the princess, who was clad in the scarlet garments that symbolised Kadyne's royal family, was in the middle of explaining what the messenger had said, the two opened their eyes wide.

”W-What!”

”An invasion by Mephius!”

As everyone knew, Taúlia and Mephius should be bound in a peace agreement. Thanks to that, Governor-General Ax had been able to personally go and confront Garda's army in all-out war without needing to worry about Taúlia.

And yet, the border had breezily been crossed. Needless to say, it could only lead to an armed conflict.

”Just when we thought it was over with Garda, next it's Mephius?”

”They don't lose to Garda in viciousness. It looks like it's time for our spears to come out, Brother.”

They had suddenly returned to lucidity, after liquor had made them lose their grip on self-control, because of the presence of their lord, Lima; along with the harsh wind that blew from the battlefield. Their faces indicated that the two of them had completely sobered up from their drunkenness. Looking at the Twin Dragons in turn, Lima said -

”Having talked with the staff officers, we will despatch a combined force of five hundred of Kadyne's cavalry and dragoons. That is most of the military strength that we have left. If Taúlia were to fall, the west would gradually start to collapse. Red Dragon. Blue Dragon. You will leave at once at the head of the troops.”

”Aye,” both bowed their heads.

As they were about to head off and immediately make preparations, Lima quietly called out to the older brother -

”Moldorf.”

”Aye.”

”The one who defeated Garda will be in Taúlia.”

”Indeed, the boy... no, the warrior who called himself Orba.”

”That person is Mephian.”

”Aye.”

”It may be difficult in a number of ways. This time, it is our turn to help him.”

”I understand,” Moldorf bowed his head once more then took his leave of Lima.

As he went down the corridor at a quick pace, calling in a loud voice for his men to gather, his mind was already mostly on the battlefield.

So, war again? Moldorf pondered casually as he wrapped armour over his lion-like physique, sheathed a sword in a well-worn leather scabbard, chose two or three of his favourite spears, and attached them to his saddle.

On one hand, hot blood was seething and pulsing from within the muscles and sinews that had grown thick over the years, while on the other a part of him was worried.

It would be good if it could be over quickly. With Taúlia as it is now, how long would they be able to maintain a war?

Yet, hidden behind his beard, his mouth curved into a smile.

”Right. That boy will be an ally this time.” Moldorf muttered as he patted his favourite horse on the back of its neck. ”As an enemy, he was one aggravating b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but there's no one who would make a more rea.s.suring ally... Is what I'd like to say. But... not knowing what he's thinking might make him even eerier as an ally.”

Elsewhere, far to the east of Kadyne and across Lake Soma, lay the city of Helio.

At the time of Garda's invasion, it was a state in which rebellions and uprising followed one after another and the ruler's name changed frequently. If the chaos dragged on, the people's anguish would naturally grow deep. It would not have been surprising if fresh conflicts had broken out, not only among the military and the n.o.bles, but even the among common people or with other countries of the western lands; but instead the population's national unity had strengthened and turned towards the hope of having the legitimate royal line, comprised of Hardross and his grandson Rogier Helio, wrest control back from the usurpers.

If Kadyne's heroes were the Red and Blue Dragons, Helio's hero was Lasvius.

As the commander of the dragoons, he was a man whose name had been known far and wide, even before Garda's war. Led by him, Helio's soldiers were the ones who had fired the first shot against Garda, who was on the verge of claiming absolute supremacy over the west. Because of that, the people of Helio bragged loudly that they themselves had pushed Garda back and the commander of the dragoons' fame grew even greater.

Lasvius, who had remained in Eimen for a long time after the war against Garda, had just returned to Helio.

Naturally, he had received a grand welcome from his men, his friends, and also the people of Helio.

Rogier Helio was, of course, also happy about Lasvius' return. Being the orphan of the late king, Elargon, he was first in line to inherit the throne. At eighteen, Princess Lima of Khadein was also young but he was still a child of nine years.

At present, Hardross, who had once abdicated the throne, was spurring on his old bones and was representing him. He had declared that he would soon chose a regent.

It had not been long since Lasvius had returned when Hardross hastily summoned him.

”Is it about Mephius?”

Lasvius' slender face looked strained. Hardross nodded.

”At present, Tauran cannot afford to be wrapped once more in the threat of war. Taúlia must set up a strong line of defence at all cost. We have finished making preparations for a force of approximately six hundred. You will lead them.”

”Aye aye”

He was a man who could not be said to be lacking in composure amidst the clash of swords and the hails of bullets. That tendency had become even more marked since the time in which he had lain concealed in the Belgana Summits. Nor had he merely waged war as the leader of a single unit: during the campaign against Garda, he had frequently represented Helio at meetings with Taúlia's Governor-General Ax and Cherik's King Yamka II.

Those experiences had become excellent food for growth.

A ceremony for going into battle was held later. At Hardross' arrangement, the nine-year-old Rogier Helio was chosen to direct it. In front of a crowd of armed men, Rogier was certainly unable to hide his nervousness, but by nature he was not timid. He soon settled into the role and gave everyone his encouragements.

He is talented. Lasvius smiled.

As soon as the ceremony was over, Rogier came trotting up to him. As Lasvius respectfully bowed his head to him, he asked —

”You still haven't grown a beard?”

For a moment, Lasvius opened his eyes wide in surprise before answering, ”I am still inexperienced. My penitence is not yet over.”

Lasvius was bothered by his own slender face and had grown a beard in order to preserve his dignity as a commander but, out of regret at not having been able to save Helio from the fires of civil war, he shaved his beard each morning as a remonstrance to himself.

”Is that it?” Rogier grinned. ”The retainers are saying that Lasvius must have found a woman he likes and that he doesn't let his beard grow because that woman praised him by saying that: 'The commander is dreamier now'.”

”Who has been saying that?”

An unpleasant colour crept up into Lasvius face. It was a characteristic of his that he could not stand being an object of mockery. Rogier laughed all the more.

”That's also like the retainers say. That you can't take a joke, Lasvius.”

Lasvius lowered his eyes as he almost inadvertently laughed back. Rogier suddenly brought his face close to Helio's greatest general.

”That man... he is in Taúlia now, isn't he?” He asked.

Understanding the nuance behind ”that man” as spoken by the young royal, Lasvius nodded. ”Probably.”

”I was surprised when I heard that he had killed Garda. But I thought that since it's that man, then it's possible.”

”I too reacted in that way.”

”Please tell him that when everything is over, he should definitely come and have fun in Helio.”

”Without fail.”

This time, a smile formed on Lasvius' thin lips.

Among the warhorses that were starting off from the various western cities, Ax Bazgan naturally led his own troops of a thousand that had been stationed in Eimen and drove them forward to the highway.

”d.a.m.n Mephius!”

When Ax had received the news, he had taken his sharpened sword and cleaved the engraved spear, that decorated the wall of his room, clean in two. He had completely forgotten that this wasn't his office in Taúlia, but rather a room that he had been allocated in a foreign country.

Currently, Ax was not only the governor-general of Taúlia but also held the t.i.tle of leader of the Western Alliance.

Galloping forward without a thought, leaving it to his allies to follow, severely reprimanding those who were slow - he could no longer behave as he usually did. He had told the lords and military men from the various countries gathered in Eimen about Mephius' invasion and they had then and there promised reinforcements.

Consequently, he had left Eimen in the middle of the night of the day after he had received the news.

A few days later, as they were resting along the side if the road near a relay-station town on their descent of the Coldrin Hills, a messenger arrived from his home country of Taúlia.

Ax received the letter in his armour. The sun had already set but, after their break, he was up for starting off anew.

The defence corps led by General Bouwen Tedos had successfully repelled the first wave of Mephian troops who had marched over the border.

Ho, that man... He gets things done.

He was the adopted son of Archduke Hirgo Tedos, who had lost his life during the drama of the rebellion. Hirgo, who had served since the time of Ax's father, was such a large presence that receiving notice of his death had not seemed real to him, but now it appeared that Bouwen had grown into a figure no less trustworthy than his adoptive father.

Ax smiled at the report of victory but the problem lay with the latter half of the letter.

My lord, I would ask you to cross the River Kurán and head towards the lands of the nomadic tribes north of Helio, it said.

It also added that while Ax was the lord of Taúlia and had power of command over the allied western forces, it was fine if he entered the city at the end.

I wish to know a little more about Mephius' position. My lord, if you come rus.h.i.+ng, the fighting spirit will certainly soar to its highest and aim for a repeat of the glory that the western forces felt with the defeat of the evil sorcerer. However, a.s.suming a situation in which that could not be curbed, and if Mephius concentrates its military strength in Apta, it might lead to a prolonged stand-off. In its present condition, Taúlia cannot afford to maintain soldiers from foreign countries for such long time.

”What?” Ax involuntarily roared out loud.

The letter continued on to say that it wanted him to issue an appeal to the nomadic tribes which were dotted around to the north of Helio.

None of the tribes which joined the punitive force against Garda are among them, but messengers will be sent to all of them in advance. If Lord Ax Bazgan goes to them in person, they should all a.s.semble in one place. While you are organising their forces, please stay a while in Helio or wherever.

”That old geezer!”

Ax reflexively hurled abuse and tossed away the letter. If you thought about what was being said in that courteous phrasing it was, in short —

Since you might become a nuisance, go rally our allies' spirits and dampen those of the enemy from a safe distance. Also, since I've made preparations, go and increase our allies while you're at it.

Mephius had taken an aggressive stance but it appeared that not even Ravan could tell whether this would be over with the first confrontation or whether it would be another drawn-out war. He was afraid that if, at this time, Ax were recklessly set up to lead all the armies of the west - exactly as when they opposed Garda - he might not be able to return.

Ax was praised as the greatest hero in the west and almost no time had pa.s.sed since he had defeated Garda. In other words, excessive expectations were placed on him. It could thus also be considered that if, right after waving his war fan as supreme commander, Ax did not achieve above a certain level of military success, faith in him would plummet in one go.

Therefore, Ravan thought to keep Ax away from Taúlia for now. By moving the army east from Helio, it was possible to cross the border and enter Mephian territory from a point other than Apta. Of course, although they would not be able to avoid fighting with the border fortresses along there, not even Ravan thought things would come to that.

What was important was that Ax, the leader of the western alliance, should set up camp in a position from which he had the possibility to strike at the enemy country.

In addition, Mephius would surely realise that since the lord of Taúlia would have placed troops in Helio, the opponent in the war would not only be Taúlia but all the western lands.

”Hmph, that d.a.m.n Ravan. It looks like his health is absolutely fine.”

Ax had his personal slave burn the letter, then he modified the schedule of the march, and headed towards Helio after lodging at their current location.

There, he sent half of his force to Taúlia and, leading the remaining half, changed course towards the north. Since, among the troops who had travelled from Eimen with Ax, there was a unit composed of nomads from the same region, he followed their lead.

As it was the army of Ax, the leader of the alliance, in all the villages and towns that they went through there were many mercenaries and youths who pet.i.tioned them, saying: ”I want to join your troops”. Nor was it limited to them; because the military company was ”profitable”, a crowd of prost.i.tutes and peddlers travelled along with it. They didn't only sell food and alcohol, there many shrewd salesmen who also widely sold armour and weapons collected from battlefields, as well as horses.

Among them, there was one merchant who was something of an oddity. In appearance, he was a small middle-aged man wrapped in a turban that had bird feathers stuck into it and the tip of his shoes were curled in. One might take him for some sort of entertainer but he lead three small dragons.

They looked a lot like Tengo, which Mephians and people in the west might use instead of horses, but they were a little shorter, exchanging height for more st.u.r.dy legs. On their heads grew what looked like a dark crest. Their nature was meeker than other dragons and two ran obediently on either side of the one that the merchant was straddling.

When they stopped for short breaks, or when they stayed overnight at a village, the merchant would stretch out on top of his saddle and the sound of snoring would rise up. He was popular with the prost.i.tutes and the children who accompanied them because, when he felt like it, he would perform tricks that were like magic still sprawled out on top of the dragons.

One of Ax's soldiers, his curiosity aroused, asked him ”Those are unusual dragons. You going to foist their sale on Lord Ax?”

”No,” the merchant gently brushed a cheek whose complexion was oddly l.u.s.trous, ”I was wondering if I could be hired as a clown.” He said with a carefree smile.

Contact with Ax was of course refused. Still, in the end, he persistently travelled with them north of Helio, to the village nearest where the nomads had pitched their tents to prepare for their meeting with Ax. Perhaps because the tribal leaders were eager to be the first to greet Ax, a great number of tents had already been set up nearby and the village was buzzing with activity.

Watching this from the highest point in the village was the merchant. ”It stinks, it really stinks,” he muttered as he crinkled his nose. ”An evil stench. This won't be settled easily... but it can't just be overlooked.”

In the barracks of the Fifth Army Corps, the mercenaries were in the middle of lunch. Because of their contribution to the victory, they were treated to more luxurious items than usual.

Even though it was only noon, alcohol was flowing. Actually, neither the quant.i.ty nor the quality was remotely sufficient.

Talcott was singing a sailor song that he had remembered from the time when he was in the navy off of the coastal countries. Everyone in the unit figured that when Talcott said ”navy,” ten to one he actually meant pirate. Vulgar metaphors were hidden throughout the comedic limerick and the feast was especially lively.

Amidst this, for once, Gilliam was not going along with Talcott's jokes; instead he was pecking at his food, sitting alone at the table with his chin resting on his hand. In his mouth, he had a meat bone which had been chewed clean.

Everyone was being considerate of Gilliam's feelings and didn't force him to join in the liveliness. The enemy they had fought against was Mephius. Since Gilliam was, of course Mephian, his state of mind was probably complicated; besides, being a long-time acquaintance of Captain Orba's, he certainly must be anxious about him - was what everyone thought.

He was thinking about Orba - in that sense, their guess had hit the mark. But he wasn't simply worrying about his well-being. The other mercenaries would never have imagined what Gilliam was thinking about at that time.

Maybe what s.h.i.+que said wasn't a lie.

He had known Orba since their time in Tarkas' gladiator group but their relations.h.i.+p had not been one in which they shared friendly conversations. They had traded insults and had often almost gotten into fights. It was just that from time to time, he got the impression that — That guy's got quick wits. However, as they were nothing more than mere gladiators, only physical strength mattered; and in that sense, Orba was simply someone that he needed to be wary of if they had been forced to fight each other.

So when, meeting them after a long time, he had heard from s.h.i.+que that — Orba had held authority as the Imperial Crown Prince of Mephius — he had taken it as an empty joke. How could that taciturn man, who was only skilled in the art of the sword, have acted as the body-double for the country's crown prince? Even in a rundown theatre, if he had been given the role of the ”prince,” he would definitely have incurred the audience's displeasure for being miscast.

But —

As they fought together as mercenaries here in the Tauran region, that impression gradually changed.

It wasn't that he was just quick-witted. Unlike Gilliam, whose only worth lay in charging onto the battlefield waving his axe, Orba very carefully observed the ever-fluctuating state of the fight and could sense the outcome with his unique sense of ”smell”...

Before anyone realised it, he was leading a unit that included Giliam himself and then, again before anyone could realise it, he had become a hero whose name was famous throughout the west.

Gilliam could not say that he simply had luck on his side. He couldn't help but recognise that Orba possessed that kind of ability.

In which case —

Since the prince accomplished several military feats... He couldn't simply laugh it off as a tall story.

It was only now, as he had ceased being a gladiator, that he felt he could understand why Orba had obstinately hid his face. But if he accepted that, Gilliam would have yet another impression, not so much about Orba as an individual, but rather about the war.

For that guy to fight against Mephius...

s.h.i.+que came rus.h.i.+ng into the dining room.

He had run in as though he had h.e.l.l on his heels and the soldiers' minds and body went tense with the dread of another invasion by Mephius. Even Talcott instantly stopped singing.

”Orba has woken up!”

At that, the place erupted even more than before.

Orba was crouching in viscous mud.

The ground was a strange reddish brown and there was the smell of blood.

His entire body was incredibly heavy.

Orba groaned in displeasure and put strength into his whole frame to try and break out, but for a while now already, he had been completely unable to move. Because he was submerged up to his neck, he even had difficulty s.h.i.+fting his head.

When he finally managed to raise it, he caught sight of the figure of a lone woman walking.

Her hands were bound with rope. Behind her, men that looked like armed soldiers were prodding her with their spears and were making her walk further and further forward even as she staggered.

Marilène — Orba called out in his mind. He remembered this scene. In order to protect the royal family that she had married into, Queen Marilène of Helio had deliberately chosen a path of dishonour and of execution by the people.

Was he watching a scene from his memory or a reconstruction within a dream? While Orba strained his eyes, Marilène's figure gradually turned into that of another person.

Vileena Owell.

A girl of fourteen. She too had left to marry into a foreign country.

Vileena was being made to walk like a criminal. Orba instinctively tried to stand up and run after them. But his entire body was still being restrained by the mud and he couldn't move an inch from where he was.

Wait.

Just as...o...b.. was about to yell —

”Traitor”

— He heard a voice hurl abuse at Vileena. Before Orba even had time to be surprised, voices carrying curses rained down one after another.

”You sold out to Mephius.”

”You betrayed Garbera.”

At some point, the reddish black soil near Orba had swollen up and turned into human-shaped clay dolls that were all shouting angrily.

”Execute her.”

The earth bulged in front of Orba.

”That woman betrayed her country and went with the enemy, cut off her head!”

Now it was at Orba's side. Then —

”Kill her.”

”Kill her.”

”Kill her!”

All around Orba and from every direction the cries rang out in unison.

At the same moment, Vileena stopped. This time, it was the ground in front of her which rumbled and swelled. She was again pushed from behind by the spears and was made to walk once more along the ground that was now shaped like stairs. At the top, which was dark and slimy with the colour of blood, she was made to kneel.

Stop.

Urged on by a bad premonition, Orba struggled desperately. The bones in his arms and legs creaked and his skin almost split as he twisted his body in impossible contortions.

Stop.

Even his voice wouldn't leave his open mouth and all that came out was the empty sound of whistling air.

A soldier behind the forcibly kneeling Vileena stirred slightly. At that, like the lumps of earth, the spear in his hands s.h.i.+fted and turned into a huge axe.

He casually raised it overhead.

It was just as...o...b.. had feared.

For a moment, it remained quiet and still in the air then, with a rush of air, it swung down with force.

”Stop!”

When he finally found his voice - Orba was on a bed.

It was about an hour before s.h.i.+que received the news and had sprung up in delight.

It was an infirmary within the Court used exclusively by n.o.bles. At a glance, it was a pure white room filled with a sense of cleanliness. If he had not stopped to reconsider it, Orba would certainly have thought that he had lost his life, been called to the Dragon G.o.ds' side, and joined the ranks of those-at-arms[1] as told in Mephian tradition.

The G.o.ds really don't want my soul, huh?

Above all, his entire body was wracked with pain. The throbbing at his forehead and neck was especially intense. The pain connected directly to memories of the battle.

The memory of being shot and of falling from his horse flashed sharply across his mind. Orba gently moved his arms and legs. His chest and back hurt but he didn't seem to have any broken bones.

I can hold a sword.

To check that before all else could be called a gladiator's habit. Even if they survived the day's battle, if they were injured to the point that they could no longer pick up a sword, they would certainly die in the next day's fight. When he looked over, there was a mask placed beside the bed. Although it should have been smashed by the bullet, it emitted the glow of brand-new iron.

Orba worriedly touched his face. The upper half was tightly bandaged from his forehead to his cheeks. However, the rest of the skin was, of course, exposed. It was very similar to his bandaged appearance when he had deceived those around him by saying that he had ”caught an infectious disease a long time ago.”

At that point, a man in a white coat entered. Reacting like a wild beast determined to prevent others from stealing the prey it had just hunted, Orba quickly s.n.a.t.c.hed up the mask and rammed it on his face.

”Oh, did you just wake up?” The elderly man asked admiringly, not seeming particularly fazed by Orba's state. He came up so close to him it was almost rude and waved a hand before his eyes. ”Can you see properly? Are there any changes in your physical sensations? Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?”

Orba stayed silent for a few moments as though consulting with himself. After a while, he shook his head. And said almost forcibly that he was absolutely starving. ”Is that right?” The man broke out into a broad smile.

”You've been in a coma after receiving a violent shock. If that had continued for another three days, your life would have been in danger - people's brains are surprisingly fragile, you know - but that's a hero for you. You can be thankful for your tough body and your luck. From now on and for at least a month, you should go and visit a temple every day without fail... Ah, but since a fragment from the mask bit deeply into your forehead, although of course I removed it completely, you had best resign yourself to bearing a scar for the rest of your life. Well, that's like a mark of honour for warriors, isn't it? Besides, there won't be many opportunities for it to be exposed since you have a mask.”

The man introduced himself as Faisal, a physician.

Having been informed of the details of how he was brought there, Orba understood that Esmena had gone to great pains to prevent his ident.i.ty from being revealed. The new mask had also been arranged by the princess.

Although Faisal had, of course, seen through the fact that Orba must have some kind of unusual circ.u.mstances, so he deliberately avoided speaking about it.