Volume 10 Chapter 2 (1/2)

Solon, the capital of Mephius.

Although there had been no magnificent and ceremonial departure, the populace was, of course, aware that an army led by Folker Baran had started off on its march some time earlier. It was headed towards Apta Fortress by way of Birac to go and suppress the fool that was arrogantly pretending to be Crown Prince Gil, who had been a.s.sa.s.sinated by the West, and the Generals Rogue Saian and Odyne Lorgo, who had shown signs of rebellion.

But it lost.

The Mephian host, organised by the emperor himself, had been defeated in battle against the impostor crown prince and even Birac, the centre for foreign trade, had been taken. Fedom Aulin, the lord of Birac, had whole-heartedly welcomed the crown prince and it was even said that ”Birac treated it like the return of a true king.”

The people trembled.

Although the omens indicated that the fires of war might swallow the whole of Mephius, what they feared even more than that was Emperor Guhl Mephius. From their manner, it was as though they truly dreaded that the emperor's fury might transform at any moment into dark clouds swirling over Solon from which bolts of lightning would come cras.h.i.+ng.

Endless rumours were already being whispered throughout the city.

They said that in his unabating rage, the emperor had taken more than half of the soldiers who had escaped and had thrown them to the dragons.

They said that the emperor's sycophantic va.s.sal lords had presented him with a hundred slaves each and that in retaliation for having lost the battle, the emperor had personally cut off each of their heads until the temple of the Dragon G.o.ds' faith had been steeped in blood.

They said that the emperor intended to soon call up Mephius' entire army, including the border garrisons, to Solon and send all of it to attack Birac.

The Emperor's behaviour had recently been tyrannical, and a terrifying image of him was firmly taking root among the people.

For them, because so many projects had been put off in favour of constructing the Dragon G.o.ds' temple, the emperor and the Dragon G.o.ds' faith were one and the same. They dreaded that, in the depths of the temple, where none of them were ever allowed to tread, sinister schemes were, even now, moving forward.

”What will happen from now on?” They asked each other when they met.

Fundamentally, in Apta, Birac, Solon, and the rest of Mephius, the people shared the same unfathomable fear for the future.

Just as the rumours said, Guhl Mephius was certainly enraged. Those who were gathered at the main palace all had their heads lowered, like a group of apostates fearing the wrath of a G.o.d.

However, the emperor, separated from them by a long flight of stairs, neither burst into angry words nor struck the ground before him with his crystal-ornamented staff.

”So Folker lost as well?” Facing the people who always gathered for the morning council, the emperor spoke in the same tone as if nothing had happened the previous day. ”And moreover, Folker, Yuriah and Zaas are all three being held captive in Birac? Has there been any demand for ransom from the enemy, Colyne?”

”Yes. I-I mean, no, that is... not yet.” Not even Colyne Isphan, the n.o.ble who was currently closest to the emperor, dared to look him full in the face.

”So they can't even a.s.sess how much the defeated generals are worth in ransom money. Even for them, that's disappointing.”

He spoke dispa.s.sionately as he sat on his throne, but that in itself seemed to call down a silence as still as death within the audience chamber.

Emperor Guhl Mephius had not killed slaves or soldiers with his own hands, as was whispered in the city.

”Rogue and Odyne's families are being detained in Solon, are they not?” Guhl asked Colyne just as he rose from the throne, exactly as though he were getting confirmation on some trivial matter.

”Y-Yes!”

”Lock them up in the dungeons of the Tower of Four Wings. The two generals will of course have been prepared for at least that much.”

”Is he serious?”

After the emperor had left the audience hall, the n.o.bles and military men who had remained behind talked in hushed voices.

”Is His Majesty really planning to execute the families of the generals?”

”Of course not. It's just a threat.”

”Then what if Rogue and the others don't let themselves be intimidated by that threat?”

”Then at that point…”

They gulped. There was a silence in which each seemed to shrink into themselves.

”If only Lord Simon were here at a time like this.”

”Don't.”

”No, it's not too late, even now. We can talk with Lord Rodloom and ask him to write a letter to His Majesty.”

”How would we talk with him? Lord Simon is under house arrest. His estate is under watch and you can be sure that His Majesty receives reports about every person who comes or leaves from it.”

Silence once more.

The princ.i.p.al lords and military commanders of Mephius had naturally received a shock when Birac was seized. They were curious about the person who claimed to be the crown prince and also felt an indistinct anxiety about the future. But what prevailed above all other emotions was, unsurprisingly, fear of the emperor.

What the real feelings of the Dragon-hearted Emperor - as Guhl Mephius was called in both awe and derision - were at this time not easy to guess. Guhl had immediately hurried the reorganisation of his forces, but at the same time, he seemed concerned that if he pursued the brute force approach any further, the insurrection would spread.

As proof of his worry, after giving his order to the retainers, he summoned a certain group.

The place was a corner of the temple of the Dragon G.o.ds' faith. The time was late at night.

There was a strange group of six. All of them had hoods drawn low over their faces. All of them were silently kneeling on one knee on the floor cut from rock. They looked for all the world like sacrifices waiting quietly for the moment when their heads were to be ceremonially severed.

All of them had arrived in Solon only a few days before. Each, however, through a different process.

This one, for example, had been serving as a mercenary in the defence forces at Idoro, but had slipped away like a deserter and had arrived in Solon seven days ago. That other one had established himself in one of the poor villages in the north that dotted the buffer zone with Zonga, living there with his family; but then, again about seven days ago, he and his family had suddenly appeared to have vanished, only for him to show up in Solon. Besides them, there were those who had been in the east until half a month ago, one working as a tool craftsman in Garbera, another as a pedlar wandering between villages in Ende.

The truth was that they were secret agents, in service to the emperor since their youth. Their main duty was to gather intelligence throughout the land and in foreign countries; and so they were sent to live and take root in those various areas. There were those among them who had families in foreign countries who had been living there for generations.

Of those, six who were particularly competent had been summoned.

Within the flickering light from a single candle, a man with a stooped back, his face also hidden by a hood, appeared before the group that crouched silently and motionlessly.

”We have received a secret letter,” he told them.

The doc.u.ment was unfolded under the light and six pairs of eyes converged towards it.

Steal into Birac and gather information - it read.

The scale of the military forces, the movements of the generals, confirmation of the Garberan princess' survival, the layout of the guards, the atmosphere within the city - the list of items was endless.

They also included ones about the crown prince, Gil Mephius. They were to verify his ident.i.ty of course, but also -

”If you see an opportunity, kill him.” Just as the man with the bent back had said with his viscous voice, this too was written in the letter.

In other words, an order of a.s.sa.s.sination.

”However, His Majesty's involvement is not to be divulged. Killing him with poison is out of the question. Frame it as the deed of a loyalist distressed by the country's internal chaos.”

n.o.body said a word.

Which meant that they had not a single question or hesitation towards this difficult mission.

”Now then. You will act at the peril of your lives for His Majesty the Emperor.”

”We will.”

It was the first time that they spoke, and the six voices did so in perfect unison.

At that same moment, and also in the Dragon G.o.ds' temple in Solon, another meeting was being held in great secrecy.

Although it was late at night, the leading members of the Dragon G.o.ds' faith were all a.s.sembled in a room in the deepest recesses of the temple. At its centre was a crystal table.

It was only the barest of light which illuminated the faces of the old men, but when someone gave the order ”Put it out,” the room was plunged into darkness.

But only for an instant.

Had a new light been lit beneath the table? Innumerable pale luminous points glowed within the crystal slab. At first one, then two lit up at a leisurely pace, but the speed with which they appeared gradually increased until finally they were multiplying in a literal flash.

A starry night sky seemed to be appearing before the elders.

The same old man who had given the order to ”put out” the light placed his hands on that sky and rose from his seat. He was comparatively young among the elders but everyone there looked at him with reverence.

”We are small,” the old man spoke again. ”Terribly small and weak existences. If they were to be compared to this sky, the strength of each individual would amount to no more than that of stars that are invisible to the eye.” He pointed to a s.p.a.ce on the long table. There, a point of light was glimmering, so faintly that you could only make it out by straining your eyes.

”However, if, for example, we can serve to guide a different, much stronger light,” the old man moved his finger to another spot, where a much brighter light was s.h.i.+ning. As the elder pressed down hard with his finger, the luminous point shook greatly, then started to move along with the finger. While leaving behind it a faint trail, it approached the other light and, perhaps because both were being illuminated, both lights shone more clearly.

The old man nimbly moved both hands and, sometimes gathering the scattered lights together, sometimes pulling them apart, he drew countless glimmering trails across the illusionary sky.

”If we guide one, another will be caught up, and that other will pull along a great many other fates.”

There was a certain artistry to it. Whenever the old man waved a finger, the brilliance of the stars increased, whenever he pulled his finger along, the trail emitted light, constructing some kind of figure.

”This is a diagram of fate. Even without nudging it from outside, because these fates are in resonance, they will eventually start to move by themselves in search of the golden mean and will build the ideal world that I imagine. Soon this world will be waxing full with of ether, which will allow us to oppose 'that' which plans to hold sovereignty over it.”

The crystal now shone with a blueish light so bright that it was impossible to look at it directly. The elders closed their eyes as though dazzled, or perhaps it was out of awe, as the mysterious, impossible light washed over their faces.

But -

The lights suddenly vanished. Like the flames of a row of candles, blown out in a strong breeze. Some of the stars just barely managed to resist and continue twinkling, but before long, their feeble, struggling light died out just as the others had.

In a world that had once more been plunged into darkness, as though waiting for the elders to open their eyes -

”Gil Mephius.”

The same man whispered a name that echoed eerily. ”Strange. A star which should already have vanished has come and is emitting an unexpected radiance. More than unexpected. Great enough to throw into disarray the diagram of fate centred around Guhl that we had constructed for Mephius.”

”An impostor,” one of the elders said in a hoa.r.s.e voice. ”…He must be. Without a doubt. The crown prince of yore did not have a radiance that could affect the diagram of fate to that extent.”

”Just what have you been looking at until now?” Another interposed. ”A person's radiance can change easily. Among those that we have guided, there have been many who have similarly changed.”

”It doesn't matter whether he is an impostor or the real thing,” yet another gravely interrupted. He looked up towards the first elder. ”Let us extinguish him.”

The others followed in agreement but -

”We cannot directly intervene with those who already emit such radiance,” the old man's words were strange. ”It has already started to guide a great many other fates. Perhaps this too is the result of having moved the stars with our own hands but, no, we cannot speak of there being one single cause. If we forcefully intervene, the resonance of fates will collapse and we will have to build everything up again from scratch.”

Hatred burned clearly in the old man's eyes that were usually like empty pits.

”When we were going to extinguish Ax, we wasted a great many stars and their surrounding trails. And the result was that it ended in failure. Thanks to that, we lost a considerable amount of influence in the west. That d.a.m.nable Barbaroi, their intervention was faster than antic.i.p.ated.”

”Then, could the crown prince possibly have been involved in that?”

”No. Even if it was not completely unrelated, I intend to find out at whose instigation that was. For those reasons, we cannot use ether and have to leave the crown prince's fate to the workings of humans. …Don't worry, there are any number of ways of doing it.”

When the old man spoke, he once again extended his finger towards the lower edge of the table from which all the lights had died out. Lights like small grains of sands then appeared there.

”We will set our hands to guiding new destinies. These were originally people who were unnecessary to the diagram that we drew, but… there's no help for it. We will guide them. Guide them, and then…” The old man's tone once more returned to something reminiscent of nothingness. ”We will have them kill Gil Mephius.”

The Emperor had imprisoned the families of Generals Rogue and Odyne in the undergrounds of the tower.

It did not take long for that information to reach Birac. It was no more than a rumour, but the emperor did nothing to either deny that rumour or halt its spread. Rather, one of his goals had been for that 'rumour' to be reported in Birac.

Although this was well within predictions, Orba could not remain indifferent.

He had personally met Rogue's wife and son at their residence. He was also acquainted with Odyne's youngest daughter. He remembered how Odyne's daughter, Lannie, made fun of Rogue's son, Romus, for so often spending time at Hou Ran's side.

They were now locked up within cold stone walls. Spending each day fearing that their execution would be held the next, or the day after that. How long would twelve, thirteen-year-old children be able to endure that? No, in his present state, the emperor might really separate their young heads from the rest of their bodies.

His chest felt as though it were seething. He had never been good at simply waiting without doing anything. He wanted to seize the grip of his sword and march onto Solon Palace right this second. The n.o.bles and soldiers who would follow this b.a.s.t.a.r.d are nothing but fools - how good it would feel to fling that directly at them.

But of course, he could not act hastily now. He bore the responsibility for a great many lives. And not only lives but also for immeasurable hopes and resolve, amongst which were those of Rogue and Odyne themselves.

The two generals came to see him together. To submit the charts of the changes they had made within their troops and to talk about the future.

Rogue had bought a number of s.h.i.+ps through Zaj Haman, thereby increasing their war potential. They were, however, lacking in people who knew how to handle them. It was obviously not something that could be left to neophytes and mercenaries. The s.h.i.+ps and carriers were flying every day in the skies over Birac so as to train the newcomers in his group.

Odyne had purchased some new model cannons. As well as having reinforced Birac's battery positions, he was making its a.s.sembled militia undergo firearm drills until they were dripping with sweat.

”We gained valuable time,” they both agreed. In the atmosphere particular to that period before the outbreak of fighting, the soldiers were improving at a rate visible to the naked eye.

”A man I thought was never going to be of any use is now serving as a squadron leader.”

”Is it the same for you General Saian? For me too, ever since Tolinea, the number of my men that I seemed to have misjudged is endless.”

In front of the two of them whose faces were as firm and radiant as though they had freshly been scrubbed clean, Orba remained taciturn.

”Your Highness,” smiled Rogue. It was right after the sun had set and Dinn had lit the lamps in the room. Bathed in their light, the old general's eyes were s.h.i.+ning like a boy's. ”I understand your sentiments so much that it hurts. As time wears on, the people are thrown into turmoil and the country risks ruin. But it is as Your Highness told us at the beginning, what matters now is to wait.”

”Exactly,” Odyne nodded, ”when country lapses into chaos, there will inevitably be victims. To risk a great fire simply to save a minority of victims would be the height of folly. When standing at one of the great junctions of history, one must always keep the whole picture in mind.”

Implicit in their allusions was the fact that their families were included among those ”victims”. Orba clenched his fists tightly beneath the table.

Even if the reason for action was to prevent there being many victims, there would without fail be those who fell wounded or dead because of it. Even though he understood that, Orba's decisions could no longer be for his sake alone.

Waiting was the only way.

Looking at the broader picture, Orba temporarily halting his advance in Birac was an effective policy. What Guhl was the most cautious of was preventing the crack within Mephius from spreading any wider, but also of the Impostor crown prince having a personal connection to the West.

Is he trying to lure us to him by deliberately stopping there? Guhl would be sure to wonder.

For the emperor, what was more dangerous even than the recent defeat would be leaving the economic cornerstone that was Birac as it was. It not only risked causing the people to lose sympathy for the emperor as they were won over by a new hero, but also risked alienating the n.o.bles and military from him.

As such, he would have no choice other than to be cautious. Capturing Birac would not be possible without arranging for a sufficient number of his best forces, gathering enough information about the enemy and, of course, choosing a suitable time to attack.

And so, both Orba and Guhl's lives were currently spent in a succession of war councils.

With the second coming of the crown prince and his capture of Birac, history was violently shaken. This had created a succession of ripples, both large and small, which in an instant, turned into a wave of 'change' that was poised to sweep through all of Mephius, or even the entire centre of the continent.`

But in truth, even though the ripples were like those produced by a large earthquake and were spreading wider and wider, time was unnaturally standing still. Just as...o...b.. had feared, this was because it was difficult for both the crown prince and the emperor to guess even a single move that the other would make. And on both sides, there was also the calculation that this could not take too much time.

Advance, walk, move.

No matter how much he feigned composure when addressing the soldiers as they trained, or the people of Birac as they plied their trade, inwardly, he was incessantly repeating these words like a mantra.

Wait, advance.

And then -

About half a month after Orba had taken Birac, things finally started to budge.

Nedain in the east was a city that stood halfway between Birac and Solon, the capital. It had been built around an air carrier relay base that had been established several hundred years ago, when there had still been trade with the west. After a war with the northern city-state of Io, it had then developed into a fortress town; but now, its vitality had faded and the region was synonymous for ”provincial” even in Mephius, which was known for being rustic.

A certain situation had arisen in Nedain since before the crown prince's resuscitation in Apta. At the time of the slave revolt in Kilro, and probably because he believed that it risked arousing hot-blooded youths, the lord of Nedain, Jairus Abigoal, had visibly overreacted.

One of the slaves from a long-established merchant house had murdered his master and escaped. The slave, who then fled to one of the neighbouring villages, was still only a boy. Perhaps taking pity on his youth, the villagers had sheltered him while knowing practically nothing of his circ.u.mstances.

Jairus had dispatched an armed troop. The village, with its people and the boy still inside, was burned to the ground. The lord of Nedain was determined to avoid a repeat of Kilro by trampling any flicker of rebellion underfoot.

This however caused no little resentment.

The first to protest against the city-lord's actions was a young aristocrat named Raymond Peacelow. He was a young man who served under Jairus and who was in charge of supervising the security and management of the surrounding villages.

Raymond had proceeded towards Solon and had revealed Jairus actions to the emperor. The Emperor of Mephius however had shown little interest in the matter. And as a result, Raymond had been captured by Jairus, taken back to Nedain and imprisoned.

At around the same time, an unexpected guest had visited Nedain. The Princess of Garbera, Vileena Owell, herself.

She had brought up the subject of Raymond whilst seated at a meal with Jairus. Even though her words were brief, the princess successfully coerced Jairus by implying that her words were in accordance with the emperor's thoughts.

Raymond was released.

Since the young man was gentle by nature and had many opportunities to regularly come into contact with the populace, he was greatly loved by the townspeople of Nedain and by the inhabitants of the surrounding villages. Those villages had jointly organised a congratulatory banquet in his honour.

There were signs that a disturbance was once more creeping up on Nedain.

As soon as Boyce Abigoal noticed the Peacelow siblings walking along the pathway from the other direction, he and his companions came to a halt.

”Oh, well now. I haven't seen you in quite some time, Raymond.”

Raymond and his younger sister Louise stopped. They bowed.

”Lord Boyce.”

Boyce was a well-built young man and, despite being a year younger than the twenty-six-year-old Raymond, he was a head taller. As his name indicated, he was the lord of Nedain, Jairus', only son. His face that was glistening with sweat was full of vigour and, coupled with his powerful physique, the impression he gave was a bit like that of a wild beast. From what he explained, they seemed to be returning from a hunt.

”Lord Boyce brought down three deer,” one of his hangers-on bared his teeth as he laughed.

Behind Raymond, Louise's expression turned sombre but, perhaps not noticing it, Boyce brought his face up close towards the siblings.

”I'm thinking of grilling the meat in the garden and eating it right away. How about you two come as well? I've just gotten some good liquor from one of the merchants too.”

”Thank you, but the likes of us are…”

”Right, wasn't it that the believers of Badyne can't eat meat?”

”No,” Raymond shook his head with a sour expression, ”there is nothing that we cannot eat but we must consecrate the animal whose life we are about to take to G.o.d. After praying morning and evening for three days, we can then eat it.”

”How stupid,” Boyce said scornfully. ”Eat when you want to eat, drink when you want to drink. There's no better happiness than that.”

”If I'm not wrong, women of the Badyne faith can only share a bed with their chosen man, right?”

”Ahaha. The G.o.d of Badyne really likes putting people in shackles. Only the sort of people that like being oppressed are fit to be his believers.”

His companions opened their mouths wide as they laughed. An angry expression flashed across Raymond's face. But a slender white hand clasped his clenched fist from behind. Raymond just barely managed to avoid exposing his emotions by bending down his head.

Raymond came from a powerful family native to a territory that was currently in Garbera's possession. It had fallen under Mephian control for a time, during which, the Peacelow family had obtained the status of Mephian n.o.bles. In accordance with the customs of that region, the family had belonged to the Badyne faith for generations.

Because of that, he had often felt small and humiliated in Mephius, where the Dragon G.o.ds faith had become the state religion. He had frequently experienced scenes like these in which he was looked down on or scorned.

”Anyway, what kind of business did you have with Father to come to the mansion today?”

”It was merely for our regular consultation.”

”That so? And here I thought for sure that Sir Raymond's bad habit was rearing up again,” Boyce's thick lips twisted into a smile.

”My bad habit?”

”Your habit, Sir Raymond, of going on endlessly about small issues. Last time, there was that quarrel involving that one slave brat. Who knows if you won't kick up a fuss directly before His Majesty even now.”

Raymond remained silent.

Just the other day, Jairus Abigoal, lord of Nedain, had once again harmed his own people.

It was just after the rumour had reached them that a person claiming to be the crown prince had appeared in Apta to the southwest, and had sent a letter to the emperor in Solon. Several young men had been discussing the topic in a tavern. All of them were very drunk.

”It's not surprising that a hero would be immortal.”

And so on.

”Defending the West really does seem like something the crown prince, who righteously honoured the pledge with Garbera, would do.”

And so on, until finally, they all reached fever pitch.

”Let's approach Lord Jairus and ask him to definitely cooperate with the crown prince.”

”No, would the crown prince, who honours righteousness, have any kind feelings for our lord? Lord Jairus is more likely to be scared of being condemned and run away.”

They had said, laughing.

Jairus heard about it.

In his rage, he had them dragged before him. Of the five who stood in a row, their faces pale, four had fallen to their knees and had pleaded that the alcohol had run away with their tongues. Only one of them, even though the blood had also drained from his face, had openly declared -

”Your Excellency. The crown prince has righteousness on his side. Please think about the future of Mephius.”

Three days later, he was hung in Nedain's town square. Because they had deliberately chosen to do so in the opening hour for the morning market, his corpse had been there for many of the fief's people to see.

That was what Boyce Abigoal was bringing up.

”Were you not going to honour Father with your advice again?”

”No. I have nothing in particular to say to Lord Jairus about it. Please excuse us.” Raymond bowed again and, seeming to be pulling his sister by the hand, left Boyce's presence.

Just as they pa.s.sed one another, Boyce gaze fell on Louise's profile. She was seventeen. Boyce's gleaming eyes crawled from her face to her body, clinging to her like a spider's thread.

”What's with that, so lame,” when the two of them were still in sight, one of his hangers-on said out loud, intending to be heard.

Another of Boyce's friends nodded empathetically, ”Last time, he had a lot more to say.”

”Hah, has the bold Sir Raymond had his sharpened fangs broken off?”

Boyce himself said nothing, but his lips were curved in a scornful smile.

That night.

To the north of Nedain there was a relatively large quarry.

It was sunk in shadows. Drinking songs carried by the wind could be heard from far away. No doubt the masons who were staying overnight were getting drunk on cheap liquor.

A person with their hood drawn down low had unexpectedly turned up there, then continued along the narrow path leading to the quarry.

”Oho, a guest?” Several masons barred the way. Walking up with tottering footsteps, they surrounded the person in the hood from both sides.

”Sorry, but this is a private party. No outsiders welcome.”

”At least bring a present. You got any booze with you?”

Since they performed heavy labour every day, they were a burly-looking bunch. The person wearing a hood however did not seem panicked and instead said something strange -

”I don't have anything with me today. But one day we'll share a toast in Solon.”

The drunken-seeming men promptly drew up straight.

”It's you, Lord Raymond.”

”We were rude.”

”No,” the face that appeared when the hood was pulled back was undoubtedly that of Raymond Peacelow, ”you're being excellently thorough. It's only if you weren't that I'd be bothered.”

Raymond himself had decided on the exchange of pa.s.swords.

Nearly three hundred men were making merry but, when Raymond's figure appeared in the doorway, just like the lookouts had earlier, they all stood straight to greet him.

”Everyone, at ease,” Raymond called out, but the men's att.i.tude remained as it was.

They wore rough, shabby clothes on their muscular bodies, and their faces were grimy and black from the sweat and dust of manual labour. But they gazed at Raymond with a fiery radiance in their eyes.

Their ages ranged between twenty and fifty years old. Their occupations were actually equally varied and only about half of them were originally masons. The remaining half were the second or third sons of craftsmen, farmers, or merchants.

One man stepped forward from among them and wordlessly took Raymond's hand. He seemed to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. It was him however who had caused Raymond to make a certain decision.

”Lord Raymond, it was good of you to come.”

”Dolph,” Raymond spoke his name and clasped his hand firmly.

If you brought up the topic of a man named Dolph with, say, the father and son of the Abigoal family, they would undoubtedly tilt their heads in confusion, wondering who and what you were talking about. Dolph himself however held an uncommonly strong feeling towards the House of the lords of Nedain.

Hatred.

Dolph was the older brother of the young man who had recently been hung. Not only that, but his older sister had married into the village which had been set alight by the forces dispatched by Jairus Abigoal. Which meant that in a very short period of time, he had lost his sister, his brother-in-law, and his younger brother.

All at the hands of Lord Jairus Abigoal.

When the village had burned down, he had raged that ”I'll kill Jairus!” His brother had talked him out of it in tears. His younger brother, who had only just decided to get married. Of course, he too shared the agonising pain of losing their older sister, but when he clung to him, saying -