Volume 10 Chapter 7 (2/2)

To tell the truth, he did not have the confidence to say that his disguise was so flawless that n.o.body would be able to see through it. When he had been in Solon, he had tried to pay attention to even the smallest things, but after temporarily disappearing then reviving in Apta, he had certainly often overstretched himself. He had even taken a spear and fought at the front lines. He had undoubtedly done things which would have been inconceivable of the former Gil, who had been known as a fool.

If one were to suppose that he had, for example, deeply knowledgeable retainers, capable subordinates or strong backers, then what he done until then was still just barely within the realm of possibility. His action of heading towards the front and most dangerous place in battle, however, was something that those who knew the former Gil would find difficult to believe.

Moreover, there was something else that was unclear.

Do they know as far back as my being a sword slave and that the replacement happened at the time of the wedding ceremony with Vileena; or do they simply mean that the Gil who showed up in Apta is an impostor set up by Rogue and the others to oppose the emperor?

If it was the former, it meant that they had all of Orba’s secrets in their grasp. If it was the latter, there was a high chance that it was at the level of their having suspicions.

Orba was of course not the real Gil, however the current Gil was the same as the one who had taken part in the pre-nuptial ceremony at Seirin Valley and who had been involved in everything since then. The circ.u.mstances around that were complicated and Orba’s own thoughts became tangled.

I just don’t know.

The tower at the southwest end of the estate must once have been used as a watchtower. Orba had a good knowledge of Birac since he had gone walking about a lot while staying there. After the extension works, the tower had become unnecessary and the lower floors were now used as a storehouse. It was a place that practically no one went to after the sun had set.

How many people could lie in ambush? It was not a very big tower. Even if the roof was made use of for lookouts, you could not fit in more than five or six soldiers.

Right.

Orba had made up his mind. It said to go alone. It had not been thirty minutes since he had seen the letter. And this had not given him much time in the first place. If he had been given a day or even half a day, he might have been able to come up with a plan, but as it was, every second counted.

Having set his mind, the tension that had been piercing his body and heart was replaced by the feeling of being full of energy. The sensation of having turned into a beast prowling in the fields looking for prey was oddly nostalgic.

It was a lot like the time he had been strutting around in Solon wearing the faces of both a gladiator and a crown prince, walking a tightrope on which he had to stay one step ahead.

I can’t die – he thought. If he died, his slave brand would be discovered and his companions would be treated as no more than despicable traitors.

This time, his real ident.i.ty might already have been discovered, which meant that – I’m already as good as dead. Orba smiled at the strange thought that was.

Unlike his earlier, bitter smile, this one was somewhat ferocious.

This time around, will I be buried as a corpse, or will I survive to rise again?

It felt as though this was the crucial moment to go through here in Birac, where time had held fast. When he placed his sword at his waist, Orba’s mind tasted something close to ecstasy.

Part 3[edit]

The first thing he did was call for Miguel and the other soldier who were on guard at the door.

He ordered them to do a bunch of unimportant tasks. Bring him the duty roster for his personal guards since he wanted to rearrange it; ask the supervisor in charge of the army air carriers when he planned to finish replacing the parts on the new model of s.h.i.+ps; and other similarly trivial tasks. Then –

“I’m so tired, I can’t keep myself awake. I want this all checked by the end of the day so go and get through it immediately.”

Since there was a lot to do, he ordered them to split the work between them. They looked disapproving, as expected.

“Commander Pas.h.i.+r gave us strict orders not to leave you.”

“Do you place Pas.h.i.+r’s orders above those of the crown prince?” Orba shouted angrily.

Miguel and the other one looked sour, but the tasks would not take more than a few minutes. The two of them left.

While they were gone, Orba changed clothes. He put on light armour and placed the iron mask over his face. He then waited about ten minutes outside the room for Miguel and the other to come back, at which point, he pretended to have only just come out the door.

“Oh? Iron Tiger. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Miguel raised his eyebrows. “What have you been doing up until now?”

“I received a secret mission from His Highness. Right, have you finished what he asked you to? He’s gone to sleep for the night. Says he’s leaving the rest to you.”

As he spoke, Orba brazenly walked up to them. The two men who had been made to run around at the prince’s whim shrugged and went back to stand guard in front of the door.

Orba went along the corridor and arrived at the entrance of the mansion. Recognising him, the soldiers on regular guard duty naturally stood to attention.

He knew that they had just changed over at dusk, so even if Orba suddenly appeared, he did not need to worry that they would be suspicious about when he had entered the mansion.

He stepped out into the gardens.

A thicket of trimmed shrubs ran alongside the building. There was no one around. Orba squatted down beside them and removed the iron mask. He then headed towards the southwest tower.

A single drop of water splashed onto his shoulder. A light rain had begun to fall. The wind had also turned chilly.

However, with each step that he took, Orba’s blood seemed to squirm noisily and his body temperature was on the high side.

Who would be waiting for him at his destination? An a.s.sa.s.sin sent by the emperor, or perhaps a traitor within their own camp? Or perhaps –

Garda.

The name flashed through his mind. He suddenly remembered the conversation he had had with the elderly strategist, Ravan Dol, when he had been to the west recently. An unidentified a.s.sa.s.sin had targeted Ax’s life, and the one to drive them away had been yet another unknown person. As the latter had been leaving, they had mentioned that:

“Garda is still alive.”

It was...o...b.. himself who had killed the sorcerer who had appeared in the west claiming to be Garda. If there was a plot to kill Ax, it would not be surprising if the a.s.sa.s.sins stretched their hands out towards...o...b.. too. Sorcerers wielded mysterious powers. Perhaps they had realised that he had the same face as Gil Mephius when they were investigating around Orba.

Well, whatever.

Whether those waiting for him were a.s.sa.s.sins, sorcerers or members of the Ryuujin tribe, he just needed to settle the matter with steel.

Fighting against the odds is business as usual.

He reached the tower.

He put his hand to the door. It opened unexpectedly easily. On the other hand, it was dusty inside. As he walked up the stair, cobwebs brushed against his head.

There was no light either. A faint light from a nearby mansion entered through a window above him, but visibility was dim. At the top of the tower, there was a room that the soldiers on watch had used to rest in.

So, would a demon appear or would it be a snake? Orba had been inwardly steeling himself for either, but when he finally reached his hand out and pushed open the door, he saw such a completely unexpected figure that his hand involuntarily tightened around the pommel of his sword.

It was Layla.

She was wearing clothes so flimsy that her skin showed through them. She drew near to Orba, her sensual body vividly displayed in the dim light.

Orba’s eyes darted left and right. There were stone walls immediately to either side. It was a small room and it did not look as though anyone else was lurking within it.

Within the room, a single lamp had been hung. A cover had been draped over it, no doubt to prevent light from seeping outside, and it was faintly projecting onto the figure of the woman.

“Your Highness,” Layla called out in a trembling voice.

If anything came, it would be from behind. Orba closed the door at his back.

“Your Highness,” Layla once again called out to him. “Why do you look at me with the eyes of one looking at a stranger? Do you not remember me, Your Highness?”

“Was it you who sent the letter?”

“So after all, even though you did something so horrible, I’m just a commoner girl unworthy of being taken. Will you say that it was not something important enough to be caught in any of the folds of your memories, Your Highness?”

She came closer by another step. Her voice and her entire body were shaking. It did not look as though she was wearing a weapon.

“What are you talking about?”

“You hateful person!” Layla spat out in a loud voice as she twisted her body. “You led me to ruin. You, the successor to a great dynasty… simply on a whim, simply playing around… I had just had my wedding ceremony and you wanted to force me to sleep with you.”

Layla…

At that moment, with startling abruptness, the name suddenly rose to the surface of Orba’s mind.

He had once gone out to Solon with the crown prince’s step-sister, Ineli, and several of his companions. The main purpose had been to accept an invitation from the veteran general, Rogue – the same one who was currently fighting alongside Orba.

On the way back, they had been surrounded by armed ruffians. Looking back on it, the origin of that had been a scheme laid by one of those n.o.ble wastrels. The people that he had paid to hire, however, had trampled over that n.o.ble’s expectations and had tried to take Ineli and the others hostage.

Whereupon, the n.o.ble boy had revealed his name.

“T-The one over there is His Highness Crown prince Gil!”

He had probably intended to intimidate their attackers, but instead, one of the men had flown into a rage.

“Gil Mephius. The bane of Layla, you won’t escape!”

Orba had allowed Ineli and the others to run away then had dealt with their opponents. He had extracted information at gunpoint from the man who had called him “the bane of Layla.”

That was all the man knew. The officer from the Imperial Guards and his family had vanished from Solon a few days later. It had even been said that they had been killed in order to ensure their silence, and so those who had been connected to that wedding had chosen to wipe the event from their memories. Because of it all, the man had lost the will to work and had started resorting to thievery.

That was Layla.

Taking advantage of Orba’s momentary surprise, Layla leapt towards him. The feel of warm flesh enveloped him.

The older girl was clinging to his chest, weeping. Just as he was about to shove her away, he felt a p.r.i.c.kling sensation near his armpit.

He instinctively thrust her away by the shoulders.

Layla staggered back and fell to the floor in a large cloud of dust, but when she stood back up, her expression held neither surprise nor reproach. Her lips were merely curved into the slightest of smiles. Orba was going to say something, press her for answers. He was not able to do either of those things.

The world seemed to suddenly violently lurch up and down, his knees lost their strength and he dropped down to them, almost collapsing altogether.

“What did you…” He could not even form his words properly. His tongue was numb and had lost all sensation. It was the same for the area around his mouth and he did not even know if his own mouth was open or shut, so every time he tried to speak, saliva dripped from it. Contrary to his sluggish body, one word was flas.h.i.+ng and flickering ferociously in his mind: poison.

He tried to walk towards Layla. He collapsed after just three steps. Despite his loss of bodily sensation, the floor seemed to have melted into mush and he could not even walk straight.

At some point, a dagger had appeared in Layla’s grasp. There was a crest etched into the sheath. The emblem of the imperial family of Mephius. It was something that her father, Rone Jayce, had received when he became an officer of the Imperial Guards.

The blade that slid out caught the faint light of the lamp and gleamed. Slumped forward as he was, Orba just managed to stretch out his hand to the sword at his waist. For a moment, his fingers groped about in thin air. At long last, the came into contact with the hilt.

At the same time, Layla clenched the dagger in an underhand grip and lunged forward. At that instant, although separated by time and s.p.a.ce, Gil and Vileena, the two whose countries had decided on their engagement, became similarly caught up in an a.s.sa.s.sination plot.

He rolled away to avoid it. From a crouching position, he drew his sword. While he staggered from its weight, he extended a foot forwards to brace himself. The world was still trembling. He just barely managed to maintain his stance.

Layla sprang forward once more.

Sword and dagger collided. Since his opponent was a young woman, normally she would have been blown away in an instant, but now, they were competing at almost the same strength.

No, Layla actually seemed to be pus.h.i.+ng him back. As both blades shook incessantly, the dagger drew ever closer to Orba’s neck.

Her entire face covered in beads of sweat, her expression transformed into ferociousness, Layla’s smile widened. But by being able to lean all of his weight towards his opponent in that time, Orba had been able to recover his balance. He halted his breathing and wrung out the strength in his abdomen.

Layla was knocked backwards. Orba’s sword hummed. Her expression of pain was swiftly replaced by one of terror.

Orba!

At that moment, he felt as though a woman’s voice struck his ears. Orba gasped and halted his sword.

That voice he had heard was Alice’s. It was not just her voice. Layla’s very expression as she remained frozen in fear was that of the girl who had been his childhood friend.

Why?

Dragged down by the weight of the sword he had swung overhead, Orba could no longer stand and once again fell backwards.

His breathing was ragged. His heart was pounding so violently it seemed to be outside of his body. And he had strange feeling of pain, as though his swollen blood vessels were about to burst through his skin at any moment.

Ah! – amidst his flickering consciousness, Orba suddenly understood.

This was the very scene that he had watched over and over in his nightmares, unable to do anything. In the burning village, a soldier from the Black Armoured Division was catching up to Alice, who was trying to run away. She had fallen down and, with a vulgar smile, the soldier raised his bloodied sword towards her.

It was not a scene that he could have seen with his own eyes, but it was a nightmare that would replay on nights when he could not sleep easy, and it had now been instilled into his mind with the realism of an actual memory.

Thinking about it, Layla and Alice were women in similar circ.u.mstances. Purposefully or on a whim, a handful of those who held power had, out of greed and l.u.s.t, driven their lives off the rails. What was the difference between the revenge Layla had sworn, and the revenge Orba himself had accomplished?

Layla slowly lifted herself up. The still gleaming dagger was a sharp light penetrating Orba’s hazy consciousness.

The shadows of several people raced beneath the starlight.

They were disguised as soldiers, and if someone had called out to halt them, they would surely have realised their faces were unfamiliar. However, there was no one else nearby.

The place they were heading to was the mansion’s southwest tower – in other words, where Orba and Layla were.

The lead shadow stretched its hand out towards the door.

Orba was not aware of the sound of someone running up the stairs, or that of the door being flung open. With the speed of a wild beast swooping down onto its prey, the person threw themselves at Layla’s back just as she was about to swing her dagger down towards...o...b...

Layla’s body flew over Orba and rolled to the floor like a bundle of hay propped against a wall.

“Pa…s.h.i.+r,” Orba muttered in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

It was indeed Pas.h.i.+r. Having witnessed the scene between Alnakk and Layla, he had been keeping an eye on her just in case. Having received a report that she had headed alone towards this tower, he had hurriedly returned from patrol duty and had only just made it in time.

“Are you alright, Prince?”

“Pas.h.i.+r!”

This time, Orba raised his voice with all his strength as several shadows lurking in the darkness leapt out behind Pas.h.i.+r. If it had been anyone other than Pas.h.i.+r, their neck and chest would instantly have been sliced through. Sparks flew as he raised his sword without bothering to turn around to look.

As soon as one was defeated however, another rushed into the room. There were a further two or three behind him. It was pure luck that, in that instant, Orba managed to raise his sword up and parry a blow aimed at his face.

The enemy were outfitted like Mephians, but they swarmed around Orba without a single yell of self-encouragement, or a single threatening word. These were the movements of trained a.s.sa.s.sins.

Orba edged back towards the wall. Not because he was cornered, but because he wanted to get rid of the blind spot at his back.

Oh – the eyes of one of the a.s.sa.s.sins gleamed.

The tip of a blade moved to the right, feinted, then fell to the left. Orba drove it back. He had not chased it with his eyes. From the experience of countless battles piled up in his memories, he had guessed – or rather, he had almost been certain – what the enemy’s movements would be.

However, now that he had no strength in either his arms or legs, stopping blow after blow was heavy-going.

Sitting where she had slammed into the wall, Layla watched Orba desperately put up a resistance. The smile on her lips had all but vanished.

Just like Orba, who was suffering from having been poisoned, she was far from being in her usual state. She was hypnotised. The intent to kill Gil Mephius was occupying the upper surface of her consciousness. Although that aim had all but been accomplished, her breathing was ragged and her eyes were open as wide as they could be. There was no sense of relief flooding her chest.

Why? Layla wondered hazily.

What she felt instead was loss. It was a feeling she had already experienced time and time again. She had lost her home country and her fiancé. Her father was almost killed before her eyes. She had seen the western people, who had taken care of her, be hurt.

No, this… was not what she was feeling. In the part of her mind that should have been utterly occupied by the desire to kill, the solitary figure of the Garberan princess flickered like smoke from a flame.

The Princess had headed to Solon and, according to what she had heard, she had confronted Salamand’s forces. At the same time, she had been shot and taken to Zaim Fortress. There were no doubt many reasons for why the princess had taken those actions, but one of those must surely be because it was for Gil Mephius.

She would lose him.

That girl would experience the same sense of emptiness that Layla had.

A mysterious and unstoppable urge welled up from deep within her.

While her desire to kill Gil was genuine, her conviction that she had to prevent him from being killed was equally genuine. It was contradictory, but then people were always creatures who could hold conflicting emotions.

The intensity with which they clashed, however, was far greater than anything Layla had ever experienced until then. If it carried on for too long, it might destroy the body and mind of the vessel called Layla.

Which was why it was easier to abandon her mind to another. It was better to simply indulge in the desire to kill Gil. For the sake of revenge at having lost everything.

But the feelings that went against that were also strong. She was terrified of losing a relations.h.i.+p that she had just barely managed to forge.

At that moment, a scream tore out from Layla’s mouth.

At the same moment, in the arboretum within the mansion’s courtyard, a shadowy person remained as still as a statue. It was Zafar.

Standing next to the fence, he closed his eyes and raised both hands to chest-height, and placed his fingers into a complicated pattern.

It could be said that he was also in a state of self-hypnotism. Zafar was carefully “watching” the events within the tower through Layla’s eyes. Just a little more and the crown prince’s a.s.sa.s.sination would be complete…

“Who are you?”

A voice suddenly called out from behind him. For all that he was a user of sorcery, Zafar had not noticed anyone approach him. He whirled around incredulously and his eyes fell on a figure that surprised him even more.

“Barbaroi!”

The word unintentionally burst from his lips. With an equally instinctive movement, he jumped backwards.

The one who had appeared among the shadows was a young girl with dark brown skin – Hou Ran.

Having stayed in the dragon pens until late, she had noticed that there was something unusual about the dragons. Ran herself had once told Vileena that the very bodies of dragons were endowed with ether. Because of that, they were sensitive to its flow. Without paying any attention to the guards who tried to stop her, Ran took one of the small-sized Fey dragons out of its cage and had gone looking around the mansion.

It was that Fay which had sniffed out Zafar with the sense of smell peculiar to dragons.

“d.a.m.n it!”

Zafar seemed to hesitate for a moment as to what would be the best thing to do, but then made up his mind and cleared the fence that was a high as a person in one leap, then darted away with hurried steps.

In that instant, his power of control weakened. In the struggle that had been taking place within Layla, one of the conflicting feelings finally won over. And that made her move in a way that she herself would not have expected.

She threw herself amidst the gleaming steel.

His mind still in a haze, Orba watched her do so. It was almost as though her body were drawn to that weapon-filled s.p.a.ce. The a.s.sa.s.sins’ swords were going to smash through her skull from either side.

For a moment, the scene was reflected in Orba’s eyes as though everything had slowed down.

Layla’s figure seemed to overlap with that of another person. This time, it was not Alice, but the figure of his mother who, when he had been a child, had tried to protect him when their house had been attacked by Garberan soldiers.

s.h.i.+t!

Black flames instantly burst up within Orba’s veins. It was only for a moment, but as they coursed once around his body, they took with them the paralysis and numbness that was holding him down. Before he even realised it, his foot had kicked against the floor and he was grasping Layla tightly as he rolled in mid-air.

A sword swung down at his back.

His clothes tore and blood sprayed.

He was lying face downwards and pressed against Layla, and the a.s.sa.s.sins once again rained their naked blades down towards him. They were so close and so fast that they could no longer be avoided.

In that moment when he was finally about to sever the life of the false crown prince, one of the a.s.sa.s.sins, whose mind no less than his body was supposed to have been trained to its utmost limits, opened his eyes wide in shock. Even in the darkness, his eyes could clearly make it out.

“Wait!”

He held back his companion who had likewise been about to give Orba the finis.h.i.+ng blow. The other man also halted his steps when he saw what his comrade had.

His clothes were ripped and Orba’s violently heaving back was exposed to the air. On his back across which blood was trickling was, unmistakably, a slave brand.

“The plan has changed,” said one of the a.s.sa.s.sins in a low, viscous-sounding voice. “Don’t kill him. We’re capturing that man.”

As he spoke, he kicked Orba’s arm and made him release his sword. He had probably exhausted all his physical strength and did not move even as the man was about to seize him by the scruff of his neck.

At that moment, Orba unleashed his last remaining strength. He drove the dagger that he had taken from Layla deep into the a.s.sa.s.sin’s heart.

The man died without having time to shout out in pain, and Orba used his corpse as a s.h.i.+eld to deflect the blow that came from the man behind him. Whereupon, Pas.h.i.+r, who had finally won his fights near the entrance to the room, came running up and, with the swiftness of a gale, promptly cut down the two remaining men.

The fighting and secret a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on the crown prince were swallowed by the shadows at Zafar’s back as he ran and soon disappeared from sight. He was far swifter than would be expected from his appearance.

As he raced through the dark town and past the loitering drunkards, Zafar’s head was still reeling from the shock of having met that girl earlier.

The plan had failed. While on the one hand, he was feeling a strong sense of personal failure, it was not as though there had been no results at all. As evidence of that, as he approached the town’s back alleys –

“I saw.”

Zafar’s lips twisted into the shape of a smile.

“We do not need to intervene. By following its inevitable course, the stream of History will soon remove that obstacle.”

Orba was lying in a pool of blood. His entire body was covered in it, as well as in sweat. His breathing was ragged. Layla was once more leaning against the wall, apparently asleep.

Amongst the people who were in uproar after having woken up and learned that there had been an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt against the Crown prince, Pas.h.i.+r left, carrying Orba on his back.

“I heard it before,” he commented in a whisper. “Why do I keep following you, was it? Then can I ask something? Since when? And for how long are you going to be the crown prince?”

He had guessed it for a while now. On a past battlefield, when Gil Mephius had been in danger, Pas.h.i.+r had heard the gladiator called s.h.i.+que cry out, “Orba!” Suddenly, all the things which gave him a sense of unease made sense. Even if it was absurd, it had to be the truth.

And today, Pas.h.i.+r had seen the slave brand with his own eyes. Orba, still being carried on Pas.h.i.+r’s back, still breathing unevenly, replied something. Then he suddenly went quiet. He seemed to have fallen unconscious.

I see.

Pas.h.i.+r answered anyway.

“In that case, me too. Instead of throwing Mephius to the flames, I’ll watch a new Mephius being born. Even if it means risking my life. Don’t ask why. You wouldn’t answer either if I asked you that.”

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