Vol 11 Chapter 1 (1/2)

Chapter 1

Part 1

The city of Dairan, at the northernmost tip of Ende, was defended by high ramparts that protected it from invasion by the nomadic northern tribes. These nomadic tribes were divided into numerous clans and usually lived as they pleased. However, they would occasionally commit piracy along their southern coast, and occasionally attempt to trample into Ende’s territory. The trend to their movements was utterly unfathomable: sometimes they would go a year or two without taking any action, while at other times, there would be two attacks within a month.

Eric Le Doria, who was to be the next Grand Duke of Ende, had often fought them beyond Dairan’s protective ramparts. From a very young age, he had been entrusted to the care of the Plutos family – who had governed Dairan for generation after generation – and in that wild and rough land, he had fought to his utmost with sword and gun, and had learned of that joy that was second to none; of gathering with his comrades around the campfire after battle, still covered in the blood of his foes, to boast together of their feats.

Given this particularity, Dairan was clearly at odds with the “aristocratic” traits that were prized by other Endeans – traits such as dressing splendidly or never ostensibly injuring another person, but instead preferring to exchange verbal quips laced with lethal doses of poison.

To take other examples, Safia, the capital of the Grand Duchy, was known throughout the world as the “Water Capital” and was recognised as a city of great artistic value. The high walls that surrounded Dairan, however, were rough-hewn and inelegant, and the people who came and went from the city wore simple clothes. In Safia, men and women alike weaved their long hair into whatever complicated style they preferred, but here, that was rare.

In plain words, it was the sticks, and among the n.o.bles that filled Safia, many mocked Dairan as a “remote frontier” and a “land of savages”.

Walking through Dairan, everywhere you went, you would hear the yells of men training in the military arts, and under the eaves of the houses, you would frequently see women doing laundry or peeling vegetables.

Just then, the men, dripping with sweat, suddenly halted their arms that were swinging spears. The women, who had been trampling the spread-out laundry, also stopped the movement of their white legs, and the young girls hurriedly corrected their seating posture.

“Lord Eric,” voices called out all along the street, and Eric answered them with a smile.

The Second Prince always openly a.s.serted that Dairan was his home. His personality was much closer to that of a warrior of the Plutos House than to one of Ende’s leading aristocrat; and on top of that, he had only recently exterminated the wild dragons that that had attacked Dairan. And so, the people there adored him.

When they heard that he had been chosen as the next Grand Duke, this rustic town, with its simple and unaffected creeds and its lingering scent of earth, was engulfed in three days and three nights of revelry, its people delirious with joy.

It did not even last ten days.

The people had particularly rejoiced at the fact that the future Grand Duke would be visiting Dairan. Eric, however, did not come to his “home” dressed in fine clothes for a triumphal return. Because they were well-aware of this, Dairan’s populace did not create more of a fanfare than necessary.

War was coming.

Moreover, it was not because of an attack by the nomadic tribes. The great eastern country of Allion had dispatched its troops; and far from there being any reason to celebrate, Dairan, or better said, Ende itself, was facing an unprecedented crisis.

Allion’s air carriers were already moored to the north of Ende, in the port

city of Zonga. These were probably no more than an advance supply unit, but a force of two thousand led by Kaseria Jamil was said to currently be at sea.

Right now, all of Ende was focused on getting ready for the impending war. Eric had come to Dairan to prepare for when Allion’s troops would depart from northern Zonga, but he could not remain there indefinitely.

In the old days, all he needed to focus on when war was about to break out was the war itself. Back when he had fought the nomadic tribes or planned the invasion of Garbera, he would only worry about organising the troops, ensuring provisions, or various concerns related to weapons inspection or maintaining his comrades’ morale.

Now however, Eric was the future Grand Duke. Other than the preparations directly involving battle, there was a pile of things he needed to attend to. Beyond the battlefield, he needed to extend his gaze to all of Ende and keep a close eye on the surrounding countries.

On top of that, although he had been nominated as the next Grand Duke upon the death of his father, it could not be said that he was standing on firm footing. Having spent more time in Dairan than in Safia, Eric felt considerably estranged from the leading figures who supported the country.

Naturally, he had no choice but to travel back and forth to the capital. He had arrived in Dairan just the day before yesterday, but would soon be returning to Safia.

Kaseria. Just how serious are you about taking Ende, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d? His enemy’s true feelings and intentions were as yet impossible to know.

He had already obtained information that, while his older brother, Jeremie, had implored its help by claiming that “the descendants of the Magic Dynasty should be brought together,” not all of Allion welcomed this situation which had given them a good pretext for invading Ende. Or rather, it seemed that only Allion’s First Prince, Kaseria Jamil, was enthusiastic about this war.

Are they simply intending to demonstrate Allion’s influence at the centre of the continent through one battle, or is Kaseria the vanguard, with Allion’s entire army set to move after all?

At no point, while out in public, did Eric wipe off his forthright smile, but in the depths of night, alone in his bed, there was a distinct crease between his brows.

One of the reasons for that was that their last ray of hope – the response from the northern coastal countries – was slow to arrive. It had been almost ten days since they had sent a request for help by fast air carrier, but they had still received no answer.

Has Allion already gotten to them or are they like me, they don’t know what Allion’s real intention is?

It was the same for Garbera and Mephius as well. From intelligence sent by spies, he understood that problems had arisen in both of those countries. Forget about sending aid to Ende, it would not be strange if fighting were to break out between the two of them.

In the worst possible situation, Ende would have to confront Kaseria’s troops alone and under the sole command of Eric, who had not yet even become ruler.

The enemy has two thousand at sea. There doesn’t seem to have been any further activity in Allion’s ports, and reinforcements probably wouldn’t come by the overland route.

The country of Ryalide stretched out between Ende and Allion. Although militarily, it was only a small country, he did not believe that Allion would want to increase the number of its enemies on its way to Ende.

“In that case…”

They just needed to be prepared.

Eric dragged his sword near his pillow and fell asleep hugging its sheath. It was a habit he had developed over the last ten days.

Early the next morning, Eric awoke with his eyes wide open and headed out of the Plutos mansion. He was going to a well near the stable to wash his face. The elderly soldier guarding the stable looked sleepy, but he seemed surprised and stood at attention when he saw Eric. He was a long-time acquaintance from his childhood, and Eric grinned at him and stopped to exchange some idle chit-chat.

“Lord Eric,” a voice called out then. It was not that of a soldier. Turning around, he saw two young sisters.

“Thil, Reen,” Eric smiled as he said their names.

The two of them gave him deep bows. Bowing deeply to n.o.bles was the custom in Ende, but as neither of them was ten years old yet, their movements were an exaggerated imitation of what adults did. The younger sister bent so far forward that her back was almost parallel to the ground.

They were the daughters of Darowkin Plutos, the eldest son of Kayness Plutos, the current head of the family. For Eric, who had spent so long in Dairan, Kayness was like a second father to him, and so, he thought of the two little girls practically as his own nieces.

“You have risen very early, Prince,” Thil, the older sister, spoke with punctilious courtesy.

“You can’t call him ‘Prince’ anymore. Because he’s already become the Grand Duke,” Reen, the younger sister, pointed out.

Of the two sisters, the older often acted like a grown-up. And when Reen always took her up on any mistakes, Thil would then protest with faint tears in her eyes. Such was the relations.h.i.+p between them. Eric smiled involuntarily.

“Neither is wrong. I’m still a prince, but I also bear the duties of the next Grand Duke.”

“Right, you see, Reen. I wasn’t wrong after all.”

“That’s because adults always take Thil’s side.”

“I don’t want to fight in front of the prince. Go play over there. I’ll even lend you my doll.”

“Those are two different things!”

Reen galloped off, laughing. Even if she pretended to be an adult, she was still only seven years old. Her steps were always light, and she was always cheerful.

Left behind, her older sister, Thil, once again bowed towards Eric.

“Prince, will Dairan become a battlefield again?” She asked with a serious expression.

For all that she was young, she was a daughter of the Plutos House. There was no doubt that she had been quick to sense that a war was approaching, and that it would be harsher and more violent than usual. Eric’s expression also changed. He was a man who could not deceive anyone, not even children.

“I don’t plan to let that happen. But a good warrior prepares for every situation. All the men in Dairan are like that. If it does happen though, you have to protect your little sister Reen.”

“Yes,” Thil meekly nodded her head.

The same day, at dusk, they received new information from a reconnaissance party that had been sent to Zonga.

“The troops led by Prince Kaseria will apparently arrive at the port of Zonga the day after tomorrow.”

Is this it? Eric braced himself as all of Dairan came under grew tense. Will they start by sending a messenger to keep the appearance of a just cause? Or is Kaseria so desperate for blood that he’ll advance regardless?

Simply waiting did not suit his personality and his impatience was getting worse. He felt the impulse to sally forth and attack right now, however –

“The first thing you need to do is set your priorities, Lord Eric.” Kayness Plutos, the current lord of Dairan, spoke calmly. “Determine what is important and laugh off what is trivial. The ruler of a country and the commander of an army are two different things. It would be best to display composure and return to Safia for a while.”

“But, Sir Kayness…”

“Otherwise, the grandees in Safia will forget your face, Lord Eric,” Kaynes gave a soft chuckle. “First, there are things that need getting used to. Such as the mutual relations.h.i.+p between lord and retainer.”

Certainly, being away from the capital for too long also left Eric feeling anxious. Among the retainers who had remained at the palace, not a few of them had previously supported his brother, Jeremie. In order not to create an unfavourable atmosphere, and also for the sake of once more gathering information about the two countries of Mephius and Garbera, he conceded that he needed to return to Safia for a while.

Entrusting the command of the defence force to Kayness, Eric boarded an air carrier. Immediately upon arriving at Safia, he found another piece of information awaiting him.

“Allion’s second wave of troops?” Eric unconsciously repeated the contents out loud.

A second unit was crossing from the east by the overland route. The country of Ryalide should have been an obstacle to any military expedition, but it had apparently thrown open all the barriers along its highways and was allowing a troop of three thousand of Allion’s soldiers to pa.s.s through.

“Did they yield under pressure?”

If they did not comply, those troops could be used to set a small country like Ryalide ablaze – had that kind of threat been applied?

Eric, however, had genuinely believed that Allion would not push forward with that kind of violent diplomatic pressure. No matter how powerful a country was, displaying such a high-handed att.i.tude was dangerous. One step wrong and they would induce a sense of impending crisis, which might lead their surroundings to spread an encircling net around Allion, which in turn would hinder them not only militarily, but would also disrupt their trade.

Which means…

Kaseria Jamil was serious?

Eric was aware of cold sweat trickling beneath his unders.h.i.+rt.

There might be more to follow. For now however, there were five thousand in all. If they focused on defence, that was by no means a difficult number to drive back.

Eric was aware of cold sweat trickling beneath his unders.h.i.+rt.

There might be more to follow. For now however, there were five thousand in all. If they focused on defence, that was by no means a difficult number to drive back.

Eric was still young. Whatever Allion’s true intentions were, the cause of all this was his older brother, Jeremie. When their father, the Grand Duke, pa.s.sed away, and the position of successor to the throne was s.n.a.t.c.hed away by his younger brother, Jeremie had stolen and made off with the flag of the Magic Dynasty, then begged a powerful country, with which they had ancient ties, to send troops.

Therefore, looking at things from a different angle, this was basically a problem internal to Ende. And so, Eric also felt like having Ende sweep away that number of enemies all by itself, and showing Garbera, Mephius, as well as those coastal countries that were deliberately staying quiet, that ‘there is a new Ende now’.

No, even more than to a group of foreigners, the ones that Eric felt the most strongly that way about was towards those retainers who still doubted his ability.

At that same time, west of Ende’s borders, there was a young man who was facing the same kind of trouble as Eric was.

He was equally in a position where he was poised to shoulder the responsibility of an entire country, he could not fathom his opponent’s real intentions, and he too was hesitant about what att.i.tude to take.

The young man’s name was Gil Mephius.

The reminder is not needed, but his real ident.i.ty was that of Orba, a former gladiator.

He had only just taken the city of Nedain when an envoy from the emperor had come to see him in person. The message he carried was that: “Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius is invited to come to Solon.”

Part 2

Just before seeing the imperial envoy, Orba had met with a different visitor. An unexpected guest, at that.

Late the previous night, a group had turned up in Nedain. All of them were young men. They were dressed in rags, but all were muscular and their speech was rough. The guards at the gate a.s.sumed that they were some of the bandits who normally caused chaos along the surrounding highways but who, hearing about the crown prince’s victory, had decided to change jobs and had come to hire themselves out as mercenaries. However –

“Let me see the Imperial Crown Prince at once,” the youth who seemed to be the leader airily said something inconceivable. “I’m an acquaintance of His Highness’,” he insisted, his face dusty and slightly dirt-stained.

“How could a guy like you be acquainted with His Highness? If your mercenary applicants, go straight down this street, then at the end…”

“You’re kind of dim, huh? I told you I want to see him right now. His Highness will rake you over the coals later, you know.”

The gatekeepers were perplexed, but, just as when the former Imperial Guard Alnakk had visited the port city of Birac, Orba had given strict orders to be pa.s.sed on to every single soldier – “It doesn’t matter how trivial it is. If something catches your attention, report it to your superior.” That posture had already been explained here in Nedain.

Even so, it had not been long since Gil Mephius had arrived in that town. In the end, the report did not reach him until the next day.

It was just after Orba had finished breakfast. When he heard the name by which the young men’s leader had introduced himself, he suddenly seemed lost in thought.

“It appears that this morning as well, they barged their way to the front of the mansion,” said the commander of the guards. “Should we send them away?”

“No, it seems interesting. I’ll see him,” Orba gave his permission.

On top of that, he announced that he would see him, just the two of them. People were surprised, but seeing Gil’s impish smile, they concluded that it must be some kind of whim. There was no longer anyone who called Imperial Crown Prince Gil Mephius a “fool” – at least not here in Nedain – but there was never any lack of people who judged him to be “eccentric.”

The only one who objected was Pas.h.i.+r, who was currently ensuring Gil’s personal safety virtually single-handedly, but when Orba whispered something in his ear, he immediately withdrew his comment.

A few minutes later, the young man was allowed into the room which had been ordered clear of people.

“Heya, things got really heavy back there,” was the first thing that the very rough-and-tumble youth said upon entering. “That’s a real load of ha.s.sle, even just to see an old friend. Oh well, can’t be helped. You’re the crown prince of Mephius now.”

Sharp eyes and a characteristic aquiline nose. He was certainly an “old friend” – of Orba’s, the boy from an arid valley.

Orba himself did not say a word, but the young man sat himself down on a sofa in the room without asking and continued talking excitedly.

“Sorry for being so late. Obviously, I’ve known about the rumours for a while now. That the crown prince of Mephius has risen in revolt against Emperor Guhl. And, also obviously, I’d figured that you were that Crown Prince. Same thing when I first heard about your death: I realised from the start that you’d definitely gone into hiding.”

“...”

“But yeah, that’s...o...b.. for you: not satisfied with being a body-double, you started moving to take over the whole country. That really got my blood pumping. So I wanted to gather some people and rush over at once, but some of the soldiers at Birac’s garrison might know my face. We kind of kicked up a lot of dust around there, you know? Just while I was wondering what to do, suddenly, Nedain had fallen. That was a chance not to be missed, so I just gathered a hundred and we came flying from the village.”

The young man’s name was Doug.

He was a year older than Orba, and in their childhood, they had spent their entire time quarrelling with each other. They shared the same past of having had the Mephian general Oubary Bilan attack their birthplace. Separated for six years, the two of them had met once more in that same native area.

One as the body-double to the crown prince of Mephius.

The other as the leader of bandits who had sworn revenge on Mephius.

The interests and goals of the two of them were aligned, so they lured Oubary Bilan and his troops to the village, killed the soldiers who had fallen into their trap, and captured Oubary himself.

How much time had pa.s.sed again since then?

Doug looked at Orba with a cheerful expression. At which point, Orba opened his mouth for the first time.

“Why are you here?”

“Why?” For a moment, Doug’s eyes opened round, then immediately afterwards, he laughed, showing his teeth. “Because isn’t it interesting, Orba? I thought that killing those n.o.bles and generals still wouldn’t have been enough to bring satisfaction, but now every single one of them will become your retainers. They’ll obey your orders and offer their lives for you. The quarrelsome brat from that arid valley will become the great emperor of Mephius. What could be more interesting than that? Let me take part in it. An ally knowing your real ident.i.ty could be useful in an emergency. Officially, of course, I’ll serve as your loyal subordinate. Heh, Orba, I’ll have to call you Crown Prince and even Emperor. Still…”

“Who are you?” Orba asked once more. He stared expressionlessly at Doug, who this time was at a loss for words. “Who are you, and who is this...o...b.. whose name you keep using? Who have you been talking about since earlier?”

“I-I get it. I get it. I won’t call you Orba in public. Like I’ve been saying, officially…”

“Ah, I remember,” Orba said unsmilingly. “Aren’t you that bandit from back then? And? It’s true that I borrowed your help to defeat Oubary so have you come to extort a reward? What is it you want: money or women? Just say what you’d like.”

“Wh-What did you say?” Suddenly bursting with anger, Doug got up from the sofa and drew up towards...o...b... “Come to extort you? Bulls.h.i.+t. Oi, don’t push it, Orba.”

“I told you that I don’t know that name.” Orba spoke with complete calm, the exact opposite of Doug, whose entire body seemed to be burning like a ball of fire. He took the sword that was at his waist. “Leave at once and never appear before me again. If you defy me, Peasant, know that I’ll throw not just you but also your family and everyone close to you to the fire. Do you understand?”

More than the threats, more than the gleam of the sword taken from its sheath, what caused Doug’s body to freeze instantly was because from up close, there was no trace of warmth in his gaze. Those eyes truly seemed to be looking at a complete stranger, and moreover, they were looking down in utter contempt at the young man whose position was so clearly different from his own.

Orba clapped his hands and summoned Pas.h.i.+r, the only guard he had allowed to remain outside the door.

“Take him away,” he ordered. “Afterwards, have the guards memorise his face. If he shows up again around here, then too bad, he’s to be cut down without mercy.”

“Aye,” answered Pas.h.i.+r, and, seizing Doug by the arm, he forced him to leave.

Although having said that, Doug showed no signs of resisting. He looked towards...o...b.. one last time, but Orba’s attention had already moved on to the doc.u.ments on the desk.

The door closed.

Left alone, Orba stayed a while without stirring. Inwardly, however, he murmured, Doug? Maybe he had been dreaming.

Not Doug, for aiming to go up in life – Orba himself.

Now, just before the point when he was about to step on a tightrope from which he could no longer look back, a nostalgic and familiar face had appeared before him, bringing with it the warmth of his home village.

After that, he could have treated him to a drink, and they could have laughed together, reminiscing about old times.

Or else, he could have clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “it’s a real help that you came,” then, with that shoulder to rely on, they could have crossed the tightrope together.

Orba however did neither of those things. Doug was one of those who knew his real ident.i.ty. You could even call him a person who could affect his fate. The thought even flitted across his mind that as a last resort he could secretly kill him.

But –

I don’t know anyone called Doug.

Orba had played dumb.

Since he did not know him, he had sent him away out of hand; since he did not know him, he would not pay any attention to his existence.

That was just a dream.

Picking up the sword that he had, for a moment, placed on the desk, Orba gave a small, an ever so small, sigh.

Orba had posted soldiers throughout Nedain and had also personally gone to its outskirts and had them take up defensive positions. This was because they were in a situation in which they did not know when the emperor might dispatch a subjugation force. The circ.u.mstances, however, were different than what they had been in Apta or in Birac. In both of those towns, the people’s faces had been tinged with the worry that they might get swallowed up in a large-scale conflict. In Nedain’s case, on the other hand, having just been released from the oppression of the Abigoal family, both the people and the soldiers were full of fighting spirit and were ready to drive away any enemy that might come.

It was at such a time that the emperor’s envoy arrived.

Moreover, he brought not an order demanding that the impostor claiming to be the crown prince deliver up his own head, but an invitation for the “Gil Mephius” who was currently in Nedain to enter Solon, on the grounds that his ident.i.ty had been thoroughly recognised.

Their side was in turmoil.

If the emperor had sent a host of ten thousand against them, the crown prince’s soldiers gathered in Nedain, as well as its people would, as stated earlier, probably have united as one. But the emperor had clearly ‘backed down’. Perhaps he had realised that the momentum from the crown prince’s side could no longer be stemmed and had grown timid; but, even more than the conviction that they could win, what this had brought was the hope that they would be able to avoid any more useless fighting.

They no longer needed to fight and spill the blood of fellow Mephians. Once that thought emerged, even ever so fleetingly, the wish for peace would easily erode the will to fight, and people’s opinions would come to be divided.

And naturally, among those opinions –

“It’s a trap.”

There was also the one that Rogue Saian had just expressed.

In Nedain Castle, the main officers from the crown prince’s side were gathered in the rectangular room that had once served as Jairus Abigoal’s office.

“I cannot believe that His Majesty would change his mind so suddenly. There is no doubt that this is a trap designed to cause unrest in our camp.”

“Definitely,” Odyne Lorgo agreed. “And in fact, having heard about it, the emotions of the soldiers and the people are swaying. While there are those who are saying that His Majesty is planning to have His Highness a.s.sa.s.sinated, just as back then in Birac, there are others who claim that to avoid civil war, the crown prince should allow himself to be persuaded to go to Solon.”

“And as soon as the invitation is accepted, His Highness will be captured and executed, without being given a chance to explain or vindicate himself. While we, of course, will be denounced as traitors who supported an impostor.”

“As His Majesty is now, he might just do that.”

“Having said that,” Folker Baran interrupted in a soft tone that yet managed to cut through everyone else, “if he refuses His Majesty’s invitation without a good reason, His Highness will lose the moral high ground.”

Rogue maintained a sullen silence. What had just been pointed out was not something that he had not thought of before. And naturally, Orba shared Folker’s concerns.

Up until now, the emperor had decisively dispatched soldiers against the impostor. Gil Mephius’ cause had become attacking Guhl, presented as “a statesman who does not listen to others”. However, now that he had recognised the prince and had officially summoned him, just as Folker had said, if he refused without a reason that the whole could accept as legitimate, Gil would turn into a traitor bent on devastating the land. And again, naturally, this was no doubt one of the aims on Guhl’s side.

It was for the same reason that he had once left Salamand Fogel to do as he pleased.

Both Rogue and Odyne understood it. Or better said, the “trap” spoken of earlier included that meaning.

“In any case, attending an audience in Solon is too dangerous. We cannot let Your Highness go through with it.”

“Should we send an envoy too?”

“We could suggest a conference somewhere at equal distance between Solon and Nedain.”

“No, that wouldn’t be practical.”

The discussion showed no sign of ending.

Orba had the meeting adjourned for the time being. In the end, he had barely expressed any opinion of his own. However, those who, starting with Rogue, had decided to serve the crown prince were getting used to the personality of their new lord. When he did not say anything, it was because Gil Mephius was deep in thought. At the same time, and while looking entirely expressionless and uninterested, he would carefully listen to his subordinates’ opinions.

And so, everyone stood to attention to see Gil out without a trace of grumbling or discontent. They could not, however, completely conceal their anxiety and concern about the future.

Orba left the building.

Pas.h.i.+r followed so close behind him that they were almost stuck together. He had also been at the meeting but, like Orba, he had not expressed an opinion. His purpose was purely to be Gil’s guard.

Normally, Orba would irritably shake him off, but now, there had been the incident in Birac. If Pas.h.i.+r had not been there to pay attention to the surroundings, Orba would have died under an a.s.sa.s.sin’s blade. Although he seemed gloomy about it, Orba could not therefore outright order Pas.h.i.+r to go away.

Pas.h.i.+r suddenly pushed Orba aside and stepped out to stand in front of him.

“What is it?” He barked as three soldiers rushed forward towards them.

They were all different ages, but from their equipment, they seemed to be soldiers serving at Nedain Castle. They all knelt together.

“Please forgive our rudeness, Your Imperial Highness,” the grey-haired soldier breathlessly spoke first. “Everyone is talking about it. That for the sake of we soldiers and of the people, and to avoid war, you intend to go to Solon.”