Vol 11 Chapter 4 (1/2)

Chapter 4

Part 1

Two days after the Eve of the festival, Prince Zenon showed the king the letter he had received from Gil Mephius. It said that the troops he was preparing to dispatch in reinforcement to Garbera did not belong to Mephius. The s.h.i.+ps the soldiers were riding on were already anch.o.r.ed at Apta and, if permission was granted, they could be in Garberan territory within a few days.

King Ainn Owell gave his permission.

At about the same time that a thousand two hundred knights from the Order of the Tiger returned to the royal capital, a great many s.h.i.+ps bearing the emblem of the Haman Firm on their hull swooped down into Phozon’s port. Riding in the separate crafts were seven hundred soldiers, horses and dragons, and a number of weapons.

Zenon had gone to greet them in person, and what burst into his sight was a group of burly, muscular warriors with a wild air and equipment in shapes that he had never seen before. They brought with them the feel of the west in which Zenon had never set foot.

The man in their lead descended the gangway and held out a ma.s.sive arm to shake Zenon’s hand. When the Garberan prince responded, his hand was grasped so tightly that he grimaced.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Zenon Owell. I’m Moldorf of Kadyne, from the allied nations of Tauran.”

He seemed to be in his fifties, but the ma.s.sive muscles in his large body spoke of how he lived for battle.

“Brother, this is Garbera?” A man who looked a lot like Moldorf alighted and came to stand beside him. “I never thought that I’d set foot in lands further east than Mephius in all my life. Later, we’ll have to buy souvenirs for Princess Lima. I wonder if we can load enough in the s.h.i.+ps?”

“Oi, Nilgif. Aren’t you first going to greet the prince?”

Oh! Nilgif nodded and also shook his hand. He too did not seem to know his own strength. And on top of that, while on board, he had been drinking to his heart’s content, so he reeked of alcohol.

These are warriors from the west?

As he shrank back while greeting him, something like grievance flashed through Zenon’s mind.

The reinforcements that Gil Mephius had dispatched were soldiers from the western lands of Tauran.

Several days earlier, Lord Ax of Taúlia had received a messenger from Gil. “Please gather five hundred soldiers and send them to Garbera. I will provide the s.h.i.+ps, provisions, and funds for all of them,” he had requested.

At first, Ax Bazgan was going to comply by sending soldiers only from his own country. Previously, he had, also at Gil’s request, arranged for a thousand soldiers to take up position near the border with Mephius. They had flown the many flags of Tauran, but half of them had been from Taúlia. So he was simply going to move them as is, when the strategist, Ravan Dol, had made a suggestion.

“My liege, should you not issue a command to all the other countries? Even if only few in number, each should send some soldiers. It would also be best if the commander were not from Taúlia.”

After a long history of war, the west was finally starting to unite as one. However, a land in which skirmishes had been common occurrences could not simply change overnight.

Ravan believed that we should take every opportunity to work together and deepen our solidarity. Since Mephius would shoulder the entire cost of this campaign, it should be seen not as a burden, but as a boon.

As a result, soldiers had come from each of the countries.

From Taúlia, a hundred cavalrymen led by Natokk, the commander of the Sixth Army Corps.

From Helio, three hundred foot soldiers led by Bisham, a company commander of infantry.

A combined artillery force made up of fifty riflemen each fro

m Lakekish, Fugrum and the Pinepey tribe.

And finally, from Kadyne, the Red and the Blue Dragons with two hundred cavalrymen and dragoons.

Coming together to form a single army, they departed from Apta on board of three separate cruisers. They had then travelled to Phozon, stopping on the way to resupply at the port of Mavant.

Zenon once again contemplated the appearance of these people from the west. And indeed, although the colour of their skin and their facial features were all quite similar, there were differences in the weapons and armour of each country. But for all that it was a mish-mashed a.s.sembly of troops, they showed no trace of any mutual wariness as, one after another, they alighted chatting together in Garbera’s port. Taúlians laughed when those from Helio told a joke, and when those from Lakekish showed off their new model of guns, those from Fugrum boasted that the improvements that their own country had made to the old models were much more convenient.

They say that for a long time, the small nations in the west repeatedly fought against one another. Zenon Owell was conscious of a being deeply moved in a different way. Yet at a single call from Gil Mephius, they rise to action together like this?

He learned that Crown Prince Gil had become a bridge to the west. And also, that Ax Bazgan had destroyed the sorcerer who had been laying waste to the west and had created an alliance between all the countries there.

Part of the reason for that was because the people were tired of the never-ending strife. Zenon, however, knew little about the west, and seeing such a huge change right before his eyes, he could not help but feel deeply moved.

Meanwhile – Maybe this is what they call the torrent of history. Standing behind Zenon, Noue Salzantes was pondering over the same thing. As history streams along and reaches a large bend, all of a sudden, a new current crashes into it, with enough force to crush boulders and tear away part of the sh.o.r.e. The swells turn into wider ripples than what could have been imagined from either, and produce ma.s.sive changes. The people who are caught up in it sometimes fight it, but the end result is that they adapt to the flow with almost terrifying speed.

Was it because people were resilient, or because they were inconstant? Even if the shape of good and evil changed daily, or the G.o.ds they believed in or the name of their liege changed every month; as long as the sun rose the next day, the people of the land would till their fields, happily drink together at night, grieve over the death of a neighbour, and smile when they heard that a relative’s daughter was getting married.

Perhaps this too is a great swell. Great changes will occur, to which people will have to adapt. Not only in the west, but also in Mephius, in Ende – and of course, Garbera will be no exception.

The direction that Noue looked towards then was that of the s.h.i.+p departure point that stood on the opposite side of the royal palace from the port in which they currently were. The Kotjuns’ s.h.i.+p on which Rinoa had ridden was still docked there.

And Vileena Owell was still on board.

She would be leaving this afternoon and, after returning to Zaim, she would wait for a suitable time to “go home” to Mephius.

In the end, since arriving in Phozon, the princess had not once stepped off the s.h.i.+p. You are splendid, Princess – even the sarcastic, sharp-tongued Noue was unstinting in his mental praise for her.

For all that she had been born and raised in the royal family, she was still a girl in her mid-teens. She must have wanted to meet her parents whom she had not seen for so long, to hear the voices of her acquaintances, to talk face-to-face with her brothers. However, even when she had received an offer to do so from her father the king, the princess had not disembarked from the s.h.i.+p.

Noue surmised that it was a demonstration of her resolve as one who had already pledged herself to be separated from Garbera for all eternity, but she had probably also calculated that by not showing herself in person, she would actually be increasing the weight of her presence and the impact of her words.

Noue was not a man with a heart as hard as ice. He was conscious of a heat in his breast. That heat was urging him to confess to the princess that he had once been going to kill her, and to apologise for his own foolishness.

Humph – Noue’s lips curved as he played with his long hair. At the time, there is no denying that I believed that doing that was for Garbera’s sake. Besides, there’s no point to even me becoming infected with the royal family’s almost idiotic honesty.

Noue glanced at Zenon Owell, who still seemed to be in the grip of some deep emotion before the western warriors.

Great swells are all very good, but when things change, they inevitably also distort. For light to continue s.h.i.+ning on the land, there also needs to be those who shoulder the darkness. If I’m also an idiot, then I won’t be the same kind of idiot as His Highness Zenon or Princess Vileena, nor, obviously, can I allow myself to be like Ryucown, an idiot whose judgement is clouded. I will be the idiot who deliberately looks at what should not be seen, and who pretends not to see what is clearly visible.

There was naturally no way for Noue to realise it, but at the same time as he was gazing from the opposite direction, there was someone who was gazing right back towards him.

Vileena Owell.

Did His Highness Gil take action?

Vileena could, of course, well imagine that the reinforcements from the west were connected to Crown Prince Gil. It was definitely something that only he could have done. Definitely. But still, there was a question that she could not shake off.

Why did he deliberately send them to Garbera?

It was directly tied to a strong anxiety which had first gripped her right after Gil had seized Nedain. Rumour had reached Garbera that the emperor had sent him a direct messenger. Recognising that the enemy commander, whom he had labelled an ‘impostor,’ was ‘the crown prince’, in other words his own son, Emperor Guhl had invited him to Solon.

What does the prince intend to do? The same questions which had been debated in Nedain swirled around in Vileena’s mind.

If he went to Solon, he might fall into the emperor’s trap and be executed. If he did not go, he would inevitably be branded a rebel who was needlessly prolonging the civil war.

Perhaps…

Sending reinforcements from the west to Garbera might have been a way to ensure that relief reached Ende in a situation in which he himself was unable to personally move.

Vileena’s heart throbbed.

The prince intends to go to Solon.

They had not known each other all that long, but Vileena was convinced of it. That, it being the prince, he would surely choose a direct confrontation with the emperor.

In that case, there was nothing that the third princess of Garbera could do to stop him. She could not even curb the desire which was swelling within her to return at once to Mephius. However, could she go back to the imperial capital as things were now? She was worried that her presence might instead become a hindrance for the crown prince.

Immediately returning to Solon might simply cause needless confusion. Should I travel south from Mavant and go through Apta or Birac?

She worried alone, on board the s.h.i.+p.

As dusk drew near, the world steadily continued to move. Just as Noue had, Vileena felt great swells within it. It was depressing to think that oneself alone was so powerless before the huge, black waves that would determine the course that history would take in the coming era.

No, since we’re in the middle of a huge whirlpool, I have to grasp the oars tight and pierce through the waves, or else my existence will be swallowed up in no time flat.

That enthusiasm was certainly like her, but, for a moment, her expression clouded over as she thought not of how the world was moving, or of the crown prince of Mephius, but of herself. “What is my ‘real face’?” An unconscious murmur spilled from her lips.

In the past, she had talked about it with her grandfather, Jeorg.

Just as though they were performing parts in a play, people put on the masks of the roles and positions that they are given. There are those whose faces of flesh gradually disappear. There are those become one with the mask.

You’re also my granddaughter, Ainn’s daughter, and Garbera’s princess. You might be someone’s best friend, and someone’s enemy. Before long, you’ll become someone’s lover, someone’s wife, and someone’s mother.

Each time they add onto your face, you mustn’t turn away. It’s fine to think, it’s fine to be lost, but you must never run.

Vileena was not going to disembark and go to the royal palace. The reason was exactly as Noue had guessed. It was in order to demonstrate her resolve, and also because she had calculated that people’s hearts would be more greatly touched if she deliberately avoided appearing in person. And, just as Zenon had felt, this was not an action that would have been like her in the past.

Is this my ‘mask’ as the princess of Garbera and a future Mephian?

One could not forever act as one’s heart dictated. Theresia had surely also said it. That this was what it meant to become an adult.

As one born into royalty, Vileena intended to always endeavour to be upright and honest. Because that was how her grandfather appeared to her. However, and precisely because she was royalty, she believed that she had to be able to make use of her ‘real face’ and of her ‘mask’.

Those chosen cannot live only for themselves. For her grandfather, her father, her brothers and, of course, for Vileena herself, this was the fate that they had been born with. And of course, it must be the same for Gil Mephius. Wasn’t that why he went around looking lost and floundering?

Have I ever seen his ‘real face’? The thought suddenly occurred to her. Gil Mephius’ figure, arms crossed and alone in the dark, flickered faintly through Vileena’s mind.

Part 2

Back in Solon, the lords and retainers were looking at each in bewilderment. Which was perfectly understandable given that, just as the war of words between the emperor and Crown Prince had seemed as though it were finally about to draw to a close, the emperor had ordered the prince to “Undress and show me your back.” It was utterly out of the blue, and utterly bizarre.

Perhaps Gil Mephius was feeling the same way, as still kneeling, he remained unmoving for a while.

“…Why that order?” He finally asked.

Guhl Mephius alone was behaving as though this was all completely normal.

“Although you are not dead, there are those who will claim that you are not the living Gil Mephius, but an impostor.”

“That…”

“I am a parent. I need only see my son with my own eyes to know whether he is the child of my own blood, or some impostor of unknown birth masquerading as the crown prince. But that, in turn, means that there are many who cannot understand it.”

Guhl continued, “Gil’s back bears a particular birthmark. Show it to those here. Clear all suspicions, and then no one will voice any objections to you once again occupying the empty seat belonging to the crown prince.”

What Gil Mephius – what Orba heard even louder than Guhl’s resonant voice was the beating of his own heart. It was perfectly clear that the order to show his back was nothing less than an order to show your slave brand.

At some point, Guhl Mephius had learned of his real ident.i.ty.

Orba could feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. He was aware of a cold sweat covering his entire body. It was as though innumerable blades had been thrust at his throat, his heart, his back and at the nape of his neck.

Meanwhile, n.o.body present at court, except perhaps...o...b.., had received a greater shock than Princess Ineli Mephius. She too understood her step-father’s true intentions. It was obvious that the emperor knew that this “Gil” was an impostor. And furthermore, he had already grasped that he was of slave origin.

This is…

This was outside of her calculations. It was fine if in all Mephius, only she knew of his real ident.i.ty. Because if that were the case then, through him, she might be able to obtain the power to move not only Mephius but also the rest of the world.

“Y-Your Majesty…”

Ineli tried repeatedly to speak, but her lips trembled in the tense atmosphere; and the emperor, who only a short while ago had seemed so small, now once again seemed to stand in the way as an insurmountable obstacle, so that her voice could not seem to reach open air.

“What’s wrong?” Guhl asked. On the other hand –

“Pathetic.”

“What?” He turned back towards...o...b.., his face livid.

“Even though you just said that you only needed to see my face, are you now saying that in reality, you are not absolutely certain? To not be able to recognise your own son and to harbour such doubts – it is pathetic. If that is the case, then your keen eyes that can see through the hearts of people must surely have become clouded.”

The cold he felt now was not only sweat; it was as if the blood running through his veins had turned to ice. His limbs had gone stiff, and he was frozen to his fingertips. And on top of that, he could not make a sound. He did not have so much as a single arrow or a dagger at hand, so he could not fight. If his voice ran out, it meant that his life would be cut short.

And yet –

“Don’t play with words,” Guhl slapped down his resolve. “You must be aware of the rumours going around in Solon that you are an impostor. Why did you come here? Was it not to clear away all doubts and prove your innocence? I’ve told you that everything will be settled once you show your back. What is there to hesitate about?”

Guhl spoke in a relaxed tone of voice. His att.i.tude was every bit that of the ruler of a country, and it was impossible to see Orba, still unmoving and with his head bent, as anything but a slave who could only yield in front of such absolute power, and whose life was entirely in the emperor’s grasp.

Compared to earlier, when he had displayed the momentum to blow the emperor’s words away, the difference was remarkable. Guhl had deliberately lured the Impostor Crown Prince close. Because his plan had simply been to undermine the enemy’s strength this way. Because he had all the ingredients to overturn the person before him and, in front of the retainers, to transform him into a pitiful loser with not a single accomplishment to his name.

“What’s wrong?” Guhl asked again.

Orba, his head turned down, unconsciously bit strongly on his lip. One would think that things having come to this was entirely due to his lack of foresight... such was not the case.

He had come in full awareness that his life would be in danger. He had intended it as one final gamble. The boy who had been born and raised in a poor rural village, and who had survived a life of fighting as a slave, had been going to shoulder the burden of an entire country on his back. There was one last obstacle that needed to be overcome in order to pull off something so outrageous. And that was Guhl Mephius.

He had believed that he could fight. He had judged that he could overcome it.

Pathetic – Orba thought to himself, even as he almost trembled in humiliation. Could it be something this pathetic? Of all the secrets that he kept hidden, as far as...o...b.. was concerned, it was for the most basic, the most patheticreason that the mountain of corpses that he had built was going to effortlessly be torn down.

Somebody.

Orba was suddenly with the impulse to lift his head and look around at the n.o.bles and generals gathered there.

Isn’t there anybody? Somebody who would speak up. Somebody who would protest against the emperor and take my side?

It had to be said that when facing Mephius’ army in battle, he had avoided calling on western help and fought alone, even when he was at a disadvantage. Orba had forced time to move back then all for the purpose of acquiring allies here. That was the intention. Yet even so, the audience hall had fallen so silent that he could hear his own heartbeat.

Rather than being people unable to make a sound, they seemed to have killed their very breathing and did not give a single proof of even being alive. They were like a group of dolls that the emperor might have collected as a hobby.

No use? It wasn’t enough? All those lives that were sacrificed, all that blood which was shed, and it still wasn’t enough to move Mephius’ time?

Orba was not aware of the veins standing out from his fist against the floor. He was also unconscious of the fact that he had closed his eyes. As though to escape from reality, to reject the words of truth, he blocked his own field of vision. In the darkness that descended, s.h.i.+que’s face suddenly surfaced in his mind.

It was followed by those of the generals who held the same identical determination, even though their families were being held hostage and might have their heads cut off or be sent to be eaten by dragons at any moment. The faces of countless young soldiers pa.s.sed by.

And then –

“So that means you can’t,” said Guhl.

He stood up from the throne. The shadow he cast in that moment covered Orba’s entire body.

“Then you, who cannot give proof of bring the crown prince, who are you? You who falsely took my son’s name, who plunged Mephius into chaos, who are you?”

Who are you?

You...

You...

Who are you?

It ran endlessly in Orba’s ears.

And also, his own voice, with which he had often asked himself –

I...

Who am I?

He, the gladiator, the ordinary boy, the crown prince. Those ‘faces’ which should have blended into one as they were gathered along the way sometimes, for some reason, seemed to oppose one another; sometimes seemed to insist on being separate existences, confusing and disturbing the personality that was ‘Orba’.

You, who are you?

In Orba’s world, which was bound in darkness, the colour of platinum s.h.i.+mmered and shone. The girl who had asked him that question straight out. While holding a gun that did not match at all with her soft white hands, while aiming it straight at Orba’s chest, she had asked the same question as Guhl Mephius.

You, who are you?

Her words themselves seemed to turn into bullets that pierced through his heart.

Ah…

In that instant, a change appeared within Orba. The invisible blades thrust at his throat, back, and heart disappeared; the chill that paralysed his limbs was washed away. In its place, a fierce heat arose.

The heat, which was so different from the previous cold that it almost made him want to writhe in agony, was released from a single point in his chest and coursed to every extremity of his body.

“You won’t answer?”

Amidst the ringing echo of Guhl’s harsh voice, Orba opened his eyes.

His entire body was so hot that it was burning up. It needed some form of release. He felt as though if it didn’t receive one, it would burn him to cinders.

“You…” Guhl Mephius, who had been about to probe him further noticed the change in his opponent in that moment. “You’re crying?”

The audience hall was shaking before his eyes.

It was just as the emperor had said.

Orba was crying.

His head still lowered, his tears were falling one after another. His rounded back was quivering incessantly, his shoulders were heaving repeatedly. His eyebrows, which had been slanted at an angle that made him look as though he would mercilessly cut down any enemy, were twisted painfully. While even the crease between his brows shook, Orba wept soundlessly.

“This…”

For a second, Guhl looked astounded, then immediately sneered.

Truly childish –

So said the expression on his face.

The dignitaries of Mephius were gaping open-mouthed as they gazed at the sobbing Crown Prince.

So was Ineli Mephius. The young hero who had temporarily driven the emperor into a corner and who had looked as though he might kick him from the throne at any moment was now crying like a child that had been harshly scolded by his father.

In the end, Gil had simply been dancing in the palm of his father’s hand, he had only been able to selfishly act as he had until now because his father had generously allowed it, and now that his father was coming down hard on him, he could not even protest against it. Such was the scene reflected in people’s eyes.

I get it.

Meanwhile however, Orba was immersed in feelings that the other people had absolutely no inkling of.

I finally get it.

Was that man’s name Alnakk? He had originally been one of the Imperial Guards directly serving the emperor. And he had gone all the way to Birac, carrying the golden medallion which had been left in his care by Vileena Owell.

After having captured Salamand and conveyed that information to Garbera, while she was on the way back, Vileena had herself been shot at by one of the Imperial Guards. The bullet had missed the princess and had hit her horse, which had resulted in her being violently thrown to the ground. While her consciousness had been fading, her brother, Zenon, had carried her and declared that, for now, he was taking her back to Garbera. Vileena had nodded her consent, and, as though to leave it in Mephius in her place, had held the medallion out to Alnakk.

“Please take it… to His Highness Gil…” She had said.

When he had heard about it from Alnakk and received the medallion in his own hands, emotions that he could not understand had filled his heart.

It was the same thing now. The corners of his eyes had grown hot and his emotions were worked up to the point that he was shaking.