Vol 11 Chapter 5 (1/2)

Chapter 5

Part 1

His Imperial Majesty has recognised His Highness Crown Prince Gil.

The news had already spread from the palace and all around the city below it, the people were raising cheers. As the story spread, embellishments were added to the details of the exchange between the emperor and crown prince.

“His Imperial Highness Gil truly is a hero. ‘I cannot live with the grief of Your Majesty not recognising me, so kill me now’, he said and he held out his own neck.”

“When His Majesty saw how His Highness Gil was willing to offer his own life as proof of his integrity, he acknowledged that this, more than anything, proved that he was of the imperial family. His Majesty must have been testing His Highness. His exalted thoughts truly are different from those of us common people.”

“Right, and after this, it’ll be the Garberan princess.”

“When will she be coming back? Once she returns, the next thing in store will be His Highness’ wedding ceremony.”

All at once, Solon was wrapped in a jubilant mood.

They no longer needed to fear that Mephians would fight one another and that Solon would be caught in the crossfire. Moreover, since the emperor had acknowledged Prince Gil, the friends.h.i.+p with the west had safely been completed.

“Maybe we can be at peace for a while with no wars?”

“No, sooner or later, His Highness Gil will probably lead soldiers in reinforcement to Ende.”

“What. Hasn’t His Highness only just come from Nedain? He really is busy, huh.”

Even though there were reports of Allion having come from the east with a large force, it was also known that their target was Ende; and, except for the over-anxious and those who had a shrewd understanding of national affairs, as far as the people were concerned, this was, after all, someone else’s problem.

As for Mephius itself, its internal troubles had, at long last, been completely swept away, so there were many who believed that this finally marked the start of an era of peace and prosperity.

“Greetings, Your Imperial Highness.”

“Your Highness Gil.”

As Gil Mephius walked through the palace, the n.o.bles that he pa.s.sed stopped and bowed towards him. While raising a hand lightly in reply, he was checking over several things with the soldiers that were following behind him.

“How about Rogue and the others? The messenger should have arrived already.”

“They will arrive in Solon the day after tomorrow.”

“What about the reply from the Haman Firm?”

“In terms of cruisers, they can prepare three s.h.i.+ps. They have loaded five airs.h.i.+ps in each and appear to be getting them prepared for take-off.”

“The messenger we sent to Ende hasn’t returned yet?”

The n.o.bles who watched them pa.s.s by whispered together.

My.

He is walking along as though everything were completely normal.

Although it had not been so long ago that the crown prince had fought against Mephius’ army, sent from none other than Solon, Gil Mephius’ att.i.tude contained neither self-consciousness nor reserve. There were a few people who showed dissatisfaction and anger at that, but most admired him for it. Just as you’d expect from someone who held their ground before His Majesty. He has nerves of steel.

The one who was currently holding the leading role in about eighty percent of all rumours circulating through Solon, in other words, Gil Mephius – or rather, Orba – did in fact have reservations over several matters.

But anyhow, there was no time.

A fleet from Allion had reached the port of Zonga a little less than half a month ago. It would not be surprising if hostilities had alr

eady opened. Ende would, of course, have made meticulous preparations against this first wave, so they might be able to hold their ground; but if Allion was envisioning a protracted war in which they would send out a second and a third wave of reinforcements, then Orba felt that it was vital to crush the enemy right at the start.

It was for that very reason that it was important for Mephius and Garbera, two countries who would not originally have been thought likely to join forces, to rush over there.

Taúlia is like that.

Further to the west, the city-state of Taúlia had been a long-time enemy of Mephius’. One with which they also shared a historical connection. Which, taken another way, also proved that Mephius had long been unable to destroy Taúlia. In terms of military power, Mephius exceeded Taúlia more than five times over; yet, in spite of this, Emperor Guhl, with all his unquenchable l.u.s.t for supremacy, had only twice attacked them. Conversely, Ax had invaded Mephian territory three times.

The reason for that was because of the numerous small powers descended from Zer Tauran that were scattered around at Taúlia’s back. Usually, they would engage in repeated skirmishes with their neighbouring states, but if even a single soldier from an outside power penetrated the west, they would demonstrate terrifying solidarity as they set about exterminating the invaders.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the very enemy whose blood was still dripping from the tips of their swords, they would fight together against the ‘enemies of Tauran’. For this reason, the countries at Tauran’s periphery could not lightly interfere with that region.

Right now, that would be an ideal situation for Mephius, Garbera and Ende.

We need to make it clear to Allion that we will not be easy opponents.

And so, regardless of whether they won the first round of hostilities or whether their front lines were forced back, the two flags of the countries of Mephius and Garbera had to be flying together on the battlefield.

Furthermore, if the three countries cooperated, the reaction from the north – from Zonga and the coastal countries – might change.

Zonga was currently willing to cooperate with Allion, but if, from now on, the three adjoining countries were united, it might find it wiser to join them against Allion.

Therefore, ever since the day of his meeting with the emperor, Orba had been working practically without rest. Even his sense of how many days had gone by was blurry.

Whenever he got hold of even the slightest new information about Ende, he would add it to the maps in the council room. Thanks to the Haman Firm, he had also gotten in touch with the merchant guild in Solon and had summoned the traders who had some experience with Ende, incorporating their detailed reports into the maps.

It would be the first time Orba went to Ende. There was no such thing as investigating the terrain, climate or environment too thoroughly.

Meanwhile, they received news that reinforcements had left from Garbera. Prince Zenon was leading them and they consisted of a thousand two hundred from the Knights of the Order of the Tiger, three hundred from the Order of the Badger and a group of a hundred warriors from the west.

Did Prince Zenon go along with our side’s intentions? When he heard about it, a smile flitted across...o...b..’s faintly exhausted-looking face.

Naturally, calling for reinforcements from the west and having them go to Garbera by way of Apta was one of Orba’s instructions. Zenon had for a while been kept away from the Order of the Tiger, but, again naturally, Orba had not sent reinforcements because he had been expecting that to be the case.

Since he suspected that opinions inside Garbera were still divided as to whether to send reinforcements to Ende, he had thought that they might start blowing in a better direction if their side was to send military aid.

And also, if I’m killed in Solon…

Indeed, even if his real ident.i.ty were uncovered and his corpse exposed as that of a miserable slave, the west, which was supposedly Mephius’ long-time enemy, would have moved its troops “at Crown Prince Gil’s request.” This would leave them with a double justification for the war with Allion: their friends.h.i.+p with Gil and the defence of an allied country that was under attack from a foreign enemy. On top of those two incontrovertible facts, they could then explain that “the slave executed in Solon was a fake sent by the crown prince,” which would hopefully lead public opinion within Mephius to turn against the idea of further attacks against the west.

If the emperor then forcibly invoked the power of the state in order to move the army, he would be at odds with popular sentiment and sooner or later, some public-spirited person would – with a little greed and self-interest mixed in – surely choose to oppose the emperor.

Such had been Orba’s thoughts.

Although they had all been based on the hypothesis of his own ‘death’, Orba had, of course, had no actual intention of dying. However, the need to prevent war with the west was an unshakable conviction of his that would not waver even in the face of the currently more pressing goals.

This was partly because it had been one of the targets he had given himself when he chose to stand once more as the Crown Prince; and if he ignored it, he felt as though he would lose the purpose he had accepted when rising to take the imperial throne.

I definitely have to see that through.

He could still hear the clicking sound of a gun’s rotating cylinder – the moment when Emperor Guhl was about to pull the trigger.

At that moment, Guhl’s burning gaze and undoubtedly been filled with murderous intent. The emperor would have pulled the trigger with the intention of killing the impostor Gil. And yet, the shot was not fired. Was it possible that a man like Guhl could have pulled the trigger, forgetting that the bullet chamber was empty?

He was probably testing luck – thought Orba.

His prediction from before deciding to head to Solon had proven to be correct.

Guhl had been driven into a corner. And far more so than Orba had expected.

The generals who should have dedicated their swords and their lives to the emperor had surrendered to the crown prince one after another; and in Apta, Birac and Nedain, the people who should have loved and wors.h.i.+pped Guhl alone were welcoming the crown prince’s reign.

Because of that, Guhl had chosen a direct confrontation. He had believed that in front of his trusted retainers, he needed to completely tear through the impostor’s disguise.

And then, realising that he had lost the confrontation, he had become aware that the luck he had intended to test when loading that bullet had slipped far away from him.

In that instant, Orba had received an impression of the emperor that was even stronger than when the latter had been blazing with the desire to kill him.

He was a lonely old man.

Even though he had believed until then that he still had the immense influence and leaders.h.i.+p to pull along his adherents, he was made to realise that his surroundings were inevitably concerned about his own age, and, he had sat on his throne with eyes as tired as those of a craftsman on the verge of retirement.

So that’s the emperor?

So that’s what left of the statesman he once was?

When those words crossed Orba’s mind, he himself could not tell whether the emotions that accompanied them were pity, contempt, or sorrow.

But what he did know was that he did not feel the slightest joy at having finally won against that man.

Before he knew it, Orba had made his way to Solon’s dragon pen. It was a habit with him that he could not help but go and check on all the various preparations before a battle.

As he approached the pen, he could hear a woman’s voice – something which did not fit the surroundings. Hou Ran. Even though she had arrived from Birac by air carrier just the other day, she had apparently spent her entire time since then looking after the dragons.

This dragon pen was very close to the barracks he had used in the past for his Imperial Guards, as well as being adjacent to the landing grounds for airs.h.i.+ps. Seeing the dragons, fangs gleaming, feet stamping, on the other side of the cages while Hou Ran ran around looking after them, he had a strong sense that he really had returned to Solon.

And also, he caught sight of a medium-sized dragon, a Baian, who was eagerly pressing its snout against the bars of the cage.

“It’s you, is it?” Orba said laughingly as he stroked its snout.

The dragons that Ran usually took care of had, of course, been on the same air carrier as she had. Drool trailing from it, the Baian opened its mouth wide.

“Oh?” Hou Ran approached, chuckling.

“What?”

“No, nothing. Orba, have you learned to tell the dragons apart?”

Orba only realised it once she had said it. The dragon he had just spoken to had some kind of connection to him. And during the battle at Tolinea, they had lead the charge together.

Ran then made a strange request.

“Can you give this child a name?”

“A name?” Orba raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you’ve told me before that names are meaningless to dragons.”

“And didn’t I also tell you that I could teach them the concept?”

She smiled more broadly than usual – although to those who did not know her, it would only seem like a very slight smile – and joined Orba in stroking the Baian’s forehead.

“This child understands...o...b..’s name, and more than that, it wants...o...b.. to be able to tell it apart from the other dragons.”

There were differences between dragons and it looked as though each of them also had different ways of thinking. Orba was somewhat amused by this turn of events. After mentally going through a list of possible names, he decided on one.

“Milbak.”

It felt as though, while groping through his memory, something had come tumbling out from a corner he did not usually touch and had gotten stuck to his fingertips. It was probably the name of a person or a place that he had read about long ago in some famous person’s biography or in a book of military history.

“Not bad. Now all that’s left is to see if this child likes it.” Ran practically flew into the cage and brought her face close to the Baian’s snout.

While Orba was continuing to supervise the preparations, the generals Rogue, Odyne, Folker and Yuriah each led their men into Solon.

“When we received Your Highness’ summons from Solon, I honestly could not believe it.” As soon as they alighted in the port, Rogue and the others went to see the prince. “And we were even given what was for all the world like a heroes’ welcome from the townspeople.”

“General Rogue kept warning us ‘Don’t let your guard down. We could be attacked from behind’,” noted Folker.

“I have heard all sorts of rumours and tales,” Odyne was unable to hide his expression of awed wonder. “But they are all so hard to believe so suddenly. Would you please tell us in detail about your talk with His Majesty?”

“Sure,” Orba shrugged. He glanced towards the door of the room’s antechamber. “But don’t you all have people whose faces you’d like to see before mine?”

For a moment, the generals looked at each other in confusion. Orba snapped his fingers and the door opened.

“Ah!” Yuriah was the first to exclaim, while Rogue, the long-serving general, caught his breath. Odyne’s eyes went wide before he turned to look at Orba.

Don’t mind me – he seemed to be giving his approval.

The generals were still slightly hesitant, but in the end, the first to succ.u.mb to his feelings was, unsurprisingly, the comparatively young Yuriah Mattah. He rushed over to his parents and his young wife. As though that had given them permission, Odyne’s wife and daughters drew closer, while Rogue and his wife and child closed the distance between one another, one step at a time.

They embraced each other, calling each other’s names.

Lannie Lorgo, Odyne’s usually valiant daughter, buried her face in her father’s cloak, sobbing. Rogue’s previously somewhat unreliable son, Romus Saian, also had his eyes s.h.i.+mmering with tears, but was holding himself back from making a sound.

“I’ve caused you a whole lot of trouble.” Even when Rogue addressed him, he simply shook his head. Rogue smiled with tears in the corners of his own eyes. “I’ve heard all about it. About how you kept encouraging your mother and everyone this whole time. Even when the soldiers were dragging you away, or when you were in the prison… You really have inherited your father’s blood – you’re a splendid young warrior of the Saian House.”

He laid his hand on his son’s head. Romus was only a twelve-year-old boy and he could not keep holding back his tears. In the end, he too clung to his father and wept.

The commander of the Black Steel Sword Division, Folker Baran, watched on by himself, smiling. Orba drew up to him.

“That was unexpected.”

“What was, Your Highness?”

“When I ordered the men to invite your family here as well, Folker, they gave me a really strange look. I can’t believe you’ve been divorced three times.”

“My sins are heavy.”

“So I thought that maybe at least just your children… but the soldiers went white at the idea of having all of them together in one place.”

“I had three with my first wife, five with my second one and two with my last wife. For some reason, they all get along absolutely terribly.”

“Go visit them later.”

“I am very sorry to have worried you with this. However, my first wife told me never to go near her or her sons again, my second wife practically faints whenever I get close, and as for my third…”

I don’t need to know – Orba swallowed those words that had risen to his lips and patted Folker on the shoulder. The Folker he knew had a gentle personality and was always calm and collected, so it was not that he was not curious about what kind of husband and father he was to his family, but right now, it didn’t matter.

While organising troops, he decided in the end to station Folker Baran in Nedain. This was in preparation of any emergency. With the ‘emergency’ in this case having to do with Solon.

Given that the emperor had told Orba to show him his back, he must have gotten hold of the information that Orba bore a brand there. The rest of the world believed that the enmity between the emperor and crown prince had been entirely erased, but as far as...o...b.. was concerned, nothing was over, and he had a hunch that, on the contrary, things were only just about to begin.

He decided to return Rogue Saian’s division to Birac. This time, Yuriah’s Bow of Gathering Clouds Division would be in charge of the troops’ transport by air and of aerial combat. Four hundred Imperial Guards led by Orba in person, two hundred dragoons and cavalrymen, as well as four hundred of Odyne’s riflemen would ride in three of Yuriah’s cruisers.

General Odyne himself would be on stand-by in Solon with five hundred reservists. He would continue to make preparations for battle, so that if he received the notification, he would be able to rush over with the s.h.i.+ps that they had borrowed from the Haman Firm.

When Folker and Rogue left Solon, Orba clasped their hands.

“I’m counting on you.”

He valued Folker Baran highly as a ‘man I can trust to have my back.’ On the battlefield, he could leave his back to Pas.h.i.+r and Gilliam, but Folker was invaluable because – as long as he’s behind me, Orba knew that he could fight without having to worry about threats from the rear, beyond where his eyes could see.

Folker himself was no fighter, but his forte lay in his tenacity even when faced with possible defeat. In Mephius, there was no lack of brave commanders who held to the creed that one should attack the enemy with the ferocity of a raging fire, so Folker could only leave a rather unremarkable impression and tended not to be noticed. Nevertheless, after having confronted him at Tolinea, Orba’s evaluation of him was that, had he been given a chance to show what he could do, he might well have become the emperor’s right-hand man by now.

Perhaps because Folker could tell how highly he appreciated him, he vigorously clasped Orba’s hand in return.

“Leave it to me. As for you, Your Highness, please be careful. It is apparently not rare for Allion to incorporate the likes of sorcerers within the troops that they mobilise. Please be wary of being misled by their dubious tricks.”

“I understand.”

Naturally, he did not say that – I got put through the wringer by it in the west. Even if he were told to be careful about sorcerers, it was a fact that there was nothing that could be done about them. However, he had learned by experience in the west that sorcery was not as all-powerful as read of in the legends. The man who had claimed to be Garda had apparently needed to put all sorts of preparations in place. If they were attacking Allion, it would be a different matter, but Orba guessed that the sorcerers would not be able to set up large-scale preparations in the territory of the enemy country that was Ende.

The day after Rogue and Folker had left, they finally received a reply from Ende. The letter brought by the messenger however had not been written by Prince Eric’s own hand. Nor were the contents clear. It merely contained the non-committal information that discussions were still underway in Safia, and it was impossible to tell from it whether or not they were ready to accept reinforcements.

Have they already started to march? Orba wondered. The answer might have been delayed because they were in a situation in which it was difficult to contact Eric.

It was not even worth considering that it might be because Garbera had already dispatched reinforcements while Mephius had been slow to react.

Therefore, Orba decided that, for now, he would leave from Solon with his troops. They would head east to Idolo so that they would be able to move swiftly as soon as there was an official request from Ende.

Normally, in a case like this, when he had only just settled his quarrel with the emperor, Orba would have felt that having a splendid send-off ceremony was necessary, in part so as to lay the groundwork for the future. At present though, time was precious. They would fly directly to Idoro by air carrier, deliberately avoiding the ha.s.sle of leaving by horseback through the gates of the capital city. Although it was sudden, everybody briskly sprang into action.

Once Orba had given the command, the soldiers swiftly gathered their equipment, harnessed their horses or their dragons, re-checked the weapons which had already been loaded into the s.h.i.+ps and, as soon as a messenger was sent to Idolo, they completed the preparations for take-off.

Orba himself was getting changed in his chambers within the palace and strapping a sword to his waist. The sun was setting in the west and the inside of the room was dyed red.

For a moment, his eyes rested on the mask that was lying on top of the desk. It too had gone red in the light of the setting sun and almost shone brightly enough to burn his eyes.

He started to stretch out a hand towards it.

But then pulled it back halfway.

“Dinn,” he called out the name of his page.

“Aye,” the boy who was inspecting his armour lifted his head. He was twelve or thirteen years old, and was certainly not shy. Although knowing full well that Orba was a former sword slave, he always served him as the ‘crown prince’. Orba looked straight into that familiar face.

“I’m leaving this place to you while I’m gone.”

“I understand,” the boy answered with a nod. “I will keep the room clean, the windows open to let in air, and change the flowers every day so that everything will be ready for when you return, Your Highness.”

Orba nodded in return.

“I know that you’re always taking care of that. I’m grateful,” he said.

Dinn opened his eyes wide for a second. “Your Highness,” he said, in a tone that for some reason was filled with reproach.

“W-What?”

“Do not speak so thoughtlessly. A gentleman of high standing does not usually tell a servant that he is ‘grateful’ for his busying himself with various trifles. If you speak up in that way, it will simply give rise to suspicion that something might be up,” said Dinn.

Thinking about it, he was the one who had first taught Orba the manners of the n.o.bility. From how to stand to how to walk, talk, and even how to smile. Dinn had been no less of a demon of an instructor than Gowen, the overseer of gladiators, had been.

“Good. At times like these, all you should say is ‘same as usual’.”