Rakuin no Monshou-Volume 3, Chapter 3: Territory Marking

Part 1

By the time their whole party arrived at the front gates of Apta Fortress, the sun was about to set.

The fortress walls towered over them with its overwhelming height.

On the tip of the protruding spires spread across the walls were raised Mephian and Garberan flags. They likely spotted Orba approaching through the crenel, for Orba saw the Garberan flags ahead of him taken down. That was proof of the transfer.

“That was quite the adventure.”

Shique joked, smiling at Orba who rode beside him, but Orba did not say anything back.

This is Apta.

The weather-beaten ramparts, the shadows of the spires that stood out like the head of a black demon under the dusk, and the distant voices of what felt like those of wild beasts and birds blending into the soldier’s chatter—

This was the fortress his brother Roan had been in. And this was also the place he had thought to one day go himself, bearing a single sword on him.

The gates opened with a creak, the sound dispelling the emotions Orba were harbouring. The bridge lowered and the Garberan knights assembled on the path connecting the fortress past the deeply dug trench. Standing in front and offering a respectful bow to Orba was a long-haired man clad in a robe—Garbera’s Noue Salzantes.

Orba got off his horse and exchanged greetings with Noue.

“I’ve been awaiting you, your highness. Did you happen to take a detour?”

“We were attacked by beasts dwelling in the woods. Recently, these beasts have made leaps, and can even handle guns.”

“You mean...”

Noue’s eyes widened. As for whether this was all an act or not, Orba had considered trying to read his face, but his opponent was far more proficient in the use of this variant of subterfuge and he immediately gave up the thought.

If he were trying to kill us, he would’ve planned other ways.

In addition, were Gil Mephius to die now, it was Noue who would be most troubled. Along the way, he had reviewed all the information at his disposal and came to a conclusion. Why Noue had tried to cause turmoil in Mephius—and why he would go as far as to sacrifice Vileena’s life to do it—

The answer he arrived at hinted the movements Noue would take from here on.

Whether it’ll go the way I think is another story.

With the uproar over the rebellion in Solon, he fully realised his own shortage in experience and knowledge. Precisely the reason why he now tread cautiously. He sought information in great volumes. All that remained was to rely on his animalistic senses. Relying on his senses certainly did not seem very dependable, but...

Even then, these are the senses that helped me narrowly escape death. They’re nothing to make light of.

In the end, the final thing Orba turned to was the feeling of the sword he lived by.

The citizens of Apta received Prince Gil’s troops proceeding down its streets with waves of acclaim. Those who moved here from Garbera had already returned to their own country. The population’s entirety were residents of Mephius since over six years past. The changing of the sovereign or country that governed them made little difference to their lives. Truly, Orba, whose hometown was near Apta, was also not particularly conscious of the ‘Mephius name’.

Crossing through the centre of town, they ascended the hill and entered the castle keep. People were running about inside the passage, the fortress soldiers and craftsmen clamouring.

A feast had already been prepared within the banquet halls; beer and food were bountiful.

As he gave a side glance to the soldiers feasting in this welcoming party, Orba exchanged a toast with Noue.

“I’d have never imagined the princess would come here.”

“It’s father’s worldly discretion. This will one day be my castle. It was better to get accustomed to here, was his reasoning.”

“Here will?” Noue questioned, seeming somewhat careful with his choice of words. “That should not last for long. After all, your highness is the first successor to the imperial throne.”

“It isn’t too bad relaxing here in these rurals either. And also, I’d be getting used to the status of a castle lord, am i right?”

“That, certainly holds true.”

During their conversation, Noue never got into discussing the nature of Garbera and Ende’s relations. Orba had also been amassing information from various sources. The other day, a messenger from Garbera had visited Solon, but the emperor on account of being busy refused even a meeting.

The moment he heard this, the image of the dispirited young girl he saw in Birac had flashed in his mind. It accompanied feelings of anger. However, like Noue, Orba dared not speak of this.

“Lord Noue, when will you be departing from here?”

“Once the transference has come to pass, we all have our various tasks. The moment that settles—yes, I’d say five days from now.”

Of course, whether it was Zaj or Noue, he could not probe their intentions simply by talking to them face to face. They were men a cut above the rest.

Five days later, huh.

At that time, things would be set into motion—that was what Orba read.

The following morning, Orba wandered the fortress interior.

A fortress city. These fortress quarters served as both a place of command and living quarters for Orba and his soldiers, and situated atop the hillside across the entire northeastern tip. These bulky fortress walls stretched around to enclose an urban area housing a population of five thousand.

The western ramparts, the only location where the walls were low, stood over a 50 metre cliff. The Yunos River flowed directly under it, also demarcating the border.

The cliff, which was just as well a wall of nature, towered almost vertically over the river. But in a spot spread across some few hundreds of metres in the north, the slope gentled. On that cliff was a road, as if carved by a knife, that meandered upwards until finally reaching the northern gates.

“That is the transport route for goods through the Yunos River,” a soldier appointed as guide explained.

With the exception of the west side, all gates were guarded by watchtowers and spires. And there were also terraced hillslopes and mounted artillery around the northern and southern gates. The northern encampment also came into contact with the cliff, on the off-chance the enemy invaded by air from the west. Furthermore, runways were prepared above the fortress walls running between the eastern and western urban districts, so air defensive measures were also taken care of.

An impregnable fortress.

If I’m to trust Zaj Haman’s information...

Ax Bazgan did not own a very large air force. Which meant he had no choice but to go the roundabout way, directly attacking from the north or south.

Or, the possibility the enemy might come ferrying across the Yunos River wasn’t nil, but the Yunos River’s current was fast, and with there being nowhere to use to take shelter, the risk of being showered in a rain of bullets and arrows until they finished crossing proved high.

That is, assuming sufficient numbers of soldiers are deployed there.

To begin with, this wasn’t a location he could satisfactorily spread out 200-300 soldiers to form a line of defense. The number of soldiers just weren’t enough to deploy to constantly man all the cannons, watchtowers, or gates.

I guess it’ll be fine as long as we see them. By the time the enemy comes close, we’ll be ready.

Of course, in the fortress was not only the soldiers, but also a great many attendants, slaves, and artisans, of particular note being the armoursmiths, chefs, and blacksmiths. The majority of them were people who worked in the fort since before the land had been taken by Garbera. Their allegiance to a country was shallow, as they appeared to have continued working as usual, only this time, for Garbera.

“Meaning, they continued happily eating Mephius-made bread here too.”

“That stuff doesn’t even taste good.”

Orba joked around while walking accompanied by the ‘Orba pretender’ Kain.

He had noticed Kain getting used to the fanged tiger mask as of late.

Then again, his personality was childish as ever.

Throughout the day, they climbed the respective towers sticking their heads over the crenel, inspected the locations of the stables their warhorses were kept in and the locations of the smiths where they forged swords and armours, going as far as to visit the powder mills.

As he did, an imperial guard and also former slave rushed over and kneeled before him. “Woops,” Kain said, re-adjusting his manner of behaviour. Naturally, even though they were the imperial guards, Kain needed to hide the fact that he was occasionally disguised as Orba as the majority were not aware the prince and Orba were one and the same.

“How was it?”

“Sir, it is as you predicted. A week ago, a group of reinforcements seem to have arrived from Garbera.”

He had chosen the appropriate men from within the Imperial Guards skilled in gathering respective intel, disguised them, and sent them all around. Orba had done this time and time again. Even should he already be in the friendly territory of Apta, Orba performed this vigilantly.

“Hmm...reinforcements?” After the soldier left, Kain asked questioningly. “Why now, when the transfer to Mephius has already been decided? It can’t be that they’re trying to take over the fortress and take the prince hostage...”

“The wine you drank yesterday might’ve also been laced.”

“Whueehhh.”

Orba laughed at Kain who seriously seemed like he was about to be sick.

The courtyard immediately within the castle gates had a beautifully trimmed lawn with a brilliant display of flowers and shrubs. There, Orba caught sight of Shique seated near a fountain. He was enjoying a pleasant chat with several young ladies, presumably servants working at the fortress. Kain cursed out silently at the all too cheerful atmosphere.

“What’s his problem. In spite of himself going around saying he hates women.”

‘That’s why it must be like hell for him,” Orba chuckled.

Taking notice of them, Shique directed an intense glare at Orba in a way unperceived by the girls.

“The ones suited for collecting information, are women, Orba,” was what the drunk Shique proudly declared to him yesterday.

“Sure, while men might be weak to a woman’s wiles, to compensate, they can get a feel of their intentions. But, women, while they might be able to levelly assess this when done to other women, are driven by the thought that this feverish love can’t possibly turn out a lie whenever it concerns themselves. Of course, this isn’t a simple display of selfless love. You need to coldly thrust them away on occasion, as to leave them with the feeling, I don’t want him to hate me; I don’t want to lose his love; so I’ll pour my everything out for him.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Then again, it’s impossible for you, Orba. Your hands are tied with your fiancee princess alone. If I had to pick your weakness, that would surely be it.”

“Then,” Orba said as he stifled a laugh, “I’ll have to leave that up to you, Shique.”

The drunkenness on Shique’s face, having stirred up the hornet’s nest, had been completely blown off.

“Sometimes I ask myself,” Shique remarked, spouting complaints in the end, “why I’m this kindhearted. It’s as if I’m the one selflessly offering my love to you. Can’t I hope for a bit more consideration?” Now then.

After surveying the area, Orba thought of Noue, who was most probably, likewise, currently ascertaining the Mephian battle formations.

He should’ve grasped the inadequacy of Mephius’ forces. It should be clear as day that Guhl’s intention is to purposely prolong the war and not meddle between Ende and Garbera’s affairs. Which would mean...

The day where they could hold a frank discussion without bothering with the whole reading faces or negotiating wasn’t too far off.

Afterwards, Orba showed up at the once-more prepared banquet alongside the setting sun. Three days and three nights of feasts were scheduled to continue from today on. Having become lord of a castle, Orba intimately greeted the crowd and patted their shoulders in what was a festive manner.

Vileena, unable to settle herself down in this seating, left her seat, and Noue also made his leave only showing his face briefly, but taking care to give his congratulations. Without paying any particular mind to this, Orba merrily conducted himself while taking a careful look around. Most of the imperial guards had not turned up as he had previously established.

“Ooh, your imperial highness! If you would, a toast.”

War had called out to him from the hall’s corner. He was a former sword slave Orba had sent into Oubary’s camp of mercenaries; a middle aged man who carried a dull air about him at first glance. As Orba approached them, the soldiers working for Oubary likewise humbly stood up from their seats.

“At ease, at ease.”

With a broad smile, he drank a cup of wine on the table. Orba certainly was not resilient to alcohol, but there was no helping it as this formality was also part of the act. War also started laughing.

“Your highness, this here is a man of valour who has done long service under General Oubary, Sir Bane.”

So he’s the one.

Orba glanced at the red faced man War introduced. He nearly broke into a grin for a moment, but narrowly restrained it. He already knew this man had once been in Apta from the information he’d gotten from War. Namely, that he was one of the culprits who’d abandoned his brother Roan so that he could flee first, and then burned down the village Orba belonged to. He was a plump, greasy man with eyes slanted down. Truly, he possessed an indistinct air evenly matched with War’s, and Orba felt he could somehow understand how the man contented himself at the position of captain.

“My, what a commendable deed it was, your highness.” Bane, unsurprisingly, was unable to conceal his tension, but spoke to him smiling regardless. “Your judgment the time we received an attack our way here could truly be described as deft and awe-inspiring.”

“Is that so. Here, a toast.”

Feigning jollyness, he offered him a cup. Bane respectfully obliged. War waited for the appropriate timing and then spoke up.

“Captain Bane has told me he was previously present in Apta.”

“Oh? You had fought here against the Garberan army?”

“I have.”

“You should also be more acquainted with here than I. Won’t you join me in inspecting Apta tomorrow?”

“Eh?”

Bane’s face stilled as if he stopped breathing, and then his eyes glowed.

“I-If you are fine with someone like me, by all means have me accompany you to any place, any time.”

“Aah. I’ll be depending on you.”

Even now, his nails ate into the skin of his clasped hands. Staying here for long would likely aggravate his emotions, so he performed the proper greetings and then left the hall.

Compared to the Solon imperial capital’s surroundings, the night wind here was refreshing in its own way.

Now then,

As he viewed the distant forest sunken into darkness, Orba wiped the smile and stupor from his face, plucking off the fingers bitten into his clasped hand one at a time. His palm was covered in sweat. Much death and blood had been brought forth by those hands. Occasionally, he even consciously discarded the emotions that should have accompanied what he wrought. All so he could take back all that was stolen from him.

There’s still a lot of groundwork that needs to be laid out. It’d be good if I made it in time.

Part 2

On the third day’s banquet, Orba invited the war slaves to the hall. Their feet were still fastened in chains, though were also permitted a smidgen of a drink. Their expressions stiff, they behaved like some castaway dog thrown into the fray.

Since the time their rebellion had been thwarted, they were in constant fear, not knowing whether their heads would be severed this day or possibly the next. Even after the prince added them into his forces as war slaves, it was ultimately the whim of a man in power, and they never knew when their fates would take a turn for the worst. f𝓇𝘦𝒆𝘄𝑒𝗯𝑛𝗼ѵ𝙚l.𝒄𝘰𝓶

They were alive for now. Gowen gave them training everyday, and they were beginning to think that it may actually not be some simple whim or capricious thought of the prince’s meant to kill some time. Nonetheless, it was well known that war slaves were given the most dangerous tasks in battle. They were ultimately disposable soldiers. There were many instances where war slaves were forced to commence suicidal attacks such that it was guaranteed not a single one would make it back alive even as their backs were threatened from friendly fire.

They proceeded through their meals and wine gloomily. Mira’s figure was also present amidst the female slaves serving the table. She had worked at the grand stadium of Solon, and it was none other than her whom Orba had taken hostage when Pashir and the other slaves tried to cause a rebellion.

In that spot where dark clouds seemed to gather, Mira alone behaved cheerfully. The slaves could do little more than return smiling faces when she spoke to them, but they seemed to suddenly brighten up just from her presence.

And with Mira as the origin, a disturbance took place.

“Hey you, keeping company with those slaves won’t be any fun. Come here to us.”

A single member of Oubary’s Black Armoured Division said, grabbing her shoulders. Mira tried to politely refuse, but another soldier had come along and while laughing vulgarly forced Mira onto their shoulders.

“Hold up, she’s mine.”

The first soldier called out laughingly, taking Mira back with his hands. It had only been an instant after when Mira, being tugged from both sides, raised a scream. The nearby Pashir stood up and, extending his hand sturdily as a log, lifted the soldier by the back of his neck. He flung him at the Black Armoured Division members who’d begun to gather. Several of them fell over and collapsed.

“Y-y...”

“You bloody slave. You askin’ for a fight?!”

As if treating this as a sideshow to the wine, the Black Armoured Division suddenly descended on them, and the slaves snarled back, all standing up to confront them. Naturally, the slaves’ feet were chained, but it turned into a grapple, a scuffle, and eventually an all-out brawl.

“T-This shitty bastard.”

A member of the Black Armoured Division picked up a spear leaning against the wall. While they were allies, the opponent was a slave so he didn’t hold back. At first, he thrust with the shaft of the spear, but Pashir landed on the table with near acrobatic display in his movements and made use of his chains to repel a second and third blow. Blood rushed to the soldier’s head and he readied the tip of his spear.

The instant he began to thrust forward, the soldier swooned and fell forward. Gowen was behind him with a vase of wine in his right hand.

“That’s enough!”

Forcing his way in was Gil. As expected, even the Black Armoured Division stopped moving.

“Do you intend on spoiling my ceremonious occasion? Everyone who participated in this fight gets the whip!”

Firing words of abuse as a drunk would, Gil kicked a nearby soldier’s knee and punched a war slave in the head. From his left and right, Shique and Gowen came in to restrain him.

“Let go of me! These insolent cretins are—!”

“Your highness, your highness. Please calm yourself.”

“Now now, let’s get to your bedroom. The night is late.”

The two imperial guards appeared to partly drag the prince, who wrought further curses, away from the hall.

And the following day, that incident turned to gossip within Apta spreading as far as the urban districts.

The faces of the people exchanging whispers of rumours were marked with shock and unease at their future.

“It seems the prince himself also participated in the quarrel.”

“Will things be all right? The soldiers are already few, and here they are engaging in internal squabbles.”

“If the Garberan army leaves Apta like this, what’ll happen to us?”

“It’ll be all right. No war’s happening. See there? Don’t make those faces in front of the children.”

Whether it was their ruler that would change or the country’s infrastructure that would change, the only thing that concerned the denizens was whether or not the change would function duly as a shield to protect them and guarantee peace of mind over their lives.

Unrest and dissatisfaction plagued not only the populace, but also the soldiers in question. However, Prince Gil’s proclamation in his drunken fit that ‘everyone gets the whip’ could not be enacted. They were not Gil’s personal soldiers. They were no more than soldiers lent to him by Oubary and Odyne, and even as a prince, handling them as he pleased would cause problems for him in the distant future.

It was because they grasped this that they instead acted haughty.

“Won’t you pass that message to his highness?”

Seizing the imperial guards were these superciliously spoken words.

“Those bloody slaves are mongrels who went against Mephius. I don’t plan to say anything against the prince’s tolerant treatment, but to have them dine in the same place as us regular soldiers is going a bit too far.”

“Beasts are useful because they are properly tamed. Wild as they are, they’ll only indiscriminately bare their fangs at enemies and allies alike.”

“—So they said.”

Orba recited the soldiers’ voices of dissatisfaction in front of Pashir and the war slaves.

They were at the fortress yard in a spot separated through a stone wall used for military training. All of the slaves had both knees on the ground with the soldiers’ gleaming guns surrounding them. Orba stared at their faces smeared with sweat and dirt from having finished Gowen’s training.

“You sure are awfully hated. As things are now, friendly fire’s sure to happen the day battle occurs.”

“What are you trying to say?” Pashir said, ready to take a bite at him even now. “Are you saying it’s about time to have our heads?”

“I did tell you to watch your tone, Pashir.”

Orba approached the slave and jerked up his chin with a finger. His glaring eyes in close proximity; the blazing emotions together with the suppressed murderous intent that seemed to blast out; supposing the only one here were Pashir alone, assuming he held not a single sword or even a single arrow in his hand, and even with his legs fastened in chains, there was no doubt he’d sink his fangs into Orba’s neck, or wring his neck in a vise.

However, there were a good number of slaves present. Taking Pashir’s personality into account, Orba knew he wasn’t one to lose himself in his own emotions if it would mean bringing down his companions with him.

“...Then, what is　it you want us to do?”

“It’s only one thing. Do as I say. And to add, should you carry out even just one task, you get money. Women even. If you hate following me, I’ll even set you free.”

“You wouldn’t,” Pashir gasped in disbelief.

“There’s no way you don’t know about my Imperial Guards. They’re, the whole lot of them, all former sword slaves.”

The slaves exchanged glances. The reality of the imperial guards had an effect. Their faces were unsettled. They wavered.

They, at one point, tried to raise the banner of rebellion together with Pashir. Of course, the reasoning being that they could no longer stand a slave’s treatment. It was because they were treated as beasts, living their days not knowing tomorrow that they determined it far better to throw themselves into a desperate struggle for their freedom despite the likelihood of losing their lives.

To say that freedom was standing before their eyes.

Orba viewed their faces in turn. Amongst them was Miguel Tes, whom he’d exchanged swords with at the founding festival. A man who displayed splendidly nimble skill during the uproar. Around his twenties, a handsomely faced swordsman originally not a sword slave, but fallen to one for the crime of attempted rebellion. If it were Pashir or Miguel, even if he gave them soldiers this instant, they would still carry out their respective duties, or so Gowen asserted.

“Stand, Pashir.”

Orba commanded, and then a soldier to whom he had given detailed instructions beforehand approached Pashir and undid his shackles. As Pashir stood up eyeing Orba suspiciously, another soldier came over carrying a complete Mephian outfit. Light armour, a steel helmet, and boots.

“Those are for you.”

“What?”

“I appoint you head of the slave corps. If you don’t like being called the slave corps, then Imperial Guard-supervised independent infantry unit. I’ll permit freedom within Apta to you alone. Be sure to watch over everyone.”

“Wait a second—Er, I-If you could wait. Why only me...?”

“I said it. You’re no longer a slave but a commanding officer of the foot soldiers. You also get a stipend. But you also have a responsibility to follow my orders. In the case you go against me, you will be judged by the Mephian law and I.”

Orba noisily paced back and forth in front of Pashir. Every one of the slaves watched over this development dumbfoundedly.

Possibly understanding the implied meaning Orba made—or rather, it would be Gil to him— his face reddened, then paled instead.

The slaves’ lives rested on his shoulders. Though he was permitted freedom, were he to try fleeing from Apta, responsibility would of course be pushed over to the slaves and they’d be executed. And also, they were no longer conspiring to rebel. No matter how much Pashir hated Gil and Orba, he wouldn’t easily throw away the freedom dangling in front of the other slaves, and he wasn’t foolish enough to commit such acts that would involve them in.

“Mira.”

At that point, Orba called out Mira and had her help fit Pashir’s outfit. Amidst the strange ruling silence, after Pashir was outfitted as a swordsman, Orba drew his own sword from his waist. A light swish accompanying the swing, the tip of the sword pressed against Pashir’s neck.

“I’ll give this sword to you,” Orba said in a whisper. “Wield it only to protect your own body and when I give you my orders. This sword is to kill enemies. But depending on how you use it, it might kill you. Your life, your personality, your entire dignity.”

“—”

Pashir remained silent. His animalistic, pointed eyes fixed on Orba with traces of doubt and unrest he was unable to keep off his face. However, he was no more disturbed than necessary.

He’s a hard to get man.

Able, and a man capable of standing at the centre of a group sharing the same goal.

“I’ll have Mira guide you to your own room. It also has an exclusive bed, though it might be a bit hard.”

“Prince, did you bother testing it yourself?”

Shique, who had been watching the entire conversation, interrupted. Orba laughed.

“It’s much better than sleeping outside. That’s no place to bring a woman along.”

Indifferent to the blushing Mira and leaving the rest to the soldiers, Orba left the training site.

Orba immersed himself in his own tasks oblivious to the whispered rumours in the streets and fortress interiors.

The next day, he left the fortress in the early morning. Together with Bane and several imperial guards, he made the rounds inspecting within Apta.

Because the prince had personally gone out, the neighbouring villages were pressed to greet him. To further note, their group included a single noble who had accompanied them from Solon and was appointed as the Apta administrative official, charged with management of the forest resources. He was Kalgan, third son of Julius, feudal lord of Idoro. Kalgan, who had experience in logging as well as lumbering, met with the so-called lumbermen groups at the villages.

“Your highness, I’ve been thinking of gathering the leaders from all the villages and creating an ordered system from scratch.”

“I’ll leave it in your hands.”

Until two years ago, Kalgan had been commander of the supply division serving the veteran general, Rogue Saian. However, he had suffered an injury to his right leg in the war with Garbera and had been removed from the front lines since then. Nobles who did not succeed the house either became soldiers or their family’s assistant. With a low outlook and an absence of a satisfying job, the prince had come in to personally nominate him and assign him this post. Many of those carrying out the administrative duties were nobles sharing similar circumstances to Kalgan’s.

Of course, this was also a result of the information Orba collected inside the royal palace. In this way, he collected those who strived to better themselves and aspired to work. Particularly, this was a chance where they might be recognised by the prince, and thus steal a march ahead of their brothers who had succeeded the house. Each of them burned with zeal.

“There was someone called Peewee the Piper,” Orba mentioned to Gowen at the time they listed the officers and sons of nobles that would travel with them to Apta.

“A person with absolutely no skill in using a sword or gun, only good with his tongue. No one paid him any attention, but his lies held a certain mastery to them. I dispatched him to propagate false information against Guhl. Peewee was enthusiastic and did a great job with it. For those like him, it was exactly because no one else recognised them that getting them to think there was someone who paid them attention became their greatest driving force to work.”

“I get what you’re saying. My years of experience have proven that without a doubt.”

Having also received Gowen’s approval, Kalgan’s name had been added to the list amongst the names of the many old men already crossed out.

Outwardly, Orba feigned the carefree fool seeming to enjoy himself in the villages’ warm reception.

There isn’t anyone I know, huh.

Just a little farther and he’d reach his hometown village. Of course, it didn’t exist now, and even if it did there likely wouldn’t be a single person he recognised there. But he wanted to see it with his own eyes, to set foot on it with his own feet.

The last time was when I went to bring mom back was it.

At that time, he was attacked by some run-of-the-mill soldiers and saved by Ryucown. And pulling his mother’s hand, he escaped to the next neighbouring village, which Oubary’s unit set fire to.

Orba glanced to the side at Bane, whom he had brought along with him. He was being offered wine by the villagers and grinning broadly. It appeared there wasn’t a single ripple in his emotions at how he had once burned down these people with his own hands.

“By the way Orba,” Gowen secretly whispered into his ears. “Why did you purposely have Shique and the others go separate places at the same time? It’s dangerous with the bandits appearing around here. Isn’t it better to have them patrol together?”

About the same time Orba’s group left the fortress, he had sent Shique and a separate party of Imperial Guards southwards. Krau, the slave girl he borrowed from Zaj, and Pashir were also with them.

“Because it would draw more attention to our grand departure. We don’t want them suspecting their objective.”

“You speak like there’s a spy amongst us.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there was. With the evacuation of the Garberan people, Apta should be flooded with people coming in and out these few days.”

“Your wit’s hard at work.”

“Stop it. —And also, have you noticed?”

“What?”

“The villages haven’t spoken about any bandits.”

After making a face of realisation, Gowen looked at Orba with eyes as if he’d seen something dreadful.

“...Certainly, if a group of bandits big enough to attack a merchant ship is roaming around, there’d be a high chance the villages would suffer damage. Or, even supposing that they weren’t attacked, they’d be driven by the unease of having an armed group of that size in their territory. And in spite of that, they have not uttered a single word to Apta’s new feudal lord, the prince.”

“Which would mean this strays outside of Zaj’s predictions. They’re no washed-up thugs from the west. Most likely, they’re Mephians.”

Their group returned to the fortress before sunset.

In front of the castle gates, they came across Shique and the rest who likewise appeared to be returning.

“How did it go?”

“My lord, I’m dead tired.”

Krau said, her body certainly fatigued. But as she delivered today’s results to Orba with her hands, his eyes lit up.

“You did a great job. Feast to your heart’s content. Pashir, you worked hard as well.”

“...No, it was no trouble.”

At that time, Orba spotted a strange sight at the garden near the castle gates. Several swords were thrust into the ground. He assumed it was likely some master swordsmith burying his failed works. However, that wasn’t anything of concern to him. There were many things he still needed to do.

And from up above in a spire, Noue Salzantes intently observed their situation.

Part 3

The next day, the Garberan garrisoned troops Noue led departed. Orba stood alongside Vileena seeing them off, and immediately afterwards, went all the way to the fortress’ defensive walls and ascended one of the scattered spires, from which he commanded a full view looking down on the long queue of soldiers.

The number of wagons were recklessly many. The things they needed for living at the fortress should have been sent back to Garbera beforehand, so the majority of them appeared to be food provisions. A smile unknowingly crept onto Orba’s face. Those numbers definitively changed Orba’s prediction to conviction.

“Orba.”

Gowen called out to him with a stern expression. Without turning around, Orba spoke to him.

“So the preparations are ready?”

“For the time being, it’s as you stated. I’ve never wanted your prediction to be wrong this much. See if there wasn’t a mistake in the process. Apta is...”

“This was a gamble with stacked odds from the start.” Orba affirmed, tapping the scabbard of the sword hanging from his waist. “Now, why don’t you make a better face, Gowen. Just as you would when seeing off the slaves to the place where they kill each other.”

Saying this, Orba finally turned around. His face was flushed, his eyes shining with ferocity. Gowen’s face turned unpleasant.

“If you turn the entire mobile force into a diversion as part of your clever scheme, we’ll have no main force here. Being sly is great, but in order to accomplish that, we need a main force. Fooling the enemy is good and all, but there’s no ‘core’ to your plan.”

Speaking as if war would break out tomorrow or even today, Orba also readily accepted those words.

“If we have no main force, then they will come.”

The sky was clear. The refreshing forest breeze brushed against Orba’s cheek, his spirit already gone to the battlefield.

That day passed by without any trouble.

Orba no longer held banquets like those previously, but his lightsome mood was transmitted to the soldiers aplenty and they set out to their entertainment every evening, here as well. What was more, their manner was the very meaning of arrogance. To the Aptan people, they felt the Garberan soldiers who maintained command were several times better, and unease gradually spread amongst the citizens.

Then, the following evening.

Two young men dispatched from the Black Armoured Division, Rynas and Vran, tried to go outside the castle gates. Both were gunners. They were off duty tonight, but their colleagues that should have been stationed on watch were already long gone on their excursion. But there wasn’t bound to be any enemy attack at any rate, so they didn’t worry too much over it and were on their way to go drinking.

“You two, could you come here for a bit?”

The ones who called out to them were the Imperial Guards, sitting in chairs around a table in the garden near the gate and amusing themselves in a game of cards.

“Is there something you need?”

Rynas was courteous, but position wise, knowing his opponents were former slaves, he naturally didn’t care to hide the contempt from his face.

“We’re a tad short on players for menko[1]. Would you care to join us?”

“No, we’re—”

“We’ve received quite the sum of war funds from the prince. How about it? A single game if you will.”

The imperial guard took out a leather bag and placed it on the table. It landed with a thump. Rynas and Vran exchanged glances. In going out, money would of course be needed.

“Sounds interesting.”

Vran nodded and Rynas also joined their company.

“That’s how it’s gotta be.”

The imperial guard Aeson smiled and pulling out two chairs, urged them to sit.

South of Apta, within the Tsaga mines. In the maze-like complex of ravines, a single dragonstone ship advanced. It was a cruiser class airship, and at best flew ten metres above the ground give or take. Amidst the sky and ground blending into a leaden hue immediately following sunset, where not a single living sound was made save the panicked cries of the birds flying away, a large number of people were in fact concealed. Their heads protruded over the crags, carefully watching the ship flying several metres below them. In their hands were guns. Beside them were small airships, prepped and ready for them to jump on and take off at a moment’s notice. No matter who, anyone would see them as a group of bandits about to attack the ship. However, in the end they did nothing, only holding their breaths in stillness and looking down at the ship as it continued on past their view.

And from there, separating Apta to its north was an oblongly stretched forest. That area, normally barren of men’s presences, for some reason held large numbers of shadows shifting about. And on their waists were the glint of swords and guns. They had prepared their evening meal, but without using fire so that fumes wouldn’t rise into the air, only eating readied simple dried foods. Using no lighting, they simply gathered, exchanging subdued voices, their silhouettes quite surely ominous. Any traveller happening to glimpse upon this scene would likely be struck with terror and view it as a group of the forest’s ghosts wordlessly holding a banquet.

And then—

Vileena Owell at that time came out to the balcony of her allotted fortress room. The southern forest could be seen across the urban contours under the starlight. She breathed a small sigh as her hair swayed in the wind.

His imperial highness, and Hou Ran—

She could not forget the scene she witnessed the time they were attacked by bandits on their journey to Apta. The smile Gil Mephius directed towards that girl. It was one Vileena had never seen. On asking, she found out that Hou Ran had become part of the imperial guards after the ceremony at Seirin Valley. And yet, they appeared to be longtime acquaintances.

If I ask Theresia, she’ll surely suspect this as jealousy between a man and woman.

At that time, the prince trusted Hou Ran from the bottom of his heart. When they were being fired on, even if the dragons would run amok, he was sure things would somehow work out if Ran was there—thinking this, he personally led his unit to chase after the bandits. And sure enough, Ran met his expectations. Wasn’t that the reason why when Gil rejoined them, he showed her that smile?

Vileena found their relationship a little dazzling. She didn’t know what could have happened that would cause that unimpressionable, that mysterious prince to place his full trust in Ran. The current Vileena wondered if she could ever become an existence like her. And if she did happen to become one, wouldn’t she then be able to move the prince as she willed?

Presently, Gil Mephius was once again taking indefinable actions. ‘Was his merrymaking behaviour simply not for show?’ she thought. Countlessly taken by surprise in this way, Vileena’s opinion of Gil changed.

A man I cannot let my guard down around.

Just as she had only recently written in the letter to her grandfather. It would be no wonder if Ax Bazgan’s subordinates were nonchalantly passing their days to guarantee the large flux of people moving in and out of the city. She could imagine this as one of Orba’s methods to make them lower their guard.

But what does he hope to gain by lowering their guard? It’s one thing if our forces were twice theirs. Rather, shouldn’t he be putting up a front to tell them our defenses are solid?

Her questions were endless. Although she told herself she would try believing in the prince this time, just thinking about it gave rise to her inner turmoil.

Am I the poisonous snake set loose from Garbera, or the crown prince’s wife accustomed to Mephius?

Her unsteady, trembling feet constantly shook the very core of her heart. Would it have been better were the prince really feebleminded and a man she could bend to her will? What was she hesitating over?

Ahh, I can’t have this. That I, Vileena Owell, would fall to tatters like this. Grandfather will scold me.

Since she was young, Vileena had believed that if she were born a knight, she would have handled the sword better than any knight, strategised better than any commander, supported her grandfather, achieved beyond her father’s expectations, and made Garbera the continent’s top country.

Not only am I unable to discipline a single prince rumoured as a fool for my country’s welfare, but I spend these days handled by him instead.

The anxiety and impatience gnawing away at her small chest only grew stronger.

She oh so very much wanted to return to Garbera. And if she were to ride an airship crossing this night sky to meet him...Surely her grandfather would be mad and say something like ‘Why did you shamelessly run away and come back?’. Even then, she didn’t mind. She wanted to see her grandfather, father, and mother and even wanted that scolding.

To think I would end up like this.

A weak, lonely pampered child.

“Seeing you like this,” Theresia spoke from behind her, “is like seeing a fourteen, fifteen year maiden consumed with the anguishes of adolescence.”

“I am a trifle little girl with nothing special about her. I don’t need to be told that.”

“Again, saying things unlike you. Come now princess, your tea is ready.”

“Theresia, what exactly is it that I should do?”

The young girl asked, sounding distant as she gazed at the stars.

“Well, that’s something only the princess can understand.”

“I do plan to understand my own feelings myself. But that ‘self’ feels like there are several people inside and it makes me nauseous. Each of them say different things that I don’t know which one is my real ‘self’.”

“Does that not mean that you’re becoming an adult? It pains me to say it means that pure ‘self’ of your childhood has ended.”

“My pure sel—”

As Vileena began to repeat her words, her mouth suddenly stopped.

“Is something the matter?”

“No....I remember having this kind of talk with grandfather before; of how a person no longer remains their natural, born self, because at some point they form one, two, or sometimes over ten ‘different selves’. That sometimes, they’re created because of responsibilities or official positions.”

Vileena remembered being too young at the time to understand her grandfather’s words. However, thinking back now, wasn’t it a royal family member’s resolve that he was teaching her?

As Vileena tried to recall the details of the conversation, she was swept by a tremor under her feet.

Losing her footing, she immediately witnessed a cloud of rising dust. It was in front of the gate interposed between the city districts.

“Princess?”

Sensing something amiss, Theresia came running over. Vileena did not move, only standing, her eyes opened wide.

“That is—”

Further south of the gates within the dim stretched forest, small orbs of fire appeared in succession.

The enemy! Vileena sensed.

Those were likely the flames of their handheld torches. The body of flames twisted in a line like a big snake slithering out of the forest. They had advanced secretly through the forest, but faster than Vileena could finish this thought, two, three cannon shots howled through the night sky.

“E-Enemy attack! Enemy attack, enemy attack!!”

Cries that cut through the still night immediately followed.

“The gate’s being bombarded!”

“Send for the horses!”

Cries mingled within the fortress. The urban districts were also wrapped in a large clamour as they saw the queue of men surge towards the fortress. The tranquil night was broken, and even the soft-blowing winds became a threatening gust that stung their skin.

“Princess! Are you hurt?”

Running in was Shique, the imperial guard.

“How is the Mephius army faring?”

More than worrying about her own safety, she questioned Shique about the force of enemy soldiers that had just drawn close.

“P-Princess,” Theresia began, as if to stop her.

“Why have you allowed the enemy to come this close so easily? What of the soldiers assigned to the gates? What about the airship unit on lookout?”

“F-For now, please follow me. My duty is in leading the princess to a safe location.”

“I’m fine. More importantly, I will go to the airship launching site. If we don’t rouse the soldiers—”

Vileena cried out, shaking off Shique’s hand by force. “Hm?” she furrowed her graceful brows. Another cannon shot sounded from the balcony.

“Shique, weren’t you a bit too fast in coming here?”

“—”

“Don’t tell me...”

When Vileena suddenly turned around, the tip of the flames that took on the shape of a huge snake drew immediately before the outer walls.

The figures appearing from the forest were a band of swordsmen, their faces concealed by front pointed helmets[2] and donning the Zerdians’ characteristic metal armour. The cannons were positioned on a hill within the forest and bombarded the south gates and battery emplacement protruding in the southeast.

The streets and fort fell into a confusion as it became littered with holes, but the enemy forces hadn’t come out.

The attacker’s commander Natokk broke into a grin beneath his helmet. He had light coloured-skin and a hawk-shaped face, features that could be found in the common Zerdian.

“It’s exactly as the information said. Those Mephian morons have drunken themselves silly and are still slumbering away.”

The Mephians showed signs of readying to intercept their attacks, but a quickened strike would settle that.

Natokk signaled for consecutive fire. A hole tore open in the outer walls before his sharp eyes, and the gate’s reinforced watchtowers toppled over. The residents’ screams soared past the fortress walls, resounding in Natokk’s ears.

Pulling off the string on his scabbard, he drew a slightly curved sword.

“We the main force shall proceed towards the southern gate. Shadam, take command of the gunning unit and foot soldiers, and standby on the east side. Engage any enemy who comes out.”

“Sir!”

His adjutant, face roasted in the colour of flames, was beside him.

“If the enemy pushes out, engage them accordingly and retreat to the forest.”

He was already aware Apta Fortress had a shortage of forces. His spies who had slipped into the city districts had done right. With the evacuation of the Garberan forces, the main force within Apta likely didn’t even amount to five hundred. The soldiers Natokk was leading were also a few three hundred, but the cruiser that ferried them here had returned back, after which it would be fully loaded again and heading this way. The ship would drop the troops, following which the unit would advance north through the forest, passing east of Natokk, and commence an attack on Apta from the north. Should the enemy focus their forces on Natokk, they would suffer a pincer attack.

That’s our strategist, Ravan-dono for you. In a single night, we will finally grasp the coveted Apta in our hands.

Natokk ran his tongue down the tip of his blade.

On the other end, the inside of Apta was as Natokk saw, at the height of confusion. The soldiers rushing out in great hurry were all half armed, and the cavalry stationed in the east and south gates were hindered by the fleeing citizens and unable to advance forward.

The artillery battery projecting southeast of Apta finally fired back, but the artillery duel did not continue for long. The main force that had crashed through the main gates ascended the hills, crossed the trenches, and began penetrating into the fortress interiors.

When they entered the gates, it was no surprise that soldiers came running down the steps on both sides in a panic. However, even with numbers, even in force, they were no opponent for Natokk. A bullet was fired, and then a second shot. And by the tenth shot they had lost their composure and scrambled to escape.

“This...so there wasn’t even a need for a second force.”

There wasn’t a need to go as far as to pry the second gate open through brute force. Natokk planned to move through the fortress passages towards the fixed batteries and subdue the enemy artillery. If he turned the cannons towards the city and fired them, it would intensify enemy mayhem.

Sending a few elites towards the batteries, Natokk and his main force intercepted the enemy in the gate interior.

However, shortly after a messenger of the elite force kneeled before Natokk’s eyes. It seemed the enemy airships had appeared and they were currently exchanging fire. That infantrymen were being carried one after another atop the fortress walls signalled they were also converging towards the batteries.

The enemy had finally made its move. Information that a unit of footmen were approaching from the front had also arrived. But that was still within the margin. A part of him considered a full-frontal confrontation using his main force, but Natokk was not such an incompetent man to be driven by his desires and lose himself in his mission. The one making light of the enemy was not him, but rather, Mephius.

“Okay, pull back while returning fire. Have them fire the cannons one more time and provide cover!”

Quickly handing down his decision, he signaled his force to fall back from the southern gate. A group of the enemy foot soldiers, maybe convinced of their victory, came outside the fortress. Here, for the first time both sides’ naked swords clashed. The man standing as the enemy’s vanguard was fairly skilled. He made a timely sidestep as two of Nattock’s men lunged at him, and he sunk his sword into their neck and chest.

As Natokk had his men engage them in melee, he gave out the signal to regroup with the soldiers in the east bank while ascertaining a path of escape.

Everything was going according to plan.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ A japanese card game. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Menko

2. ↑ Similar to a samurai helmet