Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 11, Chapter 5: The Outcome of Fate

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 friendship 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 nobles that he passed 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 ships. They have loaded five airships in each and appear to be getting them prepared for take-off.”

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

The nobles who watched them pass 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’ attitude 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 already 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 lust 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 Orba’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 identity 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 friendship 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 worshipped 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 leadership 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 airships. 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 Orba’s name, and more than that, it wants Orba 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 succumb 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 shimmering 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 Orba 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 ships 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 Pashir 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 hassle 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 ships 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 nobility. 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’.”

“Fine, I get it... Well then, same as usual.”

The red light was also reflected in Dinn’s eyes as he saw Orba off, but Orba did not say anything in particular. The ‘same as usual’, he had him help him into his armour then left the room.

His subordinates and his soldiers were already fully assembled at the port. Among them were Pashir, Gilliam, Kain, Miguel and all the other former gladiators.

“We’re leaving.” With Gil Mephius’ expression, Orba gave his orders. “Don’t have any regrets for your homeland. That will only dull your strength when you grasp your sword. Discard all but twenty percent of them. Then take strength from thinking that you will live and return.”

“Aye, aye.”

Commanders and soldiers alike bowed their heads, and struck the ground with the handle of their spears, raising their guns high to the crimson skies.

Gil Mephius’ troops were able to take to the skies before the sun had finished setting.

Part 2

“Your Majesty.”

Someone spoke.

Guhl Mephius had been sitting on his bed for quite a while now. He had not even finished changing.

He had cancelled that morning’s court. Since Guhl would usually even invite to breakfast those who wished for an audience, this lead concern that he might not be feeling well, and a number of people came to visit him, but Guhl had the chamberlains send most of them away.

Only Empress Melissa had been allowed into his room, but Guhl could not remember what they had talked about. At the end, for some reason or another, she seemed to have given a shrill shriek.

How much time had passed since then?

“Your Majesty.”

The voice called again.

Was there still someone here? He wearily looked up.

“Oh,” the old emperor moaned. “I see. You’re still here.”

“It’s a lovely day, Guhl.”

Looking as though it was completely normal for them to be in the emperor’s private chambers without his permission, that person went towards the room’s closed curtains.

“Why are you shutting yourself away in the dark like this? You would do better to draw open the curtains and look at the gardens. The sky is blue and the wind is fresh and clear. The people of Solon are enjoying a peaceful morning again after so long. Young men and women are strolling along the avenues as the elderly are sitting and chatting while watching them go by.”

“...”

“You should go and see them, listen to their voices. That is what the world is, Guhl. For the likes of us, the world is only what we can see. Especially for old men who have reached an age where all that’s left is to leave things to the younger generation.”

“I’m going senile,” Guhl let out another moan. “If I were an ordinary person, then that would be that. I could just grow old and senile, then die. But I am the emperor. I carry the weight of the country on my shoulders. My world is not mine alone.”

“You are a pitiful old man.” Far from impressed, the other gave his opinion of Guhl. “And you should accept that age has caught up with you. I will reach a hand to what no hand can reach, and I will force you to see that which you cannot see. But you know, Guhl... Borrowing a power which humans should not touch in order to accomplish your goals... naturally, it makes you a failure as a human.”

A glare was thrown towards the emperor.

“You were undeniably strong. When your mother was killed before your eyes by a dragon, you were convinced that it was your father’s fault, and so you decided to become a ruler stronger than any other. You were going to create a country of peace, while seeing everything that happened within it, listening to every voice, and instantly crushing every sign of danger.”

“...”

“And we supported you with all our might. Especially Lady Lana, your empress, who empathised with your way of doing things, unfettered by old ways and traditions. When trouble seemed to be brewing among the retainers’ factions, she was always the first to play the part of mediator. Sometimes acting as your shield, sometimes as the arrow that admonished you, she gave you more help than any of we retainers. But...”

“Enough.”

“But Lady Lana passed away too soon, much too soon. Immediately after bearing the long-awaited child, as though that had drained all the life from her. Ultimately, you and Empress Lana were husband and wife for almost no time at all.”

“Enough.”

On top of the bed, Guhl was grinding his teeth. But the voice did not stop.

“You were afraid. You, who was supposed to be strong, were afraid of how weak you were becoming when faced with the death of a loved one. It was the same as when your mother died. You had to find a reason for your grief. You had to make it someone’s fault. Before, you had been able to blame your father. But this time, it was different. It was nobody’s fault. And so, you could only invent blame. It was Lana’s fault. It was the fault of her own inherent weakness.”

Far from gradually swelling with the strength and fury of a storm, the voice continued its recital with the constant rhythm of the pitter-patter of a gentle rain.

“You loathe weakness. As a result of craving strength, you could not forgive any form of weakness. Neither in yourself, nor in others. And so, you came to hate Empress Lana, who had died before you, as though abandoning you; and neither could you forgive her son, Gil, who was gradually becoming more and more like her. Because of that, when it came to him, you...”

“That\'s enough!”

Emperor Guhl Mephius finally screamed out loud, then turned to bury his head in the bed.

The window was shut tight, and the heavy curtains were not swaying in any breeze.

“Your Majesty” – A different voice called out from outside the door.

Guhl lifted his head. There was no in the room except Mephius’ emperor. Guhl however was not particularly surprised. He knew it perfectly well, whose voice had been speaking up until then.

A hesitant murmur called out to him again. The soldier who was acting as the emperor’s guard informed him that he had another visitor. Guhl raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t I say that no one was to be allowed in?” – he was about to bellow in a thunderous voice, but suddenly, his shoulders fell wearily and he allowed the guest to enter.

“What is the meaning of your behaviour?” The one who appeared was a messenger from the Dragon Gods’ faith; the same old man as the one who had visited this exact room just before the confrontation with the crown prince. “You should have revealed the impostor’s real identity and had him immediately executed, just as we had agreed. Your grief would have been extinguished and things could have proceeded according to plan.”

“My grief would have been extinguished?” Guhl responded vacantly before sneering. “I’ve thought before that you were inhuman monsters, but that feeling had never been as strong as it is now. You don’t understand anything. Which isn’t surprising, given that you look at people like pawns on a board. Did you seriously think that everything would go back to the way it was before if I forced through the impostor’s execution then? Hah, before meddling with human fates, you should have learned more about the human world.”

“...”

“Get out. Retire to your shadows and go and plot some evil scheme or another. I’m a little tired. If you want an in-depth discussion, come back some other time. Keep yourselves busy and go play in an empty lot.”

The messenger from the Dragon Gods’ faith left without any parting words.

Only a little while later, that same old man was prostrating himself before a bed in a place that was, indeed, wrapped in shadows.

There laid an old man. Of the elders of the Dragon Gods’ faith, he was the leader and so all the more of an ‘elder’. Even though, among that collection of elderly men, he was comparatively young. was the leader and so all the more of an ‘elder’. Nevertheless, in these past few days, in which he had appeared neither before the emperor not anyone else, he seemed to have aged ten, twenty years.

“Damn you, Guhl, that...”

The muttering voice held no vigour and was occasionally racked by violent coughing.

“Did you get cold feet? Pathetic, he’s just like all the other humans in this world. No matter how much ambition they have in their youth, as they grow older, the limits of what they can see – familiar scenery, family – becomes their own little kingdom with which they are content. And in their final moments, they look back on an existence in which they have not accomplished a tenth of the ambitions of their youth and die thinking that theirs was a surprisingly good life.”

His surroundings were silent and still.

There was only the single, kneeling elder carefully listening to him. The ceiling of the temple was high, and the shadows so thick that you could not see through them, no matter how you strained your eyes.

“You think that there is just one more step, but that step is unexpectedly far.” The elder whispered, his eyes darker than the shadows. “If you think about it, both Magic King Zodias and Garda, the high priest of Zer Tauran in the west, were like that. Both of them laid their plans, both of them approached their goals one step at a time, yet neither were able to accomplish them. However... they moved forward every time. What, at that time, felt like the final step had to be repeated over and over again until, now, it seems more like a hundred steps.”

Coughing and breathing raggedly, as though he held a storm in his throat, the elder continued to expound even though there was no one to hear.

“Zodias discovered how to extract ether from humans, Garda rallied the nomads, they who preached the revival of the Dragon Gods, and took back the ‘Dragon God’s Claws’. While analysing the laws of sorcery and creating new ones, he distributed ‘passageways’ throughout the world and constructed ether supply routes. The cost in time and lives was absurdly high. From being born as a baby to being resigned to greet death in old age... how often was that amount of time repeated? Even though it was finally about to take shape here in Mephius...”

How did it all start?

The elder’s voice continued to speak of lonely recollections, occasionally fading so low that no one could possibly hear it.

“Ah yes, it’s been ever since the failed assassination attempt against the crown prince and the princess, in Seirin Valley. That should have brought Guhl to sever all lingering ties of affection with this mortal world, Garbera and Ende should have been dragged into the fray, and the power balance at the centre of the continent should have been overturned.”

There was also that time, in the west. By setting up that man called Reizus as the new Garda and using the artefacts that were the shrines that I myself had left behind, we should have been able to open a ‘passageway’ to Mephius while watching how Barbaroi responded.

“But he was defeated much faster than expected. Not, however, to the point that we needed to reassess the diagram of fate. That too was brought about because the gears of fate were temporarily thrown out of order. Back then, we left things as they were since we had to concentrate on making the next preparations towards our pre-determined goal. But upon carefully examining what happened, what seems to have emerged is the dazzling radiance of the fate of the one responsible for the malfunctioning gears.”

The dark-skinned elder was once again racked by a violent coughing fit. For a while, his emaciated limbs convulsed and his breaths seemed to be wrung from him, as though the life was draining from his entire body.

“We cannot wait any longer. For now, I am willing to abandon half of the diagram of fate, but we must get rid of that element of disturbance. Zafar. Is Zafar here?!”

“I am here.”

His answer was heard.

Yet he was not there.

No, it was rather that the one who spoke was the old man kneeling before the bed. However, he was not the man who had called himself “Zafar” in the west. Nevertheless, even while his body quivered and his starting eyes twitched, he spoke in Zafar’s voice.

“This time, be sure to end the Crown Prince’s life. The place will be the battlefield. There will be nothing strange about something happening there so the compensation for using sorcery to interfere with the diagram of fate will be somewhat reduced. I will let Tahī accompany you, so be sure to accomplish your mission at all cost.”

“Aye.” Although Zafar answered thus, after a moment, he asked, “What should we do about that Barbaroi matter?” That was all that was said, yet even so, the voice was hoarse and the flesh at his neck shook uncontrollably. “I am lead to suppose that he is under Barbaroi’s protection.”

“At this point, it won’t do to be overly concerned with Barbaroi, or to let them meddle...” For a while, the elder seemed unable to marshal his thoughts, but finally –

“I will allow twelve deaths.” His words were strange and repulsive. “That much is still within the range of what can be repaired. Good, use the power brought about by those deaths to kill Gil without fail. I am repeating myself, but we cannot wait any longer. I’m sure you’re clear on what your fate will be if you fail.”

“Aye, aye.”

Immediately after Zafar’s voice answered, the elderly man who had been kneeling collapsed forward with a thud. As he painfully started to rise, blood dripped from his nose, mouth and eyes.

“After which, it will be Guhl.” The elder, who was no longer looking towards him, curved his dry and cracked lips. “I intended to guide him with the utmost care and caution, but there too the gear has malfunctioned. Is he no longer of any use? Then in that case...”

The elder lifted a trembling hand from on top of the bed. He stared intently at that bony, almost fleshless hand, that was as dry as old wood.

“I was wanting my next body anyway. Since it’s like that, once I become Guhl, I will have to plan the reconstruction of the diagram of fate, even if it means using slightly forceful methods. Barbaroi might also launch an attack but... It’s fine. When that happens, I’ll burn down Solon, or no, all the people of Mephius, and gather the power needed to push them back for now.”

Part 3

Flora Mephius had turned eleven years old during that year’s Founding Festival.

She was Empress Melissa’s daughter and Princess Ineli’s younger sister, but even without comparing her to her eye-catchingly gorgeous mother and sister, she was shy by nature and so her full-scale social debut had been delayed. Even so, when the emperor made a public appearance, she could more and more often be seen amongst those accompanying him, and the general feeling had been that she would probably gradually start taking a leading role in balls and tea parties. This too was delayed, however, because of the trouble and turmoil centred around Solon.

And now again.

The figures of the adults that she had met and exchanged words with at court were growing as blurry as a black wind, and were melting away on all sides, leaving Flora all alone.

The court at Solon was in confusion.

Directly after the crown prince returned and had his audience with the emperor, the feeling had been that the civil war which had divided the country would not be dragged out any further; yet now that same crown prince was about to leave, leading soldiers to go in reinforcement to Ende, everyone seemed to have been seized with anxiety. Instead of staying in the imperial capital, horses and air carriers started being launched to every part of Mephius.

Some headed to Nedain, where Folker Baran was stationed, saying that “Guarding the fortress will be vital. When something needs to be done, I can always be counted on,” and, although they had not been asked to do so, they carried money there, explaining that “This is for the immediate war fund.”

Others went to Birac and requested a personal meeting with its lord, Fedom Aulin. “Ever since the day I received your letter, I have been carrying it preciously at my breast. I share the same concern for the country as you. Actually, during the audience, I also raised my voice in support of His Highness the crown prince...” they said, all the while assuming the appearance of long-time, like-minded comrades.

Speaking of Birac, Rogue Saian found himself in a similar situation, as did Odyne, who was waiting on standby in Solon with the reservists. Suddenly, nobles, men of wealth, and powerful merchants that they had never even spoken to before were lining up and approaching them, all with the air of being old friends.

All of these actions were, of course, because of ‘Crown Prince Gil Mephius’, whose presence had grown so large. Almost as though in inverse proportion to this, and partly because he had not shown himself in public these past few days, Emperor Guhl Mephius’ existence seemed little by little be wearing thin. To the point that now –

“The way His Majesty acted back then was truly without compassion.”

“Then what about that other time? There was no way that he was ever going to admit his own mistake.”

– There were those who were dredging things up from the past and were openly criticising him. Nonetheless, even those people knew the emperor’s influence had not yet been erased; and when then saw Colyne Isphan, considered to be of the emperor’s faction, coming from the opposite end of a hallway, or when Empress Melissa, her ladies’ maids in tow, appeared, their faces would go pale and they would send them a tentative bow.

In short, it was a fight between factions.

Gil and Guhl – although there was no longer the risk of a war in which both would lead soldiers and confront each other directly from behind cannons, strategies were now starting to unfold through words and actions, set on the stage of the wide halls of the palace, the locked rooms within aristocratic mansions, and the exclusive side-alley brothels hidden from public view. This was a clash between both camps, or perhaps it would be better to say, between the respective followers of the emperor and of the crown prince.

Their minds were constantly whirling.

How much longer is His Majesty’s reign likely to last?

Is His Highness Gil really able to take the throne? And if he does take it, when will that be?

No, there might be another dispute between the two of them because of that very reason.

Or in other words –

At this point, which camp is it in my best interests to get close to?

And so, even as they exchanged greetings with calm expressions, they would narrowly observe and try to read the other’s intentions, all while surveying their surroundings, their nerves on edge, as they tried to obtain even the smallest piece of additional information.

In that sense, it was a lot like the silent struggle that had recently enveloped Ende. There too, opinions had been divided as to which of the two princes, Jeremie or Eric, would succeed to the throne, and so the nobles and military commanders had engaged in scheming every bit as dangerous as a sword fight. Ultimately, no matter which country or power it was, similar circumstances would always give rise to a similar situation.

Flora Mephius was a girl who looked even younger than her age. However, she was by no means stupid. She could sense the dangerous atmosphere that was flowing through the palace, and her sensitive heart shuddered in fear.

The strife between the men was not the only reason for that. These past few days, another name had gained the same presence as that of Crown Prince Gil Mephius – or no, within Solon’s court, it was perhaps even greater.

Flora’s older sister – Ineli Mephius.

At present, she had taken control of a section of the court. Even before the face-to-face meeting between the emperor and the crown prince, Ineli had surreptitiously been increasing her association with influential aristocrats, and had seemed to be manoeuvring them into joining the prince’s faction. Then, at the audience which was still being talked about in Solon, she had taken visible action. She had protected the crown prince to the end, even to the point of shielding him with her own body.

In doing so, she appeared as a brave and gallant figure who, with a fierce will and the infinite compassion of a holy Mother, had protected the country’s future; so that even amongst the people, it had given rise to the feeling that she too was a hero.

Consequently, even those influential people who had already been part of the anti-Emperor faction for some time felt that, if they wanted to get closer to the crown prince, they could not afford to ignore Ineli’s existence. All day long, she was surrounded by crowds of people – be they those who wanted to meet the prince in person, those who came to offer gifts, or those who loudly claimed that they had always had a high opinion of the crown prince.

In a sense, Ineli was the living symbol of the crown prince’s faction.

As already mentioned, a large number of people had gone to visit the lord of Birac, Fedom Aulin, but even this ambitious gentleman could not deny that something felt lacking. Hmm, there seem to be fewer people coming to see me than I’d expected... he puzzled over it, tilting his thick neck. That was probably because, for many of those who wished to approach the crown prince, Ineli had already come to be seen as the best point of contact with him.

However, even though Fedom, lord of Birac, should have been hurrying to Solon as soon as he could, he optimistically believed that: “By deliberately keeping a distance from Solon and being seen to be taking care of Birac in the crown prince’s absence, my influence will actually grow.”

According to his judgement, clearly letting others see the long line of people who had travelled from afar all the way to Birac to see him would only serve to increase his presence and prestige. However, although on the one hand he was not wrong, Fedom had overlooked Ineli.

Nor was he the only one.

The empress, Ineli’s own mother, Melissa Mephius, must have been feeling as though she had been ambushed from a completely unforeseen direction.

Sensitive as she was, Flora Mephius could sense the way that sparks were flying fiercely between mother and daughter just below the surface.

One time, when Flora was unable to bear the cutting atmosphere of her surroundings, she went to visit her mother’s chambers in the palace’s Inner Quarters. Although she had notified her mother beforehand, the empress was already surrounded by a crowd of people talking to her, and Flora was driven into a corner of the room.

Properly speaking, it was a rule within the Inner Quarters that, no matter how low or how high their status was, no more than three men could be in a single room at the same time. Recently though, that rule had started to be ignored, and any number of men could be found together like this. Just from that, Flora felt as though she had lost her place to be.

Colyne was among those present. These people were what was known as the Emperor’s faction. Flora gazed in horror at those many figures crowding around her mother. Her mother – her beautiful, wise mother who was loved by all and whom the girlishly innocent Flora could not help but adore – seemed to have suddenly lost weight recently.

Perhaps because the skin of her face was stretched taut, her eyes seemed oddly bulging, the lines around her mouth stood out, and she did not look at all like a woman close to giving birth.

Flora held her pet cat, with its soft snow-white fur, close to her chest. It was a cat from the Schypa breed, which had been sent as a gift from a neighbouring country on the occasion of the Founding Festival. She had named it Nelwin, because it was mischievous and she often had to chase after it, as it tended to dash away whenever she took her eyes off of it. Perhaps because the Schypa, just like Flora, could sense that the atmosphere was different from usual, its eyes were darting around and it did not move from its mistress’ arms.

It was then that a particularly high-pitched voice was heard coming from her mother.

“Ineli... what is that child doing!”

Flora raised her head in surprise.

The men seemed to be explaining something in whispers. Empress Melissa slammed her fist against the long table.

“That child is just using what displeases me to defy me. With this issue as well, she’s planning on making fools out of the adults. A little girl who understands nothing. This, I would rather...”

“Empress,” as she was about to say more, one of the retainers, having no doubt realised that Flora was there, lowered his voice and glanced towards the girl who was hugging her cat.

Melissa seemed to notice her daughter for the first time. When her eyes met Flora’s, her expression turned even more terrifying.

“Haven’t I told you not to let that cat wander around in the Inner Palace!” She shrieked.

Flora gave a start then stood petrified. Nelwin gave a meow then leapt from her arms. After once or twice looking inquiringly at Flora, it rushed out from the room.

Even so, the girl still did not move. As though she had come back to her usual self, Melissa’s lips curved into a smile. Her gestures were exactly the same as those that Flora’s sister, Ineli, had been once before.

She walked towards her with that forced smile and stroked the dark brown hair that Flora had inherited from her father.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice. Even though I’m always teaching you how to behave as a lady.”

It’s alright – Flora could not say it. She could only watch, her eyes opened wide, as her mother’s smile came closer. She could no longer feel Nelwin’s warmth in her arms. Right then, Flora felt alone in the world.

“There is nothing to worry about, Flora. Listen to what Mother says and become a daughter after His Majesty’s own heart. As the older sister to the next emperor, who will soon be born, you have to hold your head up.”

Then, as if to say that she had finished all the business they had together, the empress gave her daughter’s shoulder a light push that seemed to be urging her to leave.

Flora quietly obeyed. There was nothing else she could do.

As she was leaving the room, a man crossed by her as he was entering.

“I, Zaas Sidious, have come at the empress invitation.”

The young warrior certainly spoke courteously, but when they passed by each other, she felt his energy emanating from his shoulders like heat. He entered the room without appearing to notice Flora’s presence.

All by herself, the princess left.

Zaas Sidious was the general who, along with Folker and Yuriah, had led the army tasked with suppressing the Impostor crown prince. Just before they had left, they had been invited to a banquet hosted by the imperial family. After their defeat, while the other two had joined the crown prince’s side, only Zaas had brought his men back to Solon.

The emperor neither punished nor thanked him. Do not show your face before me seemed to be the implicit order, and the young Zaas burned in rage and humiliation even as he remained in the capital.

“You have come at just the right time,” Empress Melissa sent Zaas a smile – one that was rich with charm and completely different from the one she had just given her daughter.

Although there were many who scorned or ignored him, Melissa highly valued this young general who had refused to join the crown prince’s side. While Zaas, for his part, had vowed to himself that he would rise to fight again, and the eyes he turned towards the empress were filled with an even fiercer light than they had been before his defeat in battle.

“There is something I want you to do,” Melissa seemed to be offering him a temptation.