Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 7, Chapter 2: Intentions

Part 1

It had been three days since the commemoration ceremony. The imperial court of Solon had, of late, constantly been wrapped in a gloomy atmosphere, but this morning, things were slightly different. The previous day, Colyne Isphan, who oversaw matters relating to the Emperor’s audiences, had received a request for an audience from Princess Vileena.

Originally, the Princess’ turn should have been in the evening but, when the Emperor had been personally reviewing the schedule, he had granted his permission for her to have the very earliest audience.

The audience hall was unusually full for that hour of the day, probably because people were curious about whether the Garberan princess had finally decided on her own course of action. Which day she would announce as her departure date had become the subject of many a bet, and most of the nobles living in or around Solon had shown up.

“Lady Vileena Owell, princess of Garbera.”

With the announcement from the crier, a slender foot stepped onto the red carpet that was stretched out along the audience hall. The foreign princess who had been supposed to become the Crown Prince’s wife walked forward, her back straight and her steps steady. Gossip held that she would be haggard from her fiancé’s death and from fretting over the uncertainty of her own fate, yet her gaze was firm.

Her platinum-colour hair tumbling along her back, Vileena kneeled before the throne.

“It is a great honour to be able to meet with you, Your Majesty.”

After having given her greetings, Vileena imparted the purpose of her audience. And the assembled crowd, desperately trying not to let their curiosity show on their faces, heard something somewhat unexpected.

“I wish to be allowed to leave Solon for a short while.”

Solon? For a short while?

The people there looked at each other. They would have understood it if she had said that she wanted to leave Mephius, but she had expressly limited herself to ‘leaving Solon’. And only ‘for a short while’ at that.

What now, at this point in time?

A disappointed expression appeared on the gawkers’ faces. Among them, however, there were some who whispered –

No, don’t be too hasty. She must be hesitant to suddenly bring up going back to Garbera, so she’s saying things in a roundabout way.

However –

“I would like to go to Nedain. I have heard that Lord Rogue Saian is there.”

Silence descended upon the hall the moment that Rogue’s name was brought up. Rogue Saian was being kept away from Solon, having incurred the Emperor’s wrath for turning a blind eye when the Prince – against the Emperor’s wishes – had taken reinforcements to Garbera. The people who had gathered out of idle curiosity all fearfully looked up to see what the Emperor’s expression was.

Sitting on the throne in his usual posture, his chin resting on his hand, Guhl Mephius asked, “What business do you have with Rogue, Princess?”

He was currently showing no hint of anger. Faster than the nobles could pat their chests in relief, however, Vileena replied –

“I have heard that the survivors of His Highness the Crown Prince’s Imperial Guards are with Lord Rogue. I have yet to thank them for rescuing my native country. Therefore, as a matter of honour, I wish to call upon them,” she announced in a clear voice.

It was silent no more as a babble broke from each person’s lips. Vileena’s words were endorsing Gil’s action of defying the Emperor. Besides which, she had deliberately spoken of “honour” with regards to the people who had allowed or assisted those actions. In other words, it was the same as her declaring to Emperor Guhl that – what you did was not honourable.

W-What is she saying? One noble stole a glance at his neighbour. I know that the Princess is valiant, but she can’t possibly be defying His Majesty to his face?

No, she’s just an ignorant kid. She thinks that it’s fine for her to say whatever she pleases.

Entirely heedless of the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped the great hall, the Princess awaited the Emperor’s words with her head still bowed.

One second passed. Then two. The three.

The aides to the Emperor had never felt time pass so slowly. It was as though the silence itself had turned into the fangs and claws of some demon which was ripping at their fragile hearts.

“Oh?”

When Emperor Guhl Mephius’ voice sounded like a low growl, everyone’s shoulders jerked. All of the retainers looked downwards, as though trying to avoid the roared rebuke which was about to descend upon the hall like a crash of thunder. However –

“Envoys from Garbera are expected to arrive next month, however...” what Guhl said made it seem like he did not mind the princess’ words.

“I will take about a week,” answered Vileena.

“In that case,” Guhl gave a faint smile, “you didn’t need to go out of your way like this, Princess. What you have seen of Solon and Apta was also hurried. You should take this time to stretch your wings.” The Emperor spoke generously, but given that Vileena had thus “gone out of her way”, it could also be taken as her wanting to criticise the Emperor’s way of doing things in front of both him and his retainers. Guhl being Guhl, he laughed at having “gone out of his way” to point that out.

The tension in the hall did not subside until the Princess excused herself from the Emperor’s presence. Thinking about it calmly, Vileena was a guest from another country; even if what she said did not fit in with the Emperor’s thoughts, he could not unilaterally punish her.

Everyone recognised, however, that if anyone other than the princess were to speak such an inconvenient truth then, even if they were someone of as much influence as Simon, they would only end up being imprisoned. It was easily the most difficult thing about the Emperor.

Or rather... There were probably one or two people whose thoughts ran along these lines: or rather, if he acted tyrannically even towards Vileena, a guest left in their care by a foreign country, it would indicate that he no longer had the calibre needed to be emperor, and there would then be a good chance that Mephius’ retainers would unite and confront him.

The Emperor, however, remained entirely clear-sighted. It was just that, although he was clear-sighted, he was also unusually self-righteous.

Guhl Mephius was a difficult ruler.

Vileena left Solon three days after the audience. Arrangements had been made for an air carrier, but she had chosen to travel by horse-drawn carriage. Accompanying her were more than fifty soldiers, assigned to guard her, and Theresia, her lady’s maid who had travelled with her from Garbera. A ferry had been hastily sent to Nedain, and it was said that more soldiers would come from Nedain, and would meet up with them along the way.

“Princess, the weather really is lovely,” said Theresia, looking out of the carriage window. Vileena smiled faintly. “You seem to have something you want to say. Theresia, whenever you break the ice like that, it means you’re either going to scold me or give me advice. And you first start talking about the weather to sound me out.”

“You are very discerning. Why did you not consult with me at all? About having an audience with His Majesty. Saying that you want give thanks for the reinforcements to Garbera simply sounds like sarcasm against the Emperor.”

“I thought that if I had told you, you wouldn’t have agreed, Theresia.”

“Of course not.”

“Even I’m not just a thoughtless child. I only acted after very, very deep consideration.”

How so? Theresia did not say anything, but the curve of her mouth conveyed her feelings. Vileena pretended not to have seen and instead, like Theresia, looked up at the sky through the window. The weather was not as clear as the former head Garberan lady’s maid had said, but a sky so blue it pierced the eyes occasionally peeped through the gaps in the grey clouds.

Still... Theresia studied her young mistress’ profile. If Vileena had consult her, she would naturally have voiced her opposition, but she would also, from the bottom of her heart, would have supported her in whatever she wanted to do.

How long has it been now since Crown Prince Gil passed away?

That confused and chaotic time in Apta Fortress spontaneously resurfaced in her mind. Prince Gil had been shot...

When she received the news, Vileena muttered a single word – “Impossible” – and raced through the fortress. It was said that Gil had been shot when he had gone out onto a balcony, and that he had fallen into the River Yunos. A search party had immediately been assembled. Vileena herself had joined the line of airships. Flying in the middle of the night was, of course, dangerous; Theresia had called out to stop her, but Vileena did not even appear to hear her, and flew along the Yunos to the limits of her ship’s ether reserves.

When she returned temporarily to replenish them, a new piece of information had arrived. A search party had seen soldiers from the Black Armour Division racing along the opposite bank. Part of the search party had been sent out as messengers to the Taúlian side to request permission to cross the border. Meanwhile, with every second lost unbearable to her, Vileena flew as close to the border as she could.

Even when the river’s surface started to reflect the morning light, there was nothing to show for these efforts. Having run out of ether and returned to the fortress for who knew how many times, Vileena received yet another fresh piece of news.

One of the Imperial Guards’ search parties had run into the Black Armour Division, which was attempting to flee by crossing the border with Taúlia. They had all but annihilated one another. Amongst those of the guards who had fallen victim during the fight, and who did not make it back to Apta, were two that the Prince relied on: Orba and Shique. The Princess knew both of them.

Hearing of the deaths of those she knew one after another, and exhausted from having flown all night, the Princess was no longer able to stand. For a fourteen-year-old girl, it must have felt as though the world she had known was collapsing. Theresia had hurriedly run over, had called for help, and had brought the Princess back to her room in the fortress.

After that, time slipped by with dizzying speed. Help arrived from Birac and Solon to assist in the search, and a battalion’s worth of airships was added. Taúlia also helped search along the border, but nothing came of that either. Even when she had been urged to return to Solon, Vileena had refused to give up until the very end and flown a ship as often as humanly possible, until finally, a messenger had come directly from the Emperor, whom she could not defy.

Theresia remembered that last day in Apta.

Having asked permission from the chamberlain attached to the Prince, a boy called Dinn, Vileena had entered the Prince’s private room. It seemed as though the Princess, having finally resigned herself, was looking for a keepsake with which she could immerse herself in memories or keep hidden on her person. However –

“He is a ‘liar’,” Vileena’s blueish eyes glittered. “The kind of person who deceives his friends to trick his enemies. At Zaim Fortress, at Mephius’ Founding Festival, and also in the battles between Apta and Taúlia... he is always like that.

“How did I not notice until now? The Prince is deceiving us again so he must be planning something. How many times does he think he can trick me? Right, Theresia, lend me a hand. There is definitely a secret somewhere in this room. Or maybe a letter to me...”

With the accumulated exhaustion from the previous days, Vileena was in a kind of manic state. Sorrow and despair forgotten, her young mistress’ face was wreathed in cheerful smiles – Theresia found it wretchedly painful. It seemed to her that during the time spent searching the Prince’s room, each minute, each second, would erode the Princess’ buoyant feelings, that cruel reality would sink in like water being absorbed by silk floss, and that in the end, she would be crushed by sorrow and despair even greater than before.

Her prediction proved correct. The sky outside the window had grown bright and the ship had arrived to pick her up, but up until the last moment, Vileena had stayed in the Prince’s room. In the end, she had finally stopped walking around the room, stopped rummaging along the shelves, stopped talking to Theresia even, and had simply stood vacantly in place. Theresia could not find the words to say to her mistress who was in that state.

Prince Gil Mephius is cruel.

To his fiancée, who had traveled far from another country – and one which had, until just before, been an enemy that fought continuous, bloody battles against them – he had never once spoken gently nor given a single gift. Even though her ever self-willed princess had made great efforts to repress herself, to grow familiar with this country, and to try and understand the Prince; every time, he would dodge the issue, immerse himself in his work, and leave the Princess to experience solitude.

Truly cruel.

Yet even so, finally... finally, Theresia had observed that a mutual exchange of feelings had started to bud between the young pair. Which was why she could not forgive him. For having disappeared so abruptly. For having left Vileena alone in this country.

After they had returned to Solon, Vileena had spoken less and less. It had been better in Apta, where she had gone searching each day until she was utterly exhausted. At least there had been something that needed doing. She had not been tormented then with her own ominous thoughts, nor had she felt as though her body were being ripped apart by grief.

It’s like the soul has been plucked out of her body – Theresia had not been alone in thinking that.

Two weeks later however, Vileena changed again. She had been sitting alone on her bed, her head bowed and her expression listless, absorbed in her own thoughts.

I’m not doing this right – Theresia had thought suddenly as the conversation was about to peter out. Anxious not to run out of topics to talk about, she had brought up the Imperial Guards who had once served the Prince. Theresia had heard that the survivors from the battle with the Black Armour Division had been incorporated into Rogue Saian’s division. Among them were Gowen, the commander of the Guards, and Pashir, who had fought the masked Orba in the finals of the Founding Festival’s gladiatorial tournament. There was also Gowen’s adopted daughter, Hou Ran, who, unusually for a woman, worked as a dragon handler.

As soon as she heard about it, Vileena’s eyebrows twitched. Dammit – Theresia instantly thought. She knew the habits of the girl she had served for many years, so how could she not realise that Vileena had hit upon some idea or another?

Rogue Saian had angered the Emperor and was currently being kept away from Solon, in a town called Nedain. Theresia had already somewhat resigned herself when she had brought up that last, desperate conversational gambit.

And, as expected, Vileena and Theresia were now being jolted along in a horse-drawn carriage on the highway to Nedain.

Theresia sighed. There was nothing unusual about the speed of Vileena’s decisions and actions. Although Theresia had felt her blood run cold when she had heard that the princess had spoken what sounded like defiance towards the Emperor, she did not, in fact, think that going to Nedain was a bad idea.

She did not know what her mistress intended to do over there but, when someone close to you died, it was only by sorting through the many things coiled up inside you – including those that, from an outside perspective, seemed utterly unrelated – that you could learn to accept reality. Theresia herself had sometimes done as much when her parents and younger brother had passed away.

Still –

“Princess,” in this situation, Theresia definitely had to give her mistress a warning. “Princess, I am on your side no matter what.”

“Of course I know that.”

“That being the case, there is one thing that I would like you to listen to me about. The lord of Nedain, Jairus Abigoal... I believe that you are already familiar with the name, Princess.”

“Uh humm...”

Vileena gave a slight nod. That sound, which was like a cross between ‘uh huh’ and ‘hmm’, was very much like the one that her grandfather, Jeorg, made when he wanted to show someone he trusted that he was listening to what they were saying. When Vileena imitated her grandfather like that, it was usually when she was putting on an important air and wanted to hide her intentions from the other person.

“I earnestly ask you not to interrogate Lord Abigoal directly, or to scold him, as you did with His Imperial Majesty. Princess, your position here in Mephius is currently a very delicate one. Please do not stir things up even more.”

“I know,” answered Vileena, resting her cheek on her hand.

She had heard that Lord Jairus and a young noble who served him, called Raymond, had quarrelled in the Emperor’s presence. Afterwards, Raymond had summarily been dealt with by being thrown into prison. Theresia naturally understood that her mistress was uneasy about this. Knowing Vileena’s personality, she might well berate the domain lord to his face and cause an unnecessary uproar.

“Promise me, Princess.”

“You’re so persistent. I won’t interrogate him and I won’t scold him. I promise,” Vileena said, unconcernedly.

The carriage continued along the highway at a leisurely pace. They were to arrive in Nedain on the evening of the third day after they had left Solon, and it was that day that they met up with the guards which had been sent from Nedain.

“Princess,” Theresia called out as she looked through the window. Leading the horse riders was an old soldier with tanned skin: Gowen, who had once been the commander of the Prince’s Imperial Guards. He came up to the carriage and gave his greetings to the princess. At the same time, he said not a word about the Crown Prince.

“Uh hum,” Vileena nodded graciously while casting a somewhat thoughtful eye on the veteran soldier.

Part 2

On the day of the Garberan princess’ departure from Solon, Imperial Princess Ineli Mephius was irritably pacing around in her own room.

She was the daughter of Melissa, Guhl’s second wife, and she too had tended to stay indoors ever since she had been informed of the Crown Prince’s death. Although in Ineli’s case, the reason was slightly different than it had been for the royal princess. When she had gone to Apta, the suspicions she had harboured that the crown prince might actually have been an impostor had turned into conviction. Just when she had believed that things would be turning interesting, she had heard the news that the Prince had been killed.

It can’t be.

Ineli could not accept it. Not only because her hard-earned amusement had fallen apart in her hands, but also because she had assumed that the impostor, who had survived the imperial palace and the battlefield, would not die so easily.

Who was that man?

His face was so like her step-brother’s, it was almost scary. Even his father, Emperor Guhl, had not noticed anything when they met. The person inside, however, was completely different from the Gil that Ineli knew well. This man made brilliant use of soldiers, had seemed almost indifferent when confronting Zaat Quark who had a gun pointed straight at him, and on top of that, he was an outstanding swordsman.

She had once wondered whether he was someone of high standing, however, if that was the case, it was inconceivable that someone so talented and whose face looked exactly like the Crown Prince’s could have failed to attract attention within Mephius. Had someone brought a boy from another country, or found a slave or some other lowly person who happened to resemble Gil? Had that someone, judging that he could be of use as a body double, then trained him through long years of education?

Then, that someone...

While Ineli was chewing her thumb and deep in thought, there was a knock at the door. She frowned, narrowing her eyes.

“Didn’t I say that no one was to come in?” She demanded in a shrill voice. Recently, she had often raised her voice against the ladies’ maids and noble young ladies that she normally got on well with. “I beg your pardon, Princess. Your sister, Princess Flora, says that she earnestly wishes to see you.”

“Flora?”

Ineli twirled her golden hair around her finger. It was unusual for her younger sister to come and see her in person; she reluctantly gave permission for her to be allowed in.

Lead in by a tall lady’s maid, Flora timidly made her appearance. Like Ineli, she was Melissa’s child from her previous marriage, and she was five years younger than her sister. She had just turned eleven during that year’s Founding Festival.

At eleven, Ineli had already made her debut in high society and had been assigned a great many private tutors, so she remembered being busy every day. Flora however was introverted by nature and, in the past, her health had been frail. She did not have any close friends, and since her mother had become empress, she had rarely had the opportunity to leave the Inner Quarters.

“What do you want? Please make it short.”

Ineli stopped the lady’s maid who was about to lay out tea and coldly had her leave. Half-hidden behind the tall lady’s maid, Flora was hanging her head low. Unlike Ineli, who had inherited their mother’s blond locks, Flora had their father’s dark, reddish-brown hair. Perhaps it was because she had delicate features, but she gave a slightly subdued impression compared to her mother and sister’s flamboyant beauty.

The uncomfortable silence stretched on and Ineli was just about to irritably open her mouth when the lady’s maid explained in Flora’s place.

“Her Highness said that she wished to read a book with her older sister.”

“A book?”

Ineli noticed that Flora was carrying a largish book in her arms.

You still have that? Treasuring something like that...

She felt fed up. It was a book full of illustrated fairy-tales that their deceased father had bought when they were very young. Originally, it had belonged to Ineli, but Flora loved it and, when she was little, she would often ask her older sister to read it to her. And so, some years back, Ineli had given it to her during the Founding Festival.

That was the year after their father had passed away.

In a very grown-up gesture, Ineli closed her eyes and shook her head.

“There’s no need to read it anymore because it’s already been read more than enough. Flora, you should stop with such childish books and read something that at least will help you improve yourself. Like Mother said, you will soon be getting dancing and painting instructors. Now, hurry on back to your room.”

“...Yes, Older Sister,” Flora, still concealed behind the lady’s maid, replied in a fading voice. With trudging footsteps, she left the room.

Once the door had shut, Ineli put her hands to her narrow waist and shrugged her shoulders in apparent exasperation.

Wouldn’t it be nice if I could also act so childishly?

Her irritation was not only due to the matter about Prince Gil. That morning, when the imperial family had been sitting together for breakfast, the Emperor had suddenly declared that, “Ineli will be seventeen before long. It will soon be time to think about a partner for you.”

Even as she was responding to Guhl’s words with a smile, Ineli’s heart felt chilled. By “partner”, he meant of course Ineli’s marriage partner. She did not know whether those he had in mind were from inside or outside of the country. Still now that it was rumoured that Princess Vileena, the cornerstone in the peace with Garbera, would soon be returning to her country, she had heard speculation that there was a high chance that Princess Ineli would be betrothed to someone from the Garberan royal family, and also that Taúlia had been sounding out how to consolidate the alliance through marriage.

This isn’t funny.

At this point in time, she absolutely did not want to leave Mephius for a foreign country, or marry either an unrefined Mephian aristocrat or loutish military man.

Ineli was a sixteen-year-old maiden, and she had already gone through puppy love with one of her private tutors. There was no one in her heart at present and, unlike others, she did not yearn for love itself. She did harbour a woman’s rejection of being married just to serve as a political tool, but more importantly, the thought of becoming nothing more than a prop to support her husband from behind filled Ineli with dread.

I am not a princess who is a mere figurehead. I will one day leave my name behind throughout the country, no throughout the world.

It was thanks to that conceit in herself that she had been able to overcome the shock of the Emperor’s words that morning, or, indeed, of her step-brother’s death.

She had to make her move while there was still time. First, she needed to prove that she was sufficiently competent to act as the Emperor’s right-hand.

And for that, I need to solve the mystery of Gil Mephius. That man was definitely an impostor. But if I tell that to Father at this late hour, I’ll just be laughed off.

Which reminded her that before and after the Founding Festival, a noble called Fedom Aulin had very conspicuously gotten closer to Gil. When Ineli had suspected the Prince of being an impostor, she had personally asked Fedom some leading questions. From what Ineli had observed, Fedom was nowhere near as clever as he believed himself to be. Fedom had feigned unconcern, but he had not been able to hide the turmoil in his eyes.

If Fedom had plotted to replace the Crown Prince with a body double, then that was, of course, a heinous crime that could have overthrown the country. Furthermore, since “Prince Gil’s death” had been officially announced when the impostor had died, that meant that the real Gil Mephius had already passed away. And if Fedom Aulin was involved in that...

Then this might also be some kind of plot of Fedom’s. After all, Gil Mephius’ body still hasn’t been found. Since he defied the Emperor over those reinforcements, they must have been afraid of being rebuked for it, and that if there was an in-depth investigation, his real identity would be discovered – so they had him temporarily vanish while actually, behind the scenes, Fedom would be gathering sympathisers to overthrow Father and, when the time is right, Crown Prince Gil will once more appear on stage...

Ineli was not a person of extraordinary insight. She was the type to easily get emotional and did not ponder deeply over intellectual matters. However, her almost obsessive belief that the impostor Gil had to be alive so that she could take revenge on him had brought Ineli very close to the truth.

I need to meet with Fedom.

Just as Ineli had come to that conclusion, there was once more a sound at the door. A lady’s maid informed her that a messenger had come from Ineli’s friends, Baton Cadmus and Troa Hergei. They had once gone together with Gil to Rogue Saian’s residence. Thinking about it now, she was sure that Gil had been replaced since around that time.

The messenger had brought an invitation to go out and have fun with them. She had been confined in the palace’s Inner Quarters for so long that it must be stifling for her, so would she not come out with them, to the gladiator arena, or on a long horse ride, or wherever?

Ineli snorted and told the lady’s maid to give some suitable excuse to send him away.

At a time like this. Flora too, but really, how long are they all going to remain children?

As far as Ineli was concerned, her own thoughts and concerns were, at any and all times, her highest priority, and anything else was utterly trivial.

Brat.

Ineli suddenly started, eyes wide. Her clear white skin rapidly turned red as the blood rushed to her head.

You don't know anything. Any more whining from you and I'll strangle you with my own hands. Got it, little girl?

Ineli’s slender shoulders shook, the muscles along her back shivered, and before long, her entire body was trembling. The time when Gil Mephius’ impostor had called her a brat vividly came back to her. She unconsciously ground her teeth.

That man has to be alive. So that I can kill him with my own hands. No, even if he really is already dead, if I have to, I’ll invite sorcerers versed in the deepest mysteries of magic from the east to revive him so that I can kill him all over again!

At about the same time, as though to replace Vileena, an air carrier arrived in Solon. The one who appeared from within it, almost seeming to tumble out of it, was Nabarl Metti. Outwardly, this military officer had gone to Kilro to help its newly appointed lord, Indolph; but, needless to say, he was in fact one of the anti-Guhl faction who had responded to Fedom’s appeal.

Just after Nabarl’s departure from Kilro, the assembled members of the anti-Guhl faction had been looking very pale, but Nabarl’s own complexion was every bit as bad as theirs. While getting ever closer to where Emperor Guhl Mephius was, he looked as though he might swoon at any moment.

W-What should I do? He kept asking himself over and over.

The journey by air carrier had been like the very road to the scaffold, or to the gladiator arena where flesh-eating dragons awaited. He was as nervous as a cornered beast, he screamed at the slave women who were helping him get ready, even though they had not done anything wrong, and swung his fists at them. There was a side to him which had always held women in contempt.

Now that he had arrived in Solon, he still had no clear answer. Just as Fedom and the others had feared, he had considered confessing all the information he had about them and saving only his own skin from punishment.

But... would the Emperor even let me off the hook with just that?

After having first been tortured and made to cough up everything he knew, his people and his property might be seized, and his very House destroyed. Nabarl was portly for a soldier and, partly because of that, sweat was streaming endlessly down his forehead.

He was kept waiting, not in the great hall used for audiences, but in one of the rooms of the main palace that were reserved for the Emperor’s private use. It felt as to him as though his large body was wasting away with every passing minute.

Half and hour later, Guhl invited him in. A map was spread out on the desk before the Emperor. Next to him were gathered several men who served as his staff officers.

“I haven’t summoned anyone else,” Guhl began to talk.

“Aye,” Nabarl’s voice was hoarse as he answered.

“Nabarl.”

“A-Aye.”

“In the past, you always advocated seizing Taúlia by force and breaking free of the stalemate between the three central countries, did you not?”

Guhl brought out several documents. Before the start of the ten-year war with Garbera, Nabarl had certainly argued in favour of attacking Tauran, and he and his father had elaborated a strategy that they had sent to the Emperor. In the end, when the war with Garbera broke out, his opinion had been quelled.

“It was an argument made ten years ago, but a very interesting one. Here are the reports collating the information from the spies sent to the west. I will leave this to you. Work out a new strategy in cooperation with the staff officers.”

“Ay... Ah?”

As he stood to attention, sweat was glistening all over Nabarl’s brow. In front of him, Guhl smiled ominously.

“Still, we don’t have that much time. We can wait no more than a week... You can do it, can’t you?”

Part 3

Oubary Bilan’s mansion had burned down...

A visitor arrived when he received that information. Noue Salzantes waved the hand he wore his lapis lazuli ring on and the messenger disappeared through another door as his new visitor entered the room.

“Did someone come?”

Zenon Owell, second prince of Garbera, entered the room and asked without any preliminary. Noue had slowly gotten used to this prince’s personality, which was a perplexing mix of the brusqueness of a soldier who galloped through battlefields with the decorum and splendour of an aristocrat.

“It was no great matter, so I had him leave.”

“Oh? It wouldn’t have been a problem to keep me waiting.”

Noue and Zenon. Once upon a time, they would never even have been seen together at the palace. As for being close enough to come and go from each other’s private chambers? Well, those who knew them best were the most astounded at the abrupt change. Zenon had disliked Noue enough to publicly declare that the other’s ingenuity was contrary to the path of chivalry; while Noue, although never openly arguing with Zenon, his social superior, had always had a sardonic gleam in his eye and had clearly looked down on him.

When Lord Eric of Ende had surrounded Zaim Fortress, Noue and Zenon’s actions had hindered one another. Their thoughts and intentions had been at odds with each other and, because of that, Zenon had, in very little time, almost been captured by the enemy. Had Imperial Prince Gil of Mephius not arrived with reinforcements, that would certainly have been his fate.

However, it was precisely because they had fallen into that predicament that the two of them had repented their own over-confidence and come to recognise the other’s skill.

For a while, the two of them made idle conversation. The tea which was brought in had been chilled to Noue’s liking. Garbera, which made vigorous use of air carriers, possessed a cave in a land across the northern sea in which they stored ice shaved from the perpetually snow-capped mountains there. Several times a year, that ice was sold at high price on the markets. Although Noue was known as a dandy, his room was furnished very simply, and he preferred not to spend too much money on his private life. This was one of the few luxuries that he enjoyed.

“It looks like Mephius still hasn’t held Prince Gil’s funeral,” Zenon broached the main topic. “And because of that, we can’t push to take Vileena back. What’s Emperor Guhl hesitating for? I’ve heard one opinion that he can’t accept his son’s death and is escaping into the arms of religion, but I can’t believe that the opponent we fought in the ten-year war would be that feeble-minded.”

“Guhl is already at an advanced age. His first-born son, Gil Mephius, was his long-awaited heir, so it would not be surprising if his love for him ran deep. However...”

“However?”

“According to most of the stories I heard at court, it seems that Prince Gil was, on the contrary, ostracised by his father. Even after he officially became crown prince at thirteen, Guhl was known to remark that if there were a boy with more talent, even if he was only distantly related to the imperial family, he – Guhl – would not hesitate to overturn his son’s position.”

“Hmm,” Zenon brushed back his soft platinum hair, which was so like his sister’s, “I’d also heard rumours that Prince Gil was a ‘fool’. It was to the point that most of our Garberan knights hoped that when he inherited the throne, it would weaken Mephius.”

“I too was a little negligent because of those rumours.”

Noue’s words verged on the dangerous. He had, completely of his own initiative, taken advantage of Mephius’ Founding Festival to try and weaken the country. Because of Prince Gil it had resulted in failure but, at the time, Noue had also attempted to bring about the assassination of Garbera’s princess – in other words, of Zenon’s own little sister.

His actions had been dictated by the belief that this was for the good of Garbera, but even so, Noue questioned whether he would be able to implement the same plan as he was now. Have I gone soft? No, it’s just that since the Princess is loved that much throughout the country, I believe that there are other ways of using her.

Trust and bonds between people were nothing to make light of. Noue believed that he himself was lacking in that area; so Zenon and Vileena, who could well be called unifying forces, were essential to Garbera, as well as to Noue himself.

Zenon, meanwhile, assumed that Noue had been “negligent” in a general sense. Thinking back to the three-way meeting near Zaim between Gil, Eric, and himself; and remembering the Mephian prince’s demeanour, he gave a single nod.

“I thought back then that the rumours were wrong. It’s mortifying to admit, but there’s no denying that young prince was the one who set the pace of the meeting from start to end. Rather than being on bad terms with his father, could it be that Guhl was afraid of his son’s competence?”

“There are reports that he warned the Prince against sending reinforcements to Garbera. It’s entirely natural that a policymaker would not appreciate someone who ignores them and who stands out as a hero. To make things worse, it was the son of his own blood and the heir to the throne. And the Emperor is still passionately attached to power...”

“It’s a situation that would probably be more dangerous than it is now if Gil were still alive.” Zenon shrugged helplessly then glared at the empty space. “Well, things are currently dangerous enough in Mephius as it is. We can’t leave Vileena over there; but, having said that, if we look like we’re trying to take her back by force, sparks might also land on Garbera. When there’s trouble inside a country, it’s easy to point the tip of the spear towards another power. When there’s a foreign enemy, allies have no choice but to band together.”

Zenon had also heard that the emperor of Mephius was trying to draw closer to Ende. Actually, Eric himself had implied as much during their three-way meeting. And when he had been informed that his older brother, Lord Jeremie, seemed also to have forged a connection with Mephius’ emperor through a different route, the colour had completely drained from Eric’s face.

Ende had its own internal problems. But, well, it could not be said that Garbera formed a unified block either.

“What have your brother and His Majesty said concerning what will happen to the Princess?”

“They’re being indecisive,” Zenon grimaced, looking as though he felt personally disgraced. “All we can do for now is wait, we don’t yet know what will happen to the alliance with Mephius – that sort of thing. All I wanted was even one single firm statement that could unite the country.”

To Zenon’s chagrin, the situation within the country was once more growing unstable.

Prince Gil’s death had caused a split in public opinion. Those who had been less than pleased about the alliance with Mephius were actively starting to talk about how fortuitous the Crown Prince’s death was, saying that they should get the Princess returned to them and then settle things with Mephius. According to them, now that Ende was politically unstable, the time was ripe. Those who spoke that way were mostly Ryucown’s adherents. His uprising at Zaim Fortress still exercised a huge influence amongst the knights of Garbera, it was starting to openly be said that he should be honoured for having chivalrously died for his country. Needless to say, Ryucown was a traitor and a rebel, so this was a sign that the royal family’s prestige was declining. The situation might become a trigger to mayhem, but the two of them deliberately avoided touching upon it.

“Still, my poor little sister,” Zenon sighed. “People talk about the fate of a woman born in turbulent times, but she’s only a young girl and she’s been tossed about by fortune every which way.”

Thinking about it, the family that Vileena was to marry into had twice been changed in less than a year.

First, it had been the engagement to Ryucown, which had been decided a year ago. Noue was the one who had laid the groundwork for it, and Zenon had approved of it. However, King Ainn Owell of Garbera had sought to draw closer to Ende as he urgently needed to form a military alliance with them; and so, behind the scenes, he had first persuaded Ryucown and Zenon to agree, and then had started preparations for Vileena to marry Lord Eric of Ende.

However, just as that was happening, they received an offer of peace from Mephius. The negotiations with Ende had been unofficial, so, after some agonising, Ainn Owell had chosen the alliance with Mephius. The family she was to marry into had been changed again and again, without any account being given to her own desires, then, when it had finally been settled on Mephius, Crown Prince Gil had passed away. Even Noue felt a certain compassion for her. In spite of those feelings however, Noue considered Vileena’s current circumstances with a cool head. He had heard that in Mephius, opinions were divided about how to deal with her.

It’s possible that by not holding the Prince’s funeral, the Emperor is, in fact, actively trying to induce the Princess to stay – was how he saw things. The Emperor might be planning some kind of large-scale action in the near future, and was deliberately keeping Vileena in Mephius so that Garbera would not be able to intervene.

While on the one hand paying close attention to what was going on in Mephius, he also had to keep an eye on the interior situation in Garbera.

I pushed Ryucown forward as a hero while he was alive, so it’s not as though I’m without responsibility in this matter. Should I go and meet his adherents directly?

Noue did not have much confidence in his ability to persuade people, but they could not be allowed to stage a confrontation with the royal family, and neither could he leave this to Zenon, who was himself royalty.

“You will soon be returning to Mavant?”

“Yeah. I want to re-organise the Order. A lot of the guys from my unit are stationed in Mavant, so there are plenty of people that I want to see again, since it’s been so long.”

Zenon being Zenon, he well understood that with Prince Gil’s death, the relationship between the three countries might once more tear at the seams and collapse. So he would be concentrating his efforts on making preparations.

“Before that, I’m afraid I need to go show myself at the Kotjun House.”

“That...”

Noue just gave a faint smile and refrained from offering his condolences. The Kotjun House was an influential aristocratic family within Garbera but, because of their origins, they were often scorned behind their backs as “the Moneylending House”. Zenon in particular had always kept his distance from them.

“Please give my regards to Miss Rinoa Kotjun.”

“What? I was planning to take you along. You’ll do it much more smoothly than me.”

“Miss Rinoa dislikes me. Probably for the same reason that a certain prince used to.”

His blunt words made Zenon laugh. The tea was going entirely cold.

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