Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 9, Chapter 6: Preliminary Skirmish

Part 1

Jozu Fortress was a small fort between Apta and Birac that also served as a relay base for air carriers. Three hundred soldiers were permanently stationed there. Their composition was a hundred regular soldiers dispatched from the urban districts and two hundred reservists recruited from the local population.

The fortress had only recently been built. Taúlia's attack on Apta had revealed a problem: that, for a border defence fortress, Apta was a little too far from any other base. Accordingly, while expanding the air carrier relay base that lay in the direction of Birac, a cluster of buildings allowing soldiers to be in permanent residence were also built there. The one who had attended to these constructions was Kalgan, an administrative official from Apta.

Normally, it was a place that never had the slightest disturbance and where the only gunshots to be heard were from soldiers who sometimes hunted in the nearby forest. These last few days however, it had been wrapped in an unusually tense atmosphere. This was because there was some suspicion about what was going on in Apta.

First was when a large number of soldiers passed through Jozu on their way to Birac and Solon. They were the mercenary troop that Odyne had dissolved as well as soldiers stationed at Apta. The next day, Nabarl, one of the twelve generals, and his Blue Dome Division travelled through Jozu.

Upon being asked, they said that –

“The crown prince has returned.”

It was not a story that Walt, the battalion commander in charge of Jozu Fortress, could easily believe. It was simply suspicious. He also had a premonition that things would not end peacefully.

“Get a ship ready for me, would you?” When Nabarl had been stopping at Jozu Fortress, he had wanted the means to return quickly to Solon.

“It would be difficult for me to do so,” Walt had obstinately declined. It was not that he was looking down on the upstart general. If it had to be said, his own origins were those of a gladiator. It was simply that he was a man devoted to his duty. “This fortress’ role is to send soldiers to Apta or to Birac in case of need, or to take in fleeing troops. There is no knowing if we won’t need to transfer a large group all at once to one of the towns, and in any event, the ships are for use in emergencies.”

“You are defying an order from one of the twelve generals?”

“I am not your subordinate. If you want a ship, please go as far as Birac. You should be able to appeal for one directly from Lord Fedom.”

Nabarl’s face had flushed scarlet and he had headed to Birac, spewing invectives as he went.

“So is it true what they say about how he was beaten by Taúlia?” Asked one of Walt’s men as he watched from a fortress window while the column of Nabarl’s troops galloped away.

“Probably. But the part about Lord Gil Mephius having returned beggars belief.”

“Then there’s that rumour that Generals Saian and Lorgo are plotting treason. They might be sending us an advance unit from Birac, no?”

“Treason,” Walt stroked his plump face, “considering their personalities, I find that even harder to believe than the Prince’s return. On top of that, no matter how you look at it, the soldiers currently in Apta don’t even make up two thousand. What could they even do with those numbers... Be that as it may, all ships are to stand by on maximum alert. Don’t relax your vigilance when it comes to the area around Apta.”

“Aye.”

Walt was in his late thirties. Both his face and body were plump, so much so that when he wore full armour, he looked like a poorly-made doll for children, but although the soldiers might be expected to disdain him because of it, he was actually very popular.

He was also very skilled. Ten years earlier, he had won the Gladiatorial Championship in Solon. He had then been appointed as a regular soldier and had seen service in any number of battlefields during the war against Garbera. On one of those however, he had been shot in the face. Walt had fainted but, miraculously, the bullet had crossed through his right cheek and had exited out of his left. Afterwards, when he regained consciousness, he had to evade enemies lurking along the mountain and only received proper treatment ten days later, when he had made it back to Solon.

As a result, both his cheeks were now constantly swollen, giving him a decidedly humorous appearance. Although he could not go so far as to say that he had originally been handsome, he lamented over the fact that, as a warrior, he had previously had a reasonably impressive face; which might have been why he indulged in binge eating while under medical care, resulting in him ending up with a plump physique.

Whereupon, his popularity actually increased. Personality could be influenced by appearance, but in this case, it was perhaps that his had been concealed beneath a warrior’s harsh exterior. Strangely, people would gather around him, including nobles, whom he had not previously had much to do with and who now invited him and called out to him at balls, dinner parties, and the like.

Even after he returned to the battlefield, Walt’s distinctiveness won him fame among friend and foe alike. He was idolized by the soldiers, loved by his commanders, achieved some military gains and, three months earlier, he had been entrusted with the newly-built Jozu Fortress.

Since the surrounding villages and marketplaces were under Apta’s jurisdiction, he had neither the authority nor the revenue of a feudal lord but he was still quite successful for someone who had risen from being a gladiator.

At the fortress also, he was very popular with the soldiers. His orders were promptly and thoroughly put into practice.

And then, about ten days after Nabarl had passed through Jozu, there was a report that a large force had been dispatched from Solon to Birac, and the level of tension increased all the more.

Around the same time, the net of airships spread out in the direction of Apta hurriedly returned. When he received their report, Walt’s narrow eyes went wide. Even the assembled soldiers were visibly shaken.

“W-What should we do, Commander?”

“We can neither ignore it nor turn him away,” Walt pondered for a while. “Then we may as well let him in. Whatever the cause, let’s be grateful for being blessed with the chance to see his face.”

Walt had never met the crown prince of Mephius in person. At most, he had only seen him from a distance in Solon.

If this was an imposter, there was a very close resemblance. Nor was it only his appearance: Walt felt that his boldness at having suddenly shown up at Jozu Fortress with only a few attendants and his subsequent dignified demeanour were not things that just anyone would be able to imitate overnight.

Gil Mephius.

Without any prior warning, he had suddenly knocked on the gates of Jozu Fortress.

“I am honoured to meet you. I cannot express my delight at being able to behold the crown prince’s noble visage even in such a remote and backwards place.”

“Yeah, but this place really has nothing going for it, huh?” His legs folded one over the other, Gil faced Walt with an impudent expression.

From the upper reaches of the fortress, they could look down on the surrounding forest. Once night fell, all four sides would be enveloped in darkness. Despite it being a newly constructed fort, merchants did not gather there nor did prostitutes flock towards it, so there was no entertainment whatsoever. It seemed that the soldiers stationed here must need considerable fortitude.

When Gil Mephius pointed this out, Walt answered him conscientiously –

“I give the soldiers leave once every ten days in shifts. Most of them go to Birac and spend their time there as they please. Although, as Birac it is a trade city in which people from all over Mephius congregate, I occasionally dig into my own funds and invite a troupe of entertainers here.”

Even as he answered, he was harbouring doubts.

For all that he says there’s nothing here, what kind of business brought him then?

The Prince only had about fifteen attendants with him. Being that they were brawny, they were possibly his Imperial Guards, rumoured to have been promoted from being sword slaves, but given that they were lightly armed and so few in number, they could not possibly be planning to take over the fortress.

Hmmm – while Walt maintained a calm expression, inside he was hopelessly torn. The man in front of him was perhaps going to cause Mephius to be split in two. If he captured him now, should he send him to Solon? No, first should be a messenger to Birac. From there, they could perhaps contact Solon and await orders from His Majesty?

Walt had not yet received official notification from Birac. The natural course would have been for Lord Fedom to have sent his instructions once the troops led by Folker Baran had arrived, yet no messenger had come.

While Walt was thus conflicted –

“I wanted to see the new fortress with my own eyes. Also, I felt that I should personally see the soldiers. Since it’s close to Apta, there will often be all sorts of instructions to send. It will be an advantage in those cases if the soldiers know my face and if I know theirs.”

“Aye”

Gil Mephius glanced towards Walt, who was maintaining a respectful attitude. And then, as he swatted away an insect that had flown in front of him with one hand, “I’m thinking of staying here for a while,” he lightly said something utterly astounding.

Not even Walt could repress his emotions and he raised his head with a jerk.

“S-Stay?”

“Is that somehow inconvenient?”

“No... But...”

“To tell you the truth,” Gil cupped his hand around his mouth as though imparting a secret, “the Garberan princess went to the west and hindered Mephius’ invasion. You’ve heard of that, right?”

“There is something of a rumour, but...” Walt also lowered his voice and chose his words carefully.

“I have a slightly hard time handling that. Nothing could be more embarrassing than handing my fiancée over to His Majesty like I’ve been told to, but at the same time, I don’t know what kind of punishment Father will hand down to me if I openly defy him.”

What!?

Walt was both disgusted and furious with the man before him. He was going to split the country for nothing more than saving his own face. At the same time though, it had become increasingly difficult to ascertain whether or not this was the crown prince since he had brought up the matter of the Garberan princess.

I don’t know. If he’s an impostor, why are two of the twelve generals following him and even his fiancée the princess seems to be standing on his side. Or else, is it a plot against Mephius that the princess herself set up? No, there’s no way a fourteen or fifteen girl could.

“Commander”

While he was becoming increasingly mired in confusion, one of his men called out to him. He stepped away from the prince for a moment and heard the report.

“What? From Lord Fedom?”

“Aye, it has just arrived from Birac. He has something to say about Apta.”

It’s finally arrived – he felt that it was a bit slow but at least it had still arrived in time. Walt mulled over his thoughts for a moment.

“Right, I’ll go straight to Birac from here. Since we may need to send messengers at a moment’s notice, have the airships on standby along the highway.”

“Aye. ...And, about His Highness?”

“It’s actually rather convenient that he came here. Since he said he wanted to stay, let’s grant him his wish. Don’t let him go back. You lot do everything you can to keep him here. Use every means possible to prevent him from changing his mind.”

If Fedom – or rather, His Majesty the emperor who would be contacted through Fedom – decided that the man here was an impostor, he would just need to arrest him and take him to Birac, and his duty would be complete. They would be able to prevent the country being torn apart in vain.

“But for all that you say to use every means possible, there’s nothing but forest here,” the soldier, whom Walt had known for a long time, looked baffled.

An amiable smile crossed Walt’s puffy face, “this is the most important task since I took up my post at Jozu Fortress. I’ll do it even if it kills me. If I have to, I’ll even offer a few of the women I fancy,” he joked.

In actual fact, Walt had never been known to bring anything like a mistress, but his subordinate soldiers grinned in response.

“Are you leaving? I figured as much when you got that report earlier, but you’re really busy, huh?” enquired Gil Mephius, looking completely unsuspecting, as soon as Walt announced that he had to start getting ready to go.

“I am truly very sorry. Although there is nothing here that can distract Your Imperial Highness from boredom, please take your time and relax as much as you like. My subordinates have their orders, so if there is anything that you wish for, please do not hesitate to tell them.”

“Oh? Well, I’ll do as I like then,” Gil said nonchalantly. “Anyway, what’s this business that’s got you in so much of a hurry?”

“Well, it is not me. Lord Aulin is ever abrupt. He sometimes likes to bring his family to go for a stroll in the forest, so maybe that is what it is this time too?”

“Humph. If it’s such an idyllic place, maybe I should go out for a walk too.”

“Ah, by all means.”

Walt hurriedly left Jozu Fortress.

Before long, a succession of carts arrived from Apta one by one. They were loaded with clothes, food and large quantities of wine – in short, they were Gil’s personal belongings sent for his stay at Jozu. Given that the Prince’s luggage had arrived right after he did, it appeared that he had, from the start, intended to ignore whatever wishes Walt or those at the fortress might have.

Since the carts kept arriving incessantly and insisting on checking each and every one of them might incur the Prince’s displeasure, Gil’s men were asked to stay by the gate and were left to identify the goods and people.

Moreover, opening and closing the gate each and every time was extremely laborious. So there was no help for it but to leave it open. Of course, the number of guards around the gate was reinforced but, as people and goods arrived one after another, they grew exasperated and just watched them pass through.

Part 2

The next day, Gil spent the entire day looking around Jozu Fortress. During that time, the succession of goods continued to arrive.

When, while still broad daylight, they saw him and his men sharing a toast from the contents of a wine cask that had only just arrived, Walt’s subordinates exchanged whispered comments.

“Is he really the crown prince?”

“With that kind of behaviour, he can’t be the prince.”

“No, if he was an impostor, he’d make sure to behave like a real crown prince and absolutely wouldn’t be so unguarded.”

“At any rate, Crown Prince Gil was known as a ‘fool’, ya know...”

“Shh! If by any chance he’s the real thing and he hears you...”

By and large, Gil seemed to spend the entire day enjoying himself. But when dusk fell, he suddenly complained in a deliberately loud voice that –

“This is boring.”

As soon as they heard that he had lost interest, Walt’s men were suddenly thrown into a panic. They ran around calling at the villages around the fortress and scraped together whatever pretty young girls and villagers that had any kind of talent they could find. That night, they held a small banquet to welcome the prince.

In that way, they were able to prolong his stay by a day, but the fortress soldiers were wracking their brains to figure out how on earth to arrange an entertainment programme for him from then on, when, “I want to see what you can do, since you’re the ones defending the fort,” Gil once more abruptly brought something up.

It was in the early afternoon of the second day.

“The attendants I brought with me were hand-picked as the best among the Imperial Guards. How about it? You could have a contest with them.”

That was equivalent to telling them to have gladiatorial contests with the Imperial Guards. The soldiers were naturally taken aback.

“I’m not saying to fight with weapons. You, my friends, are probably thinking that you’re not gladiators. How about bare-handed wrestling?”

“That’s harsh, Your Highness,” the giant swordsman Gilliam laughed out loud. He had officially become an Imperial Guard in Apta. “We’re called Imperial Guards now, but we were all gladiators. There’s no way we’ll lose to them and they’ll just be disgraced at having been beaten by former sword slaves. Who’d want to get into a fight with absolutely no advantage for them?”

The Imperial Guards all roared with laughter.

Most of the soldiers at Jozu Fortress only had experience of doing what Walt told them to on the battlefield. One could tell at a glance that hostility had started gleaming in their eyes. Besides, they were under strict orders from battalion Commander Walt to induce the Prince to stay at all cost. They accepted the contest that he had forced on them.

From then on, the contest was held until the sun set.

The first to go were soldiers who gave an impression of strength, but after several of them were pinned to the ground in no time at all by the former gladiators, people with confidence in their own skills were clamouring to barge in. Even the one who, from the looks of it, had been acknowledged as the boss of the infantrymen within the fortress, was as helpless as a baby in Gilliam’s hands.

Every time one of the soldiers from the fortress lost, a man who seemed to be a company commander would yell for someone to get a certain person, until finally, even those among the guards on lookout who seemed somewhat skilled were mobilised. The former gladiators heaped victory on victory but they were much fewer in number compared to the fortress’ soldiers and, after a series of bouts, they were starting to show signs of fatigue. That being the case, more and more of them suffered defeats, so that the fortress soldiers became increasingly charged up.

“You did it!” the crown prince clapped his hands in delight. “But after all, there aren’t that many of them. I’m not saying that to make excuses, but the fairest way to settle this would be to have a deciding match between the strongest from either side.”

And so it was decided that whoever was the strongest among the Jozu soldiers would compete in the next round.

“Our side will send out Pashir. Oi, someone run back to Apta and get that guy here.”

Since the runner-up from the Gladiatorial Championship was going to come, the feeling of competition became even more heated.

That evening, a new group of visitors arrived at the fortress’ front gate. Because there were a lot of them, and also for one other reason, the sentries were wary; however, as the entire group was composed of women, and as they also explained that their visit had been requested by the prince, they were soon allowed to pass inside. The other reason for the soldiers’ caution was because the women were all Zerdians.

As well as the people, wine caskets, and cages hung with curtains were also carried in at the same time. They were being pulled by several medium-sized Houban dragons, but what was surprising was that the one leading the Houbans was a woman.

The group entered and headed towards the soldiers, who were completely exhausted from the fights. They were all beautiful young women. It was as though the stench of sweat and men that had been hanging over the fortress had been swept away and a cool breeze carrying tinkling laughter had blown in instead.

“They're a troupe of Zerdian dancing girls,” Gil raised his voice to welcome them.

Prompted by the Prince, the dark-skinned women started whirling and dancing throughout the fortress, playing their flutes all the while. The soldiers’ eyes were glued to those bewitchingly supple limbs and ostentatiously contorted bodies.

“This is the least I can do to show you all my appreciation. Zerdian woman aren’t bad to look at, right? Come, drink, sing. The dancing girls are dancing and twirling for the brave heroes.”

For most of the Mephians, it was their first time seeing western dances and hearing the expressive sound of their flutes. Their weary bodies and minds seemed to be lapping up the sights and sounds. As they, of course, also did with the alcohol that Gil had had prepared.

The banquet that was a complete change from the wrestling contest grew lively. There were incidents in which someone mistook the Zerdian dragon-handler for a dancing girl and tried to come on to her only to get kicked; but, other then that, everyone drank and sang a lot, with the soldiers even throwing off their leather armour to join in a large dancing ring.

The Prince was merrier than anyone, pressing drinks on the soldiers and throwing his arms around the shoulders of the dancing girls to sing together. The soldiers who were under orders to detain him there felt that it was their duty to take part in the revels, and so continued to eat and drink without restraint.

It was probably the most boisterous night that Jozu Fortress had known since being built.

And so.

The night wore on.

Most of the exhausted soldiers were lying collapsed all around. Dancing girls crowded flocked around those who still retained some of their senses and offered them wine or pressed them into dancing with them, so that the number of victims kept increasing.

“What’s this, you guys, you’re pretty undisciplined,” Gil laughed flippantly as he himself staggered along between people. “Even though you’ll be going sightseeing after this – Oi, get it ready,” he shouted in a loud voice and clapped his hands.

At which, cages with a pulley were brought from the front gate. Those who still had some consciousness left strained their eyes towards these huge cages, wondering what he had in mind this time.

But when the curtain was opened, what leaped out completely overturned any of their expectations.

A row of soldiers in full armour and weaponry, complete with guns and swords.

While the soldiers raised their voices in astonishment, about fifty jumped out of the cage and, as though their deployment had been determined beforehand, they quickly ran to every strategic point in the fortress and, encountering almost no opposition, they seized complete possession of it in no time at all.

There were three cages in total. The last man to come out of them had a body no less powerful than that of a lion and he walked calmly towards Gil.

“Did you call for me, Your Imperial Highness?”

Pashir.

Gil laughed. “You’re a bit late. I was going to have them choose the strongest soldier in the fortress, but... Everyone’s completely wasted.”

“Then should we wake everyone up?”

The soldiers serving at the fort were rounded up in one place. Since the majority of them had fallen asleep and those who were still conscious were worn out and had been made to drink far too much, nobody put up any resistance. Naturally, most of their weapons had been confiscated.

“W-What,” Walt’s adjutant shouted, although apparently unable to articulate. He was not tied up but he was surrounded on all sides by Gil’s armed soldiers. “W-What ish thish, Your Highness! D-Did you d-desheive us?”

“I’m having you take some time off,” Gill said between hiccups. “We won’t take your lives. Right then, tomorrow, you’ll be leaving for Birac. Anyone who has luggage to take had better gather it up now.” There was not a single lie in Gil’s words. Without a single exception, the soldiers were sent away. They were forced to get themselves ready without being able to fight back.

Seated in the reception hall on the ground floor of the fortress, Gil kept an eye on the proceedings as the soldiers scuttled away. Not far from him, Pashir was hurling out instructions to the men deployed throughout the fort. It had only been five days since Gil – or rather, Orba – had reshuffled the unit centred around Pashir into the Imperial Guards, but it looked as though he had already efficiently unified his subordinates.

A Zerdian woman came up to them. Unusually for her, and so as to put the soldiers off guard, Hou Ran was wearing make-up and was dressed up. Her long-sleeved, long-hemmed clothes and the veil over her face cleverly concealed her scars.

Orba was going to give her his thanks but, faster than he could open his mouth, she stomped on his foot with all her strength.

“Drunkards tried to fondle my breasts three times.”

“What? W-Who on earth would do such a thing?” Orba asked with the pressure still weighing down on his foot.

“The expression in their eyes were the same as the Prince’s right now.”

With an air of having said all that she wanted to say, Ran suddenly turned around. Pashir was facing away to one side, his shoulders quivering.

The conclusion was that within one night, Jozu Fortress passed to Gil Mephius.

The next day, the full-scale transfer of supplies and military personnel began.

As far as Orba was concerned, one of the biggest gains was that they had gotten ahold of a great many ships. There were no large air carriers big enough to transport huge groups of soldiers, but there were three each of both the cruisers and the high-speed crafts that could carry four or five people. Furthermore, there were reserves of precious ether since the base often served as a relay station for airships.

He had not only summoned soldiers from Apta, but also several administrative officials. Among those was Kalgan, who had been serving Orba since long before. At Orba’s prompt orders, they rushed to contact all the nearby villages, assembled groups of woodcutters who made their livelihood by felling trees and working the timber, and, just as before, organised a hierarchy with Kalgan at its summit.

Incidentally, although every last one of Walt’s soldiers had been driven away, the non-combatants that were the servants had remained at the fortress. As ‘Crown Prince Gil’, Orba personally addressed them as much possible, so that even though their safety was at greater risk than before, they felt a sense of security about not having their jobs taken away from them.

Meanwhile, Walt had arrived at the trade city of Birac and had met with Fedom.

“I don’t remember summoning you,” he had said, his face momentarily bewildered.

As Walt explained about the Prince’s visit to the fortress, Fedom’s expression had changed in the blink of an eye.

“Fool!” He had yelled so forcefully that his saliva went flying. “You were tricked by the impostor. Even if Jozu Fortress is falling to flames right this very moment, I won’t be held responsible for it. It was all because of your stupidity!”

Could the shock Walt received then even be measured?

Before long, news arrived by the airships that were distributed along the highway for carrying messages that his subordinates were heading in a column towards Birac.

When Walt heard the full story from them, his face boiled red with a rage that was no less than Fedom’s.

“T-That, that swine!”

He did not seem to hear anyone’s voice as he threw himself on a horse and galloped towards Jozu Fortress. A dozen of his men, thrown into a panic, chased after him but half were unable to keep up with him and got left behind.

It was late at night two days later that he finally reached Jozu.

“Impostor Prince. You and your cowardly tricks! Come out here. Come out and fight me fair and square, one on one!” He yelled as his horse raced around the fort’s circumference.

Along the fortress’ outer wall, soldiers stood in a row, holding torches aloft. With the light from the flames shining on Walt, all of them threw vulgar jeers at him. Walt’s winsome face was now entirely like that of a demon.

Orba emerged and looked down at Walt’s galloping figure. When Walt noticed him,

“So you’ve come out, you cur. Well, come on. I won’t let your men interfere. Come and fight me!”

He raised his unsheathed sword and brandished in provocation. Orba smiled in spite of himself.

“He’s nothing if not bold, that man.”

“Should we aim our arrows at him?”

He held back the Imperial Guard who had suggested that and had Pashir sent for. The runner-up in the Gladiatorial Championship came rushing.

“That man,” Orba pointed to Walt, “seems to have been Clovis ten years ago. Can you do it?”

“If that is your order.”

Orba found it almost provoking how Pashir gave the impression of neither hesitation nor doubt.

“Shall I take his head?”

“Don’t put your life in danger. Apart from that, it’s fine to just rough him up.”

Pashir gave a single nod then left through the fortress’ main gate. When Walt saw him, he leaped from his horse.

“That damn coward. Is the impostor not coming out?”

“He’s the crown prince,” Pashir said calmly. “Did you seriously think that he was going to fight someone like you?”

“Fine, Brat. I’ll defeat you then drag that man out.”

At the same time, he took his stance with his longsword then slowly started closing the distance between them.

Under the flames lined up along the top of the wall, their two shadows were darker than darkness against the surface of the ground. When those shadows crossed one another – in that instant, both thrust towards the other.

There was a shower of blue sparks.

Walt’s physique had changed a lot since his time as a gladiator, but his skill with a sword still far surpassed that of an ordinary man. He was more agile than seemed possible with that body of his.

However Pashir’s ability was also far from ordinary. When he felt the other draw too near, he jumped back. Time and time again, Walt’s blade cut through empty air.

The blood had rushed to Walt’s head when he had gone racing towards the fortress. All of a sudden, he charged headlong.

The thought crossed Orba’s mind that they would see Pashir’s movements become much faster in response. It was the intuition of someone who had once crossed swords with him, and it was entirely correct.

Pashir drew a semi-circle that let Walt charge past him. The distance between them was so short that it almost seemed measured as to need only the barest of movements. Pashir’s sword extended to the side. Compared to Walt’s assault, it looked lax and dull, but the tip of his blade unerringly struck the back of Walt’s hand.

Walt collapsed forward. As he remained on his knees, groaning bitterly, the soldiers mocked him with their laughter and applause.

Orba lifted his hand and brought it to a stop,

“The match is over,” he announced loudly. “Now then, Battalion Commander, return to Birac. If you want to have a match with me, ask Folker to let you join the front. I’ll look forward to seeing you come at me with your sword drawn.”

Walt threw a glare in which pain and hatred was mingled towards Orba. But their was something of a lack of strength in his eyes. Setting aside his personal feelings, the man he was currently looking up at deserved praise for his attitude, determination, and his ability to take the fortress, so that Walt could no longer think of him as a mere fraud.

He borrowed the help of his subordinates, who had finally arrived rushing behind him, to get back on his horse, and left Jozu Fortress as fast as he could.

Part 3

The fall of Jozu Fortress was naturally not only a shock for Walt but also for the liberation army gathered in Birac.

So the other side is making a move.

Folker Baran had been taking his time to arrange the troop formation in part because he had been entertaining the faint hope that the enemy side might offer their surrender.

He knew that the emperor’s wish was for them to crush the enemy without delay, but it would have been far preferable if things could have ended without shedding the blood of fellow countrymen. Generals Rogue and Odyne would naturally agree with this. And so, Folker had intended to wait for a little while, but it seemed that the opening that had created had been made use of and that he had been forestalled. It was not Walt’s responsibility alone.

However – hastening their plan at this point would be the height of folly.

Jozu Fortress had undeniably been taken, but the enemy numbers still remained unchanged, and while they had gotten their hands on ether and a few small ships, this was not a serious blow for Folker’s side.

Jozu and Apta – even if they use both strongholds, the distance between them is too great for tactical usage and they won’t want to divide their soldiers into even smaller forces. Which means they can’t use them to strategically restrain us either.

Therefore, there was no great difference between the actions that Folker needed to take before, and those now that Jozu Fortress had fallen. For now, he would take his time and gradually corner the enemy psychologically.

Although, speaking of things that had changed a little from before –

“General Baran, the enemy is looking down on us!”

“If you give the order, my fleet can turn a fortress like Jozu into a sea of flames within a day.”

– With regards to calmly chiding the hot-blooded Zaas and Yuriah, his workload had increased.

At around noon on the day after Jozu was taken, Folker was meeting with the lord of Birac, Fedom. On top of making his periodical report, he also had a request for him.

“A letter?”

“Aye. A recommendation in your name that they surrender, Lord Aulin.”

It was one means of shaking up the adversary.

Fedom Aulin crossed his meaty arms. “It’s not that I don’t know either Rogue or Odyne. But...”

“But?”

“They openly defied His Majesty’s orders. Are they really the same amiable generals that I knew?”

Naturally, he was not saying that even the two commanders were impostors. Fedom long-windedly quoted several historical examples of people who had easily changed according to how the wind blew. Folker had a boring time of it. However –

“Having said that, I can’t be seen to remain silent. Right, I’ll write it. It’s foolish to hope for those two to have a change of heart at this point, but it’d be good if the enemy could fall apart without our having to do much.”

Folker was able to achieve his aim for the time being.

Several hours later, a messenger started off for Apta carrying the letter.

Right then, O Impostor Prince – Folker was known as man with nerves of steel. He hardly ever openly showed his emotions, especially when on the field of battle. First you took Apta, then you grabbed Jozu. What will your third action be? If we don’t make any move, the most you’ll be able to do, you bastard, is to fuss about on that narrow strip of land. Will you declare yourself king of that tiny domain and hold a coronation ceremony? Or will you line up your troops in Jozu and insist on meeting us in battle?

Folker’s assessment was that the enemy did not have a main force. While they might have artillery power and air force strength, they were lacking in ground forces. With such an unreliable battle line-up, with what kind of method did they hope to pluck victory?

There was a part of him that was somewhat looking forward to seeing it.

The first thing Orba did after seizing Jozu Fortress was to secure the timber resources and to gather skilled carpenters. Kalgan was the administrative official in charge of both of these.

And then, in a situation in which he did not know when the enemy might attack, he began construction on a new fort. Three kilometres east of Jozu, they cut down every tree in the area and used the timber from them to build fences to defend against the enemy cavalry as well as turrets in which riflemen could stand at the ready.

Orba himself focused intently on walking around Jozu Fortress’ interior and exterior. This was in order to firmly fix the terrain in his mind. Once he had gotten the information with his own feet, he would finetune his initial tactics, hammer them into the various commanding officers, and have the soldiers train exhaustively.

Every day, the soldiers were made to run while carrying their guns until they were completely exhausted. In a situation where the enemy might attack today or tomorrow, it had to be wondered if they would even be good for anything.

Orba visited each training session one by one and spoke up to them –

“Go, go go. Use your whole body to see and hear. Move at the first sign. Those in front, know the way perfectly. You over there! If your shoulders are touching, you won’t be able to move properly in an emergency.”

Gil Mephius’ harsh words echoed wherever he went.

The riflemen wore no armour. Mobility was life. Orba would repeatedly yell at them that, “if you stop, you die!”

“Ah!”

While running along the passageway, one of the soldiers bumped into the wall with the grip of his gun and dropped it. As they were running at full speed in straight columns, he realised that he could not stop, and reluctantly carried on running, swept along with the group.

After all the members of the unit had passed, Orba picked up the gun.

“I-I am very sorry.”

The soldier returned and received the gun back from Orba on his knees. Orba viewed his noticeably pockmarked face.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“Yes, I, hum, I will be sixteen.”

“Been on the battlefield before?”

“T-This will, be the first time, for me.”

I see – Orba silently thought in response then tapped the child soldier on the shoulder. “Go back.”

As he galloped away, Orba watched him retreat and thought – Roan was about the same age when he went to Apta. For whatever reason, he had a heavy feeling.

“You’re really working hard, I see.”

“I thought I told you to stay in bed.”

Shique had appeared. While waving his hand in a feminine gesture, he replied –

“Your roars can be heard all over the place, so how am I supposed to sleep?”

“Didn’t I specifically tell you to go to Apta?”

“I remember, right before we first headed to Apta, you were trying to set up an airship unit and were roaring at young ‘uns in Solon too.”

“That’s right.”

Orba looked as though he hardly heard what was being said to him. Somehow or another, this is the first time I’ve seen him like this – thought Shique as he observed his irritated profile.

When they were in the west, even though his face was hidden by a mask or bandages, he had felt that now that the crown prince’s mask had been removed, Orba’s real, boyish face had been slowly starting to appear. When he had once again donned the crown prince’s persona, Shique had expected him to go back to how he had previously been, yet he was different from how he usually was before a battle.

His eyes showed that he was giving himself no space to relax.

Shique could guess that the upcoming war would be harsh, but looking back at his battles until now, he had been able to reverse situations where the conditions or military strength had been unfavourable before. Although he could not go so far as to assert that they would therefore win this time as well, Shique felt that was not the only reason that Orba currently seemed so tightly wound that he could not relax.

An airship having been made ready for him, Orba left Jozu Fortress and headed towards the newly constructed fort to the east. Because the local people called the area ‘the Forest of Tolinea’, it had been named ‘Tolinea Fort’. Apparently, in the old language, it referred to a bird with a short lifespan. No one knew why such an ominous name had remained.

Shique went along with him.

Orba summoned Kalgan and got a progress report from him. Construction was advancing more or less on schedule, but Orba was not happy with the fort’s current appearance.

“Although we won’t be stationing any soldiers here, don’t cut any corners in making it look more real than the real thing. Otherwise, we won’t be able to deceive the enemy.”

“A-Aye, aye!” Kalgan could only respectfully obey when talked to directly by the crown prince.

Hou Ran was also actively contributing to the work there. Dragons were responsible for transporting the quarried stone and cut timber, and she was briskly giving them instructions. The soldiers and labourers seemed to have been frightened at first at having them prowling in their vicinity, but by now, they were thoroughly used to it.

When Orba counted the number of dragons however, he asked Ran –

“Can’t you bring out a few more?”

Hou Ran’s expression made it clear that she felt offended.

“Baians and Yunions are by nature unsuited for this kind of work. But since the obedient Houbans have large builds, they can’t move about in a forest. If I’m not good enough, hire another dragon handler.”

Just as Kalgan had been with him earlier, when told something by Ran, Orba could also only go along with it.

“...”

“What? Is there something stuck to my face?” Ran asked, looking displeased. Orba was staring fixedly at her as he remained silent.

No – he silently shook his head and left.

As she was watching him leave, Ran suddenly stood still and started touching her face all over.

After that, Orba went to thank the woodcutters and carpenters, the soldiers who had been rounded up to help with the manual labour, and the slaves for their work, then returned to Jozu Fortress.

“That really is a bad habit of yours,” Shique cut into Orba’s mind as they boarded the airship.

“What is?”

“When you start something, you try and keep everything about it in your sight and in your mind.”

“Obviously,” Orba said curtly. “If I didn’t, how could I take command during battle? If there’s an error in the preparation stage, the war will be lost before it even starts.”

“This is different from things on the level of a platoon or a company. Did you get so used to war in the west that you’ve forgotten what war is for a prince? There will be parts that your eyes cannot reach.”

“Then I’ll have to prevent that from happening.”

“Listen, Orba. You’re aiming to become the country’s crown prince. Are you saying that from now on, and when the time comes for you to shoulder the responsibility for Mephius, you’ll watch over the entire country all by yourself? You’re not a sorcerer, you only have two eyes. But watching what goes on around isn’t yours to do alone, they’ll be a huge number of other eyes. The talent to use them effectively is...”

While he was talking, Shique became fretful at the almost total lack of reaction.

Orba would always lend his ears when he was being reasoned with logically, but somehow, this time, it seemed that he had, from the start, no intention of listening. Or rather –

His head is so full that he doesn’t have the leisure to take in anything more.

Perhaps it was because he was convinced to the point of being menacing that ‘this is the way we have to win’, but as soon as they arrived at Jozu Fortress Orba was going to check the state of preparations from start to finish all over again.

Oh well.

This was not a good time to quarrel loudly. Shique gave up for the time being and decided to choose a time when there weren’t so many people around to talk to him about it again.

A deep sigh escaped from his lips as he came to that decision. Even he thought that always being the one to do nothing but worry was an unprofitable role. However, he also felt that – there’s no one apart from me to notice that sort of thing about him.

Since those around him recognised that it was normal for Gil Mephius to be in a bad mood, they did not notice when there were slight variations from his usual self. And since Orba himself, of course, did not think that he was any different from usual, there needed to be somebody who accepted having gotten the short straw and who could squarely point things out to him.

Honestly – he almost sighed again.

“Prince, prepare yourself.”

Just as he thought he had suddenly heard a voice coming from behind him, Orba lurched forward.

“Ow!”

When he looked to see what it was, a piece of wood fell to the ground. Realising it been hurled from behind, Orba and Shique both turned around, and thereupon opened their eyes wide. Orba’s hand had gone to his sword, but the one who stood there was a royal princess. In a posture that was evidently that of someone who had just thrown something.

“P-Princess,” Shique was the first to speak. “You came here?”

“I thought that I would like to take a look at the place that will become a battlefield.”

Recovering from his momentary surprise, Orba picked up the piece of wood with a displeased expression.

“...What’s this about?”

“It is because I was wondering if, right now, even I could strike you down, Prince.”

She nimbly caught the piece of wood that was tossed back at her, drawing a parabola as it went. With Theresia and Layla behind her, she then thrust it towards the ground like a sword.

“Since knowing that I had come here might have caused the Prince unnecessary concern, I was thinking of staying silent and observing, but hearing your foul language ringing out from all over the place, it was absolutely impossible to remain quiet and composed.”

Her words were similar to Shique’s.

Having come from Apta, the princess was certainly not wearing a flight suit for piloting airships, however neither was she wearing a dress fit for Court. She had on a blouse with the barest amount of lace ornamenting the cuffs and collar, matched with a long skirt and with a wide belt tied firmly around her waist. Her high boots were the type favoured for horse-riding and a cloak for going out was draped at her back. Her hair was done up behind her head, so that the back of her slender white neck was completely exposed.

“Does the princess then go around beating men to death when she is not quiet and composed?”

“When the commanding officer is that irritable and, on top of that, does not even listen to what his retainers are saying, killing him may be best for all concerned.”

What surprised Shique was the fact that even though the princess was deliberately choosing provocative words, Orba’s expression did not turn unpleasant.

The princess puffed out her chest, “if it comes to that, it is fine to leave things to me. Shall I take command in your place, Prince? Put me on the bridge of the flagship and I will show you that I can encourage everyone far better than you can, Prince.”

“Earlier though, you said that you were going to leave everything to me, Princess. Also, this coming war is going to be more dangerous than previous ones.”

“Everyone will naturally be risking their lives. So of course I too should...”

“I said no!” Orba spoke sharply.

Vileena scowled huffily, as though to say – you can’t even understand a joke anymore? Then asked –

“What are you afraid of?”

In that moment, Shique was again taken aback. But it was a different kind of surprise than earlier. He gazed thoughtfully at Orba as he, looking as though he had lost interest in the conversation, disappeared off into the fortress.

Vileena had her hand on the upright stick as though it were the hilt of a sword and she was watching a defeated army retreat, but she murmured to herself –

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Well, that’s...” Theresia started wryly.

“That is to say...” Layla said.

They looked at each other.

“It’s just that,” Theresia cleared her throat, “you should not point out something like that in public. The Prince will be worried about his retainers looking down on him.”

“If he loses to a woman in an argument, he is not fit to command an army in the first place.”

“No, there are plenty of examples of brave generals who have intimidated armies twice the size of theirs, or of famous and peerless strategists who have driven away armies ten thousand strong with only a thousand men, but who would still bow their heads to their wives or lovers. For truly feminine ladies, it is enough to be careful about allowing gentlemen to throw their weight around in public while holding the reigns in private. Because that is not the kind of fight that can be ended by taking a life with a gun or a sword.”

Vileena looked dissatisfied but Shique could still feel the shock reverberating inside him.

Right, he’s afraid.

It was his first time seeing Orba’s true self.

Meanwhile –

What was that, I’m not afraid.

Even when he reached the inside of the fortress, the echoes of Vileena’s words had still not vanished from inside Orba’s mind.

What could I still be afraid of at this point?

When he was a gladiator, killing one another had been an everyday occurrence. After becoming the crown prince’s body-double, it was no longer enough to simply kill opponents; instead he found himself fighting in an arena that was in some ways far more dangerous, and where having his identity revealed would lead to losing his life. After becoming a mercenary, he had personally stood on battlefields were bullets flew and the clash of weapons never ceased.

Before a battle, you had to work out your strategy then just walk forward, filled with exultation.

Even though that was how it should be... so why was it that at this late stage, he felt that his steps were unsteady?

Feeling the impulse to scream something, anything, Orba firmly clamped his mouth shut.

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