Rakuin no Monshou

Volume 10, Chapter 6: Trigger

Part 1

The amount of guards that escorted Princess Vileena on her return to Solon was all but excessive. They seemed to fear that since Salamand was still in Mephian territory, he might mount a surprise attack and snatch her away.

They had stopped several times to replenish their ether supply, but she had hardly been allowed to leave the ship. The princess however had not made a single complaint. She remained enshrined in her designated seat, her expression tranquil.

Theresia, her lady’s maid, was equally calm and composed. When she got tired of their voyage by air, she promptly nodded off to sleep.

Once Vileena had made sure that Theresia was asleep, she would occasionally reach for a medallion that hung from a chain at her neck and which was usually hidden beneath her clothes. It was the one she had given to Orba as an amulet when he had been taking part in the gladiatorial tournament. Through various twists and turns, it had since returned to her.

After hearing that Prince Gil and Orba had returned alive, she had intended to return it at some point, but had taken it with her when she had decided to go to Solon.

Every time she unconsciously reached out to touch it however, she thought – it’s a lucky charm, I should have left it with Orba. He was, after all, someone who might at any time head out to a life-threatening battle. She started to hate her own changes of heart.

It’s not as though we can never meet again. I’ll give it to him next time – she decided.

At last, without encountering any difficulty, they arrived in Solon. By then, it was the time when evening shadows were deepening. The audience with the emperor would be the next morning.

As before, Vileena did not say anything in particular. She did not even appear to pay any attention to the court ladies maids who whispered together when they passed by one another as she made her way to the chambers which she had previously been given. She ate the meal that was brought to her then went to bed before the night grew any later.

The next morning, Vileena Owell faced Guhl Mephius from across the long flight of stairs to the throne.

It had been about two months since she had requested an audience with the emperor to inform him that she would go to Nedain. The people attending this audience however did not have the same amused atmosphere as at that time. Among those present, there were those whose expressions were nervous and strained; those who remained expressionless so as not to appear overly inquisitive; and those who looked at the princess as though she were an eyesore, or else with hatred in their gaze.

Currently, the majority opinion was to view her not as an honoured guest from another land, but as the foreign princess who was supporting the deceitful scoundrel who claimed to be Crown Prince Gil, the impostor who had caused their country to break in half. And then there was the matter of Salamand. There was still that rumour that he had conspired with the princess to bring chaos to Mephius.

“It is a great joy to me to be able to see you again after so long,” Vileena bowed her head.

Certainly, she did a good job of feigning calm, but there was a lot this fourteen-year-old princess would need to say from here on.

For a start, she would have to explain how she had gone to Apta and then to the west after having claimed that she intended to spend a week in Nedain.

There was also the issue of that man who called himself “Gil Mephius” and who had led an armed force into combat against Mephius’ army not far from Apta.

And then she would need to explain her connection to the Garberan troops who had violated the national border.

Vileena, however, did not say a single word about any of these issues.

Neither did Guhl, the emperor of Mephius.

Contrary to expectations, instead of adopting the abrupt tone of an interrogation, he maintained his usual posture, chin resting on his hand, and asked:

“And, what business brings you here especially, Princess? I believe you yourself requested this audience?”

“Yes.”

Seeing her nod in assent, the people in attendance exchanged glances surreptitiously. They had all thought that it was the emperor who had summoned her. Since it was the princess who had personally requested the audience, normally one would expect her to want to explain herself or apologise. What she said however was –

“There is something that I wish to request of Your Majesty.”

A wordless commotion went around the audience chamber.

What she had said was simply beyond impudent. In the first place, just who was it who, having said “I have a request” and obtaining permission to go to Nedain, had then turned traitor? Despite having exchanged a promise with the emperor, she had gone so far as to steal a ship and fly off to Apta. That alone was worthy of capital punishment, but she had then travelled west and betrayed confidential information about Mephius’ plans for invasion.

The emperor had still not granted Nabarl Metti – who had informed him of this – a chance to redeem himself, nor had even allowed him to attend court. If he could hear her, Nabarl would surely be gnashing his teeth. As for Guhl –

“Oh?” As was to be expected, not even he could generously nod in agreement at a time like this. “I believe I have already granted a request of yours, Princess. What more could you want? Even for you, Princess, I will not be able to grant a wish for me to surrender this seat to the deceiving fool who claims to be my son,” he chuckled.

The retainers felt chilled from those harsh words, and not one of them dared to smile.

The princess was at a loss. Her eyes lowered, she seemed to be examining her own feet for inspiration.

The silence stretched on for a while.

Just when it seemed that the princess known for her dauntlessness had no more moves to play...

“Your promise,” Princess Vileena spoke again. “Do you remember your promise?”

Guhl’s heavy eyelids blinked a few times. The princess continued –

“It was during Mephius’ Founding Festival, at the time of the gladiatorial tournament,” she added.

Naturally, nobody had any idea what she was talking about. They were convinced that the princess must be babbling out of desperation. However –

“Ohh,” Guhl’s shoulders heaved, “Now that you mention it, during the semi-finals, I made a bet with you, Princess, didn’t I? I wagered on a criminal who had once been acclaimed as a hero, while you bet on that former gladiator, Orba. Now what was the result again?”

“Orba won.”

The faces gathered in the audience chamber all wore expressions of confusion and surprise. Not a single person there had known about this bet between the emperor and the foreign princess. What surprised them even more was that the emperor had not only specifically asked what the outcome had been when it should have gone without saying, but that he had let the princess tell him. Did he do so for the sake of letting his retainers know what the bet had been about, and to indicate that he was prepared to receive her request?

“Your Majesty promised to grant me whatever I wished for.”

“I remember,” the emperor nodded.

He might have been expected to be enjoying this conversation, yet his expression remained sullen. Nevertheless, he was leaning forward a little.

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “Since you have expressly brought this up, have you found something that you want? I certainly said that I would offer you anything you liked. As I said earlier though, I will not vacate this seat.”

“I thank you for your graciousness,” the princess for her part was all but expressionless.

It seemed reasonable enough but, after all, she must be feeling nervous.

Could it be...

The retainers once again exchanged significant glances with each other.

The princess couldn’t be asking for a reconciliation with the Impostor Crown Prince, could she?

Impossible. It was a bet made in fun, she won’t ask for something that huge. She can’t be that much of a child.

Maybe she wants to ask His Majesty to let her return to Garbera?

Oh! If that’s what it is, then it might be possible...

The princess raised her eyes.

“Then, although it is shameless of me, I have something to ask of Your Majesty.”

“Speak.”

“I, Vileena Owell, request soldiers.”

Of all the entertaining imperial audiences that had occurred in recent times, this scene, which all the courtiers present were – momentarily – staring at wide-eyed, might well have been the most interesting spectacle of them all.

“Please lend me about a hundred soldiers.”

“Oh,” Guhl Mephius was unperturbed. However, he did not give the impression that he was merely humouring a child’s nonsense either. “A hundred soldiers... And what would you do with them?”

“If you would grant me just that many of Mephius’ mighty warriors, I would expel a fool from Mephius’ territory.”

“And this fool is?”

“Salamand Fogel.”

Vileena neither faltered nor hesitated.

Everyone there was utterly dumbfounded.

This princess, she... was saying that on the basis of a verbal promise with the emperor, she would borrow a hundred soldiers and with them, would expel Salamand from the territory he had trespassed into.

She had come from Garbera to marry into Mephius, so there had still been some scope for sympathy when she had lost her fiancé. It was, no doubt, for that reason that the emperor had allowed her to go to Nedain. However, her subsequent actions had been intolerable. And now, she was making an even more absurd claim.

The shoulders of some of the people there were quivering. Others, having recovered from their momentary surprise, were sneering. Most, however, simply held their breath and peered inquiringly at the emperor’s expression.

“How truly interesting.”

All those present suddenly looked tense. The emperor lifted his chin from his hand.

“Asking for a hundred soldiers is truly like you, Princess. Do you know this Salamand person?”

“Neither by face nor by name,” the princess shook her head.

At that point, the emperor smiled.

“Then can you send Salamand away, Princess?”

“That person insolently made use of my name to force his way into Mephius. If I move out brandishing Mephius’ flag, that person will lose his claim to a cause.”

“What you say is understandable. It is indeed... however, I cannot allow a princess entrusted in our care by a foreign country to undertake something so dangerous. And if the rumour sprang up that I had tearfully begged a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl to drive out a foreign enemy, even I would not be able hold my head high as emperor.”

“That is also one of my objectives.”

“Oh?”

“That was a joke. However, Your Majesty, if you will pardon further rudeness on my part...”

“What is it?”

“I, Vileena Owell, why... for what purpose am I here?”

“You came from Garbera to marry my son, Gil Mephius.”

“Indeed. I am Garberan and, in the not too distant future, I will be Mephian.”

Once again, there not a single person who did not succumb to nervousness. Recently – specifically, since the accidental death of Simon Rodloom – the emperor had been remarkably taciturn, yet now he was engaging in a long exchange with the princess.

From that alone, it was clear that the emperor had a fondness for this girl. Her decisive speech and personality were no doubt pleasing to Guhl, who had once been renowned as a warrior.

But those last words were entirely impossible to overlook.

“In the not too distant future, I will be Mephian.” – In other words, it meant that she would, as planned, become Gil Mephius’ wife. That plan however had already crumbled to nothing. Gil had been killed in Apta, by someone from the west. Even so, Vileena had clearly said that she would “become Mephian.” That was basically equivalent to saying that the man whom Guhl had unequivocally declared to be an impostor was actually the heir to the crown of Mephius.

Guhl Mephius suddenly rose from the throne.

Startled, most of the people there instinctively cowered back. The emperor took hold of his long staff.

“Colyne,” he called the name of one of his retainers.

“Y-Ye-Yes.” Colyne Isphan hurriedly drew near.

“Call the commander of my Imperial Guards and have him pick a hundred men. In addition, mobilise all the master blacksmiths of Solon and give them the order that, by tomorrow, they are to have forged a full set of armour suitable for the princess’ build.”

“Wha... No... B-But, Your Majesty...”

Colyne’s reputation rested mainly on his ability to always act – both in words and deeds – only according to the emperor’s thoughts, but even he could only blink in bewilderment.

“What?”

“A-Are you going to accept the princess’ proposal?”

“Do you see any other explanation?”

“B-But... That...”

No one there was able to laugh at Colyne’s confusion. Everyone assembled in that room felt the exact same way.

The emperor having personally accepted the princess’ proposal could result in nothing but embarrassment for the country. Moreover, if, by any chance, danger befell the princess, the relationship with Garbera would definitively be severed.

Only one person remained calm – the one who had caused all this shock and bewilderment, Vileena Owell herself. She remained kneeling, her head bowed. Although in fact, and you would not know it if you were not observing her closely, but her white neck was trembling imperceptibly.

“Colyne, who am I?” Guhl asked, as though imitating the princess’ earlier words.

“H-His Imperial Majesty Guhl Mephius, emperor of the Imperial Dynasty of Mephius.”

“Indeed. And Guhl Mephius never goes back on his promises, even if they are made with women or children. Now obey my orders!”

At long last, the audience chamber erupted with noise.

Even in Mephius’ long history, a princess riding out at the head of a troop of soldiers was almost certainly without precedent.

And in the first place, it was the emperor himself who had ordered that Salamand’s unit be left alone until such a time as it finally turned into a real threat. Was this not because they could be used to strike at the Impostor Prince and diminish his presence?

Nobody could understand what the emperor’s true intentions were. Of course, that had been true since long ago but, in a sense, the emperor’s words and deeds were now more inscrutable than ever before.

Guhl’s cloak fluttered as he left the audience chamber. The retainers hurriedly rose to see him off.

Among them, Empress Melissa Mephius was the only one to remain seated, and she stared coldly down at the princess.

“The circumstances have changed,” came the repeated insistence.

As soon as the audience at court was over, Empress Melissa had headed for the Dragon Gods’ temple. Normally, someone would immediately have come to greet her, but today she had been unable to see anyone. Finally, she had managed to catch hold of one of the elders.

“Did you not say that you would take care of the matter concerning that girl?”

“Conditions have changed since then,” he countered Melissa’s words. “Do not worry, even I have heard what the ‘diagnosis’ was for you, Empress. However, since that girl joined the Impostor Prince’s side, the circumstances of that fate have come to be understood. Please be at ease and focus on giving birth to a splendid heir.”

“But...” Melissa bit her lower lip in what was a girlish gesture. Since she would soon be giving birth, the balance of her heart was apparently easily thrown into disarray.

Staring fixedly at the Empress, who was in this state, the Elder suddenly lowered his voice.

“If it is of concern to you... and if it is your wish... It is fine for you to make your own move. We will not take part in this matter, nor do we have any authority to stop anything.”

Empress Melissa raised her head in surprise. Her expression was a bit like that of an ordinary person who had been struggling to debate an obtuse philosophical point with a learned and aged scholar, and who had suddenly, by chance, found at their feet a piece of paper with all the answers written down.

“Is that alright?”

“The times are changed by people. As for us, our existences are akin to guardians of fate. You may move as you see fit.”

After leaving the temple, the Empress sent some of her ladies’ maids to the commander of the Imperial Guards and obtained a list of the hundred men who would be accompanying the princess.

Having been given such abrupt marching orders, those men were in the middle of making hurried preparations.

“Tanis, if you’ve got a spare cloak, could you lend it me?”

One of them, a man named Alnakk, was scurrying madly among his comrades.

“Didn’t you get told last time to put in a request if you needed supplies?”

“I forgot. At the time, everyone was saying that a battle would break out at any moment in Nedain, so it was completely hectic.”

The imperial guard called Tanis sighed and laid out a spare for Alnakk. Both men were young. Alnakk had risen to becoming an imperial guard through his achievements during the ten-year war with Garbera, but Tanis had virtually no experience with a large-scale battle.

“But hey, Tanis, the little Garberan princess sure said something outrageous. And now even we’ve gotten caught up in it...”

“I admire her. A princess personally leading soldiers and sallying out to subjugate the rebels; it’s like something out of an illustrated storybook. It’s an honour to be able to be part of such a historic scene.”

“You sure are a romantic dreamer, Tanis. What’ll you do if the enemy doesn’t listen to the princess and suddenly opens fire?”

“That’s just what I’m hoping for. I’ll chop of the heads of those bastards who’ve come swaggering any way they want into our territory.”

“On top of being a dreamer, are you going to paint yourself as a paragon of justice, like those Garberan knights? There’s no saving you.”

“So, if the enemy attacks, what’ll you do, Alnakk?”

“Run away at once.”

“Idiot,” Tanis had been trying to look solemn, but now unintentionally burst out laughing. “In that case, forget being attacked by the enemy, the first thing you’ll need to worry about is His Majesty’s wrath.”

“I’m just one guy and I don’t have family either, so I can run away completely. Right, I could always flee to the west and become a pedlar.”

Since this was the company of Imperial Guards under the emperor’s direct orders, most of the soldiers were from good families, although there were also some young men among them who, like Alnakk, had risen up in the world by joining their ranks. Many dreamed that as Imperial Guards, if they achieved merit and caught the emperor’s attention, they might even be able to obtain the rank of aristocrat. Alnakk however did not seem to dream of such success in life.

“Well, I’ll probably be appointed as one of your pursuers. So I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth,” while Tanis was saying that, a visitor arrived for him.

It was the young girl who always acted as the go-between for him and his lover, a maid serving at court. She stealthily handed him a letter.

“Oooh, a secret assignation right before leaving?”

“Hey, don’t tell anyone.”

“Got it. Go and replenish your energy all you want, you ladies’ man.”

Tanis was in a relationship with a servant from the Women’s Quarters of the Palace who was, moreover, a maid to Empress Melissa. He was anticipating this night before departure to be tender as well as passionate and fierce.

The young couple boldly used a room inside the palace for their trysts. It was always empty and was in a blind spot for the guard patrols, so it was perfect for their use.

It was also the place specified in the letter. After the sun had set, and making sure to be sufficiently cautious of his surroundings, Tanis made his way there.

Although his lover should already have arrived, the inside of the room was dark. There was a hint of something squirming in the shadows.

It was impossible to see very well, but the clothes were those of a lady’s maid. It looked like she had decided on something different today. Tanis held his breath and embraced the maid from behind.

Immediately, he was seized by an uncomfortable feeling.

Driven by a sense that something was terribly wrong, he let go of the maid’s shoulders and peered closely at her face.

Tanis gasped. The passion that had taken hold of his body, and with it, all the things he had imagined about the future, were all snatched away in that instant.

Part 2

Salamand Fogel’s name would certainly go down in History.

At any rate, Salamand himself and the five hundred men who had followed him as part of his suicide squad were all convinced of it.

Garbera’s royal family was on the verge of losing its pride, so they would thrust the true meaning of honour before it, bravely fight in enemy territory, and there die a splendid and heroic death. Starting with Salamand’s, all five hundred of their names would be immortalised, engraved on a stone monument.

Still, it had been more than seven days since they had crossed the border and, although they had been searching and preparing for death, Salamand and the others were, not surprisingly, becoming impatient and irritated.

Partly as a feint, they had taken their time progressing north along the Domick Flats, but there had been no particular movement from the enemy side. At most, and only very rarely, they saw airships flying in the distance, probably to check their location.

In that case... They had no choice but the make a move themselves.

Salamand Fogel firmly set a course for Solon. Along the way, there were any number of small castles and forts set up to defend the capital. He intended to attack them.

That night, he talked about the plan while they held their last supper around the campfire. The provisions from the Mephian village had now run out. The suicide squad however did not behave tragically: everyone sang and danced while their excitement swelled, even without there being any alcohol.

At dawn, they leapt on their horses.

And galloped forward.

The sun illuminated the faces of the Garberan knights with its pale light.

They came to a meadow of short grass.

“Enemies.”

The scouts who had been sent out ahead had returned. They hurried up to Salamand. “Mephian riders are coming this way,” they reported.

Uwah! – a commotion ran throughout the troop. Salamand’s expression turned tense. When he asked for details however, it appeared that the enemy numbered roughly a hundred. Moreover, it was a group of riders who were not pulling any cannons with them.

“A hundred?” Salamand’s voice sounded frankly displeased.

Have they sent out emissaries, at this point? It looked like they still thought that he would heed their remonstrances. Had they brought a few weapons to demonstrate their military might while intending on playing up the alliance?

“What should we do?” His subordinates asked, their expressions disappointed. “Should we send a letter to Guhl? Something like ‘come out and fight us, you bastard’ might work.”

“Yeah, it might but,” Salamand looked as though he was gritting his teeth, “the first thing we’ll do is put down that one hundred. We’ll send all their heads to Solon. That will be better than any letter to show Guhl how serious we are.”

“Uwah!” Fired up, the knights once again raised their voices all together. This was the fight they had been waiting for until they were tired of waiting, it was as though their spirit was radiating from them and piercing out from their armour; each as determined as a giant who knew no fear.

Salamand had his men take up a seven-column formation and they galloped off, whipping their horses onwards.

The area had little in the way of cover. There were barely any dips and rolls on the ground’s surface. When it came to the fight, it would be a head-on collision.

Right – under his helmet, Salamand gloated at the thought of being able to show off the mettle of Garberan knights.

Before long, the figures of the ‘enemy’ came into sight. As reported, a hundred or so armoured riders were approaching in a line. About half of them seemed to have guns slung across their backs.

From the horses flanking the leader of the group on either side fluttered the banner of Mephius. Salamand felt as though the blood coursing through him was growing wilder and wilder. Yet –

Huh? – He noticed the mounted soldier who was in the lead.

He could not help but notice.

Tiny.

His visor was lowered so that it was impossible to make out his features, but he was surely still a child. Wondering what they were planning, Salamand raised his sword and gave his men the order to hold.

The enemy group similarly halted their horses. It was that tiny warrior who had given the order. In which case, he looked like he was the commander after all.

The young son of some renowned noble, or maybe... a youth connected to the imperial family perhaps?

At any rate, it looked as though the enemy had, from the start, no intention of engaging in battle here. Salamand’s expression twisted at the realisation.

The two forces faced each other from across a distance of about a hundred metres[1]. There was a gentle wind and the national flags that each side had raised wafted listlessly overhead.

If Salamand’s men were to seize their spears or the swords at their waist, the Mephian soldiers would go for their guns.

Only the sound of the horses’ rough breathing disturbed the silence.

“Parley. I wish to parley with the knights from Garbera,” the tiny soldier at the head of the Mephian side spoke.

A high and childish voice, as expected.

“You have come trampling over Mephian territory and are on course for the imperial capital, Solon. Turn your horses around immediately and return to your own land. In his generosity, and in the name of the alliance and its agreements, His Imperial Majesty Guhl Mephius will then pardon your crimes.”

“Ridiculous,” Salamand’s voice, in sharp contrast, was deep and rough. “Sending out a child like you; Guhl knows no shame. Pardon our crimes? The ones who have committed crimes that defy the heavens are you Mephians.”

“What crime have we committed?”

“As if you didn’t know. The one against Garbera’s exalted royal family, against Lady Vileena Owell. Bring her here to us. Otherwise, we have no reason to listen to the likes of you.”

“Why do we need to bring Princess Vileena to you?”

Asking such a question at this point in time – Salamand sneered from atop his horse.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Since the princess isn’t here, I won’t stoop to exchanging words with the likes of you lot. You’d best hurry on back to your castle. If you don’t, we’ll have to give a spanking to that green ass of yours!” Salamand roared, brandishing his spear, while his men laughed jeeringly.

“I see.” Without the slightest trace of fear, the enemy commander nodded once then brought his hands to his helmet. “In that case, with this you should be willing to listen, Salamand.”

“What!” Having his name called without any kind of courtesy, Salamand’s smile vanished.

The enemy commander removed his helmet in one swift movement.

In the same moment, the platinum blond hair that seemed to have been bundled beneath flowed free and fell shimmering past her shoulders.

Salamand and the five hundred Garberan knights all gasped for breath.

A person who could not possibly have been there had suddenly appeared. It was as though the dead had suddenly resurrected from beyond the grave. It had been just the same when Gil Mephius had revived in Apta.

“P-Princess...”

Salamand had now lost his voice as well as his smile, and in his place, it was one of the knights behind him who choked out the words.

“Princess Vileena!”

“Impossible,” Salamand yelled, his eyes bulging.

“Now then,” for her part, Vileena Owell addressed him in a perfectly cool voice, “is this enough for you, Salamand, knight of Garbera? With this, you have neither pretext nor just cause to invade Mephian territory. I trust that you are satisfied since I, Vileena Owell, am here as you requested.”

“T-That...” Salamand bent forward as though to avoid some projectile which had suddenly come flying at him. “W-Why... Princess, how can you be here? Why?”

“Why?” Sitting on her horse, Vileena tilted her head. It was a very girlish gesture but, immediately afterwards, she suddenly glared at the ‘enemy commander’. “Do you not understand, knave?” She bellowed.

Salamand’s expression was exactly that of someone who has just swallowed solid food whole and without chewing.

“Why am I – I who was born and raised in Garbera – why am I here? I will tell you why, Salamand. It is so that two countries who have more than a decade of sorrowful history between them can join hands and walk together towards the same future. So that soldiers and the innocent populace no longer have to suffer the ravages of war. So that the two flags are no longer sullied with blood. It is for that sake that I, Vileena Owell, crossed the border to marry His Highness Gil Mephius, Crown Prince of Mephius. Now, Salamand, it’s your turn. Why are you here? You need only answer this: having stepped over the border, do you or do you not carry a greater cause and greater resolve than I do? Well!”

Salamand Fogel had his mouth gaping open. His tough body seemed to have been ripped to shreds by a few words from a fragile young girl.

Still, he just managed to squeeze out his voice.

“B-But...”

Salamand had marched his warhorses on the premise that he would die. Being exposed to bullets would have left him utterly unaffected, but for this kind of predicament to befall him was something he had never even imagined.

“From what I have heard, Crown Prince Gil has risen against the emperor, and the country is currently torn apart. Additionally, the emperor has declared that Gil an impostor. Princess, you yourself are being exposed to danger which...”

“And did you think that justified the actions you took? The matter is unrelated to Garbera. To say nothing of the fact that you, who are not part of the royal family, have no authority to interfere.”

“Your pardon but this matter is by no means unrelated! If Mephius lapses into chaos, anyone can tell that Garbera, as its neighbouring country, is at risk of having the sparks fall on it. All the more so since Guhl makes light of the alliance. In which case, we...”

“So tedious!”

Vileena curtly brushed him off then pulled a handgun from her waist and aimed at Salamand’s head. Her actions were so fast and so precise that for a moment, the knights were not able to grasp whether this was really happening.

“P-Princess...”

“Do you still not understand? I am here. This is proof that Mephius and Garbera are tied in an alliance. The one making light of that alliance is you, Salamand. Fine then, continue forward. That will be the same as kicking my body away with your dirty feet and trampling over my head, since I am supposed to be the bridge between these two countries. It’s fine, aim for Solon and march forward. That will be the same...”

“Princess!”

The reason why Salamand and the five hundred soldiers following him had yelled out was because Vileena had changed the aim of the muzzle and now had it pressed against her own temple.

“...That will be the same as acting in exchange for my life.”

Vileena’s palely smouldering eyes stared straight at Salamand.

There was nobody there who truly realised that this was a repeat of Zaim Fortress.

Which was natural enough, since Salamand believed in Ryucown – who had fallen at Zaim – like he would a god and had not been present to witness his end.

Of those there, amidst the gentle breeze blowing across the meadow, the only one who knew was the fourteen-year-old princess. At that time too, Vileena had pressed a gun against her temple. Turning herself into a hostage, so to speak, she had wanted to dissuade Ryucown from his path of violence.

She had, however, failed.

He had been on the verge of cutting her head off with his own sword. Ryucown, who had loved Garbera more than anyone – and who had been more a knight than anyone; in the end, he had been suppressed by Crown Prince Gil's order, against whom he had been fighting, and by Orba’s sword, who had infiltrated Zaim at Gil’s command.

This time – she was determined.

Of course, she was not without fear. While she was doing this, soldiers, seized by frenzy, might pull the trigger of their guns; and in the next instant, the girl’s fragile body – eyes, nose, mouth, chest, limbs – would be pierced through with lead bullets.

The beat her heart was drumming to was so fast that she could no longer keep up with it; yet at the same time, the interval between each individual beat was so long and sluggish, that it was hard to believe it was still beating at all.

If her overflowing fighting spirit were to ebb for even a moment, tears would, without a doubt, well up in her eyes and she would burst into uncontrollable sobbing. However –

I won’t cry anymore – Vileena had decided.

At Zaim Fortress, she had made the mistake of crying. She was no longer the little girl from back then. Her doe-like eyes would not be wet with tears a second time in front of soldiers.

“Will you kill me, Salamand?” Vileena Owell asked, pushing down all those many emotions.

“What are you saying?”

“At the very end, Ryucown turned his sword against me. I am asking you if you intend to do the same.”

“T-The general... Something like that, he...” Salamand shook his head as though he was feeling shaken.

“You resemble Ryucown. Except smaller and distorted. That is what you are, Salamand Fogel. A tiny, pitiful existence clinging to Ryucown’s grave and bawling your eyes out because you do not have the strength to accept his death.”

Salamand was trembling all over. The knights spoke not a word. In that, they were identical to the soldiers that the princess had brought with her.

Amazing. Amazing. You’re awesome, Little Princess!

Even while admiration was plastered all over his face, the Imperial Guard called Alnakk softly and slowly reached for the scabbard at his waist. The reason for that was because he recognised that look of Salamand’s. It was back when he used to play with a boy from his neighbourhood who had been about the same age as him. He had looked after him like a little brother but one day, for some reason or another, things had turned into his making fun of him. Even though it had not been anything that awful, the boy had suddenly lost his temper and struck at him with a nearby vase.

Salamand’s expression looked a lot like his had.

“Ah... I... I...” Salamand’s voice was like a groan, “This is where I die!”

As sharp as an arrow, he propelled his horse forward.

He readied his spear. Its tip was aimed at Princess Vileena. He saw that she had moved the handgun away from her own head.

Salamand was not aiming for the princess herself.

He intended to pass by her flank and attack the Mephian soldiers. Dying in a fight against Mephian troops was the ideal he craved to the point of insanity. It would have been one thing if there had still been hope for dying a glorious death, but after having been cornered mentally, he was taking his ideals for reality.

the princess’ pale face was directly opposite Salamand, so, still riding his horse hard, he had it move sideways. He whipped it again.

Alnakk reacted faster than anyone. He kicked his horse’s flanks and drew his sword from its sheath.

He had jumped forward to protect the princess but as Salamand’s momentum carried on unabated, it looked as though he was going to pass straight by her and arrive right in front of him.

Dammit! At this rate, Salamand’s spear would pierce through his chest.

A gunshot like the roar of a wild beast rang out, drowning out the sound of the wind.

Salamand lurched in his saddle. He toppled sideways then, after a strangely slow fall, slammed into the ground.

“Ah!”

Who was it who shouted out? Was it Alnakk, some other Mephian soldier, or perhaps a Garberan knight?

Gunpowder smoke was coming from the gun muzzle that Vileena had raised to shoulder height. The princess turned her horse around and guided it to a position from which she could look straight down at the fallen Salamand.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

The nearby Alnakk, still dumbfounded, looked down at Salamand out of reflex.

“No, he is unconscious. I don’t know if he will wake up though,” he answered.

The bullet had hit Salamand in the back but it had not penetrated into it. Blood spread out from beneath his body.

I shot to kill though. Vileena however did not say that out loud.

Something was caught in her chest. It was fine for now since her resolve was set, but she felt so shaky that if that resolve slipped, she would probably throw up as soon as she opened her mouth.

Vileena tightened her expression and turned her gaze towards the Garberan knights.

Of the more than five hundred of them, not one had moved. If Salamand had been shot by a Mephian soldier, any number of them would probably have surged forward for revenge. But the bullet had been fired by Princess Vileena, the one whom Salamand had himself brandished as his cause. When Salamand was felled, the sheer shock caused the Garberan soldier who had hoisted the national flag to drop it to the ground.

It was a strange twist of fate.

Once, there had been knights who followed Ryucown in his quest to recover chivalry.

Once, there had been soldiers who agreed with Raswan Bazgan’s cry of wresting back supremacy for the west.

And now, there were those who had travelled along with Salamand Fogel on his journey towards death.

All of them, whatever the ideals they had cherished, had found their path blocked by the very princess they had hoped to share those ideals with.

Vileena, who had twice experienced this scene, did not turn her eyes away from their stricken faces.

“Royalty is something that cannot exist alone,” she murmured. “It’s only when there are retainers and the people that royalty can be royalty. Then what does royalty do? It shows the way. That way may go against the dictates of the heart. But desperately trying to correct that will give rise... Will sometimes give rise to such terrible strife that there is no recovering from it.”

Both Garbera and Mephius were currently in that situation.

If taking action in that situation was an error, then Gil Mephius was unquestionably in the wrong.

Vileena Owell did not have a clear answer either.

One of the knights turned his horse around and fled from there. Another, then another followed suit. Vileena did not pursue them. Perhaps there were those among them who had not yet given up, and who still intended to gather companions to die in Mephius.

However, they would no longer be able to dress up their military action as some great cause; not now that their ringleader, Salamand Fogel, had been apprehended in Mephius at the hands of none other than Princess Vileena. Theirs would simply be a meaningless death that would achieve nothing for their country.

Vileena quietly brushed back the hair hanging in her eyes. It looked like the wind was getting stronger. Mephius’ flag was flapping more and more vigorously, while Garbera’s on the other hand still lay on the ground where it had been left by the knights.

For a while, everyone there simply allowed themselves to be buffeted by the wind, without saying anything, without making the slightest movement, only maintaining the silence.

In the distance, an airship came into sight, flying through the sky. Judging from its direction, it had come from the south – it was probably part of Mephius’ border patrol.

“Would that...” Vileena said to the Imperial Guards behind her.

They caught her meaning immediately and promptly started to move, as though ordered by their liege. The riders carrying the flags galloped off ahead of the route that the airship was following, and signalled for it to land by holding the flags high.

The ones who touched down a few minutes later were indeed soldiers from the border guards. According to them, they were carrying news that troops would soon be crossing the border from Garbera’s Zaim Fortress.

Zenon Owell’s irritation had finally reached a boiling point. He had previously sent a letter to the emperor, the gist of which was a request to “allow us to subjugate Salamand,” but had received no answer. Deciding that the situation was at risk of becoming unsalvageable if things remained as they were, he had apparently decided to personally take down Salamand, even if that meant that relations between the two countries might be a little strained for a while afterwards.

The soldiers on board the airship were on their way to convey the information to Solon.

Vileena’s immediate decision was that “we cannot afford to waste any time.”

The Imperial Guards had no objection either. About seventy percent of them would head towards Solon with Salamand, while the remainder would accompany Vileena south.

Alnakk and Tanis were among the soldiers chosen to travel with her.

Part 3

When she arrived at a relay base for the airships used by the border guards, Vileena dispatched an airship messenger ahead of her. “By Vileena Owell’s name, you are not allowed to cross the border,” he was to announce.

“You are not allowed” were certainly words befitting of the princess’ dauntless spirit, but she did not have the heart to sit and wait at the base for the response.

She took several of the Imperial Guards with her, although rather than guards, their role was more to keep an eye on the princess. After a half-hour break, they continued on towards the border. The princess would have liked to shorten the time needed, even if only by a little, by riding airships, but the Imperial Guards did not know how to pilot them. Since they would not be able to keep up on horseback, it would increase the suspicion that she was trying to escape from them.

In the end, they set off again on fresh horses.

As they approached the southern border, the steep and rugged rock faces of the Vlad Plateau rose before them. The Vlad Plateau contained Seirin Valley, where Vileena, who at the time had barely just arrived in Mephius, had attended a ritual preceding the marriage ceremony.

Back in those days, I was quite the soldier... Her long hair fluttering, she could not help but indulge in a sudden, unintended sentimentality. I thought that I would definitely be able to twist Mephius’ foolish Crown Prince around my little finger and manipulate him in Garbera’s favour.

That younger Vileena had been gallant and fearless, and had held the pride of a knight in her chest. Torn between envy and embarrassment of her past self, she lapsed for a while into a conflicted state of mind.

Before long, however, they arrived at a point from which they could faintly make out the outline of Zaim Fortress, and her expression grew tense. Since a messenger had been sent beforehand, they could also see the welcoming party sent out by the Garberan side.

“Please wait here,” the princess called out to the Imperial Guards. What she meant was that from there on, she would be heading towards Garbera.

Are you planning to return to Garbera? – Was a suspicion that nobody voiced. Instead, Alnakk announced –

“I will go with you.”

They could not, after all, let her go alone. Vileena nodded silently.

Guided by the Garberan side, they passed through a small path that passed between the Bruno Hills to the west and the Nouzen Mountains to the east. Flanked on either side by steep slopes on which grew a few straggling trees, Vileena and Alnakk urged their horses onwards in silence.

At the end of the upwards slanting path, Prince Zenon Owell, the second prince of Garbera and commander of the Order of the Tiger, was waiting for them. He was in full armour, with sword and handgun at his waist.

When she saw his figure, a warm feeling spread through Vileena’s chest.

Even though they were far apart in age, as siblings, they had always been close. When she had been young, they had played together with toy swords.

“You could become a commander inferior to no man,” Zenon had laughed.

And when it was decided that she was to marry into Mephius, he had said to her, “Vileena, it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

It was not fine. The king had already handed down his decision. Even if he resisted it to the end, as a prince, Zenon must have known that he could not overturn it. Yet even so, he had told her that.

The little sister had appreciated her older brother’s feelings. “Brother, I will be going to Mephius,” she had smiled.

At the time, Vileena had a warrior’s determination. It was just as she had earlier recalled at the Vlad Plateau: she had decided to be the hero who would thrust a spear right through the centre of the hated Mephius. Thus she had believed that she would certainly see her brother again in the near future.

At that point, the princess realised something – it had been less than a year since she had left Garbera. As they faced each other like this however, she understood that the time that had elapsed for both of them had been anything but short. The warm feelings she was experiencing were not only from the joy of reunion.

“Don’t you want to take it easier?” Zenon asked, offering her a chair, but Vileena shook her head.

There were other officers and soldiers there. They had all appeared from behind the prince as though drawn forward and gazed at the princess as if at something dazzling, forming a semi-circle some distance from her.

“About Salamand Fogel, you have received the message?”

“Yeah.”

“Our Mephius has retained custody of him. The remaining soldiers have scattered, but if they attempt any more outrages in Mephian territory, they will be slain.”

“So be it.” This was more or less in line with what Zenon Owell had surmised after receiving a messenger sent in Vileena’s name. “Their names have already been struck from the military and civil registries. I would be happy to personally arrest them as criminals if they return to our country. If Mephius wishes it, we could then hand them over immediately.”

“Thank you,” Vileena gave slight nod.

Seen from outside, it was a conversation that seemed far too formal to be one between a brother and sister who had not seen each other for so long. The gazes they exchanged however held a warmth that only they understood.

For the two of them, simply looking long into each other’s eyes was just as clear as if the older brother had stretched out his hand and clasped his little sister’s shoulders, or if she had leapt into his arms.

An insolent lout came up to what could only be seen as the siblings’ private space.

Oh? Vileena inwardly knit her brows as his was not a face that she had expected to see in the encampment that her brother had set up there.

“It has been a long time, Princess Vileena.”

Noue Salzantes. He was the older brother of the current head of the Salzantes House and a man praised as Garbera’s most resourceful commander.

“Was it at Mephius’ Founding Festival?”

Noue had visited the imperial capital, Solon as a congratulatory envoy at the time of the festival.

Since he was famed as a strategist, there was nothing strange about his being in a place that might at any moment have turned into a battlefield, but Vileena had thought that he was a man whom her brother would not want to associate with. Yet here he was next to him.

I see. It really has been anything but short – she realised anew.

Noue was holding a letter in his hand. He held it out to Vileena.

“This letter was originally meant for His Imperial Majesty, Guhl Mephius, from my liege, King Ainn Owell. It was on the pretext of delivering this that Salamand trespassed into your country’s territory. The incident this time was due to our ineptitude, but if you would deign to read this letter, it will surely make clear that this was never the intention of Garbera’s royal family. My lord’s dearest wish is to maintain the alliance and friendship between Mephius and Garbera.”

“I will pass it on.”

The letter was accompanied by another which had been newly written by Zenon and Noue. She did not check the contents, but no doubt it contained various things about the future. Perhaps Noue would even visit Solon again as a messenger.

“Well then, with this...” Having concluded their business, Vileena bowed.

Going away from her brother, her steps truly felt heavy. But she would endure and turn her back. At that moment –

“Princes Vileena,” her brother called out to her. Faster than she could turn to look back in surprise, “give my greetings to His Highness Gil. Tell him I’m entrusting my little sister to his care,” Zenon said with a smile.

“I’ll tell him,” was all Vileena answered.

For a fleeting moment, something seemed to flash across the girl’s profile. She quickly smiled however and called out to Alnakk.

“Well then, let’s go back. They must all be getting tired of waiting.”

Even after Vileena and the soldier accompanying her had passed out of sight, Zenon did not move for a long time.

Noue and most of the men had already withdrawn to Zaim Fortress. The only ones remaining were a few from the Order of the Tiger.

When he had spoken to Vileena directly, a number of feelings had, of course, been mixing together in his chest. To think that she was the one to save us, after all.

Salamand Fogel had been captured by Vileena Owell of Garbera’s royal family. This truth would probably suppress the anti-Mephius feeling within the country better than anything else possibly could.

No... Zenon Owell smiled faintly. Whatever anyone else may think, he did not believe that his little sister had acted as one of Garbera’s royal family. Thinking that, he was seized by an unusual sentimentality.

In this life, this might be where we part ways.

He had steeled himself to the same thought when his little sister had left to marry into Mephius. At that time, however, the will to conquer Mephius still remained somewhere within him. Just as Vileena, he had expected to meet again in the near future.

This time was different.

Which was why those resurgent feelings were so strong.

Zenon threw himself on horseback and started forward. In a direction other than Zaim’s. The action was abrupt but his men did not say anything as they also got onto their horses and obediently followed him.

They arrived at the top of a hill from where they could look down on the road leading from Zaim to Mephius. Below, the figures of the riders seemed small. The soldiers who had accompanied her had just met up with Vileena.

Zenon silently watched her departing form.

In his heart, he made a prayer that the future that awaited his proud little sister would be as happy as could be.

It was at that moment.

A gunshot rang out.

Zenon was well used to battlefields: it was impossible for him to mistake that sound.

Vileena’s body lurched up and down. For a second, her horse writhed violently and his sister was flung from it.

She was thrown to the ground.

And did not move.

What!? Before he even noticed it, Zenon was whipping his horse forward.

When Vileena turned away from Zaim, it felt as though something had caught at her hair and was tugging it backwards. After having seen one of her relatives for the first time in so long, she was hit was fresh homesickness. The faces of her father, mother, and grandfather appeared in her mind and would not leave.

And of course, she too was prepared for the fact that this might be where they parted ways forever.

The girl gulped back feelings so strong that they seemed as though they might tear her body apart. The road she needed to follow lay in the opposite direction of Garbera. At its end was Solon.

Looking at her conflicted figure from behind, Imperial Guard Alnakk was full of praise. The princess of Garbera is pretty damn reliable.

When she had gone to report the situation to Prince Zenon, she must have had the option to remain in Garbera. In repelling Salamand, you could say that she had already accomplished her duty towards Mephius. She did not need to return to Solon and deliberately expose herself to danger at a time when even the survival of her fiancé, Gil Mephius was doubtful – or rather, more than that, when Gil and the emperor were in open confrontation.

In which case, if she had said “I will wait and see how things go in Mephius,” and returned to Garbera, she would not have received any accusations of being ungrateful from the other country.

In spite of that, the princess, as though it had been the most natural thing in the world, had said, “let’s go back.”

Maybe... Alnakk was prey to some very mixed feelings... maybe, since this princess was with him, that Impostor Crown Prince is also...

Before long, they joined up with his comrades.

The Imperial Guard named Tanis was among them. He was a young man who had been friends with Alnakk since long ago. Perhaps out of worry for the princess or for his friend, his expression was stiff. Plunged into his own thoughts however, Alnakk did not pay any undue attention to it.

He, along with his companions, started on the road to Solon. Evening was drawing close, so they would probably stay the night at an airship relay station.

It was just as Alnakk was thinking that.

A gunshot rang out.

Mostly out of reflex, Alnakk threw himself flat against his horse. He assumed that Salamand’s men had become desperate and were attacking them.

What he saw however as he half-lay on his horse was the sight of the princess’ horse rearing bolt upright and shaking her off.

The horse collapsed on its flank in the direction opposite where Princess Vileena had fallen. Blood was gushing from its belly.

While Alnakk looked on in shock, Tanis, who was beside him, jumped down from his own horse. Unbelievably, he was holding a smoking gun.

No way! –

Were words he did not even have the time to think.

The girl was not moving. Tanis raised his hand, the gun aimed at the princess.

His intention was clear.

“Stop!”

In that instant, propelled by fear that Tanis would do something that could not be undone, Alnakk nimbly leaped from his horse and rushed towards Tanis. Just before his finger touched the trigger, Alnakk hurled himself into him from behind. Tanis staggered but then immediately turned around and brandished the gun.

His face, as he started down the muzzle, seemed to have warped into that of a different person.

“I’ve no choice but to do this – I had no other choice. So move aside!”

He pulled the trigger.

A violent impact struck Alnakk in the shoulder and he fell to his knees. The shock had been so great it felt as though the right side of his body had been blown away.

A slew of blood from his shoulder had sprayed onto the collapsed princess, covering her from her face down to the nape of her neck.

The other Imperial Guards had finally regained their senses and were surrounding Tanis, each of them shouting his name.

While swivelling around, Tanis pointed his gun at them and kept them at bay.

“Don’t come near me – stay away!”

While the soldiers cautiously observed him, the distinctive sound of horses’ hooves thundering along the ground started to echo.

Looking towards it, they saw that Zenon and his group were galloping towards them from a hill to the south. They looked the very picture of an order of knights charging the enemy.

In the opening when Tanis was distracted, several Imperial Guards leaped on him from behind. One of them kicked the gun and sent it flying.

“Vileena!”

Urging his horse to a fierce speed, Zenon leaped off and all but dived to the ground. Without sparing a glance to his mount who was gathering momentum and galloping into the distance, he crouched down by his little sister’s side.

He looked down at her face, which was stained bright red down to her neck, but not with her own blood.

He could see no obvious injury, but, probably from having banged her head hard against her helmet, it looked as though she was barely clinging to consciousness. She needed to be examined by a doctor as soon as possible.

From here however, the closest, and safest, place for her to rest was Zaim Fortress.

“Zaim will take care of the princess for now. No objections?”

Even though Zenon asked that, it was not as though the Imperial Guards could refuse. The event which had just occurred had been completely unexpected for them. Having realised as much, Zenon did not question them any more than necessary.

For a moment, he hesitated about whether to take charge of the man who had shot at his sister. However, since Salamand was in Mephius’ custody, it might cause suspicions about whether Garbera was planning revenge. It was at that moment that he heard a weak voice.

“B-Brother...”

“Vileena,” Zenon quickly brought his face near hers. “Wait, don’t speak. I’m taking you to Zaim right now. Even if you say that you don’t want to, your brother does not want to hear it.”

Besides – he added in a low voice – it’s dangerous to go back to Solon now. I’m sure there are factions in Mephius who want to destroy the alliance with Garbera. And if you nonchalantly return now, you might be taken as a hostage against Prince Gil.

Vileena seemed to give the slightest of nods. Despite her hazy consciousness, the one thing that did not waver was the thought that she must not become a hindrance for the crown prince.

She brought a trembling hand to her breast. From beneath the chainmail, she brought out the medallion and chain.

“This...” She turned towards the Imperial Guards. “Please take it... to His Highness Gil...” The medal shook as she held it out.

The Imperial Guards exchanged glances. Although they wanted to grant the princess’ wish, ‘taking it to His Highness Gil’ would mean leaving Solon and travelling all the way to Birac.

Nonetheless, a man’s hand wrapped around the medallion that was held out in mid-air.

“Without fail,” Alnakk swore.

He had no idea what was going on. He could not understand why his friend had attempted to kill the princess, nor could he judge whether it was alright to hand her over to the Garberan side like this. But when it came to this noble princess’ wish, he felt that he needed to fulfil it even if it meant staking his own life.

The medallion was smeared in blood. It was none other than Alnakk’s, but it looked exactly like the proof that the princess had fallen victim in battle.

Vileena gazed at Alnakk’s face with tremulous eyes. Her lips seemed to form the words: thank you. Then finally, her eyelids closed and, as though falling asleep, she lost consciousness in Zenon’s arms.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ Slightly less than 110 yards.

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