Published at 13th of August 2019 1:19 pm

Volume 12, Chapter 6: Planetary Fire

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

Part 1

In an instant, cracks seemed to run through space. Something like heated iron bit through them and forced itself within.

Screams of pain rose from Orba’s mouth. Zafar’s parasitic existence was already inside him, and now some other foreign substance was creeping in. It felt as though his skin was splitting and his muscles were being torn off, and unable to bear the agony, he screamed.

Guaaaaah!

Zafar also appeared to be experiencing the same excruciating pain, and the old man’s face, drawn from stars, was also being pulled about and distorted.

Orba and Zafar, the two whose spirits’ were occupying that space, looked over at the same time. From the other side of the cracks running through space, a wave of even deeper darkness was surging forward.

It too contained stars of various sizes. Some burned blue, others shone red, others still twinkled gold/with a golden hue.

At the same moment –

There was another person, in a separate place, who was also witnessing the expanding ocean that was about to utterly engulf Orba and Zafar’s consciousnesses.

Guhl Mephius.

On the lowest floor of the temple to the Dragon Gods’ faith in Solon, the Emperor, likewise confronting a sorcerer, fell to the ground and writhed around, froth bubbling at his lips. The sorcerer’s own body was right before him, but its consciousness had been released from it and was attempting to infringe on Guhl. The protective walls that should have been able to defend his soul were easily broken through, and the outside intruder was gradually crawling into him.

The pain was unimaginable. It was, so to speak, the same kind of fight that Orba was currently experiencing. Someone other than himself was forcibly pushing into his body and mind, stealing Guhl Mephius’ own self, and ‘transferring’ it to another being.

Guhl – the emperor who had reigned over all of Mephius for so long – writhed on the temple floor, wailing uncontrollably. He even felt that if he had known that he would experience pain so intense, he might have preferred to let a foreign enemy invade and be put through the fires of their aggression.

Anyway, what attachment do you have left to this world? A voice whispered enticingly. Yet even so, Guhl twisted his body until his bones snapped, and clawed at the floor with his nails. As a human being whose instincts were surfacing, all he could do was resist.

Then, during that strange struggle, Guhl ‘saw’ without seeing. Or perhaps it was the past, the memories, or the historical knowledge of the one who was trying to encroach on him. As he watched, Guhl’s spirit was filled with a dark ocean inlaid with lights.

Within that darkness, something advanced, roaring thunderously.

It looked both like a huge pyramid, and like a large, ceremonial warship.

At long last, having crossed the sea of stars, what appeared before Orba, Zafar, and Guhl was a vivid blue sky. No sooner had it landed on the surface in a thick cloud of dust, that it turned into a city whose countless grey spires pierced the heavens.

That however did not seem to be welcome on this earth. From what Orba could see, throngs of strange, repulsive creatures immediately started attacking the city.

Although the way they ran on the ground with two legs was entirely human-like, scales grew all over their hides, they had long tails, and, more than anything, they had the projecting snouts of reptiles. Their black eyes that looked like glass marbles goggled and rolled about as they moved; they held long, two-pronged spears, and descended on the city like an avalanche.

It was not only the creatures’ appearance, but also the fight itself which seemed mysterious in Orba’s eyes. When the creatures, which looked like some kind of cross between dragons and humans, brandished their spears, the pointed tips released flashes of blueish light. That light drilled holes in the ground and penetrated through rocks, yet it bounced off the walls of the city time and time again.

On the other hand, the warship, which had transformed into a city once it struck the ground, was carrying out a strange counterattack from within its structure. With no sound either of wheels or of cogs being turned, part of the wall spontaneously removed itself, and a cluster of gigantic needles appeared from inside of it. They then emitted red flames before soaring into the sky, drawing trail of smoke behind them.

The needles chased after the enemy as though they possessed a will of their own, and exterminated the creatures while sending soil whirling up like columns of water.

That’s…

For a second, Orba forgot even the pain that was tearing his body apart as he gazed at the strange spectacle. And while he was staring, night arrived without him realising it, then, in the space of a blink, the morning sunlight had swooped down.

The fighting repeated incessantly.

The city had already crumbled, unrecognizable compared to its original form. Its solid walls had turned into debris, scattered here and there, and many of its spires were broken. Above all else, no human figure, or even a hint of their presence, could be seen within.

Its aggressors were nowhere to be seen either, and only the desolate wind seem to blow there.

No –

There’s… someone.

Orba could see a tiny figure clambering over the walls that had turned to rubble, and heading towards the central part of the construction.

It looked like a young man.

That slender figure vanished inside the building through a fissure that ran through its central section.

Decades must have passed in the blink of an eye, for when the figure emerged once more from inside the fissure, the youth had turned into an old man with white hair.

The old man held up what he was holding. Curved in shape and gleaming white, it looked like the fang or claw of some giant beast.

“Magnificent,” he whispered, in a voice so clear that even Orba could hear it.

There were no other sounds. Thinking about it, not only were there no humans in this forest, there were no birds or beasts, or even any sign of any other living creature.

“This planet… the Dragon Gods and their civilisation have given me so many approaches that science could not. It’s hard to believe that I used to play with those codified formulas. Paths open one after another, and each and every time, a hundred… a thousand new doors appear before me. There is no doubt that what I seek lies beyond that endless line of doors. Yes, if I can unravel what the Dragon Gods were attempting to perform once they perceived the signs of their own degeneration, even the dream of immortality might be… Even the ideal world that everyone dreams of but that no one has ever been able to build. But it’s not enough. The time allotted me in my lifespan is absolutely not enough. No… ten, twenty lifespans would still be insufficient.”

...

“I need a new body. If I inject the data that I obtained from the ruins into this ‘claw’, I might be able to digitize my soul and inject, or transfer, it to a new body. So that I can verify the link between the Dragon Gods and the Ryuujin tribe. Even that would be miraculous, but it is not yet perfect immortality. To find what I seek, I still need to pry open so many doors. And for that, one day, I will definitely set foot in ‘Barbaroi, the land of savages[1]’, where the living witnesses to the ancient civilisation still reside.”

The old man smiled faintly.

“That humans were led to this planet… yes, it was fate. Destiny. It was necessary for evolution. I will create a new history with my own hands. Even if it takes me hundreds, thousands of years. Humans will be freed from the shackles of flesh and attain the spiritual nature of gods, then a perfect society will surely emerge on this new planet.”

Uncertain of what it was he was seeing and hearing, Orba had simply been washed over by the flood of information, but now, for some reason, strong emotions suddenly welled up within him.

I will create history… a world – the revulsion that he felt at the old man’s words, at the smile curling across his lips, made him want to reject them with all his might.

In the end, however, Orba’s powerless emotions were left adrift as the scene he was witnessing, along with the old man’s laughter, were soon carried away by the wind, and the entire land itself soon vanished.

Just before it did so, an old man’s scream overwhelmed his hearing.

No, not the same old man that he had been watching just a moment ago. The one who was screaming was Zafar. He had been the first to succumb to the almost unbearable pain of those indescribable scenes – of the information flowing directly into his mind. “What… is this? What are you showing me? Damn you… who are you? Who are you!”

Repeating the questions that Orba had previously had for him, Zafar groaned in agony. As though in inverse proportion to his suffering, Orba could feel the agony slowly receding from his body. Instinctively, he understood that Zafar was being separated from him.

In this vast expanse of space, which might be the universe itself or mountains in the night, pillars of flame now erupted upwards from all sides.

The sky was the colour of dawn, the stars were scattered over it like drops of blood, and even the horizon burned red.

“Your Highness!” Pashir’s voice struck against his earlobe.

When Orba opened his eyes, he was met with a feverishly hot wind, dazzling light, and the feel of something soft. The area was surrounded by fire. The soft sensation came from Hou Ran’s body, which was covering his torso. He closed his eyes for a second and didn’t move. Judging by the startled faces nearby, it seemed that he had lost consciousness.

“You’re well.”

“Yeah,” Orba replied hoarsely.

He felt as though his body and consciousness were still not quite aligned with one another, and he was slightly dizzy.

“What… happened?”

“That is what I would like to know…” although confused, Pashir briefly explained what had happened after Orba lost consciousness.

“And Ran?”

No sooner had the mysterious girl kissed Orba, than she had fainted as though her strings had been snapped, and had fallen inert on top of him. Orba had apparently regained consciousness immediately afterwards.

He gently laid her on the ground. Although he could not could make any logical analysis of what had happened to him, he could easily guess that Hou Ran had saved him.

“Uwaaaah!”

A man’s shriek was heard, and in the same instant, the surrounding area was engulfed in screams.

Pashir’s expression went tense, and he stepped in front of Orba to shield him. His hand reached for the sword at his waist, but the once undefeated gladiator showed a tinge of fear on his face.

A soldier had been ripped apart lengthwise. The corpse tumbled to the ground, dark red blood streaming out, but the assailant was nowhere to be seen. Taking up defensive stances, the soldiers carefully scanned the surroundings.

“Thirteen.”

Whose whispered voice was that?

This time, it was a soldier standing right in front of Pashir who collapsed forward. Cries of pain were heard immediately after.

When Pashir looked down, both the of the soldier’s feet had been amputated at the ankles. Yet he himself had not realised this, and was attempting to stand up, falling forward again and again as he clawed at the ground.

Pashir and Orba both gasped.

They both saw it. An arm suddenly seemed to stretch out from the soldier’s shadow and scythe towards his chest. It tore through his armoured torso as though cutting through paper, and the soldier died amidst pools of blood.

The arm was sucked back into the ground and disappeared from sight.

“Fourteen.”

Beyond all doubt, it was Zafar’s voice.

The soldiers with seized with frenzy. Those who had witnessed the same scene as Orba and Pashir jabbed their spears deep into the ground. Even supposing there was someone lying hidden there, were those really the actions of sanity?

No… in that sense, Zafar was probably no longer sane either. Orba naturally had no way of knowing it, but the sorcerer had already cut down as many lives as the Mephius’ elder had given him permission to, and had greedily devoured the ether from them.

“Fifteen.”

Orba could feel the hair on his body stand on end with horror at the sound of that voice. He felt as though he could see that shadow which had been absorbed back into the ground and which was running through it. Moving just like a snake chasing prey, the shadow homed in on Hou Ran, who was still lying unconscious.

Using his sword as a staff, Orba hauled himself to his feet. But his body had yet to catch up with his consciousness, and he collapsed.

The shadow was already drawing up to the nape of Ran’s neck. The arm extended out.

Whereupon, there was a flash of steel – Pashir had struck. He too had noticed the shadow, just like Orba had, and had been waiting for the arm to appear. His blow was like that of a scythe harvesting crops, yet in the next instant, Pashir’s sturdy body staggered backwards. The tip of his sword had broken off. The shadow changed its course and now dashed straight towards him.

Pashir forced strength into his numbed leg muscles and jumped back. Yet this fight was unusual enough to make even a man like him misjudge distances. The arm appeared from the ground at an acute angle and cut through his shin guard, giving the impression that Pashir’s entire body was stretched out in the air.

By then, Orba had finally managed to stand up. He had, however, lost sight of the shadow. Because the soldiers holding torches were moving about in every direction, he could not visually chase after it.

“Bring me fire,” he yelled, but be they Mephian or from Dairan, the soldiers were too terrified of the unknown assassin to listen to him. If this had been, say, Safia, the capital of the Grand Duchy, the reaction would probably have been a little different, but even though this was also Ende, the people of Dairan unfortunately had virtually no opportunity to come in contact with sorcery.

Orba’s eyes suddenly stopped at a point on the other side of where the soldiers were running around chaotically.

There was a single Baian. Ran must have ridden it. Even though the area was strewn with blood and flesh, it was paying no attention to that and had its head lowered towards the ground. Only its eyes were squirming left and right.

Faster than intuition formed a thought in his mind, Orba started to run.

“Milbak!”

Being called to like this for the first time, the dragon raised its head with a jerk. Clearly, it recognised its ‘name’.

As Orba got closer to it, it now, conversely, lowered itself to the ground. He jumped onto the dragon’s back without a second’s hesitation.

Instantly, a fiery impulse coursed through him.

The Baian roared once, then kicked at the ground with its thick legs. In a few bounds, it reached Pashir’s side. Anyone who didn’t know better would believe that the dragon was about to eat him.

Orba unsheathed the gleaming sword at his waist.

“Move, Pashir!”

It was unclear to what extent Pashir understood what that order was about, but he rolled away from where the Baian landed.

As the dragon’s feet struck the ground, Orba put the sword into an underhand grip and thrust it into the earth’s surface. Once it had pierced through the solid-feeling crust, it found living flesh.

“Gaaah!”

It was almost exactly like spearing a harpoon through the water’s surface, and hauling a large fish into the boat. A living human appeared in a spray of earth and dark red blood.

Even as he was convulsing from where the sword had pierced through him, he gave a wave of his arm. His hand seemed to be enveloped in a flash of black lightning. Orba guessed instinctively that he intended to use it to break the sword’s tip, and quickly pulled back his blade.

“You asked me who I was,” Orba’s steel stood at the ready.

For the first time, he was seeing the old man who called himself Zafar in the flesh. Therefore, Orba had no more reason to fear the enemy. Not when he had steel in his hand and an opponent made of flesh and blood.

“If you want to know that badly, I’ll tell you. I’m…”

Zafar gave a low groan and sprang towards Orba. And as he was leaping, Orba swung his sword.

Part 2

Was it coincidence or not?

At about the same time that Zafar was run through with steel, Emperor Guhl Mephius, clinging to a pillar, somehow managed to stand.

It’s useless – a voice whispered.

But not the kind of voice that could be heard with ears. The words were sent directly to his brain, and there was no longer anything to differentiate them from his own thoughts.

What attachment do you still have to this realm?

Hasn’t it already denied you entirely? This country and this very world reject you. If you were still steering the helm as we told you, you could have become an emperor whose name would go down in history. Such a pity.

Guhl was drenched in sweat, every muscle in his body was contorting simply from trying to stand, but, breathing raggedly, he finally succeeded in placing his two feet firmly on the ground.

His hand was convulsing as he slipped it into his breast pocket. His fingers came in touch with a hard sensation.

It’s useless – the voice repeated once more.

Maybe it had realised what the emperor’s intention was.

But go ahead. Shooting my old body won’t change anything – it laughed scornfully.

His hand shaking, Emperor Guhl took out a gun.

It had belonged to Simon Rodloom. Just before his death, he had sent it to Guhl. The implication was that – I could also have shot you with this.

There had been only one bullet within. Guhl had used it to fire through Simon’s phantom.

Just before the audience with the crown prince, the emperor had seemed to think of something, and had likewise gotten a single bullet from a soldier to load into the magazine.

Guhl had pointed the gun at the crown prince during the audience. He had even pulled the trigger. He had known that the one before him was an impostor – that he was not his real son. But even if he had not known that, even if his opponent had brought absolute proof of his identity as his son, the emperor would not have hesitated.

Yet no bullet was fired. The emperor lost. He had lost even at a test of luck that he himself had set up on a whim.

“It’s just as you say,” said Guhl, a large vein pounding at his temple. Simply speaking was causing his wrinkled countenance to tremble from the effort, sweat was falling from his beard, and it looked as though at any moment, his entire face might be torn off.

“I’ve been toppled. You’re right when you say that the country and the world have rejected me.”

Where had he erred?

What would have been right?

“There are no answers. If you take ten people, then you’ll have ten different ideals, and if you take a hundred rulers, you’ll have a hundred different paths to the future.”

He lifted the revolver unsteadily. In front of him was the small body of an old man. Just a vacant shell that had already lost its use as a ‘vessel’.

“But – Sorcerer. Not even a toppled ruler is passive. To become just a small part of the tapestry of history is fine. Turned to ash, my body will become soil, and the blood I shed will be inherited by future generations.”

Guhl Mephius had been determined to become a titan. As a titan, he would have no connection to the feelings of ordinary men.

In the end, however, he too had been no more than human. If there was one clear mistake that he had made, perhaps it was simply that he had not been able to go beyond being the ‘vessel’ of one lone human.

This was the judgement of future historians –

Rather than executing a single person who had opposed him, Guhl should have made an example by executing a hundred people. For example, even though he had ordered the execution of Rogue and Odyne’s families, both of whom had gone against him and joined the crown prince’s side, he used Simon Rodloom’s suicide as an excuse to halt it. Whereas if the emperor had seriously wanted to maintain both his own reign and peace within the country, he should not have stopped it.

Which meant that Guhl was too much of a fool to be a tyrant.

Regardless of future evaluations, at that moment, Guhl keenly felt that he was a single human whose existence was like that of a bubble which, from birth until its disappearance, was carried along in the great stream of time that flowed from beginning to end.

The gun muzzle was raised higher. It passed above the old man’s chest, above his head, and then changed its angle.

Guhl!

The voice that echoed inside him was more pleasant to Guhl’s ear than the finest musical performance given at the palace.

The muzzle was pointed firmly at the temple of Guhl Mephius’ own head.

Something red had started to mix with the sweat that was running along his face. Blood vessels had finally started to break within him.

And with it, it was now the old emperor who was smiling scornfully.

“I won’t abandon my fate to anyone. From when I was born to when I die, I will have been the emperor of Mephius himself. Playing with you was amusing. Left alone in the darkness of this world, I might have abandoned the throne long ago. In that sense, the Dragon God’s faith, and the way you lot schemed with its teachings, certainly had meaning. For me, that is.”

Stop it, Guhl. Stop!

With the elder’s voice inside him, and trickling blood plastered over his face, Guhl’s laughter reverberated. Then –

“To the one who will inherit Mephius, the one who will bear responsibility for it.. You who raised an invisible sword towards me, is the talent you possess truly that great? I will be watching carefully from the heavens.”

This time as well, there was no hesitation.

With a roar of delight, the bullet which had failed to kill Crown Prince Gil Mephius, pierced through from the emperor’s right temple to the left.

The ruler of Mephius lay in a pool of blood.

Emperor Guhl Mephius breathed his last not on the throne, not among fine silk hangings and gold-leaf screens, not within the protection of gallant spears, but on cold stone and in bleak darkness.

The next second, the elder staggered backwards as though startled, then blinked repeatedly. Having lost his target for invasion, he had returned to his previous vessel. Left alone in the shadows, the old man stared down impassively at the emperor’s remains.

“Impossible…”

He whispered, as emotion gradually returned. This time, it was his face that contorted until it seemed that all of its wrinkles would split open.

“Impossible!”

At that moment, mixed in with the screams that seemed torn from his throat, somebody else’s laughter wafted through the underground of the temple.

“Has it already been settled? I had been intending to play my hand, but for all that he had grown old, he was still an emperor. Let’s show him respect for having finished things with his own hands. Thanks to that, every last piece of your diagram of fate had been destroyed.”

“What!”

The voice sounded neither young nor old, and the elder turned to behold its owner.

Who had no physical substance.

It was a semi-transparent illusion created through sorcery. Although he was better placed than anyone to be able to comprehend what he saw, the elder was still evidently shaken by this sudden apparition.

“There are supposed to be double or triple-layer barriers. How could someone other than my own subordinates have sent their ‘shadow’ in….”

“Oh my, having only just regained that body, have your eyes and senses gone dull? To not even be able to see through me… Since you just said that the barrier is ineffective against those who are close to you, there is no reason why I shouldn’t be able to slip in. Isn’t that right? Since I’m none other than one who inherited your blood.”

“So it’s you, is it…” the elder growled. His swarthy face darkened with hatred.

“You shouldn’t pull such a face. Not at our first ‘father and son’ reunion in several decades, or even in several centuries.”

“Shut up. If you’re calling yourself my son, then why are you getting in my way? I take it that you were the one pulling the strings behind that impostor of a crown prince.”

“I can’t claim that I was pulling his strings. I simply gave him an opportunity. In imitation of you, I wanted to try working out my own diagram of fate.”

The illusion laughed. Even from close up, it was hard to distinguish who this was, since the face changed round and round every time he spoke. It was as though he was switching from one mask to another.

“With your half-completed diagram of fate right before you, you weren’t in any position to make any direct moves. Since you were afraid that if your intervention went badly, then the ‘diagram’ itself might collapse, right? Which is why you couldn’t interfere, even when a corner of it was cut off. In this case too. Alas, Guhl is dead, and the crown prince has survived. Even though the opposite was originally supposed to have happened at a much earlier stage, right? I was constantly manipulating pieces and stars in the background to create an opportunity for you to get impatient and personally take action.”

“Why?” the elder asked in a half-gasp. “Why are you standing in my way? Is it because of that blood flowing through you?”

“Father, it’s not like I don’t understand your ambition. After all, the ultimate goal of sorcery is to gain control of every phenomenon that occurs in this world, to take command of the fates of humans, and to take charge of this world. In your case, you held those ideals and goals before sorcery, when you devoted yourself entirely to the study of ‘science’. And then, when you stepped down onto this planet, you became entranced with sorcery, which displayed power that not even science could achieve; and with that power, you aimed to become greater even than the Dragon Gods. I get it. I get it, but…”

Among the faces that the illusion wore were those of Herman, the sorcerer who had served Fedom, as well as Hezel, who had once belonged to Ende’s Bureau of Sorcery and was supposed to be with the former first prince, Jeremie.

“That’s boring.”

“Boring?”

“I was born for your ambition. Despite that, or rather, because of that, I came to want to oppose it. When you created a sorceress from the data obtained, both from the dragon maiden you had taken from Barbaroi and from her son – me, in other words, when you created an artificial ‘barbarian’, I performed an experiment of my own.”

“…”

“O aloof king, first sorcerer of this world. O elder of Mephius, and Garda in the western lands. If you desire the ultimate sorcery, I will desire the same thing. If you wish to replace this world with your own, I will create a world that you do not want. If you declare that you will surpass the Dragon Gods, I will, without fail, carry out the Dragon God’s last wish, and inherit this planet.”

“Damn you...”

“Do not forget this. There, in that land, the Dragon Gods await the time of their revival. Most of the gods are dead, and have lost their intelligence through failed experiments; but in that place alone, they will certainly achieve results. What will happen to this world when they are reborn and raise their first cry? Humans have yet to achieve unification. And ether is dying out. Yet those who hold the key are neither you nor I… Right, I believe that it might be those insignificant humans who repeat their foolish wars and who still weave the same ‘history’ as during the Earth era. Against all expectations, it might be humans who hold it.”

At the same moment as those words ended, the illusion vanished abruptly.

It did not even leave an after image.

And the elder knew why.

The sound of loud footsteps drew closer.

“Your Majesty,” the soldier who had called out stared in shock for a moment at the scene that was spread out before him.

There was no one else there.

The only thing there was a corpse, lying in a pool of dark blood, and covered in more of its own gore. The soldier stared and drew in a sharp breath. The spear he had been holding clattered to the floor, the sound echoing ominously.

“Your Majesty… Your Imperial Majesty!”

The soldier rushed up to the corpse and was about to crouch beside it, but suddenly stopped, frozen in an unnatural posture. He had felt the presence of something behind him. Yet he was not able to turn around to check what it was.

A red line ran around his neck. Once it had finished drawing a perfect circle around it, the soldier’s head drooped down. From exactly where the line was, it fell from his neck and, with a thump, rolled across the floor, while his body remained standing. The next second, a spray of blood erupted.

“Can we not even stall for time?” so saying, the shadow hovering behind the soldier promptly vanished, and, the next moment, the elder of the Dragon Gods’ faith had moved elsewhere.

A room with a long crystal table. It was here that the elders and used to hold meetings every night. The elder was practically unconscious as he stretched out his fingers to touch the torches hanging against the wall.

A hazy flame leaped up.

For a moment, in the wavering shadow, the elder’s face looked like a skull. There was no trace of emotion within his sunken eye sockets. No regret, nor anger, nor sadness. He touched the top of the table with his bony fingers. If it had been before, then just as with the torches, as soon as his fingers had brushed against it, the sight of something like constellations would have floated up. However, that strange board on which each of those pale points of light recorded a person’s fate no longer projected anything.

“That… is to be expected,” the elder muttered in a voice as dry as bone. “I shaped that figure for Mephius. At its centre was the one who could exercise the greatest influence on the country – Guhl Mephius. Which means that if Guhl’s light went out, the lights of those he influenced directly would also vanish, and the light of the stars that those persons guided would also be snuffed out. Inevitably, no one’s fate is held at hand any longer. Such a long, a very long time, and those territories great and small were finally on the verge of being complete… Right, to borrow the emperor’s words, it’s similar to when a child's sandbox, after the castles and landscapes created by them from the mud and sand, have been trampled over by adults.”

The elder’s smile was terribly hollow. Lurking within was what might be exhaustion from a passage of time that would be unfathomable to others.

Is it over? A voice that was not even a mutter escaped from him.

After transferring bodies so many times, after weaving history… Is this where it ends? Is this where I will be defeated? I wished to escape from this absurd design, in which people govern and rule over other people. My wish, my dreams, my ideals to consign the hundreds of emperors, the thousands of kings, to relics of the past, to organise a new rule, to create a perfect ‘system of humanity’ – is this where they…

Just then – from the corner of his eye, he saw a pale light burning.

The elder fiercely turned to look in that direction. But it was only the table. It was just a flash from the reflection of the torches’ flames on the crystal surface. The elder felt like scoffing at himself.

Nonetheless, at that time, his eyes had reflected a pale light. He was not mistaken. The elder, who had once guided Mephius from the shadows, forgot all about that power and dignity, and practically crawled on his belly to stare at that light.

It was small.

A faint, fleeting light, that looked as though it would disappear with a single puff of breath. Even so, it seemed to be clinging to this world, desperately calling attention to its existence.

“That’s…”

While the elder’s murky, yellowish-looking eyes continued to reflect that light, blue will-o-the-wisps seemed to light up within them.

Part 3

As per Ineli’s words, a messenger left at noon for the temple.

There was no reply. Nor did the messenger return.

However, that night –

Because of the black clouds that had been enclosing the heavens since evening, the night was so dark that nothing could be seen, even at a short distance; it was only around the temple, where there were fires kindled by the soldiers, that it was light as day.

The messenger returned. Perhaps he had been kept waiting for a long time, or perhaps he had gone through a fierce and heated argument, but he was in a state of utter exhaustion when he arrived, tottering unsteadily, before the imperial princess.

“Empress Melissa appears to be willing to meet with Princess Vileena, who has come from Garbera. She stated that as things have reached this point, she will explain why she has justice on her side, and that she wishes to receive the support of our good neighbour, Garbera,” he quietly reported.

The soldiers were, of course, unaware of this exchange. However, what had been weighing on them the most was not knowing when this would all be over, and the siege war had been threatening to wear down their spirits; so at the hint of some kind of development, the orderly line of fires wavered and shook for a second, as though from a strong wind.

The empress had appointed the time before dawn for the meeting. An action that urged them to speed after having kept them waiting for so long. It was obviously a way of taking control of the pace of things.

Hearing the report, Ineli bit her lips, but she had no choice but to comply.

An hour or so passed by.

Ineli Mephius appeared once more on the open square before the temple. She was wearing a white cloak and informal armour, which she had made for ceremonial use. Perhaps because they had heard rumours, although it was late at night, people were gathering, forming a shadowy circle beyond the soldiers.

Amidst the faint commotion coming from them that was carried on the wind, the princess walked up to the doctors and ladies’ maids who had been summoned beforehand. Among the maids was the Garberan princess, her face concealed beneath a veil.

“Well then, Elder Sister…” Ineli surreptitiously called out to the royal princess. “I beg you to be careful. Your first concern needs to be for your own safety.”

“I’m much obliged to you, Your Imperial Highness. Not only for listening to my selfish request, but also for your kind words.”

Odyne, who was going also, was the target of their rather scripted conversation. He too had some grasp of the situation; or at the very least, of what they were aiming for.

Still… Odyne, having been left in charge of Solon, had very little expectation that this would get the situation moving. At best, it might buy some time before Empress Melissa, who currently had limited means of action, did something drastic.

As the princesses had said, it was hard to imagine that the empress, who claimed righteousness, would harm royalty from an allied country. Nevertheless, as unlikely as the risk was, Odyne was aware that it existed.

Walt had also come running as soon as he heard about it. To be honest, he and Odyne had so far had little interaction, but facing the same situation like this made him hopeful in various ways.

“Keep a close watch on her Imperial Highness,” Odyne whispered in his ear. “Given the plans made, I don’t think that she’ll act rashly, but she’s still a very young lady. If, by any chance…”

“I’ll stop her whatever it takes,” was Walt’s immediate reply.

He had temporarily been placed in charged of a hundred of the general’s men.

A loud commotion arose from the townspeople. With Odyne in the lead, the doctors and the ladies’ maids, who were holding food aloft, headed towards the inside of the temple.

The stars that were twinkling overhead shone down with their faint light.

In a hall on the ground floor of the temple, Empress Melissa, Zaas Sidious, the former leader of the Spear of Flames Division, Oubary Bilan, similarly a former general, and Imperial Princess Flora Mephius were all aligned.

The number of soldiers that Zaas and Oubary led did not reach two hundred. There had been twice as many when they had first barricaded themselves in the temple, but after only a few days of siege, many had judged that the tides of war were unfavourable, and had escaped. It was clear that their numbers would only increase as the days went by.

They had mostly spent their time here in silence.

Zaas’ excitable young blood seemed to find it intolerable, and time and again he would summon the men to spar with him at sword fighting.

Oubary had already consumed eighty percent of the alcohol they had brought in. Although irritation occasionally flashed through his liquor-dulled eyes, he did not openly say anything.

It was then that the messenger had come from outside. Had he come to advise them to surrender, Zaas would probably have cut him up and tossed out in pieces, but he instead brought an unexpected offer.

“The Garberan princess want to meet with me?”

For Melissa, this was someone that she had tried to kill more than once. That was because, due to an elder’s prediction, she had been convinced that this Garberan princess would destroy her future, as well as that of the child in her womb. By this time, though, had the empress realised? That perhaps the ‘young girl who casts a dark shadow over the imperial throne promised to this future child’ from the prediction might not have been Vileena Owell, but Melissa’s own daughter instead. Whatever the case, the hatred and revulsion that had once dwelt in her heart would probably not disappear so easily, and a contemptuous smile appeared on the empress’ haggard face.

“It might be some kind of trap,” said Zaas, gripping the pommel of his sword.

Truth be told, he was gripped with the desire to send the messenger’s head flying. Melissa, however, assessed the situation a little longer.

“Let’s meet her,” she declared, after deliberately keeping the messenger waiting for a long time, “she will be the best person to amuse us in our boredom. What kind of tales will she entertain us with about the impostor crown prince, the very same one who tore Mephius in two? I look forward to it.”

As the empress laughed, it was impossible to tell from her expression how much hope, if any, she found in the future.

A short while elapsed.

The fires flickered in the iron braziers placed in advance along the hall wall. Their red colour reflecting on their armour, an armed group entered the room.

Odyne was at their head. To the right and left of him were some of Zaas’ soldiers, holding guns.

First, the ladies’ maids handed over the food, looking frightened.

The astonished soldiers with their somewhat grubby faces looked towards Zaas and Oubary. Zaas scowled, but Oubary gave a generous wave of his hand.

“Share it among the soldiers.”

Speechless delight appearing on their faces, the men grabbed at it, dividing each portion.

“Odyne.” Melissa glared viciously at the general in the lead. “How dare you show up here so shamelessly, despite owing such a huge debt to His Majesty?”

“It is true that I pledged my loyalty to His Majesty,” Odyne sketched a small bow. “That being so, where is His Majesty right now?”

“His health is poor and he is resting. And you, the treacherous retainer, are the one who injured him. You, and also…”

Melissa sent a glare as fierce as flames to the one lady’s maid who had yet to remove her veil. And who was, of course, Princess Vileena Owell.

“And also, the Garberan princess over there. Can you not even tell the difference between your own fiancé and an impostor?”

“Empress, I do not know what you mean,” Vileena also bowed.

With gun muzzles gleaming on either side of her, her manner was almost infuriatingly calm. Melissa apparently could not stand it.

“If you persist until the end in endangering our realm by supporting a rebel who plots to capture it, then for all that you may be the princess of an allied country, we will not simply send you back. Are you prepared for that, Princess?”

Her normally beautiful, girlish face, reputed for how it made her look like a sister to her daughter Ineli, twisted like a poisonous snake.

Her eyes slightly lowered, the princess replied to her.

“I came from Garbera to marry the crown prince. Nothing more, nothing less. It is terrible to hear talk of plotting to capture the realm.”

“Who can say what Garbera’s true intentions are.”

“Garbera, my native country, hopes for long-lasting peace with Mephius. That is why I punished that fool, Salamand. I do not know who has been propagating the story that Crown Prince Gil has joined hands with Garbera to overturn the country, but it is perfect nonsense. Who will rule the country in the next era is something that His Majesty, Emperor Guhl Mephius, will decide himself, is it not?”

Opposite her, Melissa did not hide how she ground her teeth.

“How dare you speak that way? Coming back from the dead? Anyone can tell you how, on the strength of a claim that anyone can tell is false, that man seized Mephius’ capital by brute force, and with brute force turned his blade against His Majesty the Emperor and seized the throne.”

“He did not come back from the dead. His Imperial Highness the crown prince had to feign his own death because he was worried about the country’s future. Do you believe that he would willingly raise a sword against the people of Mephius? Do you believe that he felt nothing at the sight of corpses piling up on the battlefield, and each of them Mephian? That it was not a bitter decision? He was always, constantly, forcing himself to follow through with his purpose.

Vileena’s tone was impassioned. It was as though, within this hall, only Melissa and Vileena had hot blood running through them. The soldiers were lined up like bronze statues put on display for the viewing pleasure of visitors, while as for Flora, who could only tremble violently, or Zaas, Oubary and Odyne – the princess’ companion – all three of them armed with swords, they remained as still as though their feet had been sewn together, and they did not utter a word.

“Empress, let’s go together from this gloomy shrine and out to where the sun shines. What has happened until now has been no more than the result of an accumulation of small misunderstandings. So that fellow Mephians no longer need shed their blood, please, take my hand and let us go before the people. His Highness the crown prince will soon return to Solon, after which, father and son can talk leisurely together, so that their differences will soon be solved and…”

“Don’t come any closer!” Melissa barked as Vileena, perhaps without even realising it, had taken a step towards her. The soldiers from both sides were surprised and shakily raised their weapons just as the Garberan princess stopped.

“Father and son? Are you talking about that crown prince?” Melissa’s expression was the same as though a snake or some other creature without emotion was imitating humans and fixing a smile on their face. And then –

“Disgusting,” she almost spat out the word. Or rather, saliva literally spewed from her lips. “Garberan princess, you don’t know. That man is not Gil Mephius. He isn’t royalty, he isn’t even nobility. The day His Majesty confronted that man face-to-face, he ordered him to ‘show his back’. That man made use of lies and refused to do so to the end. Do you happen to understand the meaning, O wise princess?” “…” “That man is a slave.”

Melissa’s voice was like a sudden thunderclap reverberating on a clear day.

“With a slave brand seared into his back, he is part of the vilest class in this world. Did you not know it, Princess Vileena? Or no, did you deliberately call him the crown prince to use that to Garbera’s advantage?”

“Empress.”

“Talk together with the likes of a slave? Act as father and son to protect the country? Oh, horrible. Just thinking about it makes me shudder in disgust…” whereupon, the empress’ plump lips curved into a smile. “What about it, Garberan princess?”

“What do you mean by ‘what about it’?” Vileena asked carefully.

“Will you call that ‘Crown Prince’? Do you intend to marry that and have it sit on Mephius’ throne? Then, that slave from who knows where, who has rummaged through who knows what piles of garbage, who has been whipped by his master who knows how many times – do you intend to invite that slave to share your bed? Will a daughter of Garbera’s proud royal family allow a man who is no more than livestock to touch her skin?”

Vileena’s fair skin suddenly flushed red. For a moment, a feeling that was neither embarrassment nor anger seemed to seize hold of the girl who was only in her mid-teens.

“Oh, that’s right,” Melissa gave a loud, gloating laugh, “that would be the best way of proving that man’s origins, since he claims to be the crown prince. If you want to drag me out of here, summon that immediately. Then have sex in front of me. If you do so, I will acknowledge him as a perfectly genuine crown prince, and we can leave the temple together.”

With Melissa’s high-pitched laughter trailed along, coiling around Vileena like wind as she turned her back on the empress. The top of her neck was flushed red, and she bit her lips, her head bowed.

The soldiers who were on the empress’ side laughed coarsely.

There was no reasoned argument to be made.

Humph – Watching the exchange, Zaas Sidious sneered inwardly.

He who had faced Gil Mephius first-hand on the battlefield had his own reasons for asserting that the current crown prince was an impostor. No matter what flowery words were used or how finely the figure was dressed up, his deep-rooted warrior’s instinct would not be deceived. When he had heard that the Garberan princess would pay a visit here, he had seen it as nothing but a farce.

If you really want to earn my acceptance – then rather than a little girl from a foreign country, the Impostor Crown Prince should have come in person and crossed swords with him.

“If you say that person is an impostor,” Vileena spoke in voice so soft it seemed to crawl across the ground. Driven into a corner, unable to accept her defeat, the girl presented a foolish figure as she fought vainly and with empty hands. Yet the next second –

“Then as you say, I will share a pillow with an impostor. I will call a slave the emperor of Mephius.”

At her pointed, unflinching words, Zaas and Melissa’s scornful smiles froze

“What?”

“I am not a god, so, from the very start, I have never had a way of verifying a person’s lineage. I cannot see through all parts of a person’s past. For example, if some unknown young man were to appear here and claim that ‘I am from such-and-such royal family from such-and-such country’, how could I tell just from looking at him whether what he said was true or false?”

Vileena slowly raised her head and as she did so, her shining hair parted to either side, clearly revealing her expression.

Right.

She was smiling.

Vileena Owell was smiling faintly.

“If my ‘eyes’ can recognise anything, then that is the time that we spent together. Seeing a person with your own eyes, hearing them with your own ears, spending time next to them – does that not lead to ‘looking’ at them. By definition, I never knew His Imperial Highness Gil Mephius before meeting him. Which means that the Prince Gil that I know is the one that I spent time with.”

Her hair fluttered again, and Vileena once more stood face-to-face with Melissa.

“Having no way to verifying lineage, and no eyes to see the past, I, who am but a mere human, can only judge on the basis of that time spent together. And on that basis, I recognise him as a truly proud ruler, and with that belief, I will welcome him as my husband.”

Right, that’s right.

For every thousand questions that rose to her mind, ten thousand convictions drowned them out. Rather than being aimed at Melissa, these were probably words that she was more than half saying to herself.

Vileena was prouder than anyone of being part of Garbera’s royal family. She was prouder than anything of having inherited the blood of her great ancestors, of her grandfather and of her father, or in other words, of housing within her the royal family’s history; and because of that, she was stricter on herself than anyone.

So it was impossible for her to say that lineage has no importance.

At the same time however, she could not assert that therefore, that person himself has no importance.

After all…

I know him.

Vileena’s smile deepened. Melissa, Zaas and the soldiers who were watching speechlessly had the impression that a hole had opened in the ceiling, through shone a single shaft of light. That was how brightly the princess’ eyes were shining. Yet it was not at anyone in this room that she was looking.

Well now, truly childish.

The young man had loudly heaped similar abuse on himself.

He looks like he’s only interested in his own concerns.

The young man would sit through councils of war in silence, his arms crossed. Yet once he was on the battlefield, he moved with such violent force that it seemed that all hesitation had been wiped away.

A person who can see all around the wide battlefield, yet still be tripped up by an unseen pebble at his feet.

Strong enough to remain calm and not shy away even from cruel means, yet with a part to him that is unspeakably fragile and weak.

The young man had fallen to his knees in the dusk. He had drowned himself in alcohol and been rebuked by his subordinates.

Pompous and smug, slippery, not allowing anyone into his heart.

Just as though he was hiding his real face behind an iron mask.

The young man –

Had searched.

Has thirsted.

Had screamed.

Had cried.

Say one could see through that iron wall, then there would be far fewer irritating and winding paths than expected, as he was not one to directly speak about himself.

And now she was wondering why it had taken her so long to notice.

The iron mask had been transparent from the very start.

After all, he himself had torn half of it off with his own hands.

“I wish to be by his side.”

“…”

“At his side, I wish to see the future that he will build for Mephius. No… I wish to help build it. I, Vileena Owell, third princess of the Kingdom of Garbera, have that wish towards him. What does it matter that he may be a slave?”

If, she silently called out in her mind, if you really are a slave, then you should be proud of it.

You are a light to the future for a princess. Not just for me, but rather for the entire country of Mephius, and for the whole world that country is part of.

“Empress Melissa. Won’t you please, with His Majesty the Emperor, behold that future with your own eyes? If he makes a mistake because of his youth, can you not help correct it? For all the people living in Mephius.”

Vileena Owell stretched out her fair white hand.

References and Translation Notes

1. ↑ The kanji stand for “the land of barbarians” (蛮人たちの地) and the furigana read “barbaroi”. As an added note, “barbaroi” is ancient Greek and was the name given to other cultures, who were usually seen as uncivilized by them. It was later adopted by the Romans (as was most of Greek culture) and is the root of the modern word "barbarian.

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