Published at 13th of August 2019 1:29 pm

Volume 4, Chapter 2: Those who do, those who do not, and those who cannot take action

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

Part 1

During that time, Leo Attiel had remained in Guinbar. This, of course, was because he was wary of Darren Actica's movements. While staying at Savan's stronghold, Leo had repeatedly sent out scouts to the area around Darren's castle, Olt Rose. So far, even though the head of House Actica had gathered soldiers, there was no information that he had transferred them out of his keep.

A band of marauders, however, were being relentlessly active within Guinbar's territory, and Darren appeared to be the one behind that. To defend against them, Savan had sent soldiers to various points throughout his fief, and there were now only a thousand who were still stationed within Guinbar Castle. Moreover, although they had hurriedly hired about seven hundred mercenaries, the increase in numbers was not solely a good thing as, to start with, Guinbar did not currently have the financial assets to be able to properly feed several hundred soldiers.

Since they had to be cautious of what moves Darren would make, they had not recently been able to hold markets outside the castle walls. Given that this was the busiest season for the wool trade, that was a very hard blow. The merchants who had speculatively put up the funds for the trade fairs risked going bankrupt.

With every passing day, Guinbar was being slowly strangled and driven to the brink.

Leo suggested to Savan that they should build a fort to the east of the territory, in an area that was comparatively close to Olt Rose – since it was within the same country of Atall, there were no keeps or fortresses built at the borders between domains – and where a river would form a natural moat. Five hundred of the mercenaries were then transferred to this hurried construction.

All that Leo could do at the moment was go back and forth between the castle and the fort, checking the situation in each one. Despite the sense of impending crisis, he was bored. Since there was very little he could actually do, he was struck with an idea – Should I take a few people to Olt Rose to go see the look on Darren's face? That thought made him cheer up at once.

Immediately afterwards, though, he realised that – It's not realistic, and became even gloomier than before.

If the thought had occurred to him in conversation with someone else, it would still have been bearable. If Percy had been there to laugh and say something like, “Your Highness, you really are still a child,” his feelings would have settled down thanks to not being alone.

But currently, there was no one of Leo's age for him to talk with. He had entrusted his Personal Guards to Percy and Camus, and sent them to Conscon Temple. Kuon and Sarah, on the other hand, had suddenly vanished from Guinbar.

He was all alone.

He had gone back to the time when he stood by himself in a corner during the banquet, while men and women in gorgeous clothing laughed cheerfully.

Of course, even when saying that he was alone, Leo was currently surrounded by guards that he had gathered from the villages and personally appointed, and they adored him because of it. But they were not advisers.

Speaking of which, among the Personal Guards, there had been a red-haired boy called Rhoda. Even compared to the other soldiers, his sense of veneration towards Leo had been conspicuously strong: the attitude with which he had served Leo was that of someone who seemed to believe that he would be blinded if he gazed directly upon Leo's majesty. Although Leo had been more embarrassed than pleased by it, he valued Rhoda's skills and diligent personality, and so he had appointed him as a close guard.

However, more than half a year ago, during the fight against Hayden, Leo had been severely short-staffed, and had no choice but to station the soldiers hired from the villages in all sorts of different places. Rhoda had also been pulled up from his usual unit, and his whereabouts were currently unknown.

Did he lose his life on the battlefield, or did he earn a certain amount of glory, and go home with it to his native village? Leo suddenly wondered about the red-headed guard. But even then, only casually, and only once.

So what else did he think about?

Nothing. He didn't think about anything.

Or at any rate, it was the same as.

When he had nothing in particular to do and was all alone, Leo loitered around his room, contemplating this and that. But along the way, those thoughts turned to resentful bitterness towards Darren, who was just running after his own interests, without paying any attention to the wider trends of the time. Before long, Leo's father, the sovereign-prince, also became a target for his resentment.

Leo had met the king of Allion. He had also encountered Allion's crafty general, Hawking, and Dytiann's self-professed 'king', Mordin. All of them seemed to have blades in their hearts. And those kinds of people, who could move thousands or tens of thousands of troops with just a single word, were keeping a close watch on Atall from both east and west.

And even so, a tiny country like Atall is being torn apart by tiny internal skirmishes, isn't it? And I'm having trouble with those trivial skirmishes, aren't I?

At the end of the day, what irritated him the most was neither Darren nor Magrid, but his own powerlessness. And since he spent every day in that state, it was essentially the same as not thinking about anything at all.

When he got tired of walking around alone, Leo would sit down on his bed. At those times, he had the illusion that it was like he was sitting in another position, looking at his own exhausted face. That was something he was used to, as well.

You're a mess, Lord Leo – he felt like jeering at himself with some of the words he had picked up from commoners – You defeated Hayden and established the Personal Guards. And just when you were getting happy about things going your way, it turns this is the best you can do. The King of Allion? Mordin? Did you seriously think you could compete with them as an equal? You're way better suited to having a hard time fighting small fry like Darren.

“Shut up.”

You haven't changed at all. You haven't achieved anything. To start with, you only put on airs without any resolve behind it.

“I have resolve. I killed enemies with my own hands. I led allies to their deaths.”

That's just child's play. Are you ready to kill a thousand allies to save ten thousand of the people? Or conversely, are you willing to abandon those ten thousand to their deaths in order to save a thousand allies that you absolutely need if you want to win?

“I told you to shut up.”

You want to change things? Then raise the wind. To raise that kind of wind, you need a huge fire. Fuel it by burning your own hair first. Then, before it burns out, stoke it by burning your own clothes. Then, one by one, offer it the lives of each of the soldiers who protect you. Your acquaintances... your family... your friends... thrown them in, in your order of preference. If you do, you might just be able to raise a gentle breeze.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Leo screamed, and fell backwards onto the bed.

Those days continued on, until one particular one.

The direction of the wind changed.

Oh no, it wasn't a large-scale event that showed immediate results. It was no more than a 'gentle breeze'.

Around about noon, there was a commotion at a watchtower built on the outside of Guinbar: a group of about three hundred was apparently approaching. The soldiers immediately put themselves on the alert but, upon closer inspection, it became clear that the group advancing towards them was flying the flag of the Cross Faith. Upon receiving the news, Leo went racing from the castle to personally greet them.

“Camus... Why are you here?”

It was a reasonable question. The one leading the group and holding the flag was Camus, the warrior monk from Conscon Temple. The young man whose clerical robes covered a muscle-bound frame was currently supposed to be assisting Neil, the temple's bishop. Besides, he had only just gone over there with the Personal Guards that Leo had entrusted him with.

“As per your orders, I had an air carrier departure point prepared at the temple, and set up an airship squadron, but, being worried about you, my lord, I have come rushing back.”

“I'm not a child!” The days of accumulated irritation made Leo flare up unintentionally. “And for a start, didn't I tell you not to move the Personal Guards? What will you do if my father hears of this? I'd only just sent them to the temple so that he wouldn't be able to come up with some pretext or another, and remove them from me.”

“If I may humbly say,” Camus spoke up to explain. – The three hundred he was heading were not from the Personal Guards. Instead, they were all warrior monks.

“Since they are monks from the temple, which is an allied power to Atall, Lord Magrid has no authority to interfere with them. Oh, please don't look down on them for being no more than three hundred. Every one of them is the same as me: a valiant warrior who has offered his body and soul to God, and who cares not about risking his life.”

Leo gaped, half stunned. Then, he burst out laughing. While clapping Camus on the shoulders, he felt something hot, like tears, welling up within him. The loneliness he had experienced in those past days had been so very heavy and deep that even he found it strange.

About half a month ago, at Conscon Temple, while Leo had been sinking deeper and deeper into depression all by himself, both Percy and Camus had been experiencing the same thing at the temple. Leo had only just been defeated after attempting to invade Darren's territory and his reputation had plummeted around the outskirts of the capital, whereas Darren Actica's influence seemed to have inversely increased.

What move would he make? And how about Sovereign-Prince Magrid and the other vassal-lords? No, even as they stayed here at the temple, their ears filled with the prayers of monks and nuns, who knew if Darren wasn't moving his troops to attack Guinbar? At those thoughts, their youthful blood simply could not settle down.

Just as the prince had ordered them to, the two of them had prepared a space for an air carrier departure point, had travelled to an even further country to buy airships, and had trained the young soldiers. At the same time, in an effort to try and erase at least a little of his own worry, Percy Leegan wrote a letter to one of the vassal- lords.

Specifically, to Gimlé Gloucester.

He was an aristocratic vassal-lord whose domain was in the southeast of the Principality of Atall, and he would one day become Percy's father-in-law, since Percy was engaged to Gimlé's daughter, Liana Gloucester. The two men had not seen each other, however, since the banquet held in Hayden's honour. To be more honest, the truth was that they did not get on very well, but right now, Percy needed him as ally even if it meant ignoring his personal feelings.

He wrote to ask him to help Lord Leo. The world misunderstood him, believing that the prince had been lured by Savan into invading Darren's territory, despite not having any personal ill-will towards Darren. Percy wrote down the facts about how Darren had used armed force because he coveted Savan's stone quarry, and emphasised the point that the prince's actions were all done with the future of the country in mind.

Since he was the father of his fiancée, Percy had some understanding of Gimlé's personality. Although he could be pig-headed, Percy saw him as someone who was certainly not deaf to reason, and compared to Darren – who was a concentrated mass of self-interest – or people like Bernard and Tokamakk – who preferred to sit on the fence – Gimlé had at least a little bit of the backbone that should be expected from an Atallese noble.

When he looked over the words he had written, Percy blushed. His words had been too vehement. It was exactly like the exaggerated language of a young child passionately telling the grown-ups that those nasty other boys had stolen his playground. Percy calmed himself down, and revised the contents.

And so, the letter he sent to Gimlé's territory was one that he had written and rewritten over and over again, but no matter how long he waited, he did not receive a reply. Percy passed beyond disappointment, and was seized with anger. In that sense, he was a lot like Leo was at the same moment. Even though he wanted to yell at him about how he, Lord Gimlé, also liked sitting on the fence after all, the brunt of Percy's anger was turned towards himself for having gone running to his fiancée's father.

While he spent his days like that, unable to calm down, a man who was in the same situation as him, and who was far less patient that Percy, took action. That man was Camus.

“I'm going to gather volunteers from among the warrior monks, and head back to Lord Leo,” he had declared.

That alone was surprising enough, but when he learned that more than two hundred young men had already volunteered, Percy was left completely amazed.

Leo Attiel was the saviour who had rescued Conscon Temple from ruin, and the hero who had defeated Allion. So naturally, once they heard that he was in trouble, there were many people who were ready to pick up their spears and announce that: “This time, it's our turn to help him.” But even so, this was really fast.

On top of that, Camus had decreed that: “This isn't enough yet,” and was going to also gather men from the Personal Guards, which was completely illogical. Wasn't he assembling warrior monks because he couldn't move the Guards? When Percy pointed this out, Camus shook his head.

“All of the soldiers gathered have received God's baptism. Since they've become novices, they're now warrior monks of Conscon Temple. Not Personal Guards.”

He said it so off-handily that Percy's mouth hung open.

And this is the man who was pulling such a sour face when the prince talked about getting baptised back then... Going on about how the prince hadn't actually been won over by the divine teachings, and how he was only using the appearance of a believer in the Cross Faith for his own ends... Aren't you doing the exact same thing this time around!

Reading Percy's expression, Camus puffed out his brawny chest.

“These men have volunteered to go help Lord Leo even at the risk of their own lives. And the prince has accepted God's teachings, and is helping spread them throughout Atall. Since they're anxious about saving a lord who is doing so much for the Cross Faith, these men are qualified to count among the faithful,” he declared.

Since his words were that smooth, and given that this was Camus, there was absolutely no doubt that he had been inwardly conflicted. Which was why he had thought up this excuse, with which he was trying to convince not only others, but also himself.

Camus prepared to set off once a full three hundred had been assembled. Besides the reinforcement in terms of soldiers, they had also dismantled one of the airships used for training, and would carry it with them. One of the Personal Guards who had been appointed as a “warrior monk” had shown the makings of a skilled pilot during the training drills.

“It's only one aircraft, but the prince will definitely be happy when he sees the results of work with his own eyes,” Camus had said.

Up until just a few days earlier, he had been as gloomy as Percy was, and there had been a permanent crease between his eyebrows. Yet now that he was planning to leave the temple, his expression was bright and he seemed to be walking on air. Camus had always been a man who got livelier when he had something to do as opposed to just staying somewhere silent and still, but when he saw him in such high spirits, Percy for some reason felt extremely unhappy, and instinctively started to detain him.

“Camus, wait. I wasn't the only one left in charge of the Personal Guards: His Highness gave you the same order.”

“I'm leaving that to you.”

“And the training for the airship unit?”

“That too.”

“Don't just say whatever you feel like. If you go and take three hundred soldiers at your own whim, all you'll get from the prince is criticism.”

“Then, are you telling me to just stay here quietly? I can't do it. Rather than sit and wait for ruin, I chose to walk out on the battlefield myself.”

“Those are bold words, Camus. But you're not saying them because you're strong, but because you're weak,” Percy unintentionally hardened his tone.

“What are you...?” Camus opened his eyes wide as Percy continued to verbally lash out:

“Isn't that right? The orders we received from the prince were to secretly establish an air force squadron and train it into something usable, yet you're saying that obeying them is 'sitting waiting for ruin'. That proves that you don't understand the prince's thoughts. You simply can't even stand your own uneasiness. You're only taking action to satisfy yourself, not for anyone else's sake. How is that not weakness? Your physical strength and your words are both very fine, but apart from that, you're nothing but a coward.”

Camus blinked, then every muscle in his body heaved.

Ah, that's... Percy suddenly came back to his senses.

Although he had undeniably meant what he said, he had chosen the wrong time and place to say it – and the wrong person to say it to. He was aware that he had been too emotional, and so he braced himself, steadying his neck and gritting his teeth, expecting a punch to come flying his way. After taking a deep breath, however, Camus relaxed his own tensed-up frame.

“You're probably right,” he said. “But everyone has their strong points and their weaknesses. You're better qualified to carry out the prince's orders this time. I can only do what I can to help support him. So then...”

Camus left the the temple with the three hundred men he had already assembled.

Percy sighed as he watched them disappear from sight. He had harshly lectured Camus like an adult telling off a child, but in the end, it was Camus who had taken the more mature attitude.

I'm jealous of how he can be so upfront in everything he does.

At that point, someone came up to stand next to Percy.

It was Bishop Neil.

The man who now managed the temple in replacement of Bishop Rogress was still quite young.

“Has Camus left?”

The bishop craned his neck as he stood beside Percy, but Camus really had moved fast. He and his men had already passed through the main gate, and they could no longer be seen.

“Did you authorise Camus' actions, Bishop?”

“The prince is an irreplaceable man for our temple. I have no reason to prevent someone from going to help him. All will be in accordance with God's will.”

“...”

Percy wasn't particularly interested, but he felt that it would be rude to leave almost without saying anything, so he gave his thanks for allowing the soldiers to stay at the temple. It was supposed to be nothing more than idle small talk, but Neil then said something unexpected.

“I don't mind in the slightest. However, Sir Percy... During your stay at the temple, you might hear a deeply unpleasant rumour involving the people of Atall.”

“A rumour?” Percy drew his brows together.

“Aye,” Bishop Neil gave a nod. “A rumour that Bishop Rogress did not commit suicide, but that he was killed by someone.”

Percy responded with a simple: “Oh”. His face was wiped clear of any expression. “It's certainly not the kind of rumour that you can simply ignore, but... well, I don't see how it has any direct connection to those of us from Atall.”

“There is more to that rumour,” Neil's honest-looking face was equally expressionless. “During the battle, the bishop remained in the Inner Sanctum since there was a high chance that spies from Allion had slipped into the temple, the bishop's life was in danger, which is why Atall's brave soldiers closely guarded the sanctum. Not even a puppy could have gone in or out.”

“Indeed.”

“In other words, only the Atallese soldiers could approach the Inner Sanctum. And so, for those who say that the bishop did not kill himself, but died at another's hands, the logical conclusion is that those hands belonged to someone from Atall. That's the kind of plausible-sounding rumour which is currently being whispered around. It's utterly deplorable. Even though things have finally settled down in this land, and just when peace has returned, there are fools going around killing time by spreading this nonsense. I've heard there are even some impious monks who are joining in. I intend to severely rebuke them, so please do not take it to heart.”

“I understand.”

As Percy smiled cheerfully, Bishop Neil's blue eyes gazed at him intently.

Part 2

The wind had changed direction – and Camus' arrival was not the only proof of that.

Around about that time, Sovereign-Prince Magrid of Atall sent messengers to both Leo and Darren. The reason behind it was to investigate the circumstances which had led Lord Leo to invade Dharam, Darren's territory.

The envoy who came to see Leo was none other than Stark Barsley. Officially, this man who served Leo's father – and who had served his father before him – was there to “hear Leo's side of the story,” but, in reality, the sovereign-prince had asked him to keep on eye on his son for a while. The idea was, essentially, to make sure that Leo didn't do anything he shouldn't again.

Stark had readily agreed to the request. The way he saw it, Leo was – Interesting. He had, of course, been surprised when Leo had invaded Dharam through force of arms, and he could see why Magrid, Leo's father and sovereign, saw his son as dangerous. But at the same time, Stark had a certain presentiment:

Lord Leo is young. And he fully embodies both the best and the worst points of youth. If there could be someone by his side who was able to hold back those worst points and encourage the best ones, the prince might well become someone whose name will go down in history.

Even so, his feelings were, at most, that Leo was 'interesting'. He did not feel any urge for that 'someone' who would guide Leo to be him. Stark was content to remain detached from the world, and had left behind him his youth, in which he would have gone running to the scene of any excitement.

Meanwhile, Leo, the one receiving the envoy, did not believe the official reason given for Stark being sent over to him. His father talked about 'investigating the circumstances,' but the sovereign-prince couldn't care less about the truth, and while he would be fair and impartial by giving both parties a chance to explain themselves, that fairness would only extend to the hearing. The most likely outcome would be that, after a short while, he would give a light punishment to both Leo and Darren.

I won't let it end like that – Leo was determined about that, however, and Darren probably thought the same way. Leo intended instead to make use of this opportunity. With the sovereign-prince ostensibly taking action to arbitrate the dispute, not even Darren would be able to move troops while the envoys were present.

Leo and Savan met together and decided that, first of all, they would open a market five days after Stark's arrival.

The place chosen for it was the church, which was to the east of Guinbar Castle, at a distance of two days' ride along the old highway. This was the base for the Cross Faith that Leo was having Savan build. Although the road leading to it was known as the 'old highway', it had been repaired and maintained to allow the movement of people and goods which had been steadily increasing ever since the construction of the church had begun. Buildings that served both as relay inns and barracks for the highway guards had been built at several points along the road.

Nowadays, it was every bit as busy as the main roads. Thanks to that, the market there would be able to attract every kind of business, and allow the fief to replenish its dwindling funds.

During that time, Leo would be away from Guinbar. He intended to take action while Darren's movements were blocked. The future certainly didn't suddenly seem bright, but at least this was far better than constantly turning around in circles.

“I will definitely return with help at hand,” Leo promised when Savan Roux came to see him off, then rode away.

Hurrying along the Old Highway soon brought him within sight of the church.

When the building work had first begun, there had only been lodgings for the stonemasons and other skilled craftsmen, the labourers and the various other people who actually took part in the work. Now, however, swarms of merchants and prostitutes had descended on the area, intent on snatching away even only a small portion of the workers' daily wages, and there were any number of buildings where you could eat or drink, or where women beckoned to the men to join them.

When people came from the outside, inns would be built; where people gathered in large numbers, soldiers would make the rounds; and where there was a certain degree of public security, people would start settling in the area to plough fields. Cases of towns and villages appearing in that way were not rare back in those days, and Conscon Temple was another example of it.

At this point, the settlement around Guinbar Church had grown into a village that was not a small one. Since night had already fallen, Leo went straight to the monastery where he would be staying, which was attached to the chapel. However, people having realised that: “The prince is here,” they streamed out into the street and gathered by the church, carrying products from the shops, produce from the fields, or casks of wine. There were even some who killed what very little livestock they had for Leo's sake.

Since such a large crowd had come out, Lord Leo personally appeared before them to respond to their warm reception. Bishop Bosc, the representative of Guinbar Church and a central figure in the 'Church Council of Atall', which was currently being established, threw open the garden of the monastery, and allowed the crowd inside.

Fires were hastily lit to cook the ingredients that people had brought, then the food was carried to the tables that the monks had hurriedly set up. It spontaneously turned into a small banquet. The liquor served was only watered down wine, but the smile never left the face of even a single one of those gathered there, while the monks and nuns peered restlessly through the monastery windows, before retreating from sight.

The prince's reputation had been hugely damaged by the invasion of Dharam, but he could boast of being tremendously trusted and popular throughout all of Savan's domains, and especially in the area surrounding the church, which was being built on his own suggestion.

Faced with recent events, the accepted explanation in the territory was that: “The lord prince went to punish Darren, that cur, for trying to attack Lord Savan.” And because of it, there were many voices that were sympathetic towards him, and which talked about looking forward to what he would do next.

At the end of the feast, a woman who was still young led her daughter by the hand towards Leo. The child was perhaps six or seven years old. Bosc beckoned the woman, who quietly approached Leo.

“I'm sorry, Lord Prince. Even though she was already tucked up in bed, when she heard that you were here, this child begged to come and see you, even just for a little while.”

The woman was apparently from one of the neighbouring villages. When Darren had sent out marauders to snatch away the nearby quarry, her hot-blooded husband had gotten into a fight with them, and had been killed somewhere in secret. For a while, she had shut herself away in her parents' house, but when the church had started being built on Leo's suggestion, she had found comfort in the teachings of the Cross Faith, and had moved to this area with her daughter.

When the little girl with a face full of freckles walked up to Leo, she straightened her back as much as she could. She tried to say hello, but ended up mumbling and being unable to speak clearly. Just as she looked like she was about to burst into tears because of it, Leo gently patted her shoulder and gave her a smile.The child's face changed completely, going from being close to tears to beaming with joy, and the people around them also smiled at the scene.

Leo intended to leave early the next morning. After yesterday's commotion, he was afraid that if he went out when the sun was already high in the sky, it would draw a crowd again.

The people who were out and about early all stopped whatever work they were doing, and watched Leo's group ride off along the road. “Prince!” When some of them unthinkingly shouted out loud, Leo raised a finger to his smiling lips, as though to tell them to hush, and it was as though those people now shared a secret with him; they blushed with pride and bowed as he went past.

The armoured group rode on unimpeded but, when they had almost reached the edge of the settlement, Leo himself suddenly chose to dismount. The mother and daughter from the previous evening were standing discreetly by a fence. The mother bowed her head, “we aren't worthy,” written all over her face.

“We only intended to watch you leave from a distance without bothering you...”

Despite what her mother said, the daughter seemed to have decided from the very start to have an audience with the prince and, while her mother had not yet finished giving her greetings, the little girl drew up to Leo so quickly that Camus, acting as guard, caught his breath. She held up something that she was holding in her arms.

It was a doll. Although, with that said, it was really no more than rough pieces of cloth sewn together into a shape that was just barely recognisable as human. It probably wasn't something which had been brought, but rather something that the girl had made herself. On its chest, there was a decoration that seemed to be in the shape of a cross, so it looked like this had been modelled on Lord Leo Attiel himself. Threads were coming loose all over it, and the limbs looked like they would come off if it was treated roughly, so Leo handled it very carefully as he lifted it to line it up against his own face.

When he set off again, it was to the sight of the little girl's face, smiling fit to burst.

His group's destination was the main castle belonging to Bernard, one of the vassal-lords. Dharam, the land that Darren governed, lay in the middle of their way, so after leaving the church, and so as not to attract attention, the troop of three hundred split into several parties which entered Bernard's domain one after another, even though it meant slowing down their progress.

Leo, Camus and a few others made a detour of several days, avoiding the highway, so as to cross through the south of Dharam, after which, they joined up with a large group in one of the towns in Bernard's territory. A party of about twenty, however, deliberately crossed straight into the Dharam district, and remained there. They were disguised as merchants, and their role was to gather information while trading in the towns and villages.

Lord Leo had a difficult time travelling, but Stark Barsley, who was supposed to be visiting Guinbar to 'investigate the circumstances', had a carriage prepared for himself and was carried along the highway in grand style, following after Leo.

Since he wasn't particularly trying to hide his visit to Bernard, Leo didn't really mind but, at the same time, he had no idea what this retired, former-retainer was actually thinking. Still, given that Stark didn't look like he planned to make any special fuss or get in his way, the prince let him follow along.

He had sent a letter to Bernard beforehand, and the vassal-lord put on a show of receiving him. At that banquet, back then, he himself had invited the prince, after all.

His wife and daughter both belonged to the Cross Faith, and they rivalled the mother and daughter that Leo had met at the church in that, ever since first meeting him, they had treated him as though he was an envoy of God. Their cheeks flushed, they did everything they could to give him the warmest of welcomes.

Bernard didn't feel the slightest ill-will or dislike towards the prince, but there was no denying that right then and there, he saw him as a pest. He probably also had an inkling about what Leo's business with him was.

“Please don't be so stiff, Bernard,” the prince decided to tread carefully, and started by trying to mollify Bernard's feelings by laughing off his fears. “No matter what, I won't give you any high-handed orders like 'lend me some soldiers'. Even I'm not planning on immediately marching off to attack Olt Rose again.”

When the two of them were alone, he changed his tone.

“Darren is definitely scheming to attack Guinbar soon. Father probably won't be able to stop him.”

“Is that so?” Bernard's words were, of course, far more cautious than Leo's.

The prince nodded firmly.

“If you want proof, Darren is recruiting soldiers within his territory. Actually, he's been gathering weapons for a while now. If I hadn't moved in to attack Olt Rose back then...”

...'I would have been killed instead' was what Leo had been about to say, but he forced himself to hold it back. There had been plenty of arguments about what the truth of this matter, and Leo was aware that they had left him looking in the wrong, so what he wanted to avoid at all cost was making it seem like he had acted out on his emotions at the time.

“...Darren would have set Guinbar Castle alight. What I did has only helped postpone things.”

“It's perfectly normal for Lord Darren to be gathering soldiers,” Bernard's expression remained unyielding. “After all, Your Highness, you have only just invaded his lands. On top of that, and from what I hear, his second son, Lord Dingo, was seriously wounded. Although you no longer have the Personal Guards close at hand, it's highly possible that next time, it might be Lord Savan's soldiers which advance on Dharam... or at any rate, Lord Darren will use that kind of explanation to justify reinforcing his military strength.”

Bernard was not a coward, but it was clear that he had no wish to take part in a fight that would be of no benefit to him. If Leo had been the eldest son, promised to become the next sovereign-prince, then Bernard's attitude might have been a little different, but Leo was the second-born, and there were rumours that the current ruler, Magrid, was not best pleased with his enthusiasm for taking action.

In short, there was no advantage to joining up with this prince.

Leo saw Allion and Dytiann as two huge, slavering beasts, and believed that the only way to defend against them was to unite the entire country. The others, however, had never shared his sense of looming crisis; since life had always been relatively peaceful up until then, their vague image of the future was based on their unfounded belief that tomorrow would surely be just as tranquil as today.

He desperately wanted to denounce them in ringing words – not just Bernard, but all of the vassal-lords and other nobles. But it would be utterly stupid to make an enemy here when he had originally come looking for an ally. Leo struggled to suppress his emotions.

“I said a while back that I wasn't going to ask you to lend me any soldiers. However, I would just like you to prepare and gather them in your castle town. When Darren starts his military manoeuvres, have them raise their flags and threaten Olt Rose from the rear. That's all – you don't need to fight. I won't bring the battle to your territory. So please, Bernard...”

In the end, his words turned to pleading.

“If it's just that...” Bernard replied with obvious reluctance. “Still, I don't have enough regular soldiers – since I've only just sent them to you, my lord, for the Personal Guards. I'll give my retainers the order to call up levies in the villages. But naturally, that means that I can't say how long it will take to gather them up.”

As I mentioned earlier, when Lord Leo heard that the sovereign-prince had despatched an envoy to Darren, he anticipated that the vassal-lord would not be able to take action, and so made his own moves. He opened a market in Guinbar. He took his time to cross Dharam, then took it again to try and persuade Bernard.

Yet Leo was to regret all of it.

Darren Actica used the envoy who had been sent to him to set his own plans in motion.

Part 3

It was night and pouring with rain when a courier arrived, riding fast, at Bernard's castle. It was one of the warrior monks that Leo had left in Dharam. Dripping wet from head to toe, he cried out,

“Lord Actica is attacking Guinbar!”

Bernard immediately sent the news to Leo, who had already retired to his room. Leo leapt to his feet, closely followed by Camus.

“It must be some kind of mistake.” As Leo left his room, he was praying: Please let it be a mistake.

To start with, Darren shouldn't be able to take action now. In any event, Leo decided to get the details from the warrior monk. And as he listened, he felt aghast.

At the outset, Darren had gone to meet the sovereign-prince's envoy not in the town by Olt Rose, but in a village near the castle. It so happened that on that day, there was a holiday which was celebrated in that area, in honour of the resurrection of the goddess of the harvest.

Since it was not related to the main faith of the Principality of Atall, Darren did not allow the festival to be celebrated in the main castle town but, beyond that, he did not try to take away the people's enjoyment of it. In fact, he had the habit of going with his retainers, all of them dressed up as farmers, huntsmen or fomer knights, and travelling around the villages to enjoy the festivities himself.

That day, he took the envoy and several retainers to one of the villages. And there, they were attacked. A group on warhorses suddenly appeared, setting the houses on fire with the torches they held in hand.

With helmets on their heads, they lunged out at the fleeing populace with their swords, spears and bows, amassing piles of corpses all around them.

Soldiers soon dealt with extinguishing the fires in the village but, by then, some two hundred lives had already been lost.

“What is this?” Darren bit his lip, his face just as ashen as the envoy's. “This is definitely Savan's doing. He's had his soul stolen by the Cross Faith, and can't bear the existence of any other god. If you add to that his despicable, single-minded hatred of House Actica, then of course he ended up resorting to this kind of violence.”

Darren brought the quivering envoy to his own carriage, and ordered the coachman to “protect him on the way to Olt Rose.”

“W-What about you, Lord Actica?” asked the envoy, and Darren flapped the overly-large cape he wore as a disguise.

“Savan is building a church, and acts as though he alone in all Atall is under divine protection. But know this well: the god he worships – that he alone reveres – is an evil god. Repulsive, cunning and strong. But as long as he lives on this earth, this isn't a problem about gods. This is an issue involving we living, breathing humans. Even if he worships an evil being, and even if receives dark powers from it, we will take our blades in our hands to resist against it, and use them to pierce through his own flesh. I'll make Savan realise that!” he declared.

― Or so the story went.

“What a joke,” Leo spat out after listening to the warrior monk's report. He bit back his voice as much as he could, but he could not entirely hide his emotions, and his cheeks were shaking from them. “Was that bastard so desperate to attack Guinbar that he had to torch the very people he was supposed to protect? And he dared do it in front of the very messenger sent by the sovereign-prince!”

It was probably as Leo had guessed. Darren had made use of the envoys presence, and had his own subordinates attack the area that he had taken him to visit. And in order to make that attack seem real, he had sacrificed the people of his fief. “That bastard...” Camus' hand trembled with rage as he grasped the crucifix at his chest. “An 'evil god'? He's one to speak. Your Highness, that creature is an enemy to anyone of the faith... to the people of Atall... to all of humanity!”

The reports didn't stop there. Messengers came flying to Leo's side one after another. Every time a new piece of information became known, yet another messenger was sent from Dharam, up until the final report, which arrived in the early morning.

Leo had passed beyond anger, and had now gone as far as to feel fear. He heard that when Darren had first set out, right after the village had been attacked, he had only taken with him the few troops stationed at Olt Rose. If you added the soldiers who served as his guards, they did not amount to more than three hundred men. Yet the closer they got to Guinbar, the more their numbers swelled, until finally they grew into a force of more than two thousand.

Cavalrymen, infantrymen, bowmen, riflemen... the balance was flawless. It was obvious that Darren had prepared his troops beforehand, and had allotted them to areas throughout his domains. When Leo had first learned that Darren was on the move, he had given orders to have fast horses saddled and was going to set off immediately for Guinbar, but the situation had changed far faster than he had expected, and had escalated into something huge.

This was the day when the market would open by the church. Darren would probably attack it as a first step.

Savan would have no way to predict the event, and so his soldiers would be too late when they set out. Or perhaps, since it was obvious that any soldiers he sent out would be pushed back, he might make the conscious choice of abandoning the church. If he did, Leo would not be able to blame him; Savan Roux had a duty to protect the greater number of people in his fief.

Yet Leo Attiel could not remain rational. He had the impression that everything had turned black, and that the darkness was striking him from all sides. He almost fell to his knees.

“Camus... the horses,” Leo gave the order almost unconsciously. His raspy voice sounded like it was being squeeze out from a crack in his throat. “What are you doing? Hurry with the horses. We're going to Guinbar at once!”

“You cannot, Prince.”

Although Camus was about to hurriedly agree, he was stopped by both Stark, who had come flying out of bed that night when he heard the news, and Bernard, who had been watching the whole thing unfold.

“What do you mean, I can't?” Leo demanded loudly while shaking off their hands. “Oh, righ; Bernard, how about your soldiers? Have you gathered plenty? Then, they could go together to Guinbar with... no, we don't need to go that far. First is Dharam. We'll do what he did and torch the villages there. Once he knows that his lands are being burned, he'll be forced to go back. Do it right now!”

“Prince, you cannot,” Stark's voice was every bit as loud as Leo's own.

Leo glared at Stark and Bernard as though he was looking at Darren himself.

“They what are you saying I should do!” He screamed, sounding as if he was about to stamp his foot at any moment. “Haven't things ended up exactly as I said they would? Isn't that right, Bernard? Why couldn't you react sooner to what I said would happen? It's not too late yet! But even so, you won't make a single move, either of you! If you're not going to do anything, at least don't get in the way. Yes, yes, I know; I wouldn't do anything like setting Dharam on fire. I would never become a man like Darren. We're going to Guinbar!”

“I am telling you that you cannot, Prince,” Stark would not back down either. “If what you said is true, Prince, then Darren has already plotted to have you killed before now. What if his soldiers find you along the way? And even if you somehow manage to make it to Guinbar, what will you when you get there?”

“Camus, what are you doing? Horses. Also, armour and...”

“Leo!” Stark's furious voice crashed down on him.

Leo was startled into remaining paralysed. He looked as defenceless as a young child who had been unfairly scolded by his father.

“Did you say 'we'? Certainly, if Your Highness gives a direct order, then, just like Camus over there, there will be many who will gladly go, even though they know they are heading to their deaths. Because they have entrusted their lives to you. Which also means that, yes, of course, you can choose to toss their lives into a waste bin. And that is what you are doing right now.”

“...”

“You look like you want to say: 'But I'm going too.' That too is something you cannot do. If you say that you will go no matter what, then the retainers cannot stay behind. That is true for me, and also for Bernard. And Darren would kill us too. Your Highness, your position as Lord Leo Attiel now means that you will never again be left to act alone. You cannot be left to die alone. That is the fate you received from the gods on the day you were born and received the name 'Attiel', and it is one that you can never escape from.”

Stark's words pierced through Leo's flesh. As he reeled from them, his back hit the wall, and he slowly slid until he was sitting on the ground.

He understood that his actions – no, that his very existence as 'Leo Attiel' – carried the weight of responsibility. Back when he had fought Hayden, so many of the militiamen had given up their lives to form a wall a wall for him, and to allow him to escape alone. Even now, he could not forget that scene.

“Yeah... yes, you're right, Stark. That's right. Your words are true. But then... what can I do? What should I do?”

“Although Your Highness was always warning us, we did not heed your words, and allowed this situation to develop. It is a disgrace for us too,” Stark suddenly crouched down. “Please grant us the opportunity to redeem ourselves, and allow us to take care of this. We will send messengers to Tiwana. I myself will also leave for the capital at once. I will explain the situation to the sovereign-prince, and tell him that we must stop Darren, even if it means assembling an army.”

Too late... Leo spoke to himself in a small voice, his back still against the wall.

Stark called someone at once and started to write the letter that he and Bernard would be jointly signing, yet while that was going on, Leo could only stare up at the ceiling that was still dark and dimly-lit.

Not in time... By the time the sovereign-prince took action, all of Guinbar would already have fallen in flames.

The church... the marketplace. It would be bustling with people doing business. In the tents and at the tables, vendors and buyors would be laughing boisterously, and bargaining hard behind the smiles. Leo had heard from the merchants' guards that when the haggling got too fierce, vendors would break out alcohol to try and ease negotiations. There would also be food carts lined up along the market. He could picture the sight of children, pestering their parents for freshly baked pies and sweets.

Leo took the doll out from his trouser pocket, where he had left it. The simple buttons that had been used for the eyes and nose were already coming off. Would that mother and daughter also be at the market? The little girl had been tongue-tied in front of Leo, but to get her mother to buy her sweets, would she do her very best to bring out all the words and persuasion she could manage, bargaining hard in her own way? – “I'll help you a whole lot. I'll go and draw water from the river even in winter. I'll do the laundry and the cleaning. So please...” – She would definitely be cajoling her mother like that.

They would be attacked. They would be surrounded by flames. Scores of people would die at the market which had been set up on Leo's orders. The church would also be destroyed. “Burn down the evil god's dwelling!” – an image of Darren on horseback flashed through his mind.

Pain struck Leo like a blow. The blood vessels in his temples pounded, and his head throbbed. He felt sick to the stomach.

Where was Darren now? Had he already arrived at Guinbar's market? Or not yet? Or was he already standing next to a pile of corpses, made up of men and women, young and old?

“Damn it,” Leo cried.

Camus, who had been left with nothing to do, turned around, startled and with his face flushing red.

“Shit!”

Leo punched his fist into the wall. And repeated that action again and again.

Darren Actica had pretended to be attacked. That was how he would defend himself to the sovereign-prince. Leo remembered how he himself had pleaded his cause in the same way, resisting Darren with everything he had.

Then what would Sovereign-Prince Magrid say?

It was already decided, anyway.

“I will investigate, so neither of you are to take any kind of action.”

And after that, he wouldn't do anything. The vassal-lords would fall in line with Darren and Magrid.

No doubt about it.

And then, all of them together, would blame everything on Leo. He's dangerous, he'll bring the fires of war to the country... no, one day, he'll destroy the country himself – they would all agree...

“Damn it!” Leo felt like he was going mad.

Bernard's wife, who had gotten up and heard of the situation, was worried about the prince and tried to get him to have breakfast, but Leo wouldn't go with her.

“Leave me alone!” Having even raised his voice against Bernard's wife and child, Leo buried his head in his knees, and sank entirely into his own thoughts.

He couldn't just stay here doing nothing. He couldn't bear it. At the very least...

Right, should I write to Savan and urge him to surrender? Fighting Darren now is hopeless. No – Darren wants to prove above all else that he is more powerful than the House of the sovereign-princes. Then, how about if I go to Darren's camp myself and surrender?

Earlier, Stark had said that Leo might be killed if he was found by Darren's soldiers, but that was only because he was an obstacle to the head of House Actica. If he made it clear that he was personally going right up to Darren's encampment, then he would instead transform into a proof of Darren's power – basically, his existence would have some worth in Darren's eyes.

Leo hated himself for being able to think, almost calmly, about what would happen after the church's surroundings were torched. But even though he was disgusted with himself, he also believed that this was better than not doing anything. Time passed, and noon was already approaching. Yet the sky was still carrying traces of yesterday's rain and was covered in dark clouds, which cast their gloom over the entire area.

Leo sluggishly started to get to his feet. Defeat had cast a dark shadow over his face, and his still childish features seemed to have aged all at once. Camus watched him with concern, and was about to call out to him but, right then, the door leading into the room burst open, and a wind swept in. In the next second, a soldier almost came racing in, almost tumbling in his haste.

Again? Leo thought hazily. Is this more bad news?

Every possible disaster had already happened. Nothing could surprise him now. Nothing could make him despair any further.

Yet even though he had made up his mind to that, when the soldier rushed to kneel before him, the news he brought was utterly unexpected.

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