"It seems you'll have trouble with women."

It was said so suddenly that Orba nearly spat out the mouthful of soup he had just taken. They were within the dining hall of the Fifth Army Corps barracks. The one who had called out to him with a tray in hand was Stan, a man who was shorter than Orba and who was eye-catching because of his width.

He was originally from the coastal countries but various things had apparently happened and the story was that from childhood onwards he had grown up amongst the Zerdian nomads. About five or six years ago, Talcott had been visiting that region and had lured him away to live the life of a mercenary.

"Can you predict that by his looks?" Next to Orba, s.h.i.+que asked with amus.e.m.e.nt. "How can you tell when he has bandages wrapped around his face?"

"As for how, it's more about a glint in the eyes or the surrounding atmosphere. The old woman who brought me up was especially good at it but I only found I could do it myself after I'd left the tribe."

Stan’s face had wrinkles that seemed completely out of place as he was around twenty years old. Because of that, when he was quiet, which was usually the case, his appearance gave a sense of dignity, but when he spoke, he was artless and simple.

"And? What kind of women troubles are we talking about?"

"Well, I could tell if I could see more of his face. Right, there are signs that he has some kind of fate with n.o.blewomen. You should be careful even if you get invited to the bedroom; right now, if you spend the night together with either, it won't be a good thing."

"With either?"

"Stan, what are you doing?" Talcott appeared from behind. Also carrying a tray, he punched Stan in the back. "I told you to get a seat. You don't have time to speak to Mephians."

After he had one-sidedly declared that and given Orba a sidelong glare, the two left.

"n.o.blewomen, is it?" Sitting besides s.h.i.+que, Gilliam gave an uninterested smile as he gnawed at a chicken bone. "If I remember right, either in Tydan or Ba Roux you saved a woman who was being attacked by a dragon in the amphitheatre. From what I heard afterwards, that was Mephius' imperial princess."

"That's not all though. I've told you about Orba, right?"

"You'd have to be crazy to believe that drivel."

Gilliam had heard about Orba being Prince Gil's body double. But as he had been away from Solon during the time Orba spent as a body double, the tale seemed impossible to believe. For a start, he knew from gossip that the masked gladiator Orba was active within the Imperial Guards and that he had won the overall victory at the Founding Festival's gladiatorial games.

"Are you saying that he played the parts of both Orba and Gil?"

With that, he refused to listen to anymore. s.h.i.+que had also half given up.

"If you don't believe it, fine. But don't go telling anyone else."

"I'm not stupid enough to make myself a laughingstock."

It was still early in the evening but Gilliam was drinking wine like it was water. It was three days since they had been hired as mercenaries. With war close at hand, they practised working in files and each one was reviewed as to which weapons and fighting styles they were good with, but even though they were drenched in sweat every day from training, the mercenaries were still wilful.

I came to the wrong place.

It occurred in pa.s.sing to Orba that having to hide his face was inconvenient. Since he had thrown everything away anyway, he should have gone to a land where the prince of Mephius' face was unknown.

"Orba," said s.h.i.+que who seemed to have realised his mood. "I know how you feel; this region's climate and features are just too different from Mephius that it's tough in and of itself. Oh well, once we've had our fill of work here, we can always go somewhere else. How about the coastal countries next time? Have you ever seen the sea, Orba?"

"You're sure take things at your ease." He had intended to feign curtness but couldn't help but smile wryly.

The dining hall was filled to the brim with mercenaries of all origins and ages. But Mephians were rare as Taúlia and Mephius had not had diplomatic relations for over a hundred years. If you went back to the time of Zer Tauran when the city-states currently scattered throughout the west had been united under a single flag, then it was close to two hundred years. During that time, there had been innumerable fights. Things were fine since this was a gathering of mercenaries, but if this had been a hall used by regular soldiers, the circ.u.mstances for Orba and the others would have somewhat different. Even if Governor-General Ax Bazgan had suddenly decided in favour of reconciliation with Mephius, it was not so easy to break the chains of fights and hatred that had acc.u.mulated between both countries over the long years.

"You being you, you must hate not having a plan." His face having now gone red, Gilliam spoke. "You're not particularly interested in the mercenary business, are you? After leaving the Imperial Guards, what were you planning on doing?"

"Well..."

"Well, nothing! From back when we were gladiators, I could never understand what you were thinking. But now it's different from when we were gladiators, we're companions who'll fight shoulder to shoulder. If you were a bit more cooperative..."

"Wah! I never expected to hear something like that coming from you. You're the one who was always getting scolded by Tarkas-dono for causing trouble."

"Shut up!"

While the two were going back and forth, Orba stopped eating and looked up at the dimly-lit ceiling.

How long has it been? He wondered.

Not that much time had pa.s.sed since he left Mephian soil. Two weeks at most. And yet when he remembered all the things that had happened in Mephius, he felt like they were events from a far off past.

n.o.body here other than s.h.i.+que knew of it and if they were told about it, they would probably be like Gilliam and not believe that Orba, once a boy who had been forced into becoming a gladiator who killed for public entertainment, had by some trick of fate become the body double of the Imperial Dynasty of Mephius' Crown Prince Gil Mephius and had fought in this war-torn era.

It happened just after Mephius and the Kingdom of Garbera had made peace at the end of a ten-year war. Princess Vileena Owell was sent from Garbera as a fiancée to be married into Mephius and Orba, wearing the "mask" of Gil, had in Garbera defeated the great general Ryucown who had risen in revolt and in Mephius had foiled the aristocrat Zaat Quark's planned uprising. Furthermore, when Taúlia had crossed over the border and he had only a small number of soldiers to hand, he had prevented their advance by making use of the expectations held by Noue Salzantes, the resourceful Garberan commander who had tempted Zaat into revolt, and had established an agreement for peace between Taúlia's governor-general Ax Bazgan and Gil.

Where these many-sided activities would end, no one knew. Later, when Garbera and Ende had been on the verge of opening hostilities, Gil had ignored Emperor Guhl's orders and had rushed in reinforcement to Garbera.

Just as Gil Mephius' name seemed about to resound throughout the centre of the continent, the prince had suddenly disappeared from the front stage of history. He was a.s.sa.s.sinated by one of Mephius' twelve generals, Oubary Bilan.

… Of course since Orba was right here, this wasn't true. It had been made to look that way as revenge against Oubary Bilan for burning down Orba's home village six years earlier.

Six years.

It could be said that Orba had lived only for revenge against Oubary.

When he had lived on the streets by banding together with hoodlums, when he had been degraded to the status of gladiator and had been forced to live next to live next to death, and when he was suddenly made the crown prince's body double because their appearances were exactly alike.

The black blood that flowed within him, the lines of his muscles that had changed beyond recognition in six years, the opponents he had gone through one by one; all had been solely for the sake of destroying Oubary. In a sense – although he himself would never accept it – those six years had shone. Although dark and repulsive, made of the viscous blood he was so drenched in that he could no longer tell if it was his or that of other people, they had shone.

As proof of that, now that he had achieved his revenge against Oubary, he had lost his aim in life.

Even acting as a body double had only been a way to get close to Oubary and thus get his revenge. And so, it was no longer necessary to wear the "mask" of Mephius' crown prince. For the double purpose of throwing Oubary down into the bowels of the earth and of making the prince disappear, Orba had set up Gil Mephius' a.s.sa.s.sination.

It had been two weeks since then.

Although somehow or another Orba had left with s.h.i.+que and Gilliam when they had gone west to become mercenaries, as Gilliam said, it wasn't something that he himself had truly wanted.

Now, after so long.

If he became a soldier, who would he have to kill, what would he gain by it? Taking up the sword was troublesome. But Orba didn't know any other way to survive. In this short period of time, Orba had come to realise that he truly couldn't do anything except hold a sword. This was because no other way of living into the future had occurred to him.

Taúlia, or rather the entire region of Tauran, was nearing a crisis because of the troops of a mysterious sorcerer who called himself Garda. That rumour had been going around from since when Orba was the prince's body double. At that time, his existence had been no more than unidentified threat that had appeared in the north, but now the troops would soon be approaching Taúlia.

Am I fascinated because I still want to be a hero? Officially enter into service in Taúlia then go up in the world by accomplis.h.i.+ng one feat after another?

Like the dream he had imagined in his childhood of becoming successful through nothing but his sword... Although that was a plan for the future, Orba didn't feel any more cheerful.

"You're a thoroughly strange guy." Said Gilliam.

"What?"

"Even back when we were gladiators, you didn't have such gloomy eyes as now. Or rather, it's now that you look as though you're in despair because your freedom has been s.n.a.t.c.hed away. When you're around, liquor loses its taste. Hurry up and go back to the room, Boy."

"I'll do that."

Just as he had roughly flung those words over his shoulder and was about to get up,

"Were you the one who beat Adelber in a sword fight?"

Bouwen.

As Bouwen Tedos, the commander of the Fifth Army Corps called out to him, his immediate reaction was to want to turn his face away. He had met him when he wore the "mask" of Prince Gil.

"That's him, general."

As s.h.i.+que and the others were about to respectfully get to their feet, Bouwen stopped them with sign of his hand. Among the six soldiers present there, the only one who was legitimately a "general" was Bouwen. Although young, his bearing gave a feeling of dignity.

"I see. I really can't tell what his face looks like at all. Is what is under those bandages really so awful?"

"I was disfigured in an epidemic when I was child."

"Let me see. Even just a little is fine."

"..."

"What is it?"

Though he asked his question calmly, Bouwen's eyes were as sharp as a hawk's.

Refuse and he'll suspect me of being an enemy spy or something.

Orba felt intuitively. A mercenary who wouldn't show his face was certainly suspicious. As s.h.i.+que and Gilliam watched silently on, Orba raised his hands to his bandages. As he was untying them,

"Ah, it's fine. My apologies." Bouwen stopped him with an upraised hand. Orba redid the bandage without saying a word. s.h.i.+que had smeared the bandages with some suspicious medicine he had bought that dyed the skin red. Bouwen seemed to have seen it at a glance.

"Still, you certainly seem a bit frail for the battlefield. You said your name was...o...b..? You remind me of that Mephian gladiator. It would be spot on if you wore a mask."

After cheerfully adding "I'll treat you," he headed towards the kitchen. Meals here were basically free but if they paid out of their own pocket, they could get larger portions and buy alcohol.

"Hmm, quite a worthy person," s.h.i.+que chuckled. "Orba, don't you think the impression is different from when you met him as the crown prince?"

"Maybe."

A new figure came racing in. He was an armed soldier who wore the uniform of the castle's Interior Guards. He stopped when he recognised Orba and the others.

"Oh, are you the Mephians who were hired as mercenaries?" He asked and went up to them.

Upon hearing 'Mephians', Gilliam grimaced. As they were former enemies of the Taúlians, had the soldier come here to pick some sort of fight or perhaps because of their past of being worked as slaves? Either way, he didn't want to be labelled as being a Mephian. Standing in, s.h.i.+que asked,

"Do you need us?"

"No, that's – Ah, General Bouwen."

"What's going on?"

The soldier stood to attention as the general returned with a bottle of wine. And spoke a name that n.o.body there was expecting,

"N-No. It's Lady Esmena."

"The princess?"

"Yes. When she heard that Mephians had come, the princess said that she absolutely wanted to meet them."

"Wh-Why?"

"I was not given a reason. But, it is unusual for the princess to so actively request that something be done. Furthermore, as Lady Esmena has shut herself in her room these past several days, I wanted if possible to grant her wish."

"Mephius, is it?" For some reason, Bouwen bitterly chewed the edge of his lips. "But are you calling mercenaries before you when that is the only point they have in common?"

"Er?"

"No, it's fine. Well, how about it? Our country's Princess Esmena wants to meet you."

"We are after all but former sword slaves. To meet such an exalted person face-to-face..." s.h.i.+que was about to refuse when,

"If we're talking about exalted people, didn't we serve as Imperial Guards to Mephius' crown prince?" Gilliam joined in from the side. He judged that this was a valuable opportunity.

I-Idiot!

While s.h.i.+que glared at him, Bouwen opened his eyes wide.

"What? Imperial Guards?"

"N-No. It was only temporary." s.h.i.+que covered up without a moment's delay. "We were once taken up by the prince and took part in the battle at Garbera's Zaim Fortress. After being given a reward, we immediately left Mephius, so we couldn't possibly call ourselves Imperial Guards."

Bouwen appeared plunged in thought for a short moment then,

"I get it. Hey, show them the way."

"Yes, Sir." The soldier respectfully obeyed. And so before they knew it, Orba and the others' wishes no longer seemed to matter.

Esmena?

That name flitted through Orba's mind. She was the daughter of Ax Bazgan, the governor-general of Taúlia. Furthermore, she had two or three times met Prince Gil face-to-face.

He should have already let go of his past as Gil. And yet, he felt strangely sentimental.

I knew it, I came to the wrong place.

"Hey, it turned out to be true," Gilliam said in a low voice as they were leaving. "That man's prediction. He said you had a fate involving n.o.blewomen."

"Properly speaking," the soldier reminded them at length, "outsiders cannot be brought to the princess' residence without the lord's permission. This is a special case."

Pus.h.i.+ng aside a hanging curtain and continuing down a corridor, they arrived at a section that was detached from the main building. There were figures on either side of the path that the mercenaries walked along. But although they certainly noticed Orba's decidedly strange appearance, they didn't obstruct them in any way.

"Princess, I've brought them. The mercenaries who have come from Mephius."

The princess' living room was much simpler than he had expected. When Esmena Bazgan appeared through a door that seemed to lead into her bedroom, a stinging pain stabbed at Orba's chest.

She's grown thinner, was the first thing he thought upon seeing the girl he hadn't met in about a month. Her full cheeks were sunken in, her eyes that should have been sparkling with curiosity were clouded, and her skin had turned paler.

The three of them bowed. On the way there, s.h.i.+que had tied his hair up high. He had previously performed a sword dance in front of Esmena. As at the time he had worn make-up like in his gladiator days, just by changing his hairstyle, the impression he gave now should be completely different. With that, he would avoid any in-depth scrutiny.

"Thank you for taking the trouble to come here." The girl smiled but somehow seemed to have no energy.

The sunny room was always warm and pleasant, but because of the shutters, that atmosphere had completely disappeared.

"Please make yourselves comfortable. Have you finished your meal? I can have my ladies' maids prepare something."

"Please don't go to any trouble over us." s.h.i.+que answered first so that Gilliam wouldn't be able to say "Some alcohol".

When the soldier who had guided them added "They seem to have been Imperial Guards to the crown prince," Esmena's expression changed.

"Then you have met His Highness Gil?" She asked enthusiastically.

From that moment, Esmena bombarded the mercenaries with questions. As long as it concerned the crown prince, she was curious about even the most trivial detail. The one who mostly dealt with this was of course s.h.i.+que. Esmena listened with rapt attention, wearing the expression of a little girl whose mother was telling her one-by-one the heroic tales of Gil Mephius. The one which made an especially deep impression on her was the story of how the prince had saved the sword slaves from execution when they were falsely accused of having instigated the uproar at Seirin Valley,

"Ah, what a kind person..."

"Indeed. As he was a man of few words, misunderstandings occasionally arose around him, but he was a truly benevolent person."

"I know. He did not go about like a great hero with many feats of arms to his name but was a kind person with a somewhat bashful smile. I too received kind words from him."

She was about to nod smilingly when Esmena's expression suddenly clouded over. She lowered her eyes which had been so full of life a moment ago and her shoulders drooped dejectedly. Her long hair hung down on either side of her face and she looked for all the world like a puppet who had lost its strings.

"P-Princess, Princess."

The ladies' maids who took care of her rushed towards her. While she was being held by the shoulders, Esmena wiped her eyes.

"I'm alright. Yes, thank you." As the ladies' maids stepped back, Esmena gave a poor, weak smile. "I was praying to the Dragon G.o.ds all along. That that lord couldn't be dead. Surely he was alive and would appear before me. While I was listening to your stories, I thought it was a somewhat childish wish. No, but I believe it. That that lord has surely hidden himself in order to accomplish great deeds somewhere..."

What had interrupted Esmena's words was that she had heard stifled laughter, completely unsuited to the situation. Startled, s.h.i.+que and Gilliam turned around. The quiet laughter was coming from Orba who had turned his face downwards. Esmena was taken aback,

"W-What is so funny?"

"Isn't this supposed to be funny? That Prince Gil is alive? He died. At Apta, through a trick of that foolish general, Oubary."

"I-I have heard so. But that lord..."

"No, wasn't that prince equally foolish? Since he wasn't able to see through his va.s.sal's betrayal? As for his being a great hero, let me humbly say that the princess overestimates him."

"O-Orba,"

Ignoring s.h.i.+que's whispered words, Orba continued,

"And the prince won't have rescued the slaves because he was kind or anything. Or rather, that's just nonsense. He looked down on slaves and their lives were nothing to him; they were bugs who had happened to land on his arm and because by chance he was in a good mood that day, he brushed them off without crus.h.i.+ng them. He just did it on that kind of whim."

"Y-You..."

Gasping for breath, Esmena tried to stand up. But it had been a long time since she had put all her strength into her legs and she became dizzy from standing up too fast. She unconsciously shook off the hands of the ladies' maids who were reaching out to support her,

"Y-You are also one of those whom the prince saved. That you should so disdainfully..."

"I hate him. That man known as Mephius' Crown Prince, Gil Mephius. That sly, secretive sophist never showed anyone his inner heart and thoughts. He always seemed to be carrying some shady secret. Begging your pardon, but what does the princess know about the crown prince? He doesn't deserve a single one of your tears. That kind of man should just be forgotten."

"Y-You... You!"

The ladies' maids were astounded to the core when Esmena grabbed a vase from the table top and threw it with all her strength at Orba.

The vase shattered with a loud crash.

"Princess!"

"Y-You hateful person! Leave, get out of here right now. O-One as insolent as you will no longer be tolerated in Esmena Bazgan's chambers!"

"Princess, Princess. This is bad for your health. Please, please calm yourself. Oh Millie, please call the doctor."

"There is nothing wrong with me! This person is... This. Person is...!"

Esmena's face was flushed so red it was hard to believe that it had been so pale just a moment earlier, and her steel grey eyes that had been blurred with tears now burned in anger.

"Honestly, what a difficult princess. Because you said to tell you about Gil, I spoke honestly..."

"Orba, you stop it too! Alright, this way."

s.h.i.+que rushed to escape from the room which had suddenly erupted into noise. The guards at the door were standing open-mouthed.

"What is it that made the princess raise her voice like that?"

"Just a little excitement. Right, let's go, Orba. It's past curfew and we'll be getting a good scolding from the Head of Barracks."

After the three Mephians had hurriedly left, Esmena clung to one of her maids and wept loudly. While tightly hugging her shoulders, the ladies' maids exchanged glances,

At last,

At last, she is crying.

During the time Esmena had secluded herself in her room, she had sat alone without crying, nor of course without laughing. Not eating properly, barely moving within the room, she had seemed to become part of the furniture. Since Esmena always lavished her smiles on everyone without discrimination, when its mistress' heart appeared to have died, it felt as though the room itself had lost its liveliness and had been cast under an ominous shadow, and it had been heart-breaking for the ladies' maids who looked after her.

But now, Esmena's feelings had erupted and she was crying like a baby.

As they held her shoulders and rubbed her back, the ladies' maids also let their tears flow.

"You really are an absolute idiot!"

Gilliam gave Orba's shoulders a shove. Walking in front of him, Orba staggered but continued on without turning around.

"If the princess had remembered us favourably and if we'd stood out during the coming campaign, we would've gotten a much better offer than being mere mercenaries. s.h.i.+que, it was a mistake to invite this guy along as a companion. Cut ties with him right now!"

"Stop screaming complaints, shut up."

"What? Then before cutting ties, how about I cut you through the neck?"

"Now, now. As for the princess remembering us favourably – Gilliam, you were so tense you didn't speak a single word. If you had stayed there any longer you would have suffocated."

"S-Shut up!"

"Orba," s.h.i.+que called out to Orba from behind in a changed tone of voice. Orba merely turned his head around. "You, to Princess Esmena..."

"What?"

"Ah, no. Nothing."

Orba frowned suspiciously but then immediately turned back around.

While observing the boy's back, s.h.i.+que wondered about something.

Seeing Princess Esmena's emaciated form, then seeing how she happily lost herself in listening to stories about the prince, of course Orba wouldn't be able to remain indifferent.

Orba might have been superimposing someone's else's image on top of hers, thought s.h.i.+que.

In Taúlia once the sun went down, the day's heat dissipated surprisingly quickly and although the places were the same as they were at noon, they became unpleasantly chilly. On either side of the street, shops offering food and drink had started to hang up their lights.

Gilliam continued to complain for a long time.

At about the same time, Ax called his various commanding officers for a conference.

The formation of the reinforcements to Helio had finally been confirmed. The one who would be leading them was Bouwen Tedos. The mercenary force attached to the Fifth Army Corps would also be travelling with them.

"Although Helio is preparing to borrow reinforcements from all over, its political situation is unstable," said Ax. Bouwen stood to attention as he received his orders. "It's so brittle that it could collapse all at once if so much as a seam gets torn. Don't make any mistakes in reading the situation, Bouwen. If you need to retreat, retreat. This isn't yet the time to fight to the bitter end."

"Yes, Sir."

It was the first time Bouwen was appointed commander of as many as about six hundred soldiers. His young face was flushed and it seemed that within his breast, the drums of war were already resounding.

After the commanders had left, Ax's hand reached for his waist then stopped. When he was excited, it was his long-time habit to bang the war fan that hung at his waist against the palm of his hand.

"Now," Ax growled with an expression as ferocious as though the enemy were before his eyes while the strategist Ravan waited within the room. "That d.a.m.n impostor pretending to be Garda. Even if he can deceive the other kings, he can't deceive me. I'll definitely tear off his mask."

Ravan didn't reply. On the table which had been used for the council of war were letters which had been received from each of the city-states. Requests for reinforcements and calls for a joint struggle – each country was taking steps against Garda's army. But among them, there was still no word from Cherik.

It was nine days since Orba had become a mercenary of Taúlia.

The troops under Bouwen's command left through the city's gate. Among them were of the mercenary forces which had been provided by the army with complete sets of armour and weapons.

They travelled along the main road which had been maintained since the time of the former Zer Tauran and advanced straight towards Helio in the northwest. Because in the Tauran region there was no other way of acquiring ether than to buy it from the coastal countries, there were few aviation units. On this occasion, Taúlia had not sent any carriers and though they were bringing along eight airs.h.i.+ps, these had been disa.s.sembled for the march and were transported by medium-sized dragons. It was the same for the cannons.

Marching together, it would take the soldiers four days to reach Helio. When night fell, they unfolded tents and set up camp along the side of the road.

While the soldiers gathered around the open fires and pa.s.sed the time gambling, Orba silently sat with his back to a tree trunk. Happening to pa.s.s by him, Talcott jokingly said,

"Oh, Mr. Bandaged-swordsman-turned-masked-swordsman. You seem confident with a sword but how about this?"

He showed a pack of cards but Orba ignored him again. With a "Tsk", Talcott grimaced and left. Orba didn't have any special loathing for Talcott but he didn't feel like chatting idly with him either.

Incidentally, Orba was currently wearing a mask that he had received from Duncan. The mask concealed him from above his eyes down to his nose. The area around his mouth was wider than the tiger mask that Orba had worn before – or rather, than the cursed magical mask he had been made to wear.

To the side of the road were the ruins of a small fort. It no doubt dated back from the former Zer Tauran and as its interior was still just about divided by ceilings and walls, the officers were using it as their billet. He guessed that it dated back to the former Zer Tauran not because of the building's age, but first and foremost because nowadays it would be impossible to build a castle or a fortress by the side of the main road in the Tauran region.

…... "Oh, why is that?"

Back when he was the Crown Prince of Mephius, he had investigated the matter in depth by having Dinn, his page, show off his considerable erudition. Dinn had proudly lectured him,

"That's because the public roads from the Zer Tauran era have become trade routes with the coastal countries. The Tauran region has little contact with outside countries, so if these were cut off, it would be an issue of life or death."

"Take for example Taúlia, which is the furthest from the coast. If an enemy country blockaded the trade route, it would be at a clear strategic advantage, no?"

"Yes, but they have a common awareness that they were originally a single country. A foreigner might think it strange but even if up until yesterday they had done nothing but fight and wash blood with blood, if an attack came from the outside, they would come together as one to push it back – that is exactly what happened with our Mephius – because even though they quarrel, they have an especially strong sense of being compatriots."

"I see. If cutting off trade starts being used as a valid tactic somewhere, the other city-states would also do the same. And then the whole of the Tauran region would weaken and then starve. Does the tacit agreement about protecting the trade routes also make it easier in case of foreign invasions?"

"That's right."

Orba mentioned something he had read earlier and Dinn, slightly offended at having been robbed of a rare chance to show off his knowledge, had continued,

"But rather than a tacit agreement, you could call it their absolute taboo. It is said that the roads received the blessing of the Dragon G.o.ds who were wors.h.i.+pped during the Zer Tauran era and if you attack a caravan travelling along them or install a blockade, you will simultaneously be attacked by all the other countries. In addition, it is the duty of each country with jurisdiction over the roads to protect caravans from bandits."

Still,

It didn't change the fact that the western Tauran region was fundamentally a world where only the fittest survived. It wasn't rare for a country's royal bloodline to be replaced within one or two generations or even for a thief to become king. How long would those unwritten laws continue to function? A story had it that when Mephius attacked Taúlia ten years ago, Ravan Dol had issued a written appeal and had somehow rallied the other countries even though they had by no means been inclined to do anything.

It had been a long time since the Tauran region had lost its king. It might be that in this land, the laws and authority of the Zer Tauran era had already faded away.

"What are you thinking about?"

When a voice called out to him, he raised his head and near him was the man named Stan. Without asking for Orba's permission, with a "Heigh-ho", he sat down next to him. From this close, his arms and legs looked short but as thick as logs.

"Here," he held out a small bottle towards...o...b... He was about to raise his hand to refuse it but, "It's not alcohol," said Stan. "It's honey. It's pretty rare around here. I won yesterday at gambling."

Normally Orba would have ignored him but contrary to his stern appearance, this man named Stan was unusually friendly. Because he didn't push it any further, Orba for no particular reason took the bottle, scooped a finger in the honey and licked it off.

With a grin, Stan did the same. His always thin eyes narrowed even further when he smiled.

"Still, every time I see it, it's a very strange face."

"You can tell even though I'm wearing a mask?"

"In my case, it shows me a "colour". Hmm, I can't give you a full explanation but, ah, something like, this person is this colour so they have this personality maybe, this person sometimes looks blue so something bad is definitely going to happen soon, something like that."

"That's just normal intuition, right?" Orba said curtly. Stan was unruffled.

"But it's not something to take lightly. On the battlefield for example, I never go near a man who looks blue. Because that means that something bad is going to happen to him and in a battle, that probably means he's going to die. And in fact there's a very good chance that he won't come back. That's how I've survived on the battlefield. I'm not very skilled, you know."

"You said that you were brought up by nomads?"

Something had changed suddenly in Orba's heart. Since leaving Mephius, it was rare for him to take an interest in anything.

"Does everyone among the Taúlian nomads hold an ability like that?"

"No way," Stan smiled as he licked another fingerful of honey. "They're not different from ordinary people who live in cities."

"What about, say, those who are incredibly good at handling dragons? Those that can calm an angry dragon just by touching it with their hand. They can hear the dragon's "voice" or something like that."

"What's that?"

"If you don't know, don't worry about it."

At the opposite of Stan whose curiosity had been aroused, Orba turned away, having apparently lost interest. "That's a really specific story. A dragon's "voice", hmm? If it's the people from the Barbarian village, that kind of thing seems possible."

"Barbarian?"

Yes, nodded Stan and continued,

"North of Helio there's Lake Kurán. It's said that there is a legendary village there. And it's said that from ancient times, even further back than the Zer Tauran era, the people there have wors.h.i.+pped the Dragon G.o.ds. Since before humanity, before our ancestors arrived here from s.p.a.ce... Basically, the people of that tribe are said to be the original inhabitants of this planet."

"There's also that theory that the Ryuujin tribe is the degenerated form of the Dragon G.o.ds."

"Oh? I'll leave that kind of complicated discussion to scholars but in any case, those original inhabitants lost the war with humanity and disappeared, but it seems that they settled down in that Barbarian village."

"There are many adventurers and explorers wandering around looking for survivors of the Ryuujin Tribe. So there should be plenty of people who have come to hear about that legend. It's hard to believe that it's never been found up until now."

"That's the thing. The Zerdians hardly ever go near Lake Kurán. Tales from the Zer Tauran era say that it's the land of the Dragon G.o.ds. So you could say that it's a sacred place for the Zerdians. A long, long time ago, a general – or was it a king? – aiming for the east-side of the Tauran region thought that it was convenient since no Zerdian would approach it and built a fortress there and controlled the entire area around the lake. Apparently, he was going to make it his advance base for capturing Tauran. But before long, that fortress disappeared as though it had been a dream. It wasn't burned down or attacked by surprise either, it truly just vanished without a trace."

"Oh?"

"Garda," Stan paused for a moment, "I don't know if it the same person as the one we're going to fight but the Garda I'm talking about was a priest of the Dragon G.o.ds faith at the time of Zer Tauran. It's said that once a year, that Garda would perform a consecration at the temple of Zer Illias, well, you could call it a special sacrifice, during which he selected about a hundred people and sank them into the lake."

Orba was by no means superst.i.tious but for some reason the wind that gently brushed against his skin felt unsettling.

"That reminds me, it's just a legend but I have a feeling there were beings known as Dragon Priestesses among the Barbarians. But I don't know if they're the same as the people who can hear a dragon's "voice" that you were talking about."

"I see."

After that, Stan talked about how a river that took its source in Lake Kurán had become the water of life for the people of Helio. For them as Zerdians, receiving that blessing from the sacred land of Kurán was a form of pride. While listening to the various legends, Orba glanced around his surroundings.

The swords and spears which had been left all over, leaning against rocks or on the ground, gave off a pale metallic light by the flames of the fires. There was the incessant sound of words spoken in the strong western accent. The slightly b.e.s.t.i.a.l smell characteristic of when men were gathered together reminded Orba of his days as a gladiator. Then, Talcott's voice could be heard in what sounded like a scream,

"Uh-oh," Stan stood up. "You're being made a sucker of again, Brother. He's got a good head but he is a bit quick-tempered. I'll be off."

Once Stan had left, Orba pulled the blanket he had been rationed with around his shoulders and settled down to sleep. The feel of his mask against the ground was incredibly depressing.

When he closed his eyes, Esmena Bazgan's haggard smile floated across the darkness behind his eyelids. It promptly overlapped with someone else's and Orba was unable to calm his feelings.

I should go somewhere further away, he thought.

To a land where no one knew of Orba or knew the crown prince's face, and where he knew no one. A land where the names of the people he knew, of the countries he knew, would never reach his ears.

The troops travelled north along the Belgana Summits. The plains spreading east of the Belganas were dotted with villages belonging to no country and were also a neutral area and a border with Mephius. A fort was built in the peaks and kept a lookout on east and south, defending the border from anyone who tried to break through the mountains.

As the peaks gradually grew lower, Helio's outer walls came into sight. A column of ornately decorated riders awaited them before the gate. Bouwen sent a messenger on horseback and permission was soon granted for all of Taúlia's accompanying troops to enter into Helio.

The people lining the streets cheered with joy as the reinforcements arrived.

"So Ax, have you finally lifted your heavy backside?"

Said a person watching the scene from the top of a tower. The tall, lean figure smoothed back his hair and arranged his moustache. At first glance, he looked like a fop, but his entire body radiated the energy of a beast in the field. Unusually for the west, he lightly wore formal clothes over the armour that completely covered his limbs.

"That's a pretty good size too. Did you panic upon realising that if this place fell, you were next? Well never mind, we'll give you the heartiest of receptions."

Although he spoke as haughtily as the king, he was not originally from Helio. His name was Greygun and he was a mercenary commander from the allied country of Cherik. After running rampant through the battlefield, killing enemies and raping women, he would subjugate allied villages by force if necessary and wilfully set up base there. Such was the fame of Greygun, leader of the "Red Hawks" mercenary band.

However, his excesses having crossed the line, he had quarrelled with King Yamka II and been banished from Cherik. On that occasion, he had taken away not only his own band but also a great many soldiers from Cherik's regular army, so that all told, he had left the country accompanied by over seven hundred soldiers.

Naturally with that many soldiers to feed, there was a need to immediately be hired by some other country. Luckily for him, the entire Tauran region was in the middle of an invasion by Garda's forces and countries everywhere wanted strong military units. Thus Greygun came here, to Helio.

With the total annihilation of the reinforcements sent to Eimen followed by a civil war, Helio had very few regular soldiers left and Jallah, who had only just become king, unhesitatingly welcomed Greygun's forces and promised them high rewards.

From then on, Greygun had all but taken on the entire managing of military affairs. His men's behaviour also seemed to say that this town was already theirs.

It was said of Greygun that he was originally an orphan born from the womb of a prost.i.tute who had been worn to the bone on the battlefields. When he drank, he always said, in a tone that mingled conceit and self-mockery at his own birth,

"I'm a man who was born on a battlefield and who will die on a battlefield."

Such was the man who, while looking down on Taúlia's marching troops from a tower window, asked the man who was waiting behind him,

"When do you judge that Garda's forces will act?"

Like the desert people, this man wore a cloth over his head that was fixed in place by a ring. Though his features were finely chiselled, he was as thin as though wasted away by disease.

"We will act in a week's time." His rough voice resembled the menacing noise of a desert snake on the prowl.

"Indeed?" Greygun spat on one of his fingers then used it to smooth his moustache. "Those d.a.m.n Taúlians still put on airs as the rightful descendants of Zer Tauran, but will their mouldy old pride be of any use to them in battle? I'll be sure to watch on."