Tales of Leo Attiel ~Portrait of the Headless Prince~

Volume 2, Chapter 3: Sword and Mask

Part 1

Just as Leo had explained to Percy and the others, the construction of a church and the prince’s religious conversion were, for now, being kept hidden. The official reason was that “it’s best to wait for a good opportunity to advertise these facts.”

Sovereign-Prince Magrid looked sullen and grim again as he worried that the vassal-lords would once again denounce the way he ‘acted without taking advice’. However –

“Isn’t it fine to ostensibly be preparing a place to hold the wedding ceremony?” said Leo, looking unruffled. “First of all, it’s not even a lie. And then, it goes without saying that the vassal-lords fear Allion. If you emphasise the fact that we are holding the ceremony on a large scale in order to mend the relationship with Allion, they won’t utter a word of criticism.”

After obliquely conveying the information that Savan’s quarries had come under attack from marauders, Leo further added:

“Sir Savan is having to move soldiers away from defending the western border. Father, you should send some guards in your name as ruler... Oh no, it doesn’t need to be any great number. The point is simply to make it known that this is His Majesty’s edict,” he sounded out his father.

Sovereign-prince Magrid could not conceal his surprise at the way Leo was giving out opinions one after another. When he further insisted on taking command of those soldiers, Magrid stared fixedly at his son’s face. Still, since it was a purely nominal position, he gave his permission. After all, once Leo got married and set up a family, he would need to provide him with a suitable territory, or perhaps with an official position within the palace. So it wasn’t a bad thing to have him undertake various tasks from here on.

“Up until I sent him to Allion, I thought he was such a quiet and docile son.” Magrid smiled wryly to his oldest son, Branton, after Leo had finished giving his opinion and left the room. “But why is it? It’s been nothing but surprises from him ever since the banquet.”

“Leo has obviously inherited the blood of the House of Attiel.”

“There’s that but... Seeing him change so much is a bit terrifying. Let’s hope the boy hasn’t received a bad education in Allion,” Magrid passed off his concern as a joke.

Leo Attiel was provided with soldiers from the Royal Guards, which were the military troops under the sovereign-prince’s direct command. All of them were of aristocratic lineage, but although they were all children of the nobility, most of them were second or youngest sons, who would inherit neither land nor title. Since Percy fulfilled that condition, and given also that he hoped to make his way through the military, his father had, as a matter of fact, recommended that he enlist into the Royal Guards.

However, as Percy explained to Leo, “I wanted to stand on the battlefield more than anything, and to earn glory through my own achievements.” And when the Royal Guards took to the battlefield, they were given very few opportunities to perform anything of merit.

Leo had been given twenty cavalrymen. Since each of these was accompanied by five retainers acting as infantrymen, the total number of troops came out at more than a hundred. Along with Leo and the familiar faces that were Percy, Kuon and Camus, the troops left the capital.

Given that it was a military departure involving the Royal Guards, Sarah was unable to join them this time. Camus had been worrying about how to persuade his tomboy little sister, but unexpectedly, she had readily backed down.

“Got it. It wouldn’t look good for a nun to be included when Lord Leo is leading military troops for the first time. I’ll behave myself. I’ve been able to make a few friends in Tiwana, so I won’t be bored.”

Leo’s group made it to the highway without any problems. As it was a military force, Leo was naturally wearing armour and a helmet. Although, since his build was not suited to massive armour, the equipment was light. It was the first time Leo had experienced arming himself and riding his horse forward, followed by soldiers. He turned to Camus, who was next to him and who was cautiously surveying their surroundings.

“Does it suit me, Camus?” he asked.

“Of course,” Camus nodded deeply.

This large warrior monk already held certain hopes and expectations of Leo. The air drifting around him was like that of a warrior who would still be serving the prince ten years from now.

“I’ll gallop on to survey what’s ahead,” he sprang his horse forward.

It had not even been an hour since they had left Tiwana. Besides which, it seemed unlikely that anyone was going to aim for the prince’s life on the well-maintained highway. Still, it seemed very much like him to be restless.

“That’s Camus, but what do you think, Kuon?” Leo turned towards the person who was riding on the other side of him. Percy, who was behind them, stifled a chuckle at the sight of Kuon’s startled face.

Among them, Kuon was the only one who was younger than Leo. Even though he had accompanied him several times already, he had never spoken with Leo directly up until then. Percy and Camus wanted to protect the country and the temple and, aware that the prince shared that desire, they could not help but feel a more than average interest in his actions, and hold certain hopes of him. On the other hand, Kuon, who had left his birthplace behind him, did not share that sense of purpose. Fundamentally, he couldn’t care less about what the prince was going to do, and on top of that, he had been under the impression from the very start that the prince couldn’t possibly be interested in a country-bred mercenary like him. Which was why the boy was so unexpectedly flustered when Leo spoke directly to him.

“E-Er, well, what Camus said... er, no, that which he said... is, er, correct...” he replied stutteringly.

Leo gave a soft laugh. His tone, however, was harsh.

“There was no conviction in those words. If you don’t speak honestly, I’ll have you punished.”

Kuon looked around him, searching for help, but Percy deliberately pretended not to notice.

“T-Then, if I have to say it honestly...”

“Hmm.”

“Y-You’re too skinny, Prince, so... it, really, doesn’t suit you... at all. There are women where I’m from, who fight with bows and guns, and t-they’re much... more masculine.”

“Go on.”

“You should... throw back, your shoulders more. And then, when you’re riding your horse, you should throw out your chest more, like a general, and put your chin up... then you’d look more like it.”

“L-Like this?”

“That’s too far. Your neck has to be straight and you have look ahead.”

In short, Leo was messing about. Even so, he felt considerable interest in the boy called Kuon. Percy had talked with the prince several times about the battles that had taken place around the temple, so he was curious about the characters who appeared in those tales.

When it came to Kuon, however, there were still many things that Percy did not know about him. Percy wished to protect his country, Camus and Sarah wanted to protect the temple; but then, for what purpose was Kuon fighting? If he merely wanted to earn his daily income, there should be plenty of other work available. And he did not seem to be the calculating sort, who would get close to the prince in the hopes that it would prove profitable for him later.

Regardless of whatever youthful thoughts they held, the party entered Savan’s fief a few days later. The vassal-lord's main castle simply took its name from the territory and was known as Guinbar Castle.

Savan came out in person to greet the prince’s party. Rumour seemed to have spread throughout the district that the second prince of the House of Attiel had come from Tiwana, so there was a crowd of people outside the citadel's walls, watching curiously and cheering in welcome.

“Tsk,” Percy easily guessed why Camus clicked his tongue with a glum expression. After all, even the sharp-eyed Kuon looked stunned.

Sarah, disguised as a town girl, was mixed in among the populace that were waving their hands. Looking amused, she blew a kiss towards Percy and her older brother, who had turned their gazes her way.

Now then, Leo was supposed to stay at Guinbar’s castle, but no sooner had he arrived than he gave Savan a strange order.

“Please prepare five hundred sets of armour, spears and swords. I’d like them to be ready as quickly as possible.”

Savan was bewildered. When he asked the reason for needing them, Leo replied that it was:

“To enhance the prestige of the baptismal ceremony.”

Given that the church hadn’t even been built yet, Savan felt that he was really getting ahead of himself, but considering that Lord Leo was Guinbar’s lifeline, he could not refuse him.

In parallel to that, Leo started travelling around the villages exactly as though he was inspecting his own territory. Percy, Kuon and the others escorted him to guard him. Incidentally, just like last time, Camus was following up on the connections between the few adherents of the Cross Faith to find builders with experience in constructing churches, so once they had reached Guinbar, he had immediately left castle again to go meet with them.

When Leo found any solidly-built young men in the villages, he would send one of the soldiers or pages that Savan had put at his disposal and have them brought to him, with the words: “you’ve caught the prince’s eye. Won’t you come and listen to what he wishes to say to you?”

While the youths' expressions went tense from suddenly being summoned before a nobleman, Leo asked them, “would you carry a spear for my sake?”

He explained that in order to confer dignity to his baptismal ceremony, he wished to be accompanied by five hundred young men in full armour. A small sum of money would also be paid out to them, so they unhesitatingly jumped at the offer.

The numbers increased in no time at all, and Percy Leegan, who was accompanying Leo, suggested sifting through them. He proposed that the criteria be that they had brothers, and that they were single. Upon hearing that, Leo simply said, “I see,” and lowered his eyes.

Even with Percy’s stipulated conditions, they somehow gathered together five hundred young men, and Leo had them summoned several times for Percy to teach them some basic military skills.

“Even though I told you that I simply need soldiers for the prestige, it would be a problem if you were simply there as ornaments. If you have the mettle to kill enemies with your spears, then that will come through even when you stand still, and make you look more impressive. On the other hand, if you don’t have that fighting spirit, it will be obvious that you’re complete amateurs, and you’ll become a laughing stock,” Leo argued to persuade the young men.

At first, Percy took on the role of instructor, but when they were given spears to hold, it became apparent that some of them already had some technique. Some of them had even had practical experience manning fortresses as soldiers, so once Leo and the others had identified those, they immediately promoted them to platoon leaders, and left them the task of organising and training their own units.

A strange thing to do, thought Savan, but he did not pay it any more attention than necessary. It was a truly childish way of thinking to want to demonstrate his own authority through a ceremony, but then, this was the prince who had advocated reorganising the army until he had been scolded by his own father. And it was equally indicative of childishness that he wanted to implement his ideals among his entourage, even if it was only on a very small scale.

When he learned that scores of stone-cutters and labourers had been sent to Guinbar’s craggy mountains, Darren was in the middle of entertaining himself, his compliant retainers, and his sons, with a hunt.

Hunting was an aristocratic pastime, which also served to temper and forge body and mind, and Darren was therefore proud that his domains boasted any number of good hunting grounds. The only thing that was unobtainable to him without buying it from another territory, however, was stone with which to build a castle.

Which was why he had his eyes on Savan’s lands, to the west. Yet not only had Savan flatly refused Darren’s suggestion of shared ownership of the quarries, he had even attempted to appeal directly to the sovereign-prince. Fortunately, even the nobles who had long had dealings with Savan had no intention of getting themselves involved. And that included the sovereign-prince. As for Savan himself, it must have been truly vexing to be made to realise anew what the balance of power was like between Darren and him.

You're a damned fool, Savan, to not know your own place. All you need to do is to keep pushing your old sack of bones to watch over the border.

Darren and Savan were only about five years apart in age, but since Darren spent his days going out hunting, his skin had a healthy glow to it, and even though he was a little plump, he was in excellent physical condition compared to other men his age. Even now, he kept five mistresses.

He felt nothing but contempt for Savan Roux, yet no sooner had the latter returned to his territory than he had apparently sent crowds of people to the quarry. Darren was surprised for a second, but he soon started to laugh while wagging his fleshy neck.

“Ha, ha, ha. Harvesting the ‘crops’ before they get stolen? I don’t know if he wants to annoy me, but what’s he hoping to do, spending huge sums of money to stockpile stone he won’t be able to sell? Togo, you go and play with him.”

Togo was Darren’s oldest son. A grin spread across his plump face, which closely resembled his father’s. He was thirty years old, and, while officially serving as his father’s aide, he was the one who was secretly in charge of hiring marauders. Occasionally, he would ride out in person at the head of the soldiers, pretending to be a marauder and laying waste to Savan’s territory. At those times, to avoid letting his face be seen, he wore a mask that a master blacksmith at the castle had forged for him. He gloated proudly at the way the marauders referred to him as “Master Iron Mask”.

The next day, that man in an iron mask, accompanied by five vassals and about twenty marauders, forced their way into the quarry. Just as the reports had said, scaffolding had already been erected at the foot of the mountain, and huge numbers of workers were carving out stone. The mineral dust from the rocks drifted in the wind, and Togo grimaced behind his mask.

He had wanted to charge in immediately, but armed soldiers could be seen all over the quarry. No doubt the troops Savan had moved for guard duty. When they noticed them, they started shouting something and converging towards them.

Taking hold of his horse’s reins again, Togo decided to withdraw for the time being. Up until then, they had always pulled back from ravaging the quarry and surrounding villages whenever Savan sent out soldiers. They didn’t need to go out of their way to shed blood; it was enough to simply give him plenty of trouble. Besides, Guinbar did not have the means to permanently station soldiers either in the villages or in this quarry.

When Darren received the news from his son, however,

“Now that they’re in the middle of quarrying the stone, there are crowds of people around. Maybe they’re planning on having a few guards remain permanently.” He looked pensive for a while, then, “right, let’s bring things to a head. There won’t be that many enemies. Go take the fight to them.”

“Sure,” having removed the iron mask from his sweaty face, Togo grinned broadly.

“Once you’ve driven away the soldiers, don’t chase them too far. Keep watch on the surroundings for a while, just to make sure. If it looks like they’re coming back with increased numbers, do the same as usual and pull back. Seriously, don’t go overboard. I won’t close my eyes to it if you act like before and even attack the villages,” Darren didn’t forget to warn his son.

It would be easy to plunder by force of arms, but he was still, at least for the time being, a retainer to Sovereign-Prince Magrid. He had to maintain outward appearances.

The next morning, with thirty additional marauders beefing up the previous day’s line-up, Togo Actica headed towards the quarry.

He found it completely deserted. The armed guards, as well as the craftsmen and labourers who had been working away so busily had vanished. They investigated the huts which had been built for the workmen to sleep in, but these too were completely empty.

Togo had been hugely excited since that morning at the prospect of testing out on human opponents the skill he had long been polishing at hunting, but his targets had slipped from between his fingers.

“The hell, did they get scared because we showed up yesterday? They’re not worthy of being men from Atall; Savan’s soldiers don’t even have an ounce of our guts.”

In retaliation for having his hopes betrayed, Togo burned down the huts and the scaffolding which had been set up at the foot of the mountain. He roamed around the surroundings on horseback for a while, but got tired of the colourless landscape, and took a rest at the only remaining hut by the mountain.

“There isn’t even a bird or a beast to shoot.”

Togo had taken off his iron mask to sulkily wipe the sweat off his face when one of the vassals whispered into his ear as he was bringing him tea.

“There was a village when I went down to the riverside. Although, even if I say a village, it was more of a small settlement for hunters who roam from one hunting base to another. Even if we attack it, your lord father wouldn’t mind.”

“You’d like it too,” despite putting on an unwilling expression, Togo continued, “it can’t be helped. Dispelling their retainers’ displeasure is part of the duty of those who stand above them. Grab a weapon, you lot. From here on, we’re going hunting. But our opponents are going to be hunters who are used to taking down game, so don’t be careless.”

Regaining his enthusiasm, he drained his tea in one gulp then once more put on the mask.

It was at that moment –

Arrows flew one after another into the hut’s immediate surroundings. One man, who was just stepping out of the doorway, had the tip of his boot pierced and leapt back with a shriek.

“W-What is this?”

Panicked, Togo peered out from the hunt and saw a group of riders appear from downhill. The armoured cavalrymen had their bows at the ready. There were about twenty of them perhaps.

Togo grabbed a pot which had been left abandoned in the hut, and while covering his head with it, he just managed to jump on his horse which was tied outside. The others did the same, crawling out from the building and catching hold of their weapons.

Togo’s group had checked their surroundings. Yet even so, like clouds drifting out of nowhere in a clear sky, the enemy had appeared and had probably been intending to corner them like this from the start.

As soon as Togo’s group took up their stance to counterattack, the arrows stopped. In their place, black clouds again came rolling into view, this time at the riders’ feet. It was a group of infantrymen, long-handled spears in hand.

“Get them!”

At someone’s command, they started to charge.

Although Togo held his breath for a second, the attack was not one to lose his nerve over. Even from a distance, he could tell that they were amateurs, who were simply wearing armour like they were the real thing.

Poor Savan, were you so understaffed that you had to hire neighbouring peasants? Togo’s mood immediately lifted, and he smiled.

“Even if there are a lot of them, our opponents are just novices. Soldiers, go! I’ll pay you for every head you take.”

In response to his order, the marauders moved forward. They were, of course, very familiar with fighting, so it was sure to turn into a one-sided massacre. Carried by their momentum, they would attack on horseback from behind. With that intention in mind, Togo took the spear which was tied to his saddle.

Speaking of spears, the ones that group of foot soldiers were carrying had handles which were far too long. They were about twice the normal length; let alone peasants, even seasoned soldiers would have difficulty handling them. Which just made it all the clearer that they were rank amateurs. And yet –

What?

Togo could hardly believe his eyes.

The foot soldiers were not using their weapons to jab and attack. In the first place, because of their spears’ length, it was impossible to inflict fatal injuries on their enemies with them, so they were using them simply to halt heir opponents’ charge.

The tips moved vertically in a tight formation. They did not do so with any great vigour, yet even when Togo’s subordinate marauders caught them in their hands and easily turned them aside, because of the long handles, they did not have time to get close to the enemy. At that point, Togo noticed that there were men without spears mixed in among the foot soldiers. They were armed with short-bladed swords, the complete opposite of the spears which they easily slipped beneath, before diving towards the chests of the marauders, who were having so much trouble advancing, and landing clean blows on them. Several men fell.

“B-Bastards!”

When the marauders, who had been jabbing at air, concentrated their caution on the swordsmen, the tips of the spears once again swarmed towards them. When their attention was caught by those, they were again showered with blows from the short swords.

The movements had clearly been drilled into them. In terms of numbers, this bunch of amateurs was double Togo’s group. And thanks to the strange tactics they were using, they had gotten a head start on his subordinate soldiers, who were gradually being pushed back.

While Togo was becoming worried, one of the vassals spurred his horse forward.

“Young lord, this way!”

He too had no doubt decided that they were at a disadvantage and was looking to find an escape route while the marauders continued to fight. But even if they slipped past the group of infantrymen, there were still the twenty or so riders beyond them.

There was no choice but to force their way through them.

Just as Togo was making up his mind, there was once again movement among the enemy. A single cavalryman rode forward from among the group of riders.

He wore a helmet, and Togo had no way of knowing it, but this was the group’s commander, Leo Attiel.

He had deliberately set only a small number of soldiers to guard the place on the previous day. It was of course well within his expectations that Darren’s troops would attack today; therefore, after having the craftsmen leave, he and his group had concealed themselves in the mountainous terrain. In addition to the regular soldiers from the Royal Guard, Leo had also brought a part of the militia that he had previously gathered from the villages and had trained.

There would be actual combat. Since the young men from the villages had not at all expected to find themselves in that situation, there were many who absolutely refused to go, but Leo did not say a word of reproach to them, and he took only the hundred or so of them who decided for themselves to take part.

Fundamentally, just using the regular soldiers would have answered the purpose. In spite of this, Leo had purposefully brought them to a scene of genuine fighting. And just as purposefully, he had them stand them before Togo and his group, who had lost their path of retreat and who had no choice but to attack.

For Leo too, this was his first time in a real fight.

He had continued his martial training throughout his time in Allion. He had taken part in mock jousts. Yet when he saw blood flow for real, he was, unsurprisingly, unable to repress a shudder.

I-I’m going? Into that?

The arms of a marauder was sent flying from a sword slash; the next moment, a peasant had his foot pierced. Simply from looking at it, he felt pain course through him at the same place. Simply from being on horseback, his breathing was as uneven as though somebody was strangling him by the neck. He wanted to scream out loud, “Stop, please! Save me!”

Leo clenched his teeth hard. No cry escaped from him and instead, it simply reverberated hollowly through his insides. He urged his horse another step forward.

“Your Highness!” Percy shouted, and he and Kuon – who sympathised with his reaction – were about to surround Leo from both sides when –

“Forward!” he spurred his horse onwards as though to leave his companions with nothing but empty air.

Percy, Kuon and the riders of the Royal Guard hurriedly followed after him. Leading the way, Leo brandished his spear.

If I’m not able to go first now, there’ll be nothing for me afterwards.

The resolve he strengthened in that moment was no temporary thing. For the past few days, every time the sun went down, he had told himself that over and over again. That he had to do it; that this was a stage on which he had to demonstrate his own skill.

The enemy also urged their horses forward, although a little too late. Their figures were rapidly approaching. There was no longer either pain or suffocation. There was only the path on which a single second separated life from death, and the strength of spirit to run headlong across it.

He took aim and thrust his spear at an enemy. It grazed the mounted warrior’s breastplate. On the other hand, the enemy rider’s spear struck hard against Leo’s helmet.

Just as Leo’s vision went black, a single point of light blazed within it, only to be scattered by the sound of horses’ hooves. The next rider was already approaching right up to him.

The fight ended in barely any time at all.

“Are you safe, Your Highness!” Percy came rushing.

“Yeah,” said Leo Attiel, removing his helmet. Blood was flowing from the area around his temple. Nevertheless, he had gotten away with an unexpectedly light injury.

The outcome of the battle was overwhelming victory. Upon being attacked by several dozen people, the marauders wavered then fled one after another. The group of riders had still held out, but the braves of the Royal Guard clustered around Leo. Percy’s handling of the spear had grown even sharper and faster after experiencing real combat, while Kuon compensated for his scrawny physique thanks to the innumerable ways of fighting retained in his muscle memory.

Coordination within the enemy cavalry broke apart while several men fell from their horses. As luck would have it, one of those was the man in the iron mask who was thought to be their commander. Kuon jumped from his horse without a moment’s delay. His speed in doing so was wholly characteristic of him.

“Don’t kill him!”

In response to Percy’s shout, Kuon simply sat astride the man in the mask, his blade thrust against the man’s throat.

They had reaped splendid results from the battle.

Compared to them... Leo sighed in frustration as he wiped the blood from his temple. He had not been able to kill a single enemy. Quite the opposite: the spear attack from his second opponent had thrown Leo’s posture off balance, and he too had almost fallen from his horse. Mortification at his disappointing performance kept flooding through him.

“You were magnificent.” When Percy called out to him, the prince uncharacteristically raised his voice in anger.

“Stop with the flattery. I wasn’t even able to do anything.”

Percy smiled gently.

“Being the one leading the charge on your first campaign cannot have been easy.”

At Percy’s words, even Kuon – who had left the man in the iron mask to the royal guardsmen – chimed in.

“The vanguard rider’s job is to keep advancing until the end. And while he’s running through, the riders behind him spear the enemies who have broken posture because of him. That's obvious,” he said.

Percy made an eye signal at him.

“...er, is how it is, Your Highness,” Kuon mended his speech at the very last moment.

At that, Leo smiled despite himself. In a complete reversal from his earlier regret over his disappointing performance, he now experienced a sense of accomplishment and of satisfaction at having pulled off an outrageous feat that was completely unlike him.

“Also, when you, er, are unused to handling a spear, you should not, er, attempt to jab; it is... better to swing it to hit against them. When you thrust, you leave yourself, er, you leave openings. While you’re stabilising yourself in the saddle, like this, ...”

While continuing with his faltering lecture, Kuon was probably thinking to himself that this prince is a menace.

Percy burst out laughing.

Part 2

When Darren Actica received the report from those of his vassals who had escaped back, he was left literally dumbfounded.

The force which should have been more than enough to rout Savan’s soldiers had been annihilated, and on top of that, his son Togo had fallen into enemy hands. Moreover, it had become clear that the one who had brought and commanded those troops had been Lord Leo Attiel, and that it was for the sake of building him a large-scale church that Savan’s stone was being quarried.

Darren ground his teeth. It was obvious that Savan and the prince had read his movements and set a trap. His hatred was not only reserved for those two, however, and he dearly wanted to personally chop off the heads of every last one of the bunch which had shamelessly come scurrying home.

Still, the most pressing problem was Togo. It would take no time at all to reveal that the real identity of “Iron Mask” was Darren’s son. Just when he was trying in vain to devise some kind of counter-measure, a messenger arrived from Savan.

Darren made up his mind. Accompanied by several attendants, he rode hard and arrived at Guinbar Castle just as the sun was setting.

Savan had him guided to the hall which was used for audiences. Although, for all that it was called a hall, it was a cramped room, longer than it was wide, that got crowded with just thirty people inside. There were a few hanging lamps, but it still felt gloomy and oppressive.

Sitting in the castle lord’s seat, Savan thanked Darren for taking the trouble to come all that way. His manner was not at all appropriate for a meeting between castle lords of equal standing, and it was as if he were dealing with a subordinate. Darren desperately fought to swallow his anger and humiliation.

“This is a strange business. You say that an outlaw leader is using my son’s name?”

“Yes, exactly. Your honoured son, Sir Togo, is not with you? If you had brought him along, this absurd inquiry could have ended before it began.”

“Ah, yes, but his health is poor, and he is confined to his bed. My son is very frail, not at all like me. Him leading bandits is simply impossible.”

Darren had broken out into an unstoppable sweat. Savan offered a perfunctory show of concern for Togo’s health before continuing.

“Well then, just to make sure,” he clapped his hands and ordered the captured criminal to be brought before them.

Before long, a man with his hands tied behind his back entered the hall. Darren scowled: the man certainly seemed to be Togo, but he was still wearing that iron mask. They were sure to have torn the mask off of him and checked his identity when he was first captured, so they must have deliberately put it back on him. Were they trying to put psychological pressure on Darren by having him go through the whole process of having his son be exposed?

The man in the iron mask still didn’t say anything as he was brought forward. There was only one thing that Darren could do.

“It’s a different person,” he spat out after the first glance. “As I just said a moment ago, Togo is at my castle. Which means this can only be a completely different person. Good grief, just what kind of cunning snake is this that he would even use my son’s name?”

“Yet when he was being interrogated by the soldiers, this man seemed curiously well-informed about the Actica House, and the face under the mask looked a lot like your son’s.”

“In this world, there are those frightful beings known as sorcerers. According to what I’ve heard, they can take other people’s appearance and pull off large-scale magic tricks. In Allion especially, the centre of politics is overrun by those who use sorcery. Isn’t this just one of Allion’s tricks to undermine Atall?”

“Oh,” while Savan was glaring warily at Darren, Darren on the other hand was carefully scrutinising the surroundings. He could not see Lord Leo, who was said to be in Guinbar. As for Togo, perhaps he had already completely resigned himself, as he only occasionally stirred slightly, without ever uttering a word.

Are you taking you father’s feelings into account? Then just stay as you are, Togo, Darren thought with a prayer-like fervour. For now, there’s no other choice. But sooner or later, there will be a chance for me to rescue you.

That was the direction that Darren’s thoughts were running in, however Savan took the worst step of all those that Darren had anticipated.

“If it isn’t your son, then you won’t mind even if I have him executed on the spot, right?”

For a second, Darren stopped breathing.

Said otherwise, it was only during that one second that he hesitated. He had already made up his mind and prepared himself ever since leaving his own castle.

“No, I don’t mind. This bandit was caught in your territory; do whatever you want with him.” Darren spoke clearly, his face calm and his voice unwavering.

Savan was beaming as he nodded his head.

“I see. With that, all doubts have been cleared. I really must thank you again for having come. If you have time, why don’t we have a drink? How about a cup of wine after the execution?”

“I’m sorry, but I too still have one or two trifling matters to attend to. I will be taking my leave.”

Damn you... Darren was smiling, but his heart was boiling with anger hot enough to melt iron.

Of course Savan Roux must have known from the start that the man he had caught was Togo himself. On top of that, he was going to execute the son in front of the father’s very eyes.

Damn you, Savan, you fucking bastard. You’re only this cocky because the prince decided to help you on a whim. And where is Lord Leo? Bah! What does that childish brat think he can do, when even Sovereign-Prince Magrid fears me? One day, when your church is built, I’ll burn it to the ground along with this castle, you bastards. You’ll get your reward for what you’re trying to do here.

It took everything Darren had to stop his limbs from shaking with fury as he turned on his heel to leave. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the man in the iron mask. It truly needed courage for Darren to look at him.

And yet –

Lord Leo!

Darren’s startled gaze was pulled towards the direction of the man in the mask. At some point, Lord Leo Attiel had appeared close to where the masked man was. He was looking straight at Darren. While Darren hesitated, wondering if he should stop walking and greet the prince, Leo stretched his hand out towards the iron mask. He couldn’t possibly be intending to reveal the son’s face so as to watch the father’s reaction?

Not even a demon would act that way. You think I’ll fall for your tricks?

A set look came into Darren’s face. Leo quietly plucked off the mask.

Ah! Despite his determination, Darren almost shouted out involuntarily.

When the mask was removed, the features bared beneath it were not those of his son. It was simply a different person whose build was very similar to Togo’s. Darren dimly recalled that this was one of the marauders that his son had led. It was hardly surprising that he hadn’t said a word until then since there was a gag blocking his mouth.

W-What is this?

Darren had just barely been able to hold back his agitation, but immediately afterwards, he was dealt the final blow. Feeling lightheaded, he took two or three staggering steps.

Togo appeared from behind the prince. Although there was a soldier on either side of him, he was not bound with ropes. But his eyes burned with an even fiercer anger than the one Darren had felt towards Savan, and moreover, it was turned directly towards his father.

This was planned!?

By then, Darren had come to that realisation. After placing the mask on a different person and making Darren believe that it was his son, Savan had confirmed that he ‘wouldn’t mind even if the man is executed.’ And they had let Togo witness the whole thing.

Who could measure Togo’s grief, despair and anger? He had acted on his father’s orders, yet his father had betrayed him.

He was surely filled with resentment towards Darren. And left behind in this castle, he would soon learn the feeling of hopelessness; since his father had insisted that he was ‘a different person’, he was no longer Togo Actica. He had also lost the support of House Actica. From here on, he was no more than ‘a marauder who had ravaged Guinbar’.

When will I be executed? – It was obvious that Togo, his mind and body worn down by that terror, would be like putty in Savan and Leo’s hands.

He would probably plead before the sovereign-prince that he had gone to Guinbar on his father’s orders. If the testimony came from his Darren’s own son, then it would sound very credible. The political strength and influence that Darren had worked so hard to achieve would collapse. It was even possible that the sovereign-prince would take advantage of it to destroy the Actica House, which was a constant source of hindrance to him.

In other words, Savan and Leo had invited Darren here to threaten him: if you try anything further against this territory, we will use our trump card.

Darren avoided his son’s eyes. In these past few minutes, his glossy skin had lost its springiness and he looked as though he had aged ten or twenty years in one go.

Leo walked up to him as he was totteringly leaving the hall. Although taken aback, Darren had to keep up appearances no matter what the situation was.

“G-Greetings, my lord prince. Were you also here?”

“Even though you went out of your way to visit, it seems that it was a waste of your time and effort.”

“Y-Yes...”

Damned demon, what do you want now?

Even though Darren’s anger against the prince was reignited, it didn’t have the same force as earlier. Up until now, he had judged Leo as being as worthless as Savan, but now he felt daunted when facing the prince, who seemed to have strangely transformed, as though possessed.

“But I’m glad you’re here, Sir Darren.”

“G-Glad? What do you mean?”

Leo explained that since he would be converting, they were in the middle of building a church in Savan’s domains. Darren had already known that for a while now, but he was just about able to feign surprise and to reply with: “I see.” The true surprise, however, was what was to come next.

“From what I hear, Sir Darren, you are also planning to build a new castle? I’ve talked about it with Sir Savan, and since we’ve gone to the trouble of starting to have the stone quarried, we were wondering if we couldn’t also cut out more to be used for something other than building the church. That being the case, we could sell you the leftover stone at a reduced price.”

W-What...

The two of them had already left the hall and were going down the stairs. They arrived in front of the gate. Leo suggested a cost ‘at eighty-percent of the market rate’. It didn’t seem like a particularly impressive cut in price, but a huge quantity of building stones would be needed to construct a castle, so it would mean a considerable saving for Darren if he purchased most of the materials from Savan’s territory.

“I-I am very grateful for your offer. Later... I will send a messenger to Sir Savan.”

“Please do.”

Having escorted Darren to the outside of the gate, Leo retraced his steps back into the castle, walking exactly as though he was returning to his own home. Darren turned around to glance at his retreating back only once.

“Just what is he, that prince?”

The almost aggressively gleaming fat seemed to have fallen completely from Darren Actica’s face, and his shoulders trembled.

Part 3

If you asked him 'what are you', Leo would have no other choice but to give you his name –

“I’m Leo Attiel.”

Recently, however, he had been wondering about it more and more often.

Is that really the case?

Am I really Leo Attiel?

He had repeatedly been wanting to ask that of himself. Which was mostly because, since his confrontation with Hayden Swift on the night of the banquet, he had constantly been on the move.

So far, everything was going as planned.

The first thing had been to visit the vassal-lords and other nobles to argue the need to reorganise Atall’s army. The reason for that had been the same as what he had earlier explained to Percy and the others: he wanted to ascertain how many people understood the danger that Atall was currently facing, to see how many shared his own anxieties at this point in time.

Just as he had expected, almost no one saw the pressing threat that was menacing Atall. It was exactly as Camus had pointed out: even though everyone, their faces pale, had gone to petition the sovereign-prince in person as soon as relations with Allion deteriorated even slightly, now that the banquet had created a friendlier mood, they had all gone back to their happy-go-lucky way of thinking, and no longer seemed afraid of anything.

That being the case, rather than having any sense of crisis management, they were like children who simply read the expression on their father’s strict face.

Leo didn’t find that entirely unreasonable. Seven years ago, there had been war with Allion, and the ones who had misjudged the situation had been those of the ruling house. Or at any rate, that was how most of the vassal-lords saw it. Failure to discern Shazarn’s internal situation and inability to predict the course of the war had led the country to receive a harsh blow from Allion. That, along with the affair of the dragonbone vein, had been one of the causes that had to lead the princely House’s loss of authority.

Therefore, it was completely understandable that the vassal-lords, who didn’t want to see the same mistake repeated a second time, had moved to criticise the sovereign-prince. However, if they were blithely unaware of the impeding threat, then that was a completely different story.

Within all that, Leo had the good fortune of meeting Savan Roux, a person who had some sense of the danger that the Principality of Atall was facing. This wasn’t based on predictions like Leo’s thoughts were, but was an inevitable consequence of both the harm Savan had suffered from Allion in the past, and the geographical location of his fief. In addition to that, he had been put through bitter experiences by Darren, one of his compatriots.

Someone who feels the danger down to their bones will be ready to move at any moment, was Leo’s estimation. Which meant that he would be far more ready to take action than those who saw no need to change the current situation.

That was why he decided that the first thing to do was to approach Savan. Then, while thinking about what would come after that, he had hit upon the idea of converting to the Cross Faith. The plan was not only to draw psychologically closer to Allion, but also to use the construction of a church to block Darren, and to earn Savan’s trust all in one go.

– It was at around about that point that Leo had started to question whether he was really himself.

Not that he had any time to worry about it, instead pushing forward to fully implement the plan he had come up with.

To truly have Darren submit, I can’t simply use my position as prince to keep him in check. Since he’s sending soldiers, I have to retaliate with even stronger force.

With that in mind, he had deliberately hidden the fact that a church was being built so as to lure Darren’s soldiers.

It will turn into a fight. In which case, this is a good chance for me to experience my first battle. So I’ll need soldiers that I can move around freely. If I only use the troops borrowed from the Royal Guard, it won’t be enough to earn recognition.

That thought led him to recruit soldiers from among the people. At the same time, he steeled his resolve to ready himself for his first battle. This is repeating what has already been said, but during that short time, he did not have time to hesitate. What kept him preoccupied was always what would come after he had put it all into practice, and after convincing his father to build a church, he was not without regrets.

Saying I believed in the Cross Faith was insincere. I’m hiding my real intentions from Father and from my older brother. And even though I don’t feel even a shred of piety towards the god of the Cross Faith... Right, you could say I’m even deceiving a god. How long will I keep up this lie?

When he was at the scene of actual fighting, his body and mind had once again been shaken. The brutal atmosphere; the fear that an arrow might come flying from afar at any moment and pierce his throat; it was completely different from when he had sat at his desk, turning over his thoughts. He wanted to curse his past self, to ask him why he had come up with a plan that had put him in so much danger.

And also –

There had been that situation that Leo had never imagined when he was sitting thinking at his desk.

The peasant militia that he had hired for himself.

Although the battle at the quarry had ended in complete victory, it had not been a fight without casualties. Five of the farmers had lost their lives, and more than a dozen had lost arms, legs or received similarly severe injuries. Since the victims’ parents had not been told that their sons would be sent into battle, they were utterly astounded, and plunged into sorrow and grief. Father Bosc took the responsibility of offering them mental succour. Percy brought him to the parents of the fallen, and asked him to preside over their burial.

“Your sons have left for the fields of tranquillity. Please mourn for them. But please remember that those left behind in this world have their own duty. So that your sons may find peace, you too must reconcile yourselves to finding peace of mind as soon as you can.”

Even though the priest’s prayers and rituals, and the many words he spoke to them, truly could not appease their feelings, they did provide them with a support to lean on.

Nevertheless, among the village youths, growing ambition outweighed sorrow and grief. Regardless of whether they had lived or died, the young men who had taken part in the fight received money, and those who had killed even a single enemy soldier were given a far greater amount.

Moreover, rumours started being whispered to the effect that,

“The fact that farmers with no experience in warfare were able to win victory is thanks to the power and skill of Attiel’s second prince. Even though it was his first battle, he confronted the enemy like a god of war.”

Leo figured that the rumours had mostly been spread by Percy.

“I also want to stand next to Lord Leo holding a spear.”

“I’ve always thought that would suit me much better than a hoe or a spade.”

Many came rushing to apply to join Lord Leo’s troops.

From a balcony at Guinbar Castle, Leo looked down towards the young men who were gathered again today. Among them, there were a few who were his age, and their honest faces shone with hope and expectation. Leo himself knew the feeling of longing for a bright future in which you could become something other than yourself.

A soldier soon appeared before them and stated the same conditions that Percy given before, namely: they had to have brothers, and they had to be single. When Percy had previously suggested those criteria, Leo had been surprised, but they were meant to take into account that there will definitely be victims in the fight. It’s best not to invite more resentment than necessary from the villagers.

Leo hadn’t really taken that to heart. Even though he had expected there to be victims, there hadn’t been ay sense of reality to it.

The men who did not meet the conditions started muttering one after another.

“Boo-hoo, quit oinking like pigs, you lot. All those who don’t meet the conditions are to go home. And don’t bother lying, we’ll find out later and the money paid you will be taken back,” the soldier barked. Incidentally, he too had been a farmer only a few days ago, but he had managed to kill two enemies in battle.

Leo quietly stepped away from the balcony.

Money was needed to hire soldiers. So were lodgings to station them in, provisions and also equipment. Leo, however, was not hiring them as professional soldiers. They would remain ordinary farmers, craftsmen or labourers who would perform their work as usual, while only occasionally being called up to train and do military drills. And they were paid when they responded to those calls.

You could say that Leo was stepping back from the system of a permanent army that he had spoken about to the nobles, but in his current circumstances, this was as much as he could do. Moreover, he had to ask Savan for the money to pay the soldiers. Now that the harassment from Darren had completely stopped, Savan trusted the prince implicitly and listened favourably to anything he said.

Gaining that trust also meant making his first ally among the vassal-lords, which was all according to plan.

Construction work on the church continued steadily and, about half a month after Leo had come to stay at Guinbar Castle, a simple chapel was completed. When that day arrived, the stones strewn around the building site were tidied up, the temporary scaffolding was dismantled, and decorations made from flowers were hung up all around.

Father Bosc had said that “labouring for free will earn forgiveness for many sins,” and this had spread far and wide, so that able-bodied men from the surrounding villages had gathered one after another, and the building work had been able to advance quickly.

The evening before the baptism finally arrived, and with it came one minor occurrence.

A single horse-drawn carriage arrived from Tiwana, guarded in all directions by soldiers. Florrie Anglatt was riding in it. She had come to celebrate her fiancé’s baptism – Leo having also informed her that his religious conversion was intended to bring about a reconciliation with Allion – but for some reason, she did not step out of the carriage.

She would not reply at all, even when the soldiers or the people of Guinbar Castle called out to her from outside. Upon hearing that, Leo came running.

“Is it all right for me to come close to a chapel of the Cross Faith?” her shoulders trembled as she sat in a corner of the carriage.

Florrie’s mother was a follower of Badyne. Although by no means a fervent believer, Florrie had been influenced by her, at least to the extent that she had been taught many of the charms and incantations characteristic of the faithful of Badyne. Ever-sensitive, she was apparently worried that treading on the holy ground of a different god would could bring punishment down upon her.

“God is tolerant. Besides, I would never believe in a god that would hand down punishment to a girl as innocent and upright as you. Come on, Florrie, I’ll show you around the chapel.”

Leo held out his hand, but Florrie’s mind had not been put at ease. Whereupon, Leo, suddenly and incomprehensibly, got down on all fours on the ground before the carriage door. Florrie, the soldiers and the castle personnel stared at him, astounded.

“L-Leo, what are you doing?”

“You do it too,” Leo called out to the soldiers.

They looked at each other, but since the prince had taken the lead in crawling on the ground, each of them, their expressions dubious, hunched over like he was. Florrie was open-mouthed.

“Just walk on our backs. Wherever you go, Florrie, I will definitely prepare a path of bent backs for you to step on. Because in that case, you won’t have walked on the ground, and even God won’t be able to say a thing about it. Come on, hurry up.”

Florrie’s face instantly went red. Her eyebrows slanted sharply downwards and she raised both shoulders.

Treating me like a child again! Just when it seemed like she was about to shout out angrily, all the strength seemed to drain from her body and she heaved a sigh.

“Leo, no matter how much time goes by, you’re still mean to me.”

“Where would you find another man willing to give his back to lift his fiancée?”

“Do stop it. I hate that kind of thing, Leo.”

As she spoke, Florrie jumped nimbly from the carriage. Fortunately, the event ended with only the prince’s back being trampled on.

They were blessed with beautiful weather.

From early morning onwards, crowds gathered around the brand-new chapel. Since a great many people had been hired to help with the large building-work, it had been widely talked about and those gathered there came not only from Guinbar’s castle town, but also from other neighbouring towns and villages.

Some stalls had also been set up. Many of them sold food, and the sugary scent of pastries wafted alongside the fragrant smell of roast meat. Now and then, you might catch sight of people who seemed to be performers, and musicians played their instruments here and there.

Rather than a solemn ceremony, it was more like a festival day, but according to Father Bosc, a baptism was “like the start of a new life, and it is best to have as many people as possible celebrate it with you.” Of course, he was also aiming to have people feel closer to the unfamiliar Cross Faith. Besides, even though it was a baptismal ceremony, the people would not be able to observe Leo’s baptism into the faith.

The ceremony was currently under way, and Leo Attiel was shut away in the chapel while Father Bosc recited his god’s catechism. The people were outside, eating and drinking whatever they liked best, chatting pleasantly, and waiting impatiently for the prince to emerge from the chapel.

Several nobles had also turned up. It went without saying that Savan, the lord of Guinbar Castle, was there, but so was Darren Actica. Other than Florrie, no had come from Tiwana, and although several elderly and distant relatives of the ruling House had shown up, jolted along in horse carriages, Leo’s family members were not present.

Finally, there was one more vassal-lord: Bernard. His wife and child were with him; his still youthful wife was as beautiful as rumour claimed, and their little daughter, who had inherited both her parents’ good looks, was truly lovely. They were the very picture of a happy family, and fit in perfectly with the splendour of the occasion, yet Bernard looked somewhat glum.

He had talked with Leo at the banquet and he remembered the impression he had of him at the time. Taking into account the announcement of his betrothal to Florrie, as well as his petition for reorganising the army, Bernard’s thoughts had been that it’s easy to see that he wants to do something. This could be interesting, but I’ll want to be watching him from as far away as possible. Although enjoyable from a distance, Leo was dangerous enough to burn anyone who carelessly got close.

When he heard that Lord Leo was going to be baptised, he realised that prince wouldn’t be doing it simply for the sake of it, and that there were certainly some intentions regarding Allion lurking behind it. Consequently, he had wanted to pretend to go sightseeing somewhere with no relation whatsoever to the ceremony, but his wife and daughter both insisted that: “we want to go to the prince’s baptism.”

His wife was from a small country west of Atall which was now part of Allion’s territory, and she had been born and raised as part of the Cross Faith. His daughter, who was still only six years old, had also been influenced by it. Pestered by his wife, Bernard had even built a small chapel for his castle.

A letter, written in the prince’s own hand, arrived for Bernard’s wife and daughter.

Dammit, that was completely unnecessary.

Bernard cursed the prince but also himself for having revealed in the course of conversation that his wife and child belonged to the Cross Faith.

When his wife had received the letter, she had been deeply moved. If the prince joined the faith and a large church was built within the country, then naturally, the situations for adherents of the Cross Faith would vastly improve compared to what they were now. She even suggested that Bernard could maybe build a secondary residence near Guinbar, so that they could go and worship whenever they wanted to.

Completely unnecessary!

The ceremony within the chapel came to an end, and Lord Leo emerged from within, greeted by cheers.

It was probably a lingering trace of the ceremony that his hair and face were damp. Leo’s expression was bright as he waved his hand. Recently, he had simply been tying his long hair into a single bunch at the back of his head, but today, it was carefully braided. Besides that, he wore a white cloak over his ceremonial clothes and, as he waved smilingly, he looked like a noble youth who had slipped out of a story, so much so that the young village women gathered there could only gaze at him in admiration.

Young men dressed in brand-new armour carried the flags of the Attiel House as they walked behind the prince. Accompanying and intersecting with those flags was another one of a blue cross on a white background.

Young girls dressed in many-pleated, sleeveless tunics were lined up along the path that Leo was following, and as they sang, they showered him in petals to wish blessing on his baptism.

For now, the baptismal ceremony had been completed.

Naturally, the construction of the cathedral continued. Lord Leo’s baptism had attracted a lot of interest, and there was an incessant stream of people from the neighbouring villages wishing to be baptised as well. Also, despite the fact that the construction work was still ongoing, pilgrims from all over had already started visiting the territory. Once they heard that people were flocking to Guinbar, merchants also travelled there in great numbers. And since large-scale building work naturally needed not only craftsmen, but also labourers for the manual work, there were many people who came looking for jobs, and who brought their families with them.

The result was that Guinbar’s markets were thriving, and Savan received an amount of revenue that would have been unthinkable up until then.

After his baptism, Leo remained at Guinbar Castle. He had preparations to make for the next stage in his plan.

Savan, the lord of said castle, had no objections. He wept when Father Bosc offered a special prayer before the tombs of his two sons. The distrust and anger he had long felt towards the ruling House no longer included Lord Leo.

As for Leo, he immersed himself in his work for a while, but it was then that something outside of his predictions came to alter the situation.

The Dytiann Alliance took action.