“That is no problem. We will not be fighting here in any case.”
That was the general’s answer to Gene’s report. He might have been right. But Gene could not shake his unease.
According to the reports of his men, who had returned from inspecting the castle, there were fifteen places along the outer wall where the enemy could get in. Some were beyond any ordinary repair and amounted only to traces of what had once been a wall. One of his men had said,
“You could get over with a rabbit’s jump.”
What was more, the inhabitants had piled firewood and miscellaneous things carelessly all along the wall. If even a flaming arrow landed there, the castle would be engulfed in flames in no time. Between important positions, houses built haphazardly stood in disorder, and livestock pens and straw huts blocked the way, making an effective network of communication impossible from the outset. The soldiers, no, the townspeople, were armed with little better than sticks and sickles, and armor had not even been supplied.
The castle lord Adriham had been paralyzed on one side since collapsing the previous year, so his eldest daughter Dalsad was caring for him. Beautiful though Dalsad was, she did not seem a capable acting lord. Her only sibling was a twelve-year-old younger brother, and the little fellow considered obstructing his sister at every turn his purpose in life, insisting that since he was male, he was the true acting lord. Even that afternoon, when General Beraxus entered the castle, he had jumped about furiously, saying his sister meant to sell the castle to outsiders. In the end, he had broken a candlestick in the reception room and was now locked in a back room, howling.
“The soldiers are tired from the long march and from making camp. They must conserve their strength if they are to go out and fight tomorrow. Isn’t that so?”
Offering any further advice would have exceeded an adjutant’s duty. An adjutant merely assisted the general and connected the units, and was not a member of the military council. Had Gene truly been an adjutant, he might have said a few more words. Because he was not, he felt that saying more would be an abuse of his position. However much the general treated Gene as an adjutant during the expedition, he could hardly feel no burden inwardly.
“Understood. Then please rest well.”
As Gene turned to leave, the general suddenly spoke.
“You worked hard on the inspection. You should rest tonight too. I will not call you again today.”
It was as he had expected. After nearly a month of marching, Gene’s face had grown not merely thin but sharp, and he was badly tanned. The sight of the prince like that seemed to make the general uneasy. Gene bowed silently and went outside.
Though an army several thousand strong had suddenly descended on it, the atmosphere in Saemgeuneul Castle was not very different from usual. Since the castle was so badly organized that it lacked the capacity to accommodate the army, the soldiers would establish camp outside the walls and stay there. Contrary to the hopes they had held during the march, the soldiers were deeply dissatisfied at not even getting inside the castle. The captains, too, stayed in camp in case of a surprise attack. Only the general entered the lodging prepared in the inner keep, so all the adjutants were to sleep inside the castle.
When Gene came out into the large square, soldiers were smiling broadly as they carried wine barrels. He stopped one and asked, and was told that Captain Meonja Doksuridae had ordered wine to be given to the soldiers. It seemed to be a measure to quiet their discontent. The tavern keeper and merchants whose wine had been requisitioned looked angry, but with the general on the other side, they could not speak openly and instead gathered in twos and threes to mutter among themselves. Had the castle lord had no wine? The man Gene questioned answered,
“Lord Adriham became like that while drinking, so Lady Dalsad forbade wine inside the castle. Back then, we shared out the wine from His Lordship’s cellars among ourselves, which was nice.”
“Then shouldn’t you have no complaint about handing it back?”
“Handing it back? There isn’t a drop of that wine left, and this is wine I newly made myself! It’s completely different!”
The merchants, without even a speck of anything that could be called loyalty, began making a fuss among themselves again. Leaving them, Gene heard an echo of words the citizens of the capital had said. No, perhaps not only the capital’s citizens, but all the people of Epherium. Was there any meaning to being their prince, and to becoming their king someday?
Walking without thinking, he found himself near the outer wall. His men had already inspected it all and reported back, but he walked the same route once more. He came upon the place where a rabbit could jump over. Gene sat there and looked out. In the distance, he could see the campfires, and beyond them lay a dark forest. No, he could not see it, but that was the feeling he had. Beyond that forest would be Jandanizi. He remembered his conversation with Pallasos before leaving. At the time, Gene had been thinking, what if he rode all the way to Jandanizi and did not come back? Though he had not said it aloud. He had had a similar thought at the departure ceremony. If he ran away. Just as his mother would never wish, no, perhaps just as she wished.
Even Gene did not know what Erektina had sought at the departure ceremony. It must have been an excellent opportunity. At another time, arrows of criticism would have rained down on her for overstepping her position, but Gene’s departure for war had provided a splendid shield. Perhaps she would be even happier if he returned with just an injury or two. It would give her something else to use. Of course, Erektina would insist that all of it had been to make Gene crown prince.
Though she had never once asked Gene’s opinion.
Then, if he vanished entirely, might his father make her queen out of pity? Erektina was still young, so she could always bear another child to become crown prince.
“Adjutant, what are you doing here?”
Anger had risen even though he knew he was being unreasonable. When he came out of his reverie, his men were looking at him with grins. Zamallik, Hanbun, and Gaiar. All were commoners who had grown seasoned as scouts and messengers. Even Gaiar, the youngest, was nine years older than Gene, but none had any further prospect of promotion. They were fated to retire after serving as subordinates to some noble fledgling who arrived from nowhere and helping him render service and gain promotion. This time, it was a prince, but that did not mean he was not a fledgling. Thinking so, Gene gave a bitter smile.
“You’re the ones who ought to be resting. Why have you come all the way here?”
“The scent of our adjutant came drifting on the wind.”
“From the scent, we knew you were thinking you’d make anyone who brought you a bottle of liquor into a royal guard. Well, how about it?”
Zamallik took a bottle from inside his clothes and held it up with a smile. Since the royal guards were exclusively young men of noble birth, their words were pure jest. Gene chuckled and accepted the bottle. Wine had gone to the camp anyway, so drinking was permitted for tonight.
“I’ll take that to mean you want to serve me a long time.”
“Really? We’d be happy if only we could.”
As expected, the unit Gene had taken charge of was a gathering of exceptional soldiers. Most of the superior officers who had passed through had relied on these men’s abilities to render various services, then left after being promoted. Belkun, who had commanded the unit until recently, had known that fact and seemed to have driven and pressured them with particular impatience. All of them were thoroughly sick of Belkun. In contrast, though they had not yet fought a single battle with Gene, most felt favorably toward him. A prince, he was of course more generous than Belkun, who had been taut with tension, and he was unexpectedly easygoing as well.
Gene enjoyed talking with the common soldiers more than associating with the other adjutants or officers. They were, after all, the new life he had come to the battlefield hoping to experience. Besides, exceptional riding was something messengers valued especially highly. Hanbun had taken pride in being the fastest in his unit and had even said jokingly that he would like a race, but after trying to follow Gene that afternoon, he had not said another word about it.
Before they knew it, they were sitting in a circle, each holding a bottle. They clinked them together and drank. When Hanbun offered boiled beans as something to eat with the liquor, each took a handful and chewed. Gene looked around at them.
“You must have experienced frontier fighting many times by now. Tell an inexperienced newcomer what the Jandana are like as opponents.”
The soldiers looked embarrassed. Gene was also the only superior officer who spoke like this. The veteran Zamallik said,
“Whatever experience we have, all we know is following the orders from above and keeping the enemy right in front of us occupied.”
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