Editing Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1 (section)

== Chapter 1 – The Hegemons ==
=== I ===
17th of May, SY 446. The Tytania clan meeting was being held in an atmosphere bereft of love and friendship. There was nothing strange about that. It was commonly known that in Tytania, there was unity, but no love. They were not so weak as to demand love or affection from their own kind. Weakness within Tytania was the most hated defect. At an ebony conference table, four men sat, wearing grey and gold military uniforms with grey half-coats, their grey military caps resting on the table. On the left of their chests, only their rank insignia was of a burning red.

All four of them held the surname Tytania. To be more precise, each was the head of one of the Five Families. The fifth person who was absent from the event was Ajman, the eighth Landless Clanner. All four were young. None of them had reached 30 yet. They were Tytania within Tytania, with noble blood and power befitting their station, from a lineage of cosmic hegemons.

At 27 years old, Ariabert Tytania was a handsome man, and yet, for some strange reason, his fine features failed to make a strong impression on people. ''“You have a face sculpted by an unknown artist fawning over a wealthy lady,”'' his father once praised. ''“Ariabert? Ah, that handsome fellow?”'' And yet there was a certain lack of individuality about him. One might also say that he was too conventional. He had shiny and whitish-blond hair, grey-blue eyes, a tall and well-proportioned build, and on this day he looked somewhat pale and depressed.

In contrast to Ariabert, Jouslain Tytania, who was also 27 years old, had a plain face, and there was nothing particularly noteworthy about his physique. However, his brown eyes, which were the same colour as his hair, had an oddly striking deep radiance that made him seem more handsome than Ariabert. Whenever he sat at a meeting, he had the habit of placing his right hand on his lap and his left on the table, quietly tapping his fingers. Some said that these movements were a response to the rhythm of his brain cells. He was said to be Ariabert’s cousin, but to tell the truth, their blood relationship was far more complex.

Zarlisch Tytania was a man of imposing stature and tremendous presence, and his rugged features and thick beard made him look much older than Ariabert and Jouslain. And yet, it was merely the effect of a successful disguise, since in truth, he was a year younger than them. His gaze and mouth were powerful, not showing a trace of weakness. In appearances alone, he had the qualities to become Tytania’s leader at a moment’s notice. His arms, which were fifty percent larger in diameter than Jouslain’s, were crossed over his broad chest.

Idris Tytania was the youngest of the four, having just turned 24. As far as features went, he was a nobleman of striking beauty that surpassed even that of Ariabert’s, but one couldn’t help but perceive a hint of hostility about him, likely due to his sharp and fiery spirit that tended to stand out and break the harmony of his entire personality. He was extremely self-conscious about being the youngest of the heads of the Five Families and couldn’t tolerate being made light of. He had two ways to overcome it. One was to improve himself, and the other was to drag others down. Today was an example of the latter.

“Lord Ariabert, you look rather pale. Is something troubling you?”

Hearing Idris’ voice, Ariabert’s brow seemed to twitch for half a second, but he remained silent.

“Of course he doesn’t look well. Lord Ariabert has achieved an unprecedented feat since the founding of the Tytania Principality. The great achievement of suffering a crushing defeat at the hands of a single City Fleet.”

Zarlisch’s reply came in a deep and resounding voice, which in this particular case was naturally tinged with derision. Jouslain remained silent, observing with a slightly sarcastic gaze as Ariabert’s well-formed ears flushed red. For Ariabert, Jouslain’s silence held a weight that was far more noticeable than the loud voices of the other two. Clicking his tongue with displeasure, he steadied his breath and turned his upper body towards Jouslain.

“Why are you so composed? Our Tytania’s prestige has been tarnished, and our ability to rule is being put into question.”

“Our?” repeated Jouslain deliberately as a gentle and ironic frown formed between his eyes. “It isn’t ours. It’s yours. It is you personally who have been defeated, Lord Ariabert. Use the singular. Tytania remains undefeated. Your defeat isn’t Tytania’s defeat.”

Jouslain’s declaration skilfully struck at Ariabert’s wound. Ariabert’s handsome features distorted as if he had tasted acid and salt.

Zarlisch Tytania laughed, his imposing frame shaking. A twisted smile formed from Idris Tytania’s bitterly contorted lips. Jouslain Tytania, the source of their amusement, gazed down at his grey military cap with an expression suggesting that he found nothing of this amusing. He seemed to regard his own actions and consequences as completely trivial. He was Tytanian and the only Tytanian who wasn’t particularly proud about that fact.

As Ariabert was about to retort something, his expression changed to one of reverence and tension. His gaze, fixed on the thick mahogany door, had caught the sight of a fifth figure.

“Your Clanner Highness…”

The four youth rose, careful to not make their chairs creak, and respectfully saluted their clan’s leader. The Tytanian salute consisted of straightening one’s back and placing one’s fist over the left shoulder.

The silver-haired Landless Clanner Ajman Tytania took place at the head of the table with an expression of effortless authority, his shoulders radiating with the unmistakable poise and dignity that befitted a cosmic overlord.

Over the last four years or so, the heads of the Five Families of Tytania had successively passed their role to the next generation, and with the exception of Ajman, the lord of the clan, all four were in their twenties. Conversely, back when their fathers were alive, Ajman had been the youngest among the heads of the Five Families and hadn’t enjoyed the full trust and respect of his elders. In order to command and intimidate his elders, Ajman had exerted considerable effort, though it didn’t take him a lot of time to do so. The succession of leadership within Tytania had occurred with such continuation and so superbly that many suspected the hand of some non-divine entity acting from the shadows. To the present day, the history of Tytania has stirred the imagination of the public. And yet, as long as Tytania held sway, the truth of the matter would never be publicly revealed.

Seated in the highest position reserved for the overlord, Ajman gave the first signal, and the four young noblemen dismissed their salute and took their seats. Greetings such as “I’m glad to see you are all well” were not customary in the Tytania clan. With a second signal, a rectangular white light appeared on the wall opposing him, forming a screen.

Projected on that screen was the portrait of a young man. He seemed to be the same age as Ariabert and Jouslain. He had a somewhat narrow face, carrot-coloured hair, and wore a leopard-print handkerchief wrapped as a bandana. He wore a black lightweight turtleneck sweater and a sepia-coloured military uniform. It was a common uniform of the Interstellar City League, and his city of affiliation was indicated by a number inscribed on his right breast. “0117” meant that he was a citizen of the city-state of Euria.

“He looks like a weak man.”

The one who voiced that opinion was Zarlisch Tytania. An atmosphere of wry amusement was hanging over his seat.

“It’s at the hands of that weak-looking greenhorn that Tytania suffered defeat. By the way, gentlemen, this man is 28 years old, which makes him older than any of you.”

The Landless Clanner Ajman nonchalantly admonished him for underestimating him. At the word “defeat”, Ariabert’s cheeks slightly paled. Before he could protest, the Landless Clanner silenced him with a glance and continued his admonition.

“Lord Ariabert, defeat is inevitable. Victory and defeat are inherent to war. But I hope you do not lose the courage to face defeat head-on.”

“I shall engrave this within me, Your Clanner Highness.”

Ariabert’s answer held palpable restraint. Losing one’s temper in front of the lord of the clan was a taboo in Tytania. While each lord through history had their distinct characteristics, a minimum standard of etiquette still had to be observed. Countless people had brought their downfall upon them through discourtesy born out of passion.


=== II ===
In April that year, Duke Ariabert Tytania was the commander of the Tytanian forces at the “Battle of Cerberus Sector”. He had assembled a fleet of such a magnitude one could hardly imagine that it was intended to oppose a single city fleet.

This fundamental strategy wasn’t flawed in any way. Even a close examination of Earth’s ancient history shows that military leaders such as Edward the Black Prince and Wallenstein had achieved victory by gathering large numbers, organising and structuring them, guaranteeing their supply lines, and deploying them through conventional tactics. In the first half of the 17th century AD, Wallenstein was capable of mobilising an army of 100,000 to 200,000 men, although no city in Germany at the time had a population exceeding 40,000.

Tytania would first overwhelm the enemy through the quality and quantity of its fleet. The fact that the primary purpose of military force was deterrence through intimidation was something that Tytania understood. Speed and firepower of the vessels, crew proficiency, and operational and command capabilities of the leadership. In both hardware and software, Tytania was far ahead of the rest.

As long as that superiority was maintained, Tytania’s defeat was inconceivable.

Ariabert himself had his first battle when he was 15 and was promoted to the rank of vice-admiral of the Vardana Imperial Army at 25 a few years ago. It seemed assured that he would be made full admiral by 30. For a head of one of the Five Families, this was a perfectly reasonable career progression. As a side note, the heads of the Five Families held the title of Imperial Duke, were members of the House of Peers, and possessed privileges such as tax exemption and immunity from arrest. Tytania was a ''de facto'' independent state within the Vardana Empire, and its private army was the most elite force within the Imperial military.

Ariabert Tytania, after meticulous preparation, moved his troops with majestic pomp. “A hiking trip, armed to the teeth” is what Ariabert himself described it, and he was confident of his complete victory. It would be harsh to call him negligent. Fan Hyulick, the appointed commander of the Euria City Fleet, would crush Tytania’s invincible armada using tactics that no one could have possibly imagined. It was a sleight of hand in the deployment of the Weigert canons.

The Weigert canon was named after its developer. It was a type of electromagnetic catapult, but it was difficult to reuse, making it a single-use weapon. A non-magnetic projectile was coated with a conductive metal in its rear, and a massive current was applied through it, causing the coating to vaporise instantaneously. This created an expanding magnetic field while simultaneously a powerful explosive charge instantly compressed a metal track, generating a magnetic field in the opposite direction in the accelerator. Thus, the two opposing magnetic fields were violently compressed, like two springs pushed together from opposite directions, propelling the projectile at terrifying speeds.

A standard Weigert cannon barrel measured ten metres in length for a calibre of 46.5 centimetres and could fire a massive uranium-238 projectile at a speed of 150 kilometres per second, which was equivalent to 540,000 kilometres per hour. It was virtually impossible to defend against it, and a single shot could destroy a battleship. However, the recoil from the firing energy rendered the barrel unusable, making it a one-shot certain-death weapon.

They were useless unless trying to finish off the enemy or for a desperate comeback when an artillery battle reached its final stage. A skilled commander would avoid using Weigert canons and secure victory at an earlier stage. A Weigert could damage not only the barrel but also, sometimes, the mount or even the ship carrying it, so it was, in a sense, like a family heirloom sword: not something to use lightly.

Fan Hyulick had employed them extensively. He had assembled a fleet of six hundred small gunboats, each armed with a single Weigert cannon, some newly built, some acquired secondhand, prioritising sheer numbers. Against the imposing and well-organised Tytanian invasion force, he had repeatedly feigned retreat before engaging in a close-range gun battle. The result of the battle was that in exchange for 600 small gunboats, Fan Hyulick had completely destroyed 119 battleships, 47 space carriers, 80 landing ships, 106 cruisers, 147 frigates, and 104 transport vessels.

From the outset he had intended not only for the Weigert cannons to be disposable but for the vessels carrying them as well. The gunboats would partially disintegrate upon firing, and the crew, already wearing airtight suits, would escape via capsules. The total crew for the 600 vessels was 7,200 men. This represented less than 1% of the entire Tytanian force. And among these 7,200, the number of casualties such as KIA, killed in accidents, prisoners, or MIA didn’t even reach a hundred. The Tytanian casualties amounted to over 100,000 men. Commander Ariabert Tytania was profoundly shocked, and while Zarlisch and Idris welcomed their kin’s woes, when they imagined themselves in his position, they harboured a winter in a corner of their minds.

“Fan Hyulick, huh? He strikes me as a rather intriguing individual, but what are your thoughts, gentlemen?”

In response to Ajman’s voice, Idris raised one hand to his shoulder height to request permission to speak.

“Your Clanner Highness, I, Idris, have undertaken some investigations into this Fan Hyulick.”

Eight pairs of eyes focused on the youngest. Idris slightly straightened his back under his grey military uniform and met the Landless Clanner’s gaze. When Ajman silently nodded, Idris rose from his seat and began to speak.

“Although Lord Ariabert was immature and careless, it remains a regrettable fact that this Fan Hyulick could strike a blow to the Tytanian army.”

Upon hearing these words, Ariabert, the defeated commander, fixed him with a gaze filled with loathing. He was doing this on purpose. Idris remained impassive.

“To ignore such a man and leave him unchecked would not serve Tytania’s interests. A city-state like Euria is too small a place to nurture such a military talent, so I therefore am of the opinion that we should set our grievances aside and welcome him into our ranks, or otherwise, eliminate him.”

“Which of these do you hope for, Lord Idris?”

“I shall answer upon your will, Your Clanner Highness.” With perfectly natural flattery, Idris proceeded to state his opinion: “If Your Highness permits me to offer my humble thoughts, I believe that we should first dispatch emissaries to call for submission, welcome generously those who respond, and severely punish for their discourtesy those who refuse. Tytania may value talent, but we show no mercy towards the arrogance and rudeness of others, and both these aspects must be made perfectly clear.”

Idris then began to describe the character of the enemy commander based on his investigations.

Fan Hyulick was not a famous military person. Far from it, he wasn’t even a soldier to begin with. At the age of 20, he graduated from Euria’s Merchant Marine University and became a clerk aboard a passenger ship, spending a year doing menial tasks. He then became a clerk at Kafir’s kontor, spending two years doing menial tasks. He then worked as a clerk for a cargo convoy, spending another year doing menial tasks, and after that was captured by a Tytanian warship and spent a year in a detention camp. By the time he returned home, he was already 25 years old, and far from making a name for himself, he hadn’t even secured a job that could put food on the table. He had a woman who seemed to be his lover, but while Fan Hyulick was lamenting his meagre soup rations in the detention camp, she went and married someone with a brighter future. Convinced that he was on friendly terms with misfortune, Fan Hyulick applied to join the City Fleet. He outrageously thought that he could take advance pay and desert, but he got the deadline wrong and ended up sleeping in the apartment of a woman he met at a bar when the military police<ref>“Military police” (軍警) is here pronounced “MP”.</ref> raided the place to force him to enlist. Once conscripted, his talent as an artillery officer was revealed, and he rose through the ranks in short order…

“You did a good investigation, Lord Idris.”

Having received the magnanimous praise of his lord, Ajman, and thus saving face, Idris saluted and returned to his seat. Ariabert and Zarlisch looked at him, each with a different expression. Jouslain slightly closed his eyes and looked like he was conversing with his own inner universe. That man was the only one who resisted Idris’ attempts at psychological insight, which often irritated the youngest Tytanian.

“There is a fact here that even Lord Idris doesn’t know about.” The voice had flowed from the lips of the Landless Clanner Ajman. “Fan Hyulick has already been expelled from his mother city. His merit was rewarded with punishment. But I wonder if any of you knows why?”

After a moment of silence, Zarlisch slightly tilted his powerful neck.

“I presume that the citizens of Euria feared Your Clanner Highness’ wrath, took matters into their own hands and disposed of this meritorious man?”

“That’s a part of it. But it isn’t the whole story.”

A faint smile flickered at the corner of the Landless Clanner’s mouth. When his white teeth gleamed like blades, Ariabert, Zarlisch and Idris felt sharp waves of dread surging through their nervous systems. The silver-haired overlord’s demeanour was serene, but it only meant that even during the harshest winter there were mild days. They knew this very well.

“Gentlemen, let us consider this. Why did Euria send an unknown and inexperienced commander to oppose our Tytanian army? If they were expectant of Fan Hyulick’s exceptional talent, then they don’t seem to be satisfied with the outcome. How do you interpret this?”

As the overlord’s voice reached his ears, Jouslain Tytania finally opened his eyes, his gaze turning thoughtful.

“Your Clanner Highness, mayhap Euria deliberately appointed some obscure commander, thinking from the start that he would lose?”

“An apt observation, Lord Jouslain. You are correct,” nodded Ajman, speaking in the manner of a teacher. “Euria resorted to underhanded means. While secretly seeking reconciliation with Tytania, they had to maintain their appearances as a League city. They intended to fight a battle, lose it, and dismiss the entire situation as radical factions running amok, however…”

“Then Your Clanner Highness, if I may be so bold as to ask, had you already negotiated in advance an agreement with Euria?”

Jouslain Tytania’s expression and voice were nonchalant, but they had the effect of an invisible hand brushing over the assembled guests like static electricity. The one whose expression looked the most hurt was Ariabert, the defeated commander. He realised that far from a tragic hero, in the worst-case scenario, he might have been a mere supporting actor in a third-rate farce.

“Tytania fears not bloodshed. But she disdains pointless bloodshed. If our objectives are achieved and coexistence with the opponent is established, that is sufficient. Don’t you agree?”

The Landless Clanner Ajman had affirmed Jouslain’s question. In other words, the Battle of Cerberus Sector had been a staged performance from the outset. Secret negotiations had taken place, leading to an agreement being reached: the price for the chemical formula would be tripled, and ten percent of the royalties that Tytania would receive would be returned to Euria. In order to quell discontent within Euria, a token battle was necessary, so they deployed a small force with the intent to lose. They had even chosen an obscure commander and had meticulously staged the scene of their soldiers losing and fleeing, but that commander, who had no knowledge of the political agreement (or so it appeared), ended up winning. Euria had every reason to be panicking.

With these circumstances clarified, a decision was taken to extend an invitation to Fan Hyulick to go to Tytania. After discussing a few more routine agenda items, the meeting was adjourned thirty minutes later.

''“This concludes our meeting. Gentlemen, thank you for your hard work.”''

Such ordinary farewells held no place in Tytania. Without a word, Ajman Tytania, the Landless Clanner, rose from his seat, swung his sturdy tall frame, and left the conference room. Upon watching him, the four young Dukes, for some reason, took a breath.


=== III ===
On the beltway<ref>“Race track” (走路) is here pronounced “beltway”.</ref> leading to the spaceport, two Tytanians, Ariabert and Jouslain, were walking side by side. Ariabert kept opening and closing his mouth, while Jouslain listened in silence to his cousin’s voice. Ariabert was clearly displeased with the role that had been thrust upon him at the Battle of Cerberus Sector. Finally, maybe irritated by Jouslain’s quasi-unresponsive attitude, he slightly rose his voice.

“Well, Lord Jouslain, are you saying you would have been able to claim victory in such a ludicrous battle?”

“Did it appear like I was making such a claim?”

As Jouslain answered for the first time, he appeared somewhat lost, as if his consciousness were drifting on the edge, but it seemed like his own voice was bringing him back to reality.

“You didn’t. But I was wondering whether you, Lord Jouslain, might have been able to do what I was unable to.”

“Lord Ariabert, it is from your defeat you should learn. There is nothing to learn from me. The thoughtless words that I said before the council began were due to my own rashness. I would be thankful if you forgave them.”

“Hum…” With an expression showing some dissatisfaction, Ariabert nevertheless nodded. “Well then, let us convene at the Celestial City. Until then, I shall take my leave.”

Nonchalantly raising one hand, Jouslain turned on his heel, and Ariabert followed suit, walking towards the direction where his own spacecraft awaited.

From the window of the VIP lounge in the Tytanian space station Trill IV, overlord Ajman gazed at the four spacecraft that were ascending one after the other into the dark void. An elderly steward carrying coffee respectfully addressed him from behind.

“Lord Ariabert appeared somewhat displeased, did he not?”

“Displeased indeed. But holding grudges would not be of any service to Ariabert himself.”

The will of the Landless Clanner, the commander-in-chief, was the very essence of justice in Tytania. One had to obey the overlord’s commands, even if it went against one’s wishes and bred discontent. From the moment they were born, those of Tytanian blood and who bore the name Tytania had a single set of values hammered into their very bones. The head of the clan, as overlord, was deeply revered and sacred. The interests of Tytania were supreme and took precedence over all existence in the cosmos. Ajman himself was taught that since he was old enough to understand. One wasn’t forbidden from harbouring dissatisfaction and grievances. But expressing them was a grave sin.

“Oblon, what do you make of the Four Dukes? You may speak freely. Who do you think possesses the mettle to lead the clan as the overlord?”

“In my humble view, Lord Jouslain would appear to possess the stature befitting of a commander-in-chief.”

“I also think so. Though, surprisingly, it might be that he is merely well gifted in the art of appearing so.”

“You are most prudent.”

“One might call it excessive suspicion.”

Ajman faintly smiled as he uttered words that seemed like self-criticism. Only the overlord could disparage the overlord. The steward merely bowed respectfully, avoiding either agreeing or disagreeing. Overlord Ajman paid no mind to his steward’s ambiguous reaction and pursued his train of thought.

None of the four were incompetent. Though they lacked experience due to their age, they had both talent, courage, and were capable of commanding subordinates. Once they accumulated experience, good advisers, and secured the unity of their clans, they could leave a legacy of governance that would not pale next to that of the past overlords.

And yet, none had the stature to serve as Tytania’s commander-in-chief. Jouslain appeared to be the most capable, but Ajman sensed something oddly inscrutable about him. It was neither a tyrannical streak, nor folly, nor some abnormality. Was Jouslain’s wisdom perhaps turning critical towards Tytania’s past and current state? That thought had no reason or evidence. If anything, it was inseparable from Ajman’s high regard for Jouslain. A capable man couldn’t lack critical awareness of the ''status quo''. Ajman himself had been like that in his twenties.

Barring extraordinary circumstances, Ajman would likely maintain his position as Landless Clanner for another thirty or forty years. By then, both Jouslain and Ariabert would be in their twilight years. Ajman’s eldest son, Theophilus Tytania, was currently six years old and, in forty years, would be in his prime. Ajman’s seat would then be taken by his son Theophilus. However, should Theophilus’ ability and talent prove inferior to others within his family, it wouldn’t benefit Tytania to push his son as his successor. Ajman fully understood this. It was his duty as Tytania’s leader.

The lighting of the interior was dim, and beyond the transparent walls the stars twinkled with a pale blue. The spacecraft was heading towards the capital of the Vardana Empire, planet Ryutehi. A two-day voyage of eighty light-years. For Tytania, it was but a stroll in a back garden.

Jouslain Tytania sat cross-legged on the couch, his gaze fixated beyond the transparent wall, but he then shifted his glance towards a corner of his salon.

“Francia.”

“Yes, Lord Jouslain.”

“Tytania is powerful and proud.”

“Yes, it is as you say.”

“Hum. But what purpose does that power serve? What purpose does that pride serve? Sometimes I cannot help but wonder.”

Jouslain gazed at the starlit lake with a bitter smile. His eyes seemed very deep, seemingly concealing a wealth of almost frightening intelligence. As her master was addressing her, the young handmaid added ice to the freshly brewed sangria, her white cheeks slightly flushing beneath her dark hair. The ice clinked against the silver cup, sounding like a collision of pearls into their eardrums.

“But Clan Tytania contributed to making history.”

The 18-year-old young girl was also a member of the Tytania Clan.

“Tytania only contributes to Tytania.”

Jouslain’s answer was laconic and clear. For a moment, a bubble of silence floated around the room and burst near the ceiling.

“Not that you are wrong. Tytania did what only Tytania could do and shall continue to do so. But what purpose does it serve?”

Jouslain brushed back his brown hair.

If Tytania didn’t exist, history would simply be written without her. Humanity would not suffer from Tytania’s absence. Should enough of mankind realise this truth, Tytania’s might and glory would surely meet the same fate as a sandcastle built on the shore. He was a man ill-suited for Tytania. That he was born to one of the Five Families of Tytania could only be attributed to malice or a mistake from the Creator. Though he believed that, Jouslain knew that he could not escape from that malice.

Although they were rulers of the cosmos and wielded absolute power, Tytania was a heresy. And among them, Jouslain was an ever greater heretic. As a sagacious heretic, he had been aware of that fact since boyhood and had carefully concealed his true nature. For it was obvious that the abnormally proud Tytanian bloodline would not suffer those who doubted their very ''raison d’être''.

Since the age of 16, Jouslain had assisted his father, a capable though frail military and administrative man, in commanding his fleet. His uncommon cool composure and broad perspective for someone of his young age had earned him praise from his father as well as the previous overlord. Though it was no choice of his own, the fact that he ended up in a position where he had to compete with Ariabert, Zarlisch, and Idris, his contemporaries, was an inescapable circumstance.

He vividly remembered the day when a younger Ajman who wasn’t yet the overlord patted him on the shoulder and told him with a smile: “Once I become the overlord, I want you to be my advisor”. Tytania. A fleet of 100,000 vessels. 300,000 carracks<ref>“Armed merchant vessel” (武装商船) is here pronounced “carrack”. Carracks were relatively large European trade ships that were used around the same time as caravels.</ref>. Humanity’s largest power. Maintaining it required both cunning politics to prevent the unification of the anti-Tytania factions as well as relative military superiority achieved through a divide-and-conquer policy.

“Do you believe me to possess precognition abilities, Francia?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, the girl’s eyes slightly widened. Offering her master a silver cup of cold sangria, she replied in a low voice:

“If you say it is so, Lord Jouslain, then I shall believe it.”

Taking the silver cup, Jouslain murmured:

“In that case, remember this. One day, Tytania shall inevitably have to rely on me, Jouslain. However, that shall be when Tytania is faced with the direst of circumstances. Therefore, it would be better for Tytania if it were never my turn to shine.”

The coolness of the cup against his lips felt pleasant.

The history of Tytania was coloured with blood and gold. If one scratched beneath the surface, hues of conspiracy and treachery would appear. A boundless darkness. Jouslain never forgot the abyss that was opened beneath their very feet. He took no pride in his own perception. Compared to Ariabert, Zarlisch, and Idris, he believed his own mental stance to be regressive. It would be for the best if one of these three became Tytania’s commander-in-chief.

Yet, as he was entertaining this thought, a strangely compelling conviction took root in Jouslain’s heart. Someone is bound to realise. Once, the existence of Tytania didn’t exist in the universe. Once someone realises that truth, inevitably the concept of a “universe without Tytania” would be conceived.

=== IV ===
The Vardana Empire reigned over 148 inhabited planets across 90 star systems. It had a total population of six hundred billion people, making it the largest society in mankind, both in territory and population. Over 18 generations spanning 388 years since its foundation, its history was only second to the Kingdom of Angletur, establishing it as an unshakeable superpower.

However, beneath that surface lay another truth. In essence, Vardana was merely Tytania’s headquarters. Whether in terms of financial resources, military might, or scientific and technological advances, should Tytania be excluded, Vardana would amount to nothing more than a second-rate power.

“Tytania chose Vardana. Not the other way around.”

Boastful rhetoric was Tytania’s chronic flaw. It had been almost a tradition since Neville, the founder, and that remark was but another example of it. It showed no consideration for how a listener might perceive it. After all, the very essence of Tytania was its haughty spirit that was able to say things like “the lamentations of our defeated foes are a pleasure to our ears”. Such a thing as a timid Tytanian didn’t exist in the world of men. Should even a crack appear in their resolve, Tytanian supremacy would crumble without as much as a sound and be reduced to cosmic dust.

“Cruelty is preferable to weakness.” This one statement would soon find an opportunity to be proven true.

On the 27th of May of that year, an event took place that was impossible to overlook in the history of the Vardana Empire.

It was originally meant to be a celebration. It was Emperor Harsha VI’s birthday, and envoys from every planet within the empire and also other nations were sent to the court. Planet Ryutehi, the capital of Vardana, was filled with bustle, and Pavienne<ref>“Crystal palace” (水晶宮) is here pronounced “Pavienne”.</ref>, the crystal mansion that served as an imperial palace, was swamped by waves of adorned crowds.

The military uniform of the Vardana Empire was a dull orange. Floating in this sea of orange like grey islands were, of course, the uniforms of Tytania. This distinction made Tytania’s presence in Vardana obvious, even to a child’s eye.

On that largest island were the heads of the Five Families of Tytania. Ariabert, Jouslain, Zarlisch, Idris, and Ajman the Landless Clanner. Even they, in such a time and place, observed the rituals of the subjects and stood to greet the emperor.

The title of Landless Clanner came precisely from the fact that he held no fief granted by the emperor. Of course, Tytania possessed numerous lands and estates, but no such thing as a “vassal kingdom” or a “vassal territory”.

Tytania’s sources of income were her own enterprises in spacefaring, commerce, security, planetary development, and so on, as well as tolls. The latter in particular was a demonstration of Tytania’s power and influence. Space wasn’t a free and ownerless expanse, but Tytania’s garden. When seen in this manner, one could understand the implication of the “Landless” title. It meant that Tytania had no need for land.

Tytania paid homage to the Vardanan Emperor, but it was purely a matter of form. For Tytania, formalities were trivialities.

“His Majesty Harsha II was far too indulgent. He should have crushed Tytania’s head from the beginning and never allowed them to run so rampant.”

The courtiers of the Vardana Empire were lamenting in secret. To them, their laments were perfectly justifiable, but in essence, they were but the pathetic exercise of reaffirming their own powerlessness. Their ancestors had defied Tytania’s despotism, forcing the second lord, Nuri, to drink blood from the cup of purge. They were now bound by Tytania’s chains, only permitted to whisper among themselves, jumping in fear that the object of their slander might hear them.

Clad in the shining military regalia of the Imperial Grand Marshal, Emperor Harsha VI appeared on the stairs. Following three paces behind the Emperor was his Prime Minister Salomon, dressed in the civil officer’s ceremonial robes. He was a man in his mid-sixties, lean, with hair streaked with grey.

As time passed in empty formalities, Ajman eventually stood directly below the stairs and presented to the Emperor a black pearl from planet Igipten.

“This is but a humble offering from Tytania that we present before Your Imperial Majesty. It would be an honour if you would accept it as a token of our loyalty.”

“Hum, declining the kindness of the overlord would be discourteous, so I shall gracefully accept it.”

It was an answer devoid of any personality, but it was the best the Emperor could muster.

There were gifts, in the literal sense, meant to curry favour, and mere appendages to the formalities of etiquette. The Emperor knew this quite well. Although he was five years younger than Ajman, he appeared to be the elder. Not because he had personality, but because he lacked lustre.

“To be truthful, I have also prepared another gift to present to Your Majesty that is far more substantial.”

“Oh, and what might that be?”

“A century of peace and prosperity for the Empire.”

Upon these words, Ajman called for Idris Tytania. The young and handsome duke stepped forward on his invitation, followed by his subordinates, who advanced towards the stairs. Above, the Emperor seemed to hold his breath.

One of Tytania’s privileges was the right to bear arms within the palace. Sixteen guns, not rayguns, but heavy powder-charged guns, were drawn from their belts, their muzzles aiming at Prime Minister Salomon.

A series of gunshots filled the hall.

Ninety-four bullets were fired. Eighty-one struck the Prime Minister’s body, thirty-three passed through, and forty-eight remained lodged. As blood spurted from one hundred and fourteen wounds, the Prime Minister collapsed. His own blood embraced him upon the floor.

When the smoke and stunned silence subsided, the Emperor’s voice and body shook violently.

“What have you done, Oh Landless Clanner? You have harmed my Prime Minister!”

“For the sake of the Empire and Your Imperial Majesty, though unworthy, I have executed a traitor. While my methods might be somewhat lacking in poetry, I consider it to be the greatest gift for the Empire’s tranquillity.”

Ajman proceeded with composure to give an explanation to the pale emperor. The Vardana Empire and Tytania were akin to two inseparable twins. Prime Minister Salomon, driven by selfish ambition, sought to seize power for himself and to drive a wedge between them. The evidence and the witnesses made his guilt obvious, hence his execution.

“But, but why not issue a warrant for his arrest, prosecute him, and put him on trial? Shooting him dead without even a warning shows contempt for law and order… nay, it shows an impatience that is unbecoming of an overlord.”

“To prosecute and put on trial a person whose guilt is obvious would be a waste of time and money.”

Without any mercy, Ajman’s brief remark pulverised the Emperor’s bravery without a noise.

The Emperor collapsed on his throne. He appeared drained and exhausted, like a portrait painted in faded and discoloured pigments.

“I understand your words very well, overlord. You made Salomon pay for his crimes. But it is a lamentable fact that the seat of the prime minister, pillar of the Empire, now stands vacant. I do trust you, overlord, to offer me beneficial counsel regarding whom I should appoint to this heavy responsibility, so what say you?”

“Then I shall offer my advice. I believe that Marquis Clearchus is the most suited man for the position of Prime Minister.”

Clearchus was a person under Tytania’s influence, a fact that was well known to Harsha VI. But if he rejected the new Prime Minister’s appointment on that basis, the Emperor would be risking his own life.

Tytania’s intentions were all too clear. They came here right after their unexpected defeat in the Cerberus Sector at the hands of Euria, a weak enemy. Tytania knew that Prime Minister Salomon was harbouring anti-Tytania sentiments, so they seized their own defeat in Cerberus as an opportunity to pre-empt any anti-Tytania action from Salomon and demonstrate their ability to intimidate all opposition. No, maybe their intentions were even more ruthless than that. Maybe Salomon, who harboured resentment towards Tytania, had been kept alive until now precisely to serve as a sacrificial goat for such a situation?

Whatever the case was, one thing was certain. Even if Salomon’s death was a crime, no punishment for it would ever be given. Punishment was something the strong inflicted on the weak, and no one stronger than Tytania existed within the human realm.

Harsha VI nodded. He erased his facial expression and kept nodding at the overlord’s voice like a perfect puppet. Ajman threw a glance at his kinsmen with a wry gleam in his eyes.

“Lord Idris, His Imperial Majesty has given his graceful command. You have been appointed as Commander of the Imperial Guard. Humbly accept this honour, and serve His Majesty with your uttermost devotion.”

Thus addressed, Idris Tytania solemnly bowed to the Landless Clanner before proceeding to carry out his first duty. Snapping his fingers, he commanded his men to carry Salomon’s corpse out of the palace.

Yet another gram of hatred and resentment was added to Tytania’s annals. Jouslain slightly closed his eyes as he thought about the future. A day would come when the weight of a single straw would break the giant elephant’s back. That day might be tomorrow, he thought.