Baka-Tsuki - User contributions [en]

Category:Yoshiki Tanaka

2026-10-15T23:41:21Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "Category:Author"

[[Category:Author]]

Tytania

2026-10-13T16:03:50Z

Bob Morane:

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 13th October - Volume 5 complete. '''Project complete'''.
* 11th October 2026 - Volume 4 complete
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha01.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha02.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha03.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha04.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 4|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha05.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 5|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==
First editions (the editor switched from Tokuma Shoten to Kodansha after volume 3 due to the long hiatus).
* 31st December 1988 – Vol 1 「疾風篇」、ISBN 4-19-153817-9
* 30th November 1989 – Vol 2 「暴風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154060-2
* 31st May 1991 – Vol 3 「旋風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154542-6
* 25th September 2013 – Vol 4 「烈風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-182890-2
* 4th February 2015 – Vol 5 「凄風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-299042-4

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Completed Project]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania

2026-10-13T16:03:08Z

Bob Morane: /* Updates */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 13th October - Volume 5 complete. '''Project complete'''.
* 11th October 2026 - Volume 4 complete
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha01.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha02.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha03.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha04.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 4|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha05.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 5|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==
First editions (the editor switched from Tokuma Shoten to Kodansha after volume 3 due to the long hiatus).
* 31st December 1988 – Vol 1 「疾風篇」、ISBN 4-19-153817-9
* 30th November 1989 – Vol 2 「暴風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154060-2
* 31st May 1991 – Vol 3 「旋風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154542-6
* 25th September 2013 – Vol 4 「烈風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-182890-2
* 4th February 2015 – Vol 5 「凄風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-299042-4

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania:Volume 3

2026-10-13T15:57:52Z

Bob Morane:

{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power}}

<noinclude>
==Translator's Notes and References==
<references />

{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania:Volume 2|Volume 2]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 4|Volume 4]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Tytania:Volume 4

2026-10-13T15:55:53Z

Bob Morane:

{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last}}

<noinclude>
==Translator's Notes and References==
<references />

{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania:Volume 3|Volume 3]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 5|Volume 5]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Tytania:Volume 5

2026-10-13T15:55:33Z

Bob Morane:

{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince''}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent''}}

<noinclude>
==Translator's Notes and References==
<references />

{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania:Volume 4|Volume 4]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Tytania:Volume 5

2026-10-13T15:54:50Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc}} {{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision}} {{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race}} {{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince''}} {{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"}} {{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels}} {{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter..."

{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince''}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent''}}

<noinclude>
==Translator's Notes and References==
<references />

{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania :Volume 4|Volume 4]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Tytania

2026-10-13T15:52:49Z

Bob Morane: /* Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 11th October 2026 - Volume 4 complete
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha01.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha02.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
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===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
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===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 4|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
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===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 5|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
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==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==
First editions (the editor switched from Tokuma Shoten to Kodansha after volume 3 due to the long hiatus).
* 31st December 1988 – Vol 1 「疾風篇」、ISBN 4-19-153817-9
* 30th November 1989 – Vol 2 「暴風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154060-2
* 31st May 1991 – Vol 3 「旋風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154542-6
* 25th September 2013 – Vol 4 「烈風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-182890-2
* 4th February 2015 – Vol 5 「凄風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-299042-4

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8

2026-10-13T15:52:23Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 7 | Return to Main Page |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'' == === I === Balamy could not believe what he had done. His finger had pressed the trigger of the charged particle gun, firing directly at Ajma..."

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== Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'' ==
=== I ===
Balamy could not believe what he had done. His finger had pressed the trigger of the charged particle gun, firing directly at Ajman, the Clanner, a living Celestial being.

The flash of light that erupted did not strike Ajman’s body, but it struck the epaulette on the right shoulder of his cloak and sent it flying, causing the Clanner to twitch an eyebrow.

“Hoh, the son of my late brother?”

The Clanner shifted his gaze, still clutching his electromagnetic whip.

“You missed. Such things happen when one acts on impulse, driven by cheap emotions. Come to think of it, your father was much the same.”

“… What is that supposed to mean?”

“That is precisely why, despite him being the elder brother, he ended up submitting to me, the younger brother. And in the end, he met such a disgraceful death.”

Balamy’s entire being burnt with heat. His late father, Marquis Estrade, had met an accidental death on the stairs of their home, and much of the blame for that lay with Balamy. Though it felt like a distant, distant past, not even a year had passed. As acid was poured onto his wound, Balamy readjusted his grip on his gun.

“Stop, Balamy.”

The voice, thick with pain, came from Jouslain. Having lost his sight and with his face and throat stained crimson by blood, he had just managed to rise, grasping at the air with his left hand. He cautiously straightened his bent knees and stood with his feet slightly apart, straightening his spine. In his blindness, he finally managed to steady his posture.

“Duke Jouslain, are you unharmed!?”

Balamy’s voice trembled. As long as Clanner Ajman stood before him with a mask-like smirk, holding an electromagnetic whip, Balamy could not bring himself to look directly at Jouslain, who should have been at his side, nor could he run to support him.

Jouslain did not answer Balamy’s question. Instead, he spoke.

“Do not fall for his schemes. This man is a master at wounding his opponent’s heart. If you lose your composure, you will be playing right into his hands.”

“Oh, it seems that since losing your sight, you have grown a little more thoughtful, Duke Jouslain. Regrettably, you are talking in the wrong direction.”

Ignoring the Clanner’s provocation, Jouslain spoke to the younger young nobleman while enduring the intense pain in both his eyes.

“Balamy, you must leave this place.”

“Why!?” cried out Balamy once more who couldn’t help but scream. “Are you telling me that even at this late stage, you do not need my help? Am I really that unreliable!?”

“I need you to protect Princess Lydia.”

“…”

“There is no one else I can entrust this to. Can I not beg that much of you?”

“But your eyes can no longer see! If I am not by your side, how do you intend to defeat the Clanner!?”

Jouslain forced a smile.

“Do not worry. The Clanner will grant me my chance. If only to mock me and to deliver the finishing blow. That is the sort of man he is. A man not even worthy of either loyalty or rebellion.”

The laughter died away.

“Now, go! Return to the ''Austra'' at once.”

''“I refuse,”'' is what Balamy could have replied. There was no necessary reason for him to depart, leaving Jouslain behind alone. He could have simply remained aboard the ''Austra'' with Princess Lydia from the very beginning. However, Jouslain’s reprimand, which transcended mere logic, had strangely overwhelmed Balamy.

“Please, stay safe.”

Leaving behind words he could never have imagined uttering a year ago, Balamy rushed away. Ajman showed no interest in him at all, staring only at Jouslain. Jouslain felt with his entire being that he was standing upon the final stage.

“I thought you were a cruel man—until just a moment ago.”

“Do you have reason to revise your opinion?”

“I have finally understood. I truly loathe my own foolishness.”

“I have no intention of disputing your self-assessment.”

Without responding to the taunt, Jouslain continued:

“You are not even a cruel man. You were merely acting the part of one, using Ariabert, Zarlisch, and Idris.”

Even if the Clanner’s brow had twitched, it would likely not have been by even half a millimetre. Regardless, Jouslain could not have seen it.

“First, you continued to play the role of a profound and steadfast ruler. Once you grew tired of that, you began to act as a reformer seeking to bring change to the universe by rebelling against the history of Tytania. That acceleration went further than expected, and as a crisis loomed over Uraniborg, you killed Ariabert…”

For a brief moment, a piercing sense of regret infused Jouslain’s voice.

“You tore Idris’ arm from its socket, revealing a side of yourself as a cruel tyrant. But even that was an act.”

“Hmm, an intriguing opinion. However, if that is the case, I would very much like you to tell me. What, then, is the true identity of one who has played so many roles?”

“You have no true identity.”

It was an immediate answer, and an assertion.

“You are empty. Your intellect is brilliant, and your appearance is magnificent, but there is nothing inside. You have merely swapped masks and costumes to suit the situation.”

Ajman’s expression did not change. He was well aware that even if he did, Jouslain would not see it.

“You knew that you were nobody, that your interior was hollow. Neither Ariabert’s nobility, nor Zarlisch’s audacity, nor Idris’ ambition were within you.”

Ajman spoke in a sardonic voice.

“Did you exclude yourself?”

“I… I am much the same as you, so I simply chose not to say it aloud. I have merely behaved as though I were a high noble of Tytania, without ever being even aware of that fact.”

The Clanner tucked his whip under his arm and clapped his hands together five times, loudly.

“If you took sufficient time and organised the physical evidence, you might perhaps manage to write a paper worthy of passing. However, the question is whether you have that time. What do you intend to do from here?”

“Kill you.”

Ajman laughed aloud. It was a hollow mockery, as if to provide proof for Jouslain’s hypothesis.

“In your blinded state? A bold resolution, yet it would be shameful if it ended as nothing more than empty boasting.”

“You have become quite loquacious, Ajman. In this single day, I feel as though I have heard a year’s worth of your voice.”

“Hmm.”

“And every time you speak, it nauseates me.”

Ajman abruptly ceased the dialogue.

“Shall we bring this to an end now?”

He readjusted his grip on the whip in his right hand.

“Go ahead and shoot first, Duke Jouslain. If you hit, it shall be a cause for great celebration. If you miss, I shall grant you one final mercy. A death as painless as possible.”

Jouslain swallowed hard. Whether Ajman was a monster with many faces, a cruel murderer, or a despicable fraud, there was no doubt that he was a different breed of warrior than the late Zarlisch or Ariabert. In other words, he could defeat Jouslain in a fair fight. Jouslain had made his remark with that very fact in mind.

In Jouslain’s vision, which had been plunged into darkness, the angel of death had already begun its dance. Even if he tried to flee, there was no escape. If death was unavoidable, he would at least ensure he was not branded a coward.

Jouslain aimed his muzzle towards what he presumed to be the front.

''“Ariabert, Zarlisch, we shall meet again. Francia, please forgive me.”''

Five seconds later, a mocking voice echoed against the high ceiling.

“You missed, Duke Jouslain!”

In terms of sheer splendour, the palace of the Tytania Clanner estate could not rival the Imperial Palace of Vardana. Formally and superficially speaking. The residence of a subject could never surpass that of the sovereign.

Rather, it was said that the Clanners of Tytania had used the Vardana Imperial Palace as a cautionary tale, given that its immense scale and opulence had nearly brought the nation’s finances to the brink of ruin. Although the reasons were somewhat vague, there had never been an instance of a Clanner delighting in personal extravagance, so the policy had faced no heavy criticism.

Even so, to any ordinary person, the estate was undoubtedly a vast labyrinth. Francia found herself having to stop repeatedly to check her bearings.

“Lord Jouslain! Lord Jouslain!”

After calling out twice, Francia fell silent. The fact that Jouslain was deep within the Clanner estate must not be known by many.

Of course, Francia was unaware that Jouslain had lost his sight. Without her making a sound, he would have had no way of knowing she was approaching, even if he were in the very next room. It was a bitterly sharp irony.

Suddenly, Francia leapt aside. Dust motes danced wildly upon the floor where she had stood only a second before, and a circular area with a one-metre radius had changed colour.

“What a quick little brat.”

If voices could kill, the deadly venom contained within Theodora’s words would surely have struck Francia dead in a single blow.

Though Francia was nearly overwhelmed by Theodora’s manic obsession, she steeled her heart and began to run once more.

=== II ===
What Francia feared was not being killed by Theodora. It was the prospect of never seeing Jouslain again. To avoid that, she had no choice but to keep running, regardless of whatever insults Theodora hurled at her. There was nothing more foolish than to fight back and risk a mutual death.

As previously mentioned, the inner palace of the Clanner’s estate had not been constructed as a labyrinth. However, given its immense scale, the vast number of rooms, the winding corridors, and the doors that connected rooms directly to one another, it naturally took on the appearance of a maze. While running through it, she occasionally stumbled into rooms she had never even imagined existed.

That was exactly what happened to Francia.

“Francia! You little brat! This is no place for someone like you. To presume to enter the presence of His Highness!”

It was the voice of Countess Theodora.

In that brief, tense moment, several small coincidences had aligned to form a situation that could only be called “fate”.

Just as Theodora had said, the place Francia had burst into was the private chambers of Clanner Ajman. Upon realising this, Francia stood frozen, letting out a silent scream at the sight before her eyes. Jouslain, his face covered in blood, was facing off against the Clanner, who held a whip in his hand.

Ultimately, it was likely Ajman’s own arrogance that had brought about this final outcome.

Suddenly, Jouslain threw himself onto the floor in front of him. As the blows struck his chest and abdomen, his breath caught for a moment. Undeterred, Jouslain gripped the heat gun with both hands, pressed the button, and fired upwards. At the same time, he swept the muzzle from left to right, using the heat beam like a blade to slash sideways.

At a distance, the ultra-high-temperature blade soared over the heads of Francia and Theodora, slashing horizontally across the high wall near the ceiling for seven or eight metres; at close range, it passed from left to right just above the shoulders of Clanner Ajman.

Ajman’s severed head stared down at the body that remained standing, still clutching the whip; after appearing to hover in the air for a moment, it fell behind his back and rolled across the floor.

As Ajman’s head rolled along the ground, his face was contorted with an expression of pure shock and dismay. It was only upon losing his life that the eighth-generation Clanner of Tytania seemed to have regained a human-like expression.

Jouslain, who had instantaneously calculated the angle of fire to ensure Francia remained unharmed, scrambled to his feet by touch alone. Francia ran towards him in a frenzy.

A terrifying scream rang out. It erupted from the mouth of Countess Theodora. Without even looking back, Francia threw herself at the staggering Jouslain, supporting his weight.

“Lord Jouslain, it is I, Francia.”

“Why are you in a place like this!?”

“I am prepared for your reprimand.”

“You fool! You absolute fool!”

Though Lady Theodora condemned him relentlessly, Jouslain only wanted to know what he couldn’t see.

“Francia, what of Ajman?”

“He is dead.”

Jouslain let out a heavy breath.

“I see. So, he has died.”

“You fool! Did you not know? Did you not know!? Without even knowing what His Clanner Highness was doing…”

“What is happening?”

Sensing something profoundly strange in Lady Theodora’s words and actions, Jouslain turned his sightless eyes towards her.

“If His Clanner Highness’ heart stops, this palace will explode! That’s what’s going on. Even in his own death, His Clanner Highness will not allow a hateful culprit to escape. None of you will survive either.”

Jouslain did not know that. The fact that he did not know surely meant that neither Ariabert, Idris, nor Zarlisch knew. How, then, had Theodora managed to learn such an important secret?

A bitter sensation filled his mouth, tasting like blood.

She was likely told about this in Ajman’s bed. Only a woman could achieve something like that. It was exactly as Idris stated. Ajman was obsessed with the Clanner throne.

Jouslain questioned Theodora aloud.

“Well then, Countess, what do you intend to do?”

Though Jouslain could not see it, upon seeing Lady Theodora move her gun, Francia also swiftly raised her weapon.

“Go ahead and shoot if you wish for us to perish together.”

“I have no intention of dying with you. I will live. I will survive, and I will surely become the ruler of Tytania!”

Theodora began to run back in the direction from which she had come. She did not cast even a single glance at the remains of Ajman, whose head and torso had been eternally severed. Since the dead man held no further utility for her, she clearly had no concept of showing them respect. It was a display of magnificent selfishness and sheer tenacity.

“Francia, you must flee quickly as well.”

“Yes. Come, Lord Jouslain, please join me.”

“Don’t bother with me. The only reason Theodora was able to flee was because there was time to escape. Go, follow after that woman now.”

“Lord Jouslain.”

Francia’s smooth palm stroked her master’s bloodstained eyelid.

“Lord Jouslain, will you not consider living on with me?”

“…”

Francia’s white fingers continued to wipe away Jouslain’s blood, becoming the same crimson as her master. Jouslain, however, could not see the sight.

“If you say that you will not flee from here, Lord Jouslain, then I shall do the same.”

“Francia, I have neither the reason nor the right to live anymore.”

“If you will not consent to my plea, Lord Jouslain, then I, too, shall not consent to what you say. I believe that is what it means to be equals.”

Through what was called the eye of the heart, Jouslain perceived the resolute expression on Francia’s face.

“I understand, Francia. Let us flee. Will you take my hand?”

“Yes!”

Francia gripped the offered hand firmly. More than when Jouslain had felt it just a moment before, she felt their respective life forces and wills flowing into one another, merging as one.

They would run towards life.

Francia was fast enough to infuriate Lady Theodora, but as she was leading the sightless Jouslain by the hand, she could not exert her abilities to their full extent. Even so, she ran while desperately trying to recall the route out of the monster’s den.

Even if he had been able to see, Jouslain would not have wanted to behold the corpse of Clanner Ajman. Since Francia had informed him that he “had died”, his death was certain; and since Jouslain had planned, predicted, and fired the shot, he could already surmise the state of the body.

“Ariabert, I avenged you,” he muttered that ''cliché'' line to himself.

At that moment, he felt no such thing as the emptiness of revenge. Since he had missed the first shot, Jouslain was the one who truly deserved to have been killed. The Clanner had spoken of “granting a merciful death”, but of course, Jouslain had not believed him.

In truth, he had not accepted Francia’s words about “living together” either. They would, in all likelihood, die together. As long as Francia’s resolve remained unshakeable, he would let her have her way. That was what he thought as he endured the searing pain in both his eyes.

=== III ===
“This was the end of a man who desired to become a hero in an age where no hero was needed.”

Kneeling on one knee upon the floor, Doctor Lee closed the eyelids of the deceased with awkward movements. He closed the eyelids of Duke Idris Tytania.

“What will you tell his younger brother, who idolised his elder brother? He might descend into madness.”

“As long as he does not ask, there is no need for us to tell him.”

As Miranda and Doctor Lee were exchanging those words, shadows burst into the room. There were two of them. Everyone reflexively aimed their weapons, only to lower them immediately. Because one of them was Duke Jouslain. They didn’t know who the young, beautiful woman supporting him was. Francia was not a public figure and had never appeared before others.

“Duke Jouslain, what happened to your face?”

“Doctor, is that you? The Clanner got me good.”

“I see. I shall hear the details later, but what became of the Clanner?”

“I killed him. With my own hands.”

Doctor Lee let out a whistle. It was the sort of whistle that made one wonder which was the most clumsy between him and Hyulick.

“So you’ve done it, then. Well, let us tend to your wounds.”

“No, there is no time for that. This palace is about to explode. If we do not leave immediately, we shall end up dying alongside Ajman.”

“I see, so that was the origin of that space urban legend. Understood. Hey, everyone, withdraw immediately!”

Doctor Lee shouted towards the back, urging Jouslain and the others.

“Go on ahead. We will follow shortly. There are still some who have not returned.”

After watching the two depart, Doctor Lee turned his gaze elsewhere.

“Hey, Mahdi, be satisfied with whatever treasure you managed to cram into your rucksack. Give up on that sack you’re dragging across the floor.”

“What!? There are at least fifty platinum<ref name="ftn28">“White gold” (白金) is pronounced “platinum”.</ref> ingots in this bag. Tsk, if only Walenkov was still alive…”

“Then you would be dying alongside the platinum.”

As Miranda responded coldly, two more figures came running in. It was Hyulick and Seraphine.

“Did you two manage to make a profit as well?”

“Well, something like that.”

“Then let us leave this place at once. Hurry.”

And so, Hyulick and the others ended up passing by Jouslain and his group.

Jouslain continued to run, unable to see.

“What happened, Francia?”

Francia’s grip tightened.

“In the room just now, Duke Idris was collapsed on the floor. His right arm had been torn off… he was dead.”

“I see… So Ajman killed him.”

Jouslain turned his head, but it was of course impossible for him to see Idris in his current state. Idris likely would not have wanted Jouslain to behold the sight of his own death. ''It must be divine dispensation'', thought Jouslain.

“Idris… Perhaps you were the one who truly loved Tytania the most, exactly the way she was.”

Jouslain did not know if those were his true feelings, mere sentiment, or a hypocrisy used to deceive his own conscience.

It did not matter if he did not know.

“Let us go, Francia.”

“Yes.”

Jouslain and Francia set off running, arms entwined. Even so, it was at most a brisk pace, yet someone watched their forms with glittering eyes.

It was Countess Theodora.

She stood upon the gallery overlooking the great hall, her left hand resting on the handrail and her right gripping a percussion cap pistol. She should have fled immediately, but she could not bear to let Jouslain and Francia escape her sight, so she aimed the muzzle at them in silence. She intended for them to die without ever understanding what had happened.

With a thunderous roar, the pistol discharged. Her target was Jouslain’s head. She had, of course, taken careful aim, but the distance was too great. While Theodora was a marksman approaching the level of an expert, she had not yet reached the realm of the divine. It appeared as though a lock of Jouslain’s hair had flown away, but in truth, it was nothing more than a hole that had been punched into the wall.

Francia spun around and fired her heat gun without a moment’s hesitation. It missed once again, yet Theodora was forced to duck low to avoid the blast.

Suddenly, the world turned monochrome<ref name="ftn29">“Black and white” (白黒) is pronounced “monochro”.</ref>, and a thunderous roar battered her eardrums. The bomb, planted by the late Clanner, had detonated in the ceiling.

The chandelier, now a mass of crimson flames, fell from above with the howling sound of rushing wind.

That was the final sight Countess Theodora beheld in this dimension. She never lived to see the scene beneath the falling debris, which descended like a torrential rain, as Jouslain shielded Francia beneath his body.

“Good grief, it seems everyone has well and truly exhausted their good luck.”

Miranda gave a wry smile, her forehead and hands bleeding and several places in her field uniform torn. Aside from Walenkov, every one of the pirates who had infiltrated the Tytania Clanner Palace had managed to survive.

Amidst the chaos of flames, smoke, and alarms, with the living and the dead intermingled, they had actually made use of the panic to successfully escape the palace. Had they remained fixated on the platinum ingots, Mahdi alone might have been left behind.

Upon breaking into a deserted, ransacked restaurant, they searched for safe food and drink, eventually discovering light beer, sports drinks, ham, cheese, and biscuits. Whilst offering thanks to the patron saint of pirates, they hydrated their throats and filled their stomachs in silence for a while. Once they had caught their breath, a Tytania patrol car passed by on the street outside the shop. It was moving away while asserting safety and order to the citizens.

“I wonder who is issuing these orders?”

“Perhaps Count Elman. He probably wouldn’t handle command in a war, but he would manage the routine work without much issue.”

Seraphine turned on the television in the shop. An emergency special programme had just begun. A middle-aged female presenter appeared, seated alongside an elderly gentleman with a bright, intelligent look in his eyes.

''“… Well, what will become of space and human society moving forward? I would like to ask political commentator Mr J. Caposhbar.”''

''“Please, call me a general social scientist<ref name="ftn30">''“Social scientist” (総合社会科学者) is pronounced “social scientist”.''</ref>. And I do hold a PhD.”''

''“I apologise. Then, Dr Caposhbar, what will become of space, and what should we do?”''

''“Since the single greatest superpower has vanished, it is only natural that anxiety and confusion should arise. However, this situation will not last forever.”''

''“It would be a problem if this continued for long. I cannot even begin to imagine the extent of the impact it will have.”''

''“As citizens, we have no choice but to remain calm, not panic, and carry on with our daily lives. We hope that Tytania will appoint a successor as soon as possible and work to resolve this confusion.”''

''“It appears that several directives have been issued in the name of Count Elman, but are these merely provisional?”''

''“That is likely the case, but there is still very little information available. I cannot say anything for certain.”''

=== IV ===
Amidst the immense chaos both inside and outside Uraniborg, Viscount Balamy Tytania piloted a single-seat reconnaissance plane<ref name="ftn31">“Single-seat reconnaissance plane” (単座式偵察機) is pronounced “mini cyprus”.</ref> back to the space battleship ''Austra''. On the way, he had faced death no fewer than half a dozen times. Once he was finally brought into the battleship’s hangar, he made his way towards the bridge.

“Bal, Bal, are you alright!?”

Voices of joy made the very air dance, and a small figure leapt towards Balamy like a bullet. Balamy smiled as he caught Princess Lydia in his arms.

“I am deeply sorry for causing you such worry. I have managed to somehow return.”

“Bal, what about Duke Jouslain and Francia?”

It was a question he had braced himself for, one he had resigned himself to. Even so, he could not dispel the dark clouds swirling within his heart.

“I am so sorry. I cannot confirm whether they are alive or dead. I have returned alone, in complete shame. I am prepared for your reprimand.”

Princess Lydia pulled herself away from Balamy just enough to look up at her knight. Her clear eyes held no trace of reproach.

“I was wondering what I would do if none of the three of you came back. It is not your fault at all, Bal. You did well to return. I am glad.”

Though she said she was happy, her small eyes overflowed with tears.

“You needn’t worry about Duke Jouslain or Francia. There is no way those two could die.”

“Princess…”

“Because, it’s true, isn’t it? Those two are much more reliable than you, Bal.”

Princess Lydia attempted to smile but failed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“When I am much older, before I become Queen, I will go and search for them. If they are alive, I will surely find them. The universe is such a small place, after all.”

The coexistence of her childish tears and such grand words was entirely characteristic of the Princess. Balamy was struck by a sincerity so pure it astonished even him, and he offered his handkerchief to the Princess’ small hand.

“What about you, Bal?”

“I cannot leave the fleet in its current state. I shall contact Uraniborg, organise the assessment of our losses, and once everything is settled, I will disband them. After that, I shall leave matters in the hands of Count Elman and the other surviving nobles.”

“I see. But what do you intend to do after that?”

“Naturally, I shall escort you back to your motherland<ref name="ftn32">Here, “motherland” (母国) is pronounced “Elbing”.</ref>, Princess. After that, most wretchedly, I shall have no place to return to. Would you grant me permission to remain in Elbing for a while?”

“Very well, I permit it.”

The Princess wiped away her tears, blew her nose vigorously, and then folded the handkerchief with an embarrassed air.

“When the time comes, I wish to accompany you on your journey to search for Duke Jouslain and Lady Francia. Would that be acceptable?”

“I permit that too!”

Princess Lydia’s voice, so full of vitality, brightened Balamy’s heart. He felt as though he might be able to walk the long, dark path ahead of him with his head held high.

As if suddenly remembering something, Princess Lydia asked a question.

“By the way, what became of the Clanner and Duke Idris?”

“Both are dead.”

In truth, he had not actually witnessed their deaths. However, just before leaving Uraniborg, he had heard rumours flying faster than light. There was no doubt that the Clanner’s death was by Jouslain’s hand, and Balamy felt a sense of congratulation that he had finally avenged Ariabert. He had achieved something remarkable considering that he had lost his sight.

As for Idris’ death, there was nothing to do but let his imagination run wild, but he had no choice but to assume it was at the hands of the Clanner. Depending on how the situation had shifted, it might even have been Balamy himself who ended up killing Idris. He felt a complex mix of emotions, but when he recalled the gruesome sight of Idris with his arm torn away, sympathy ultimately emerged as the final victor.

Captain Edna Fredericks appeared before the Princess and Balamy to celebrate their safety. Balamy provided a brief explanation of the situation.

“So, Captain, what will you do now?”

“Unlike Her Highness and Your Lordship Grace Balamy, I have no one left to search for. I possess no skills beyond those of a soldier, so even if Tytania’s fleet is downsized, I intend to remain.”

“Before that, could you escort the Princess and me to the Kingdom of Elbing?”

“Of course.”

Princess Lydia spoke up unexpectedly:

“Captain Fredericks!”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything.”

As Princess Lydia gave a small bow, Balamy followed suit with a Tytania-style salute.

“You are too kind.”

For the first time, tears welled in Captain Edna Fredericks’ eyes.

Just before the space battleship ''Austra'' departed for the Kingdom of Elbing, a notification was broadcast from Uraniborg to the entire fleet.

“His Clanner Highness Ajman has passed away. Fighting in the name of the Clanner no longer holds meaning. Both forces are to cease hostilities immediately and remain on standby until further orders. I repeat, His Clanner Highness Ajman has…”

Both friend and foe were left in a state of stunned disbelief, powerless to react, yet one after another, they ceased fire in accordance with the announcement. Thus, the “Uraniborg Incident” was formally brought to a close.

On planet Ementhal, Kafir, Tyron, and Bargash, as well as on distant frontier planets and interstellar liners, this transmission sent shockwaves through the populace, striking tens of billions of voices and the many billions of ears that followed.

“Did they say the Clanner has died?”

“That’s what they said, indeed.”

“How can this be! Then what will become of the future of Tytania?”

“Someone else will become the next Clanner. It is not as if the choice lies with you or me, so there is no use worrying about it.”

“I suppose so… At any rate, the fighting seems to be over, and it looks as though we survived.”

“Let’s go home. We shall eat and sleep, and when we wake tomorrow morning, our usual lives will have returned. Can you stand?”

“If you will lead the way.”

While such gentle and sweet conversation was being exchanged, there also existed, naturally, arguments so unpleasant that even a malicious cat and a brutish dog would turn their faces away.

“Don’t be ridiculous! There is still a whole week left until the payment deadline. Re-read the contract. Or are you unable to read?”

“I shall return your words to you. Isn’t it written that in the event of an unavoidable emergency, the deadline may be moved forward by mutual agreement? We are currently in such a situation.”

“As if anyone would agree to that! If you want your money, come and see me in court!”

Vulgar disputes were breaking out everywhere, but among the crew of the second-hand spacecraft ''Honest Old Man Junior'', the only sounds were cries of sorrow.

“Oh, my beloved platinum ingots… please forgive me for leaving you behind.”

“I’ll tell you now, Mahdi, no matter how much you love those ingots, you have no legal right to possess them anywhere in human society. Just make do with your rucksack’s share. Now that I look at you, isn’t a wad of cash practically spilling out of your pocket?”

Alan Mahdi was perhaps the only person in the universe who had gained direct financial profit from the Clanner’s death. However, he could not simply rejoice in his one-in-tens-of-billions stroke of luck. He was suffering the pangs of a conscience that had left behind platinum ingots that seemed to scream, “Take us with you!”

While he allowed himself to lament to his heart’s content, the others remained gathered around the coffee table.

“What became of Ajman’s wife and children?”

“Their fates are unknown.”

“In that case, if his son survives and comes of age, he might seek to avenge his father.”

“It won’t stop there. He might aim to restore the Tytania and re-establish dominion over the universe as the legitimate Clanner heir.”

Hyulick grimaced at the utter wretchedness of the decaffeinated coffee.

“Now, hold on. Isn’t that exactly what Ajman himself wanted to do?”

“It is the height of irony. Yes, that was exactly what Ajman craved. A young man lost amongst the common folk, who is suddenly told one day, ‘You are the child of a king,’ and sets out to reclaim a kingdom.”

“What, so it’s a classic tale of a displaced prince? You mean to say Ajman simply wanted to be the hero of a fairy tale?”

As Miranda spoke in exasperation, Doctor Lee placed his coffee cup back on the table.

“Simply put, that’s exactly it. He had everything. Everything, except for what he actually needed.”

Behind that presence, that dignity, and that imposing physique, behind those heavy and arrogant words and deeds, what had been nurtured in silence, unknown to anyone, was nothing more than a mental degeneration born of resentment and self-righteousness.

“Perhaps Ajman pushed himself past his limits, continuing to play the part of the perfect Clanner. The oppression turned inwards and crushed him. Perhaps it is healthier to be like Mahdi, someone whose true intentions are obvious just by looking at them.”

“Why do you have to use me as an example?”

“Because you’re easy to understand.”

They were waiting for departure clearance at the civilian spaceport of Uraniborg. When legal permission was not forthcoming, they intended to resort to their usual tricks, but they could not force the issue while the spaceport was overflowing with people and supplies.

“So, how has His Imperial Majesty of Vardana taken the news of Clanner Ajman’s death? Having been bullied so relentlessly until now, he must be overjoyed.”

“They say he has lost all sense of restraint.”

“It seems he has been greatly liberated from his mental burdens. Even though it doesn’t concern us personally, it is worth celebrating.”

Because they were in a crowded rest area, they were making an effort not to raise their voices.

“But I wonder if the Vardana Empire can survive without Tytania.”

“That’s none of our concern. Or would you like to get involved with it, Miranda?”

“I’ll pass,” replied instantly the Princess. “One should not attempt things that are beyond their station. One year of experience was more than enough.”

“A wise decision.”

“I shall simply think of it as having had an interesting, long dream and return to my former life. Though, perhaps this current state is actually the dream itself.”

“So, in the end, what Tytania brought was an era of two hundred years of thoughtlessness?”

“Future generations might say it was a surprisingly happy era.”

“That depends entirely on how one defines happiness.”

The name of their ship was announced. Departure had been authorised. A group of men and women, wearing expressions of weary anticipation, began to leave the rest area.

“I wonder what future generations will call this coming era, Doctor?”

“I wonder.”

Doctor Lee pinched his chin with his fingertips.

“Perhaps it will be called ‘Zamana Masafent<ref name="ftn33">The expression used here (大空位時代) refers to the Great Interregnum, a period where the Holy Roman Empire didn't have a reigning emperor. However, it is pronounced as “Zamana Masafent” which is a period of Ethiopian history where, similarly, there was no centralised power.</ref>’.”

This implied that an era that was not a ‘vacancy<ref name="ftn34">“Great Interregnum” in Japanese is literally written “Period of Great Vacancy”.</ref>’ would one day arrive. Despite having said it himself, Doctor Lee felt a sense of doubt. Tytania had been too vast. So vast that she was beyond human control. So vast that, unless one were a madman, she could not be ruled alone.

A universe without Tytania. A world of chaos without order.

Unless there were long-lived beings exceeding two hundred years of age, all of humanity, possessing the capacity for thought, would be cast into an unknown dimension. The era in which one could find peace of mind by shifting responsibility onto others would vanish in a startlingly short period of time.

Just what, in the end, had Tytania been?

How should one live from this moment forward?

“And ultimately, everyone will arrive at a similar conclusion. That humanity must continue to live even without the existence of Tytania, and that, in fact, we are capable of doing so.”

“Is that your conclusion, Doctor?”

“It’s not a conclusion. It’s a prediction.”

After a group of men and women departed, another group occupied the vacated table. They looked exhausted from the very start as they ordered their drinks.

=== V ===
Enduring the absurdity of paying for coffee that tasted even worse than what she could have brewed herself, Seraphine Coopers asked:

“So, what are we going to do about Zelpha?”

“Ah, if it turns out he has nowhere else to go, I was thinking we might just adopt him ourselves.”

Miranda spoke lightly, and Mahdi’s laughter rang out, breaking a momentary silence, only to instantly turn into a shriek.

“Ow, stop it!”

“Even so, I am Her Highness the Princess of Casabianca. Have you forgotten? Or are you just pretending to have forgotten?”

“I remember, I remember! That’s why I’m telling you to stop pulling my ear. It’s going to tear off!”

When Miranda released her grip, Mahdi exaggeratedly rubbed his ear.

“Ooh, that hurt. But, tell me, you don’t intend to raise him as a young lord, do you? How exactly do you plan to raise him?”

“I shall raise him to be a splendid captain… though before that, he might try to kill us or run away and vanish.”

“Hey now, are you sure about that?”

“Suppose Seraphine decides to cook fried eggs for Hyulick every once in a while?”

“That was a remarkably sudden change of subject.”

Mahdi flicked the edge of his coffee cup with his fingertip, and Seraphine herself blinked, staring at Miranda.

“So, the egg is poured into the frying pan. The yolk maintains its shape, but the white changes form, spreading and flowing, until it gradually solidifies. It’s about what shape it ultimately takes when it hardens.”

“A fine metaphor,” remarked Doctor Lee.

“Is that so? I suppose it’ll be interesting waiting to see what kind of fried egg we get. I just hope it doesn’t become an addiction.”

Before he could even finish, Mahdi leaned his upper body away to avoid an attack on his ear. Glancing at that purely defensive manoeuvre, Hyulick turned to ask Doctor Lee.

“What about the name of the Blaze Flag Army from now on?”

“There is no copyright on it, so if anyone wants to use it, they are free to do so.”

“Is that really alright?”

“Fine by me. If those using it turn out to be a bunch of scoundrels, I’ll just accuse them of unauthorised use and fleece them for damages.”

“As expected of you.”

“If you pay a usage fee, I might even let you make it your own personal brand.”

“… No, I’ll pass.”

Fan Hyulick was struck by a physiological necessity, so he made his way to the appropriate place. Once he had finished, he stood in the bustling corridor, glancing aimlessly around his surroundings.

He doubted he would ever return to this place again. As he felt a sudden, uncharacteristic wave of sentimentality, a woman passed in front of Hyulick. His mouth parted slightly as he was captivated by her.

She was a beautiful woman. Was she around the age of twenty? Her attire was modest and elegant, without being ostentatious. Her features, while not quite peerless, were lovely enough to draw the eye and possessed a certain dignified grace.

Where could a beauty like that be going on a solo journey? No, she must have someone with her. Perhaps someone was waiting for her somewhere. Whoever they were, they were incredibly lucky. Just as that thought crossed his mind, the voice of Seraphine Coopers reached him.

“Fan, what are you doing!? Our ship’s name has finally been announced. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be left behind!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!”

Perhaps he, too, was quite fortunate. With that thought, the young man who had once caused a great upheaval throughout the entire universe ruffled his carrot-coloured hair and walked towards his companions with a brisk pace.

The beautiful woman did not even glance at Hyulick, but her approach to the service counter could only be described as cautious. She carefully compared the electronic timetable positioned above the counter with the small tablet in her hands.

“I’d like the earliest possible departure for Ementhal, please. For two people.”

“If it’s Ementhal, I can get you two seats. Although it doesn’t look like any other flights will be able to depart for the time being. Who even knows if the flight to Ementhal might be cancelled? However, you’re in luck, miss. A cancellation has just come through. But do you have cash on you?”

“Is a card not acceptable?”

“Well, miss, it would have been until now. But as you know, the Tytania payment system has crashed, and until it is restored, we have no choice but to settle payments in cash. Don’t worry, everything will be resolved within two days.”

“Very well. I can’t wait two days, so I will pay in cash.”

The clerk nodded, though a somewhat complicated emotion flickered across his face. He was a middle-aged man and, naturally, felt a fondness for the young, beautiful woman. He hoped to leave a good impression on her.

“Are you sure? Actually, the cheaper cabins<ref name="ftn35">“Room” (客室) is pronounced “cabin”.</ref> are being filled up first, so it will be a bit more expensive…”

“That’s fine. How much will it be?”

As the clerk announced the price, the young beauty smiled and nodded, then opened her bag and produced the cash. How could someone so young afford such an amount? He accepted the payment while wondering about that. Ordinarily, he would have pressed the button under the counter to call for Tytania guards just to be safe, but times had changed.

“Depending on the circumstances, I could offer a discounted rate.”

“Actually, my companion is in a wheelchair.”

“Goodness, you should have said so sooner. If you are travelling with a disabled person, you are entitled to priority boarding, and the price will be discounted by five per cent.”

“My, how kind of you. Thank you very much.”

“No, no, it is simply part of the service…”

On that day, the attendant carried out his work in high spirits, and several other passengers were fortunate enough to benefit from it.

The beautiful woman left the counter and moved behind a large rectangular pillar.

“Lord Jouslain.”

The man she addressed was seated in a wheelchair. He had bandages wrapped from his head across the upper half of his face, he wore dark sunglasses for the visually impaired, and his left arm hung in a sling from his shoulder. Though his condition was wretched, the suit he wore was brand new and looked expensive, despite looking plain. A thin blanket was draped over his knees.

This was the current state of Duke Jouslain Tytania.

“Ah, thank you… I truly am useless. If you weren’t here, Francia, I wouldn’t even be able to survive. I am a man of no value.”

“Speaking such self-deprecating things is not like you, Lord Jouslain.”

“Very well, I shall stop. Did you happen to run into anyone we know in the lobby?”

“No, fortunately, I didn’t run into anyone.”

In the end, Hyulick and Francia’s encounter concluded without them ever learning each other’s true identities.

Clanner Ajman was dead. Duke Ariabert was dead. Duke Zarlisch was dead. Duke Idris was dead. Only Duke Jouslain remained alive. If that fact became known, everyone would accept Jouslain as the next Clanner. Even having lost his sight and being paralysed from the waist down, his achievements and his balanced political leadership and mediation skills would be supported as being capable of maintaining the “''Pax Tytaniana''” for decades to come.

And after that?

New ambitious figures would emerge to vie for the next throne, new rivals would appear, and human society would watch the progress and the outcome with bated breath.

As he had stated, Jouslain desired to escape from Tytania and leave Uraniborg far behind. Francia shared this wish. For the time being, they would head to Ementhal. Since it was a major transport hub, it would allow them to travel even further into the frontier.

Jouslain recalled his visit to the doctor yesterday, under a pseudonym.

“Traumatic amaurosis. I am sorry, but no recovery can be expected.”

Francia’s hand tightened as she gripped Jouslain’s. Jouslain remained calm as he squeezed her hand back.

“A diagnosis fitting for me. Even with my eyes open, I can see nothing.”

The doctor added, in an attempt to prevent him from becoming too pessimistic:

“With cybernetic prosthetic eyes, you will be able to see again. However, insurance won’t cover it, so it would likely be quite expensive.”

“We shall discuss insurance later. How about his legs?”

Suppressing her irritation deep within, Francia fixed her eyes on the doctor with a look of trust, prompting him to blink as if squinting against a bright light.

“The bones from his right knee downwards have suffered complete committed fractures. I am terribly sorry to say this, but amputation will be necessary. As for the compound fracture in his left leg, it should recover in about three months.”

He went on to discuss surgery for the left shoulder, the cybernetic prosthetic leg, and how the fractures to the ribs and left shoulder would likely heal fully within about a month. The doctor tilted his head several times while speaking, likely because Jouslain’s face looked somewhat familiar. Francia had felt a moment of trepidation, but in the end, the doctor was so preoccupied with the impression Francia made that he failed to recognise Jouslain…

Francia spoke:

“The interstellar liner bound for Ementhal will depart in an hour. Let us go, Lord Jouslain.”

Francia turned Jouslain’s wheelchair around and began to move forward, pushing him from behind. Jouslain spoke to her over his shoulder:

“You could have opted for an electric model…”

“I want to push you myself. Please, let me do this my way.”

“I am sorry.”

“One day, you will be taking about how harsh I am. I intend to be quite strict when assisting you with your rehabilitation.”

After a brief silence, Jouslain spoke with deep sincerity:

“I shall rely on you, then.”

“Yes, yes, please do rely on me.”

Her voice sounded as though it were laced with tears. Upon the black canvas of his unseeing eyes, Jouslain tried to trace the fleeting images of Ariabert, Idris, and Zarlisch.

He decided that he would live on.

In later years, July SY 447 was marked as the beginning of the Great Interregnum “Zamana Masafent”. The year of Duke Jouslain Tytania’s death is unknown.

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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7

2026-10-13T15:51:22Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 6 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 8 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation == === I === A band of rogue pirates known as the Blaze Flag Army had originally stayed a..."

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== Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation ==
=== I ===
A band of rogue pirates known as the Blaze Flag Army had originally stayed at Uraniborg after receiving an invitation from Tytania. However, after being forced to depart for an attack on the Kingdom of Elbing, they did not return home upon their failure. Instead, they had secretly infiltrated the Clanner residence as uninvited guests.

“To put it kindly, it was an ungrateful act. To put it bluntly, it was a shameless one.”

“No matter how you look at it, that’s not a kind way to put it, Doctor. Besides, why did we even come trotting along in the first place after being summoned by Tytania?”

“Because, Miranda, we needed to scout the enemy’s base of operations for this very moment. We also had to uphold the honour of Count Elman.”

“Aren’t we currently trampling all over Count Elman’s honour?”

“Fate is a heartless thing.”

Pagès clicked his tongue.

“Damn it, there are guards everywhere we go.”

“Of course there are. This is the enemy’s headquarters.”

Mahdi braced himself and fired his auto-ray<ref name="ftn22">“Auto-ray small gun” (自動光線小銃) is pronounced “auto-ray”.</ref> rifle indiscriminately.

Pagès was the most bellicose of them all. Undoubtedly, Walenkov’s death had had a profound effect on him. Every time an enemy figure entered his field of vision, flashes of blue and white erupted from his left and right hands, eliciting screams.

“Don’t shoot those who are fleeing, Pagès.”

Even Fan Hyulick could occasionally make a sensible remark. Doctor Lee also admonished him:

“You’ll run out of energy. Keep it in moderation.”

“I’ve got plenty of spares!”

Pagès reached into a pocket of his combat suit and pulled out a handful of energy capsules to show them. Doctor Lee shook his head, Miranda let out a sigh, and Hyulick merely shrugged his shoulders.

It was a time when those ungrateful and shameless pirates were displaying their true villainy, roaming even within the inviolable reaches of the Tytania Clanner Estate.

Two young men, who ought to have been noble beings of the heavens, proceeded deeper and deeper into the palace, each harbouring flames of a different colour within their hearts. Duke Idris Tytania held a crimson flame within, while Duke Jouslain Tytania radiated a blue one. Ambition and vengeance. Though the colours of their flames differed, their ultimate goal remained the same. End the life of Ajman Tytania, the eighth Landless Clanner. Unless that life was taken, Idris would face downfall, and Jouslain would fail to avenge his half-brother.

Accompanying Jouslain, Balamy alternated between running and walking, guarding Jouslain’s flanks and rear while keeping his eyes fixed on nothing else. Although only two or three days had passed since Ariabert’s death, Jouslain’s reason seemed to have been entirely overthrown by emotion, to a degree that even made Balamy feel concerned. Though, upon realising he was worrying, Balamy felt a sudden urge to click his tongue.

After a brief but intense firefight with a group of guards who had yet to abandon their loyalty to the Clanner, the two dukes called out to one another.

“Jouslain!”

“Idris…”

“Hmph. Calling out to each other like this, we almost sound like we’re friends.”

“There is no harm in being friends.”

“Don’t talk such nonsense before your death,” spat out Idris, and after confirming Balamy’s presence, he wore an even more displeased expression. “I wish you would say something a bit more clever. Especially if it were to be the final words of Duke Jouslain Tytania. They would, after all, be recorded in the biography of the next Clanner, Idris Tytania.”

Jouslain stared at Idris, unable to tell whether he was being serious or merely joking.

“Idris, surely you aren’t still seeking abdication from the Clanner?”

“More nonsense, then? Now that I know he’s such a madman, there is no way I would submit to him. However…”

Idris curled one corner of his lip.

“However, if he is intent on it, there would be no harm in playing along with him. He has used me quite extensively, after all. This time, it is my turn to use him. If a performance is required, then I shall provide one.”

“Are you saying you will inherit the Clanner—Ajman’s madness?”

“You truly have a poor grasp of vocabulary, Lord Jouslain. At the very least, I should hope you would call it “ambition”.”

Jouslain let out a sigh.

“Idris, it is your freedom to pursue the path of the hegemon. I shall tread a different path from yours. I have no intention of hindering you. It is as simple as us parting ways here.”

Idris curled the corner of his lip, on the opposite side to the one before.

“Regrettably, it is not that simple. Your very presence is an unbearable nuisance.”

“As I told you, I have no intention of hindering you.”

“Your intentions are irrelevant!”

Idris raised his voice, glaring at Jouslain and his companions on either side.

“As long as you draw breath, you will be an obstacle to me. For some reason—Ah, a reason I do not even care to know—people gravitate toward you. Not even counting that whelp Balamy’s, even the petty thieves who betrayed me and fled have gathered around you.”

The expression “petty thieves” wounded the pirates’ pride, but no one protested. They felt somewhat awkward about the use of the word “betrayal”. It was true that their actions could hardly be described as being purely loyal to Idris, and they were, in fact, somewhat impressed by Idris’ attitude—showing no sign of flinching even when faced alone against Jouslain and his eight companions.

“Shall we save that discussion for later, Idris?” suggested Jouslain quietly. “First, we must strike down the Clanner. That is our highest priority. There would be no joy for that man if we were to perish together.”

“Very well,” agreed Idris curtly.

Perhaps he remembered their true objective as they continued to speak.

The three nobles and six pirates, who had become true allies of convenience, arrived at the Clanner’s private study exactly two minutes later. For some reason, not a single guard was in sight.

The group made their way towards Ajman and finally reached their destination. It would have been strange for them to be shocked upon facing Ajman himself. However, none could suppress their sense of dread and tension, though in varying degrees.

Ajman welcomed the group from behind a desk larger than an ordinary bed. It was an antique piece, crafted from a pure black wood native to the tropics and intricately adorned with carvings of mythical flora and fauna. The Clanner calmly surveyed the nine intruders.

“To think you would arrive before me in such a manner.”

The Clanner’s voice was difficult to describe. It sounded like a computer programme, designed to emit a tone filled with both contempt and superiority. A youthful voice responded, sharp as a needle:

“We are profoundly humbled that we failed to arrive before your presence as corpses.”

“Do you intend to be sarcastic, Lord Idris? I do not possess the art of conversing with the dead. While I do not seek such dialogue by choice, this is a rare opportunity. It might be a pleasant diversion to have a heart-to-heart talk.”

“…”

“Even so, you have brought quite a peculiar group with you. Had it been the late Duke Ariabert, he would have appeared having brought the Tytania elites under orderly command.”

Before Jouslain could say anything, Doctor Lee suddenly began a “lecture”.

“Your Clanner Highness, you wanted to be a hero.”

The scalpel of Doctor Lee’s words began to coldly dissect the Clanner Highness.

“However, to be passed down through the ages as a demigod-like hero, one must rise from nothing and defeat enemies stronger than oneself. Yet, you have become the head of Tytania by mere chance. The leader of the most powerful organisation in the universe. At this rate, no matter how many victories you achieve, they will only be recorded as victories for Tytania.”

The Clanner remained silent but then directed his gaze toward Jouslain. As to ask, ''“Who’s that weirdo?”''

“Do not trouble yourself. I am merely a philosopher, known as Lee Shanchen.”

Following that unconventional introduction, the “lecture” resumed.

“That was when Fan Hyulick appeared. It was the emergence of a source of light just when all hope seemed lost. Duke Ariabert’s single careless defeat was utterly insignificant. It was then that you had an idea. One condition for becoming an ideal hero is to cultivate strong enemies. And the other condition is to weaken one’s own allies.”

As Doctor Lee gazed at the Clanner, Ajman gave a small, silent nod. It was an expression of utter arrogance, as if to say, ''“I am listening,”'' but such an attitude suited him perfectly. To Hyulick, who was observing them, it appeared that even Doctor Lee was pushing his mind and body to their absolute limits just to stand his ground against the Clanner. It was already a known fact that Ajman was no mere villain, but even as a villain, he was on an entirely different level from anyone else.

“It is fundamentally impossible for a leader of an organisation to deliberately weaken it. Furthermore, there is no possible reason to do such a thing. And yet, you were different from that.”

Doctor Lee steadied his breathing and continued.

=== II ===
“You might have had the thought that if Fan Hyulick joined the four dukes, they could somehow oppose you alone. That’s why your attitude towards Hyulick was extremely lenient. He was a genius in tactics, but without an army to command, he was nothing more than a helpless civilian. If you had ordered all of Tytania to kill him, he would have been resting in a coffin long ago.”

The Clanner watched Doctor Lee, remaining perfectly still.

“Frankly, everything was filled with contradictions. Everyone struggled to discern the Clanner’s true intentions. That was the result of two hundred years of brainwashing.”

Doctor Lee wiped the sweat from his brow with his fingertips.

“We believed that one who holds the title of Clanner governs with the desire for the survival and further expansion of Tytania, regardless of the methods employed. Indeed, whether it was the Council of the Five Families, internal purges, or the expulsion of the incompetent, every system was designed to be constructed towards a single, certain direction.”

Within Tytania’s Clanner Estate, he was presenting the results of his research directly to the Clanner in person. For Doctor Lee, this might have been the realisation of a dream.

“However, you have walked that path in reverse. Yes, if one chooses the opposite of the necessary option with every timing and accident, one moves steadily towards a negative outcome. And now, you have almost reached your goal.”

Doctor Lee took a deep breath and fell silent. He looked like a student waiting for a supervisor’s grade after finishing an oral examination.

Clanner Ajman responded with an air of boredom.

“Clever opinions, when one listens to them, can serve as a decent way to pass the time. Very well, I shall concede one thing. This past year has been quite enjoyable. More so than the ten years preceding it. Now, Duke Jouslain, what is it you desire that has brought you all this way to see me?”

“I have but one wish.”

“Speak it.”

“To avenge Ariabert.”

Jouslain declared his intent, drawing a deliberate sigh from the Clanner’s lips.

“Such predictable answers produce nothing new. However… Ah, Duke Jouslain, you never cease to disappoint me. To be so obsessed with personal vengeance, what a small-minded person you are. If I grant you another twenty years, may I hope to see you mature even while still in the prime of your life?”

“Do not expect the latter, Clanner. I mean Ajman. I am well aware of my own limitations. The reason I have succeeded in politics and diplomacy until now is because the immense power of Tytania stood behind me.”

“What a cheap display of humility.”

“It is not humility. Had I been a commoner, I would likely be performing some mediocre job suited to my age at some corporation or public institution.”

“And you claim this happened simply because you were born in Tytania? That it is all due to the corrupt blood of Tytania? If so, then you are nothing more than a mere derivative of myself.”

“Who do you think you bastard are!?”

In his fury, Idris lost all sense of propriety. He realised it immediately, yet he felt neither the need nor the obligation to correct himself. As if half-shoving Jouslain aside, he stepped directly in front of the Clanner and rested his hands upon the edge of the desk.

“If you truly hated Tytania that much, you should never have set your sights on the position of Clanner from the very beginning. No—it is not too late yet. Abdicate this very instant. If you wish to live, that is.”

“Stop it, Idris,” reprimanded Jouslain, his voice heavy with fatigue and helplessness.

It was a strange thing, but as far as his memories went, it was the first time Jouslain had felt a sense of empathy and something akin to friendship towards Idris. In the end, it was likely Idris who had felt the greatest affection for Tytania. Had Jouslain known that, there would have been no need for him to oppose Idris.

Idris harboured hostility towards Jouslain because he viewed him as a rival and an obstacle. Had Jouslain taken a step or two back and accepted Idris’ superiority, Idris would have given Jouslain no second thought and would have instead charged straight towards the Clanner’s seat. There might have been no need for them to compete, and they could have coexisted.

''“No, probably not.”''

While it might have been possible if it were only Jouslain and Idris, had Ariabert and Zarlisch remained active, Idris would have ended up contending with them as well. Zarlisch, in particular, would never have yielded to Idris.

''No matter the circumstances'', thought Jouslain. With Ariabert gone and Zarlisch deceased, Jouslain was the only remaining obstacle for Idris. Even if Jouslain were to step down of his own accord, Idris would not be satisfied. Idris would find no meaning in being yielded that kind of victory. Both Ariabert and Zarlisch had vanished by hands other than his own. Unless he personally defeated the last of the Four Dukes, Idris would forever carry an emptiness within his heart.

“If you loathe the power of Tytania that much, why not try to dispose of us using your own strength alone?”

As Idris spoke those words and exhaled, Jouslain resumed the interrupted conversation.

“You merely sit in the safest place in the universe, pretending to suffer. You issue orders without dirtying your own hands, have reports brought to you, and incite competition between us. And then, you murmur that it is all so hollow, while in truth, you are mocking it all. To you, the Four Dukes were nothing more than toys to stave off your ''ennui''.”

Ajman directed an unfathomable gaze toward Jouslain.

“A childish provocation. Furthermore, you have misperceived the facts. Look beyond the canopy. Look within. Can you truly say this is the safest place in the universe?”

“Do not attempt to divert the conversation. This is your own doing, a consequence of your excessive games.”

Light and shadow swayed greatly outside the window, casting dark stripes across the faces of those present. For a moment, the shadow caused Idris’ eyes to glint like those of a nocturnal beast.

“I see.”

The Clanner placed a hand against his strong jaw.

“In that case, let me make a proposal. Duke Jouslain, Duke Idris, why not indulge in a traditional duel before me? Naturally, the victor shall be granted the right to challenge me.”

Jouslain and Idris exchanged glances without thinking.

“It is not such an extravagant suggestion. There is always a semi-final before a final, after all. Or perhaps you lack the confidence to defeat your opponent?”

“That’s just a cheap provocation.”

“Do you think we would take such a bait?”

Jouslain and Idris both simultaneously rejected the Clanner’s proposal. ''That’s a passing grade'', thought Doctor Lee to himself.

“Haven’t you become the Clanner and have, for all intents and purposes, come to rule the universe? What are you even dissatisfied with?”

“It’s insignificant,” dismissed Ajman coldly. “I merely inherit what others have ruled over and passed on. There is nothing creative about it. My emptiness is no pretence.”

Doctor Lee spoke, as if it had been a long time since they had last conversed.

“It appears that Your Clanner Highness dislikes relay races. However, if the intermediate runner drops the baton, the race itself cannot proceed. Well, I too believe there is no act more foolish than inheriting power through lineage, but that is merely the thought of a mere pirate. It would be unnatural for someone in your position to think so.”

“No, it is not entirely unnatural.”

Because it was Jouslain, rather than Clanner Ajman, who voiced his disagreement with Doctor Lee, the pirates turned their eyes toward him as if looking at a strange beast.

“I can understand the feeling of being dissatisfied with a life that consists of nothing more than passing on what was handed to you to the next generation.”

Idris yelled:

“Are you going to believe what that bastard says, Jouslain?”

No one noticed immediately, but Idris had referred to the Clanner as “that bastard<ref name="ftn23">Strictly speaking, Idris said “this one” (こいつ), but it is derogatory nonetheless.</ref>”.

“That bastard is nothing more than a pervert who enjoys throwing the world into chaos and watching blood spill. Wasn’t that exactly why he killed Ariabert? If he had let Ariabert live, he could have been able to step down from that unwanted position before long. He is actually reluctant to let go of his position as Clanner. Even you should be able to understand that much, right!?”

“I understand. But there is a grain of truth in what he says. Setting aside good and evil, I too had grown weary of my lineage and status. Because I lacked the capacity to be a Clanner, I felt I had had enough the moment I became a Duke. That said, because I felt the responsibility of being a Tytanian noble, I tried to thrust that burden onto Ariabert… My methods and ultimate goal may differ from the Clanner’s, but I am certainly a coward.”

“Both of you, stop fooling around!”

Once again, a roar of anger exploded. Clad in an aura of fury, Idris slammed his hand against the desk. His eyes were blazing. He pointed his sharp fingers alternately at the Clanner and at Jouslain.

“You say your means and ultimate goals are different? They are the same. Both of you are seeking the destruction of Tytania. No matter what logic you spin, the result is the same!”

At that moment, it seemed as though the Clanner, Jouslain, and even the pirates were all overwhelmed by Idris alone.

“I am different. I will make Tytania stronger. I will make it wealthier and more prosperous. So that not a single person will dare to rebel… I am the only one who truly loves Tytania.”

Idris’ voice rang out with great clarity, drowning out the noise from outside the window.

=== III ===
Theodora glared in every direction with an expression resembling that of a witch. She had lost sight of Francia. While Theodora also possessed a well-toned physique and youthful stamina, Francia was even younger, her movements more supple, and to Theodora’s eyes, she resembled a cunning little animal.

Where was she hiding?

Francia felt as though she were being pursued by a wild beast, yet her anger outweighed her fear.

What she feared was losing Jouslain. There was nothing else she truly dreaded. Was there no chance to strike back?

“Come out, little girl!” screamed Theodora. “You are a disgrace to Tytania. You think it doesn’t matter what happens to Tytania, so long as your own petty desires are met. You might believe yourself to be pure, intoxicated by your own delusions, but you are nothing more than a selfish person who thinks you can do anything as long as you use affection as an excuse.”

''That might be true'', thought Francia. Now that it was pointed out, she did indeed feel that she didn’t care what happened to Tytania. However, that was no reason to be subject to a moral lecture, especially from Theodora.

Francia slowly raised the vase she held in her hands. It was said to have been crafted one hundred and fifty years ago in a famous pottery workshop on the planet Baftegam. It pained Francia’s heart to destroy such a masterpiece, the fruit of an expert’s painstaking labour, but she felt there was no other way.

“Forgive me.”

After offering an apology to the vase, Francia threw it with a supple motion towards the back of Countess Theodora’s head. At the same time, she gripped the charged particle gun tightly in her right hand.

She had intended to take Theodora down in two stages. However, the Countess’ movements caught Francia completely off guard. In a single fluid motion, she used the gunpowder pistol in her right hand to shatter the vase mid-air, and without a moment’s delay, she fired the heat ray gun in her left hand directly at Francia, who had leapt from her hiding place. Francia narrowly avoided the lethal ultra-high temperature, but in doing so, she left her entire body exposed to Theodora.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, little girl.”

It was extremely useful advice, though whether Francia would be able to make use of it in the future remained to be seen.

“Why are you pursuing me so relentlessly?”

“I actually began to feel pity for you. That is why I thought I would tell you.”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“… Duke Jouslain is dead,” announced Theodora with solemnity.

“That is a lie,” declared Francia without a hint of agitation, causing Lady Theodora’s expression to darken.

“To call me a liar after I went through the trouble of telling you. You seem strangely confident, but do you have any proof he isn’t? Do not think that an insult to a countess can be forgiven, especially coming from a mere lady-in-waiting.”

“I can tell just by looking at your face. You have the face of a liar.”

Theodora flew into a rage, but after taking a deep breath, she readjusted the aim of her heat gun back at Francia.

“So it was a lie after all. Your actions just now have confirmed it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Lord Jouslain is alive. The reason you seek to kill me is because you do not want me to meet with him. If Lord Jouslain had truly passed away, you would have simply laughed and left me be.”

Theodora realised that she had been seen through by a young girl. She bared her white teeth, but to gnash them rather than smile.

“At first, I had no intention of killing you. I only intended to laugh while watching you mourn. But I have changed my mind. For the sake of the honour of the Tytania nobility, I will kill you.”

''Everyone is a patient, a victim of the infectious disease known as Tytania,'' thought Francia. How many things would one have to lose simply because they had taken the Tytania surname?

“I have no intention of being killed for the sake of your honour.”

“Your will is irrelevant!”

Unintentionally, Theodora’s reaction towards Francia bore a striking resemblance to Idris’ reaction towards Jouslain. While such a fact was of no concern to Francia herself, her feelings were swelling with a sense of panic that transcended mere anger. How much time had she wasted simply because she had been trusted by such a formidable noblewoman? What if something were to happen to Jouslain while she stood here in this futile confrontation with Theodora? As the thought crossed her mind, an expression resembling pure dread surfaced on Francia’s face.

“There is no need to be so frightened.”

Theodora’s smile served only to make her beauty appear hideous.

“Your beloved Duke Jouslain will be dead by the end of the day regardless. If you are lucky, perhaps you shall meet him again in some parallel world<ref name="ftn24">“Parallel world” (並行世界) is pronounced “parallel world”.</ref>.”

“I take it you have no one you wish to meet again.”

“Silence, you insolent brat! How dare a mere little girl…”

Theodora was incensed. She had fallen into a vicious cycle. In her attempts to psychologically corner Francia, she would provoke her spitefully, only to face unexpected counterattacks that left her losing her own composure.

Originally, Theodora’s true objective had lain elsewhere, but before she knew it, she had become obsessed with utterly defeating this “glib-tongued brat”. For Francia, it was an immense nuisance. She was risking her life solely to meet Jouslain, yet now she found herself being hunted by a frenzied Theodora, on the very brink of being killed.

She could not afford to lose to such an absurdity.

Francia devised a plan. Though it was a plan that bordered on a gamble. She held a charged particle gun in her right hand, but her arm remained hanging at her side. Keeping her arm down, she moved only her wrist and fired.

The lethal charged particle passed vainly through the space just one metre beside Theodora.

“Did you really think you’d hit me with a posture like that!?”

Mocking her, Theodora attempted to thrust her muzzle towards Francia, who had her back turned. However, only three steps into her run, Theodora tripped as the hem of her dress flared up. Fragments of a shattered vase, flowers, and water had caused her feet to slip.

Clanner Ajman waited for Idris’ passion to subside, then rested both elbows on the desk and spoke with composure.

“By the way, surely you don’t believe you managed to make it this far through your own strength alone.”

“I do,” declared Miranda, slowly readjusting the hand cannon resting on her shoulder. “You want to say that you deliberately let us get this far, don’t you? Even a low-born pirate like me can see right through that. You have guards lurking somewhere nearby, don’t you?”

“Ho. You are a clever woman, despite your appearance.”

With an air of supreme arrogance, Clanner Ajman removed his elbows from the desk.

That was the signal. Armed figures burst through the study doors. In an instant, Jouslain and the others found their retreat severed. There were eight guards with automatic charged-particle rifles levelled to the left and eight to the right. In the centre stood an officer, medals pinned to his chest.

''What a pointless life.''

Jouslain gave a gloomy laugh. Self-loathing and self-pity held hands, performing a dance of mockery. The one playing the flute was the demon Ajman. Tytania, holy Tytania. Tytania, cursed Tytania. A wretched clan that had accumulated sins, possessed by the fever of cosmic dominion.

He should have shot the Clanner dead the moment their eyes met. His failure lay in allowing himself to be distracted by debate. Yet, he had been unable to resist the temptation to learn the Clanner’s true intentions.

“I, Vice-admiral Jalandal, have arrived. Your Highness, how are we to deal with these insolent intruders?”

Unexpectedly, it was Idris who responded in a sardonic voice:

“What a small number of men for a force led by a vice-admiral. If you bastards believe you have the advantage, you are sorely mistaken.”

=== IV ===
Vice-admiral Jalandal faltered. If it had been merely pirates, it might have been one thing, but those standing at the forefront of the muzzles were Duke Jouslain, Duke Idris, and Viscount Balamy.

“Go ahead, shoot. We shall shoot in return.”

“B-but you are outnumbered, Duke Idris!”

“There is no need to worry about such trivialities. The first to die shall be the Clanner and his retinue.”

To be fair, Vice-admiral Jalandal was by no means a coward, but he recoiled when he looked directly into Idris’ bloodthirsty grin. Should a lethal beam or a bullet strike Clanner Ajman amidst the ensuing melee, all would be lost, regardless of what might happen to the three young nobles.

The flaws of a management style built solely on following orders were laid bare, leaving Vice-admiral Jalandal with no way out. He was supposed to have been in a position of absolute superiority. ''If only His Clanner Highness would issue an order''… He had only hesitated for two or three seconds, but in those moments, he failed to notice the villains approaching silently from behind.

“Don’t move!”

Both of Vice-admiral Jalandal’s ears were occupied. His left ear was pressed against the muzzle of Fan Hyulick’s protruding ray gun, and his right ear against the muzzle of the percussion pistol Seraphine Coopers. Jouslain had not even noticed when they had slipped behind the guards.

“Y-you bitches…”

Ignoring the vice-admiral’s wheezing, Hyulick glanced at his rank insignia.

“Soldiers, drop your guns. Otherwise… well, His Excellency<ref name="ftn25">In Japanese, the equivalent of “His Excellency” (閣下) isn't just reserved to nobility, but also to high officials, diplomats, or high-ranking officers like admirals.</ref> the vice-admiral might just get a two-rank promotion<ref name="ftn26">In Japan, two-rank promotions are often given posthumously to soldiers fallen in the line of duty. It typically serves to increase the survivor pension for their families.</ref> to become a high-admiral. The pension for his bereaved family might even increase.”

“You’re finally starting to act like a pirate, Fan.”

“I’ve always wanted to try something like this.”

While the conversation sounded rather irreverent, the vice-admiral’s subordinate soldiers remained frozen, unable to move. Observing this, Doctor Lee spoke up:

“It is an unnecessary detail, Hyulick, but there is no high-admiral rank in the Vardana Empire’s military. Between vice-admiral and fleet admiral, there is a rank known as full admiral.”

“So, he shall become a full admiral, then. Well, no doubt, that’s a promotion.”

“I, too, shall teach you one more unnecessary detail,” declared a stern voice. “As long as Tytania holds dominion over the Vardana Empire’s military, a commander who met their death due to their own blunder shall not be eligible for a two-rank promotion.”

The Clanner looked across at everyone.

“This is ridiculous. Have you gone through the trouble of coming all this way just to speak of such things?”

“You aren’t dead as long as we keep talking.”

When Idris responded with a sneer, the floor shuddered. The crystal glass of the windows vibrated, and the chandelier on the ceiling performed a clumsy dance. From beyond the windows, the dull thud of an explosion and the shrill scream of sirens reached them faintly. Grey shadows flickered past the glass.

“Another district has collapsed, it appears,” muttered Doctor Lee, addressed the hesitating guards with a brand of coldness that differed from that of the Clanner. “Loyal soldiers of Tytania, despite all our tradition and authority, Uraniborg is quite literally falling apart. Surely you have families. Perhaps lovers. Do you not feel the need to go and ensure they are safe?”

A ripple of agitation stirred among the guards. However, it was not the guards who responded aloud.

“Do not concern yourself with me. Lend not any ear to the sophistry of bandits. Act like a soldier of Tytania should, and follow your sacred duty. Fire! Fire!”

Vice-admiral Jalandal’s voice was steeped in tragedy, and Doctor Lee appeared impressed, lightly rubbing the tip of his nose.

“It is a most admirable loyalty. However, it is also a futile virtue. Consider this: when either Duke Idris or Duke Jouslain, who stand before you, will ascend as the new Clanner, how will your words and actions be judged?”

Idris barked an order, perhaps because his name had been mentioned before Jouslain’s.

“Jalandal, take the guards and get out of here at once. This is a matter between the supreme leadership of Tytania, the Five Families. It is not for someone of your station to concern himself with. Begone!”

The Vice-admiral snapped to attention. In the words of Doctor Lee, it was the result of “two hundred years of brainwashing”.

“If, by chance, a peaceful resolution can be achieved, it is not the duty of a subject to obstruct it.”

Stuttering out that meagre excuse, the vice-admiral moved his hands with great caution and ordered his subordinates to withdraw. The guards had no choice but to obey their superior’s command and fled out of the study. Finally, Jalandal, the vice-admiral, left the room, his expression still stiff, having only just regained the safety of his ears and his mind. He must have been deeply anxious about how he would be treated from that moment forward.

Once again, Clanner Ajman was alone.

“Useless lot.”

He muttered the words without much apparent disappointment, then rose from his chair with an air of composure. Everyone’s gaze converged upon the Clanner’s right hand. In his right hand, he held a thick-handled black whip, its rich lustre and suppleness were reminiscent of a snake that had only just shed its skin.

In such a situation, it was Mahdi who spoke the obvious:

“My, is that what you use with your concubines in bed, your Clanner Highness?”

The remark was so utterly vulgar that, rather than becoming angry, the Clanner merely gave the whip a light flick to test its feel, without even sparing the speaker a glance.

Had someone suddenly opened fire at that moment, the situation would have changed drastically, but that was not what happened. Jouslain and Idris each had dozens of questions they wished to press upon the Clanner. Hyulick believed that Jouslain and the others were the ones qualified to kill the Clanner, and Doctor Lee was thinking,'' “Observe before shooting”''.

“Do you truly believe that the two of you, working together, could strike me down?”

The Clanner’s sneer cut heavily and coldly into the very hearts of the young dukes.

“Had the Four Dukes come at me together from the very beginning, at least the terms of our engagement would have been settled. To fight amongst yourselves, to splinter and weaken your own strength was a foolish way to behave.”

“Wasn’t it you who orchestrated it?” retorted Jouslain, pouring all his strength into his words. “Furthermore, you were clearly afraid of Ariabert. That is exactly why you used such despicable means to dispose of him. Had Ariabert remained, we could have brought down Uraniborg without having to fear anyone pointing a finger at us in condemnation!”

“Now, I wonder about that.”

The front of the Clanner’s desk split apart without a sound. It happened as if lift doors were opening, but much faster. What emerged was a number of large-bore muzzles, far too many to count in a single instant.

“Scatter!”

Simultaneously with someone’s shout, lines of fire and flashes of light flooded the area in front of the desk. Both the nobles and the pirates scrambled away, escaping the swarm of lethal, flickering strikes.

“You spoke with such arrogance, and yet you resort to a sneak attack. Truly, how cowardly of you.”

Miranda’s voice overlapped with Hyulick’s.

“Don’t act so high and mighty when you’re the one who’s afraid to die!”

The hand cannon perched upon her shoulder let out a ferocious roar. The shell struck the Clanner’s desk from a rightward angle, erupting in a burst of fire, smoke, and thunder.

Amidst the swirling smoke and debris, everyone watched. The wall behind the desk split further left and right, and the Clanner, his cloak billowing, attempted to vanish through a secret door.

The fissure began to close slowly. Just as Idris, letting out a furious shout, tried to leap into the gap to pursue the Clanner—

Idris’ right arm, still clutching his heat raygun, was caught within the thickening door.

“……!?”

“The speed at which the door opens or closes depends entirely upon my will.”

Through a narrow gap, Ajman’s face became visible. It was a face like a steel statue, towering over the ice plains of a freezing planet.

“You coward!”

Idris struggled to pull his trapped arm free. It was a futile effort. The door began to squeeze his arm with intense pressure.

“Idris!”

Jouslain rushed over and grabbed Idris’ right arm, attempting to pull it out.

“Mind your own business!”

Even then, Idris tried to reject the assistance of his sworn enemy.

“Oh ho, so the two Dukes are working together now. I suppose I failed to program respect for nobility into that door. I shall have it updated at a later date. However, for today, you should simply accept the loss of that right arm.”

The Clanner’s derisive laughter drifted through the gap in the secret door.

“Lord Idris, both my right hand and my gun are thrust towards you. Why not try shooting me? If Heaven’s will is with you, you might just hit your mark.”

=== V ===
Idris pressed the firing button in rapid succession. On the other side of the secret door, the heat rays flew wildly and vainly.

During that futile burst of fire, the merciless door was slowly compressing Idris’ right arm from both sides. Cold sweat welled from Idris’ forehead, trickling down his cheek, past his well-formed jaw, and down towards his throat. With every passing moment, pain gripped him. An eerie sound announced that his right arm was being crushed.

“Stop it, Ajman!” shouted Jouslain, unable to bear it any longer. “Killing Idris may be the work of a hegemon, but causing him such agony is the deed of a mere torturer!”

“You maintain such righteousness even at this stage, Duke Jouslain? I had held you in higher regard than others, but perhaps it was that self-satisfied look of yours that I truly despised.”

The gap in the door had narrowed to a mere three centimetres.

“You needn’t worry about Duke Idris. I have prepared something else entirely for you. This is my private domain. Therefore, the punishment of intruders shall be carried out according to my own whims.”

Idris let out a scream. The pride that had allowed him to endure the agony had finally reached its limit. His right arm’s skin was torn, the muscles crushed, and the nerves severed, until, at last, the bone shattered. A fire of agony scorched Idris’ entire body, and he writhed unconsciously.

His right arm was torn away.

Idris’ body writhed from the recoil, blood and bodily fluids spraying from the wound where his arm had been torn away. He was slammed against the floor. The torn skin swayed like tattered rags, revealing white bone and bundles of nerves.

With a pale face, Idris attempted to pull himself up. He clawed at the closed door with his left hand, attempting to plant his knee while letting out groans of pain and curses.

“Stop, Idris, don’t push yourself.”

Jouslain grabbed Idris’ left shoulder from behind and pulled him away from the door.

“Someone, call a doctor. Or rather, is there anyone here with medical knowledge?”

Miranda replied:

“I don’t have much expertise, but I can manage at least some first aid.”

“Then I am counting on you. Please, tend to him.”

Doctor Lee spoke:

“Just to be clear, Lord Idris is a man who was attempting to kill you. Even so, are you still telling us to treat him, Lord Jouslain?”

“I, too, was seeking to overthrow Idris. However, I never imagined it would be in such a manner. This is far too cruel. For now, I simply wish to save his life.”

“I see. It certainly appears that you are not suited to become the supreme commander of Tytania,” nodded Doctor Lee as if convinced. “But your objective is definitely to kill the Clanner. You should prioritise chasing after him. Leave this to us and be on your way.”

Jouslain hesitated, but the younger Balamy persuaded him:

“We cannot allow the Clanner to escape. Leave this to them, and let’s go after the Clanner ourselves.”

Jouslain nodded, gave a light bow to the pirates, and then galloped away alongside Balamy.

“Now then, although I am called ‘Doctor’, I am a philosopher and not a physician, but I shall do all that is within my power. Give me a hand.”

“You are unexpectedly soft-hearted for a ‘Doctor’. This noble lord intends to kill us next, right after the Clanner.”

“No time for sarcasm, Mahdi. Are you content to simply stay here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Lord Jouslain has gone to pursue his objective. The person who could obstruct us is no longer here. So you, in your turn, should be pursuing your own objectives.”

Mahdi’s face lit up. He remembered his original purpose. To plunder the vast treasures held within this magnificent palace.

“Right, I’m off.”

“Avoid artworks. They are bulky, and the more expensive they are, the harder it is to get rid of them.”

“I know that very well. I’ll only take cash and jewels. Just wait for me, my darling treasures.”

Mahdi ran off with an admirable lightness of step, intent on filling his empty sack to the brim.

“Good grief, we’ve wasted so much time. How is Duke Idris faring, Miranda?”

“He hasn’t fully regained consciousness yet. It’s quite dreadful… even for me, and I’ve seen plenty of casualties.”

Crushed and torn wounds generally looked far more gruesome than clean amputations. Idris was no exception. The cross-sections of his injuries lacked any semblance of order; bone and nerve were entwined with muscle, and blood continued to spurt from ruptured vessels, staining the pirates’ clothes.

Idris, lying on the floor, trembled violently, his unharmed left arm and both legs convulsing. His closed eyelids drifted slightly open, and his mouth parted just enough to force out the voice of the dying youth.

“Do not touch me so familiarly, you pirates…”

The vibration in the air left the impression of a voice that barely remained within the audible range. Nevertheless, it carried no sense of weakness. He attempted to prop himself up with his right hand, but his facial muscles stiffened when he realised his right arm was gone.

“Stay still. We are trying to treat you.”

“Are you bastards even capable of treating me?”

“First, we must disinfect the wound, and then…”

“Useless!”

Idris’ voice possessed a strange strength despite its low volume, and a light flickered in both his eyes. Moving his eyes from side to side, Idris questioned them.

“Where is Jouslain?”

“He went after the Clanner.”

“Is Balamy with him?”

Doctor Lee responded with a nod rather than words, prompting a groan from Idris. It was a sound that Miranda would later describe as “like a person cast into hell, clawing their way up a cliff leading to purgatory.”

“I will be the one to kill Ajman. Do you think I would yield just because I lost an arm?”

“I don’t. You are, after all, the renowned Duke Idris.”

While Hyulick’s voice held sincerity, it lacked the strength to restrain Idris’ passion.

“Stay still! You’re going to die from blood loss and shock. Miranda!”

Doctor Lee’s voice was sharp, more of a command than a mere reprimand.

Miranda, who valued practicality in all things, pulled a small spray canister from one of the many pockets of her field uniform. She sprayed a fine, freezing mist minus thirty degrees Celsius onto Idris’ bleeding wound.

The effect appeared in short order, freezing both the blood and the wound. It was a horrifying sight. The lower half of Idris’ arm looked as though several icicles of crimson, frozen blood were growing from it. In contrast to the fact that Idris was a handsome young man, the sight was nothing short of gruesome.

“I have stopped the bleeding for now, at least…”

“Sorry for being a burden.”

The first words of gratitude escaped from Idris’ earth-coloured lips. At the same time, he stood up, though he staggered. He had managed to stand on his own strength despite having likely lost nearly twenty per cent of his total blood volume. The second pistol gripped in his left hand was aimed at the pirates, who were both his sworn enemies and his saviours.

“But if you try to restrain me any further, I will kill you.”

“… Understood. Go.”

Thinking about it, it was an impolite way to speak<ref name="ftn27">It's a bit lost in translation, but “Understood. Go.” didn't have any of the markers of politeness and formality that should be used when talking to a person of higher rank.</ref>, but Idris made no reprimand. Without even a reply, he began to walk, his steps unsteady. His heart and lungs must have been under considerable strain. He moved forward with the sluggish pace of a drunkard, letting out agonised wheezes.

“Where is he going?”

“He likely knows another passage. He probably went to follow Duke Jouslain.”

“What about us?”

Doctor Lee responded to Hyulick’s utterly bewildered voice with a wry smile:

“We have interfered in other people’s family affairs quite enough already. Shall we follow Mahdi’s lead and return to our own business?”

Idris continued to walk. Or rather, he was swimming through the air. He knew the depths of the palace as well as Jouslain did. ''Jouslain, chase down that demon Ajman. I am the one who will kill him. And then, shall we have one final duel between the two of us?…''

Having suddenly lost his right arm, Idris lost his balance many times, crashing into walls and nearly toppling over. His vision grew blurred from the blood loss and intense pain. As he tried to shake his head to clear the haze before his eyes, a figure appeared before him.

“Is that you, Jouslain? Where is Ajman?”

“I am here.”

An emotionless voice struck Idris from the front.

Idris instinctively raised his left arm, but he had almost no vitality left to carry out his thoughts. His upper body swayed, and the gun gripped in his unfamiliar left hand trembled violently, defying his will. Even so, Idris’ sheer tenacity would not let him remain silent.

“Die, Ajman!”

The gunshot rang out.

Idris’ second gun was a ray gun, so it was incapable of making a gunshot. In the centre of Idris’ already bloodstained chest, a new blossom of blood bloomed. Clanner Ajman gripped a gunpowder-based pistol in his right hand, the scent of death wafting from its muzzle.

Even so, Idris did not fall immediately, merely lowering his left hand. However, when Ajman silently and expressionlessly fired a second shot into his left knee, he finally collapsed. He fell into a pool of his own blood.

“All talk, aren’t you?”

Muttering this coldly, Ajman turned on his heel. As he strode into the next room,

“Clanner…!”

Jouslain’s voice was trembling with passion. He and Balamy had been beset by minor misfortunes, causing their arrival to be delayed. They had encountered groups of guards twice and had been forced to evade them.

“At last, you’ve arrived. Since you were late, it’s a one-on-one again. Childish games like duelling are not to my liking, though.”

“I have had quite enough of catering to your whims. Prepare yourself to pay for what you did to Ariabert.”

Ajman let the corners of his mouth curl upward slightly.

“What an unexpected touch of humour. Do you truly believe you can defeat me, Your Ducal Grace?”

“You homicidal maniac. How many masks have you worn to survive this long?”

“Masks, you say? How immature of you. Everything I have told you thus far has been the truth. Today is merely the day one of those truths revealed itself. It is impossible for me to be slain by a human inferior to myself.”

“Nothing is impossible!”

Jouslain levelled the heat ray gun with both hands, preparing to press the firing button. This was, of course, exactly what Ajman had anticipated. A black serpent streaked through the air, followed by the sound of a heavy impact, and Jouslain recoiled.

A lash of the electromagnetic whip had struck Jouslain square in the face with brutal force.

A searing sensation swept across the upper half of Jouslain’s face, from left to right. Along with an intense, excruciating pain, his vision vanished. He could no longer see the blood spraying through the air, falling to the floor like scattered rubies. For Jouslain, the entire universe had been plunged into darkness.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6

2026-10-13T15:50:17Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 5 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 7 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman == === I === The voice was not loud. It lacked strength, carried no sense of authorit..."

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== Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman ==
=== I ===
The voice was not loud. It lacked strength, carried no sense of authority, and was not beautiful. Nevertheless, Count Elman Tytania received the polite voice of the Duchess Theresa.

“Is someone there?”

The voice seemed to carry the scent of alcohol and gastric acid.

“Are you awake, Duchess?”

A man’s respectful voice drifted through the haze of consciousness and reached her ears. She could not recall whose voice it was, but she knew it held no hostility.

“I wonder what on earth has happened to me.”

“It appears that you had indulged a bit too much in drink.”

“… Was that so?”

Who was it? Who could it be? She could not remember.

“It seems there is some sort of commotion outside.”

The place where Duchess Theresa Tytania awoke was far removed from the area destroyed by the ''Black Prince'', but because almost the entire residential district of Uraniborg was gripped by unprecedented panic, the distant commotion drifted all the way into the depths of the palace.

The unpleasant, unmusical din caused Lady Theresa to knit her brows. She could not comprehend why desperation had taken the place of melody.

“It seems Baron Radmoth has caused some sort of incident, and the citizens are in an uproar. Even with the windows closed, it is quite like this.”

“Radmoth… Radmoth? Err…”

“He is the younger brother of His Grace Duke Idris.”

“Ah, Idris’ brother.”

A murky light flickered in Lady Theresa’s drunken eyes. Yes, Radmoth was indeed Idris’ younger brother. And who, she wondered, was Idris himself? She attempted to ask, but finding it too much effort, Lady Theresa let out a small yawn and drifted back into a cloud of heavy slumber.

Count Elman had steeled himself. Or rather, he had realised that the situation was beyond his control and understood there was no room left to forge his own future. He had lost his very reason for clinging to life. Both Tytania and the space pirates had abandoned him. The will to defy fate had vanished, leaving him with nothing but the modest hope of meeting his end without too much ugliness.

A heavy sigh escaped him. What meaning had his life truly held? As a Tytanian of noble rank, he had lived a life of abundance, acquiring both education and social grace and earning the respect of others. There were surely plenty who would have envied him. Yet, he had been nothing more than an existence merely drifting into the present upon the currents of the past, only to continue drifting toward the future.

If he were foolish, he could perhaps find satisfaction in that and live out his days in peace and safety. At the same time, the education and social skills he had acquired would vanish, leaving nothing behind, and others of his kind would simply lead the same sort of life.

As Idris ran towards the Clanner’s private chambers, he encountered a single chamberlain. Clad in a black tailcoat, the man held a tray bearing a scroll with great reverence.

“What is that?”

“An imperial decree has descended from His Majesty Harsha VI, Emperor of Vardana.”

It seemed this chamberlain was unaware of the circumstances behind Idris racing through the corridor.

“What does it say?”

“May I proceed with the reading?”

“Just do it, quickly!”

The chamberlain cleared his throat.

“Then, let us see… ‘I, Harsha Vardana, eighteenth Emperor and Sovereign of the Great, Mighty, and Beautiful Vardana Empire, do hereby’…”

“You needn’t read all that!”

“As you will. Err, ‘I hereby strip the individual known as Idris Tytania of all imperial offices and titles, and declare him a public enemy of the Empire’…”

The moment the chamberlain ceased his reading in astonishment, Idris reached out and snatched the decree. His hand, trembling with passion, tore the document apart. He then brought his foot down hard upon the decree as it lay slammed against the floor.

The chamberlain, who had already been on the verge of collapsing, lost all strength to stand simply from looking directly into Idris’ bloodshot eyes. He slumped to the floor and pressed his hands together before his face, as if pleading for his life.

“If I survive, the first thing I shall do is depose that unprincipled ruler and bring an end to the history of the Vardana Empire. You had better be prepared.”

Idris exhaled a breath like flame.

“Transmit this to the Emperor! It is a matter of only two or three hours. For now, he may cling to his throne all he likes. That throne is worth ten thousand times his own life. After all, it is crafted from diamonds and platinum.”

A fresh surge of rage lent him a new burst of speed, and Idris began to run once more. The chamberlain was not even worth killing; he was merely a waste of time.

At this moment, it seemed that nothing remained to obstruct the actions of Duke Idris Tytania.

Jouslain Tytania trotted ahead, accompanied by Balamy and Hyulick.

''“How ironic,”'' he couldn’t help but think.

The ten million men and women residing in Uraniborg aside from the Tytania family, were subject to rigorous screening, even if they were considered commoners or ordinary citizens. Whether it was the owner of a street-side crêpe stall, a bartender in training, or a C-class operator on a cleaning robot team, they all ought to have enjoyed highly satisfying lives, harbouring an innocent sense of privilege. After all, they were inhabitants that were on the “very lap of His Clanner Highness” and the “centre of the universe”.

And now, they were rampaging, having cast aside all etiquette, manners, and morals, leaving nothing but their raw, primitive survival instincts. Jouslain could not bring himself to blame them. Two hundred years of peace and prosperity had weakened the human capacity to control one’s instincts. It was only natural.

Rough voices and the heavy thud of footsteps approached, prompting Jouslain and the others to crouch behind the holly hedge. They were guards belonging directly to the Clanner. It soon became clear, however, that they were not pursuing Jouslain’s group.

“Has Duke Idris still not been found?”

“Not yet, regrettably.”

“Keep searching. If he somehow manages to escape from Uraniborg, they’ll cut off our heads.”

The voices and footsteps hurried away into the distance.

Balamy tilted his head slightly.

“Why is Duke Idris being pursued by the guards?”

“Oh my, have the guards revolted, or has an order been issued to detain Idris…?”

“Only the Clanner could issue such an order.”

Excitement tinged Balamy’s voice.

“Is it possible that the Clanner and Duke Idris have had a falling out? Perhaps Duke Idris attempted to imprison the Clanner and failed…”

“It is possible. However, let us not jump to conclusions. Lord Balamy, the truth is, I do not have a grasp on the overall situation.”

Jouslain spoke his true feelings. Through Princess Lydia, he held trust in Balamy. Yet, he still felt a subtle psychological distance towards a youth nine years his junior. Could Balamy truly serve as a replacement for Ariabert?

Meanwhile, Balamy could not hide his astonishment. Although it had become very slight, given the various circumstances and emotions leading up to this moment, it could not be said that his estrangement from Jouslain had completely vanished. The thought that a confrontation might ultimately be unavoidable remained constantly stuck in the back of his mind.

“I see.”

Responding with extreme brevity, Balamy pressed his lips firmly together.

There was no time for idle daydreams. Having laboured so hard to successfully infiltrate Uraniborg, there was nothing to do but act. The three of them walked through the absurdly vast gardens of the Clanner’s estate without hesitation. That said, Hyulick was merely following behind the other two. Near a pavilion surrounded by roses, they encountered about ten guards.

“Y-Your Grace, Duke Jouslain!”

The captain of the guard’s voice trembled heavily. He appeared utterly exhausted, as if he were barely managing to maintain his professional composure amidst the limits of his physical and mental fatigue.

“You are Captain Slatina, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

A Tytanian noble could not serve their position if they failed to at least remember the name of the Clanner’s captain of the guard. Balamy suddenly launched into an interrogation.

“Where is His Clanner Highness? I must have an audience with him. Tell me.”

“His Highness is at the Clanner’s Manor—”

The captain trailed off, falling into an aghast silence. It seemed he had suddenly remembered that Jouslain and Balamy could not possibly be at Uraniborg. Pretending not to notice his change in demeanour, Jouslain questioned him.

“It seems you are searching for Idris. What has he done?”

“That’s…”

The captain of the guard hesitated, his expression turning to stone.

“I cannot answer that. It is top secret.”

“In other words, he has done something to displease the Clanner.”

“…”

“No, come to think of it, I had no right to ask such a question. I was stripped of my own title long ago. Now then, if you will excuse me.”

Jouslain deliberately turned his back on the captain and began to walk away, and Balamy followed suit.

“P-please, wait.”

Only Jouslain looked back over his shoulder; Balamy ignored him coldly.

“Why are you both here? And what is it you intend to do? Please, let us know.”

Jouslain suppressed a wry smile. He could tell the captain was utterly bewildered. He decided not to reply that it was “top secret”.

“It is none of your concern. Do not trouble yourself with it.”

“I-I cannot do that.”

“Is that so? Should you not return to your original mission? Why not focus your search on Idris?”

The captain opened his mouth but closed it without uttering a word.

“If you do that, it would be a great help to us. Well, I suppose Idris is likely trying to do something similar to me, though…”

Jouslain did not speak the latter half of his thought aloud.

=== II ===
He had expected they might be shot on the spot or that the guards would be summoned. However, no matter how many steps they took, Jouslain and his companions were not obstructed. Perhaps the fact that they had walked rather than run had left Captain Slatina utterly perplexed.

In truth, Captain Slatina was also finding it difficult to distinguish friend from foe, much like the ordinary citizens and lower-ranking soldiers. Whose orders should he follow to fulfil his duty as a soldier? Who should he follow to ensure the safety of his own future and his family? Neither as a public figure nor as a private individual could he find the answer.

An excessively powerful organisation was collapsing within too short a period, and its flying shards were wounding people and forcing bloodshed. Such disorder and chaos were unprecedented in the history of Tytania, or perhaps even destined to be its last. During the Great Purge of the second Clanner, Nuri, much blood and many tears had been shed, but it had been carried out in an orderly fashion under Nuri’s cold calculation and ruthless judgement, and such chaos had not been brought about. Once Nuri declared the end of the purge, the daily lives of the citizens were swiftly restored.

Idris had idolised that Nuri, but the current situation was far from his ideal. The height of confusion and disorder was nothing short of hideous, and furthermore, the very heart of Tytania, which should have been in control, had become the greatest factor in the chaos due to the absence of a chain of command.

Yet, that very fact provided Idris with a way out. Had the functions of Tytania been operating normally, Idris would have been held in custody by the Clanners. As Zelpha had informed Ariabert and Jouslain, it might have resulted in something like a demotion or exile.

''“Not a chance.”''

Idris had abandoned any intention of relying on the authority of the Clanner. The Clanner had merely been exploiting Idris’ hostility towards Ariabert and Jouslain. For one who had stooped to becoming a mere lackey, the end was all too clear.

''“I shall strike first, before I am erased.”''

The fact that he had reached his decision with such surprising speed was likely because feelings of distrust and suspicion towards the Clanner had been accumulating within him unconsciously. Alternating between running and walking, he moved from the military district towards the residential area, approaching the Clanner’s manor with extreme efficiency. As he rounded a five-metre-high marble wall that boasted the grandeur of a bygone era, the two dukes found themselves face to face at point-blank range.

“Jouslain!”

“Idris!”

Both remained frozen for several seconds, their gazes clashing in shock. It was the third individual who first regained his composure. Balamy raised his charged particle gun, bracing it with his left hand, and took aim precisely at Idris. Noticing the movement, a sneer flashed across Idris’ face.

“Balamy, the little ''protégé'', huh? Still clinging to Jouslain’s side, are you? My, my, and with a band of rogue pirates as well? What a ridiculous axis of power.”

“And I am in a position to shoot you.”

Idris raised an eyebrow at Balamy’s sharp retort, but he did not launch a counterattack. To him, his only true equal as an enemy was Jouslain.

“Even so, what an outrageous coincidence. To run into you in a place like this… it feels almost too convenient.”

“It is a coincidence, but it was not an impossibly low probability.”

Jouslain had also regained his composure, responding to Idris in a subdued voice.

“Hmph. And what makes you so certain?”

“Because our objectives are likely the same. It is only natural that we would meet at our destination.”

“Our objective?”

Idris narrowed his eyes affectedly. Even noticing this, Jouslain spoke plainly.

“To kill the Clanner.”

Idris laughed without making a sound.

“You have finally spoken your true feelings. It is nothing less than a declaration of rebellion. You cannot complain if I shoot you dead right here.”

“At that moment, you will die as well.”

Having been pointedly ignored, Balamy spoke with a surge of youthful bravado. Hyulick remained consistently silent.

“Shall we kill each other here, then?” questioned Jouslain, his voice growing more composed. “I am sure the Clanner would be delighted. Or perhaps he would be disappointed. After all, what he expects is for us to kill one another right before his very eyes.”

“He worries about the strangest things. But where is our obligation to indulge the Clanner’s bad taste? If I were to pull the trigger here…”

“I should remind you, it is three against one.”

Balamy warned once more. An invisible straight line connected the muzzle of the gun to the centre of Idris’ chest.

“Always the noisy brat, I see.”

“Lord Idris, he is a fully grown man. He has my full trust. Underestimating him simply because he is younger is an act that will only come back to haunt you.”

It was Zelpha, who was even younger than Balamy, who had brought Ariabert—a man of superior status in every respect—to his death. Idris acknowledged his disadvantage, but he managed to suppress any sign of it in his expression or demeanour.

“I see. At this distance, it would be impossible to miss, even if he tried. In that case, I have a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

“How about we do this,” Idris moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “The one who kills Ajman shall become the next Clanner. Until then, we shall act together and eliminate anyone who attempts to interfere. I believe it is a fair contract. What say you?”

“Even at this stage, you are still obsessed with the position of Clanner?”

“What is so bad about that?”

“I have no intention of judging the good or the bad about it.”

It was near one of the half-dozen service gates within the inner courtyard of the Clanner’s estate. Across the road, low-rise buildings housing the peripheral agencies of the government stood in a row, but the staff had long since fled, leaving no one to witness the strange confrontation unfolding in the street. On the road itself, several ground vehicles lay overturned and engulfed in flames. Light and shadow cascaded alternately from the canopy, creating an ethereal, surreal scene.

“Then let me ask you this: what have you been living for until now!?” bellowed Idris at last, his false armour scattered in invisible fragments as his passion and fury were laid bare. “You don’t want to do this, you don’t want to do that. Are you a child in his rebellious phase? What have you been living for all this time? What do you intend to live for from here on? Answer me!”

To his horror, Jouslain could not help but feel that Idris’ interrogation hit the mark. It was true; what had he actually wanted to achieve by living this far? He had performed his duties and responsibilities as a Tytania noble almost perfectly. He had never committed a failure worthy of reproach, and by his mid-twenties, he had secured the title of duke. He had done what needed to be done and achieved what required achievement. Yet, it had all been a matter of what “must be”.

“I do not believe I will survive this. I do not believe I can remain unharmed after killing the Clanner.”

“Ah, I see. You’ve got quite the resolve.”

“Therefore, Lord Idris, you may do as you please.”

“A defeat without a fight, then?”

“I suppose that is how it shall be.”

“I would like to say that is fine, but unfortunately, I cannot. I will not be satisfied until I have beaten you into the ground.”

“Before Ajman?”

“It is that very way of taking of yours that I abhor!”

Having only just turned twenty-five, Idris shouted, ignoring Balamy, who was even younger than him.

“Just because you were born two or three years earlier than me, who do you think you are! Mark my words: if we kill the Clanner, we will settle this once and for all.”

“Very well. Now, let us enter the Clanner’s manor quickly. It will be all over if we are seen by others.”

Two of the three held card keys capable of opening and closing all the gates of the Clanner’s manor. It was a privilege of being a duke. However, Jouslain’s key had already been deactivated. As Idris opened the gate, he silently let the other three pass through.

Moving further into a corner of the palace, they walked down a rarely used corridor, and upon turning a corner, they encountered a figure leaning weakly against the wall. Both parties were startled, but they quickly recognised one another.

“If it isn’t Count Elman.”

“Lord Jouslain… Thank goodness, I have finally encountered a sane human being. I was terrified that I might lose my mind. The attendants have all fled…”

Jouslain looked at Count Elman with a calm expression. Much like Captain Slatina, everyone was utterly exhausted.

“It might be best not to be too relieved, Count. It is strange of me to diagnose myself, but I certainly cannot say that I am sane.”

“Lo… Lord Jouslain,” gasped Count Elman. “I beg of you. Please, do something. You are the only one who can bring an end to this chaos.”

=== III ===
As Count Elman gripped his sleeve, Jouslain perhaps should have offered at least some token of comfort to the middle-aged noble. However, he simply could not bring himself to do so.

“Count Elman, if you will excuse me, I have no business with you.”

“Out of our way!”

Idris barked with arrogant bluntness. Count Elman stared back at Idris, his expression wiped clean, then looked at Jouslain once more before bowing his head.

“I shall do that. I apologise for disturbing you.”

“Wait a moment.”

It was not Count Elman’s behaviour that caused Jouslain to speak up instinctively. Rather, it was a foul odour seeping through the half-open door that had piqued Jouslain’s suspicion.

Idris noticed it too. Keeping his muzzle trained on Count Elman, he demanded:

“What is that smell? Who else is in that room?”

“That’s…”

Balamy spoke up, as if he had realised something.

“Surely, the Clanner isn’t in that room?”

Count Elman’s complexion changed because he had been taken aback by Balamy’s misunderstanding, but that only served to further mislead Idris. A fierce light ignited in both of his eyes.

“I see. So he was skulking around in a place like this? Hmph. How far the Clanner has fallen.”

“That is not it, Duke Idris. The one who is there is…”

“You’re in my way. Move!”

Idris grabbed Count Elman by the collar and shoved him away violently. Staggering back, Elman’s spine hit the wall, and he looked toward Jouslain and Balamy as if pleading for help, but at that moment, neither of them had any intention of adhering to etiquette or decency.

First, Idris stepped into the dark room with heavy strides, wielding a drawn charged-particle gun. Jouslain and Balamy followed him. Hyulick followed as well. In a panic, Count Elman followed them too.

“Has someone arrived…?”

A woman’s voice, quite unexpected, brought Idris to a halt. Jouslain raised a hand, and the lights automatically brightened, illuminating the room with the clarity of daytime. The furnishings were elegant and antique. Someone lay reclined upon a magnificent canopy bed.

“Duchess Theresa…?”

The three of them spoke aloud, while the fourth swallowed the words he was about to utter and instinctively took a step back. There was a good reason for that. For Fan Hyulick, who had murdered both of Lady Theresa’s sons, reuniting with the mother of Zarlisch and Arses was something he wished to avoid as much as possible.

Whether it was Jouslain or Idris, once they realised the Clanner was not in the room, they should have made a swift exit. Beyond having no business with Count Elman, they had no business with Lady Theresa either. Along with Balamy, all three of them disliked Lady Theresa, and they could not have cared less what happened to her. Nevertheless, as if drawn to the scent of death and decay, all three of them had gathered by the lady’s bedside.

“Why must there be such a fuss?” muttered Lady Theresa. “… Tytania is Tytania. Nothing has changed.”

Jouslain looked back at Count Elman.

“What is Lady Theresa’s condition?”

“You can see it for yourself. The toxins from the alcohol have spread to every organ in her body. It is only a matter of time before her heart stops due to severe alcoholism.”

“Come to think of it, she was a pitiable woman.”

“There is no use in dwelling on the past now. Or shall I avenge her sons here and now?”

Idris replied with cold indifference. Balamy remained silent, but he was sweating from the sheer horror of the moment, truly experiencing what one might call a “hair-raising<ref name="ftn17">The expression used here is “a feeling that makes your hair raised” (身の毛のよだつ思い), which refers to feeling great disgust or fear.</ref>” sensation. Was Theresa’s figure the wretched end of the “noble blood of Tytania” that had once been so full of glory and power?

Jouslain spoke once more:

“Count Elman.”

“Y-yes.”

“Please keep yourself hidden in a safe place. Before long, the time will come when your existence will matter.”

Count Elman struggled to grasp the meaning of the latter half of the sentence, but he decided to follow the advice in the first half without question. He did not want to die. He was not capable of combat. To reconcile these two propositions, there was no choice but to follow Jouslain’s suggestion. The only issue was the possibility that Uraniborg itself might vanish, regardless of where Count Elman chose to hide.

“How kind of you.”

Idris gave a thin smile. He had found an outlet for the negative emotions he had been brooding over in solitude. Because this was so evident, Jouslain did not take offence.

“We are all from the same Tytania Clan. It is better if he survives.”

“Is that all? You make it sound as if you are promising Count Elman a high position.”

“If you do not wish to see Count Elman placed in a position far beyond his station, then you must ensure your own survival.”

“It is a foregone conclusion that I shall survive,” spat out Idris, his voice more pointed than sharp.

Count Elman was no heavyweight. Certainly not when compared to the previous Clanners, nor to the members of the Council of Five Families held a year ago. But what was the problem with that? If the scale of Tytania shrank to a size that could be governed by Elman’s talent and capacity, and if it became stable, then that should be enough, shouldn’t it?

These were Jouslain’s thoughts on the matter. Balamy, who was far too young, looked at Jouslain with a bewildered expression, but Idris keenly perceived Jouslain’s mindset and let out a low, mocking laugh.

“So now that Ariabert is gone, it’s Count Elman’s turn?”

“…”

“He is a suspicious fellow. Why is it that your name or mine didn’t come up?”

“…”

“It would be far more natural that way. The position following Clanner is Duke, and even among those, you and I are the heads of the Five Families.”

“You may not know it, but I have neither the intention nor the right to become Clanner.”

Murderous intent infused Idris’ voice.

“Do you have no ambition? Or is it simply that you do not wish to bear the burden of responsibility and mission?”

“Interpret it however you wish.”

Without answering the question, Idris suddenly pressed the muzzle of his gun against Lady Theresa’s left temple and pulled the trigger. There was no time to intervene. Lady Theresa did not even suffer a final convulsion.

“What have you done, Idris!?”

“Tytanian nobles may be destined to die, but they are not permitted to rot while still living. Call me a murderer if you must.”

Silence was the only reply. Leaving Count Elman behind in a state of vacant shock, the four of them exited the room and its stench. Of the four, three offered a bow to the deceased at the doorway.

Before long, they emerged before the stairs leading to the upper floor. Six guards, their faces contorted with tension, levelled their guns at them.

“I cannot allow either of Your Graces to proceed any further.”

“By whose command?” questioned Idris with affectation, all while idly fiddling with his charged-particle gun.

“By the command of His Clanner Highness himself.”

“There was no need to ask.”

As Jouslain spoke, Idris glared at his opponent with white eyes, but he offered no verbal reply, merely ascending the first step with heavy, rhythmic footsteps. Remaining silent, Jouslain ascended the step as well. One more step.

While keeping their guns levelled at them, the soldiers appeared overwhelmed, casting pleading glances toward their superior officer.

“Both of you, stop right there!” shouted the officer, his voice drenched in cold sweat. “Otherwise, if I may be so bold, we shall be forced to restrain you by force!”

“Try it,” declared Idris with sheer bravado, and a bead of genuine sweat rolled down the officer’s forehead to his cheek.

“I—I am warning you. I have been granted permission to shoot. Please, value your lives!”

“A warning full of nothing but polite language lacks any real impact,” muttered Fan Hyulick.

He was positioned behind the two dukes, though not because he intended to use them as shields, but simply because of the width of the staircase that had placed him there.

“There is no way he will shoot,” declared Jouslain, though his tone was strange, possessing both a certain gloom and a striking clarity. “If the Clanner were to let him shoot us, it would be right before his very eyes. He would likely want to witness our deaths firsthand.”

“You are quite right. Guards, there is no need to follow the Clanner’s orders at this late stage. Do you not realise that almost everyone else in this palace has already fled?”

The guards were visibly shaken.

Countless contradictions and paradoxes had dulled Jouslain’s judgement. Yet, once they were resolved, the mist would clear, and a fragment of the truth would reveal itself. Once he reached the top of these stairs, Clanner Ajman would be waiting. Jouslain was certain of this. It was useless to ponder there what he could do or what Idris might do. He simply had to press on and ascend the stairs.

“Move aside. I must see His Clanner Highness.”

It was Jouslain who spoke, though Idris was the one who began walking first. Overwhelmed, the guards parted to the left and right without a word, allowing them to pass. Balamy followed and ascended as well, yet the guards remained unmoved. However, when Hyulick attempted to follow, a beam of light burst into rainbow colours at his feet.

Clinging to the staircase handrail, Hyulick narrowly avoided a fall.

“Why did you only shoot at me!?”

“I was obviously going to shoot at you. You aren’t a Tytanian noble, are you?”

“So you think it’s alright to shoot ordinary citizens, you bigot!”

“Ordinary citizens? I am appalled by what I hear. You’re a vermin who dared to oppose Tytania, and I shall dispose of you right here.”

As Hyulick attempted to retort further, it was not words that rained down upon him, but titanium bullets, accompanied by flashes of light and the roar of gunfire.

=== IV ===
The moment a single bullet blew back a lock of carrot-coloured hair, a chain reaction of fresh gunshots erupted. Screams and sprays of blood struck the floor as guards were thrown back and tumbled over. Several sets of footsteps rushed towards him, and a powerful hand gripped Hyulick’s wrist, pulling him to his feet.

“Are you alright, Hyulick?” asked the coolest and most detached voice in the universe.

Hyulick let out a heavy breath and shouted at the members of the Blaze Flag Army.

“You’re late! I almost died! What was even the point of that tracking device?”

“I had hoped you might perform a great feat that would defy my expectations. However, it seems that one cannot pour two litres of wine into a one-litre vessel, after all.”

“Fine, then. From now on, just call me ‘the one-litre man’.”

“Despite what he says, the Doctor was worried about your safety. That’s why, from the moment you all set off, he was figuring out a way to infiltrate Uraniborg.”

Miranda explained with a smile.

The more the situation descended into chaos, and the more disorder expanded, the more advantage the Blaze Flag Army would gain.

Amidst a swirling vortex of death and destruction, the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' approached Uraniborg, dodging cannon fire by veering left and right. When a flash of light surged from Uraniborg’s identification system, everyone thought it was the end, but the ship’s small size proved fortunate. In place of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', a heavy cruiser that was already half-destroyed and attempting to return to Uraniborg took the brunt of the energy barrages. Because it had been lurking in the shadows, the Blaze Flag Army was saved, though it remained unclear whether the ship that had served as their shield was a friend or a foe. Along with several other vessels, they surged into the harbour gate and made their insolent landing.

“The interior of this impregnable fortress is a palace of exquisite splendour. The security is surprisingly light. Such is the nature of the strongholds of the powerful since ancient times. You’ve heard of the term ‘Efang Palace<ref name="ftn18">“Efang Palace” (阿房宮) is here pronounced “folly”. The Efang Palace (or Epang palace, or Afang palace, or Aboukyuu in Japanese) was a palace built by the first emperor of China. It was famed for its extravagance. It was sacked shortly after its construction. Many writers since then used it as the prime example of opulence being destroyed overnight.</ref>’, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, just shut it, I get it.”

It was Walenkov who responded to Hyulick.

“Once we’ve slipped inside, we can move at our own pace. After all, we’ve been Duke Idris’ guests once. I managed to observe the city quite thoroughly during that time.”

Pagès added to that remark:

“We’ve taken down the computer system used for controlling the city’s functions. Now, Uraniborg is no different from Babylon or Ur, or whatever old cities of mankind were named.”

“You certainly know some rare names.”

“What? I’m just repeating what I heard from the Doctor.”

Alternating between conversation and sprinting, pushing through crowds and winding through deserted back alleys, the group of pirates successfully infiltrated the Clanner’s manor.

“What happened to that boy, Zelpha?”

“My husband is with him, so there’s nothing to worry about. Out of all of us, my husband is the most sensible one.”

“The moment he married Miranda, he ceased to be a sensible man.”

“Did you say something, Mahdi!?”

As Mahdi pressed his hand to his mouth, Jouslain and Balamy appeared on the floor above. They seemed to have noticed the commotion downstairs. Idris was nowhere to be seen. He likely had no concern for Hyulick’s affairs.

''What strange fellows'', thought Jouslain. When it was just the two of them with Balamy, the atmosphere had been so thick with tension and resolve that it was almost suffocating, and yet, the moment members of the Blaze Flag Army joined them, an almost irreverently cheerful energy enveloped their surroundings. They were surely not immortal themselves, and yet, Jouslain wondered if they would meet their deaths with that same cheer. He felt an emotion akin to envy.

Balamy, on the other hand, held neither affection nor trust for the Blaze Flag Army.

“Do not follow us. Do whatever you like, whether it be looting or otherwise. Just do not get in our way.”

“We have no intention of getting in your way, Milord Viscount. We are merely here to support Hyulick. We are technically allies, after all.”

As Miranda responded, she hoisted a large hand cannon onto her shoulder, looking remarkably dependable. Balamy stared at her with a mixture of exasperation and admiration, but he soon averted his eyes.

“In that case, fine.”

It seemed he had been somewhat overwhelmed by the female pirate and was annoyed at his own reaction.

“Let us move on, Duke Jouslain.”

Balamy turned on his heel and began to walk away. This time, Jouslain found himself following the younger man. Mahdi clicked his tongue.

“Honestly, why must we risk our lives for the sake of these dukes?” replied Miranda with a wicked grin. “Just think about your bankbook, Mahdi. Every time the number of zeros increases, your happiness index goes up with it.”

“What does that have to do with our current situation?”

“What I mean is, once the new Clanner takes office, he’ll likely offer you a massive reward.”

“Hmph, and why should I believe that?”

“Then why did you come along? You could have easily stayed behind on the ''Honest Old Man Junior''.”

Before Mahdi could respond, a volley of gunshots rang out, and bullets splintered against the marble floor. Quickly identifying the direction of the fire, Miranda ducked behind a statue and pulled the trigger of her hand cannon.

In truth, what Mahdi was planning was to plunder valuables from the Clanner’s manor. Between the gemstones, precious metals, and small works of art, the Clanner’s manor was meant to be the “greatest treasure trove of thieves in the universe”. Since he wasn’t stealing from the poor, Mahdi felt no pang of conscience.

“If the bathroom taps are made of gold, I’ll rip them right off and take them with me.”

That was precisely why Mahdi had arrived with a large rucksack on his back. It was light now because it was empty, but by the time he returned alive, it would likely weigh as much as a small child.

The blast of the hand cannon struck the surrounding air with a violent thud, and a thick streak of fire raced forward, blowing away a corner of the palace. Spirals of orange and grey erupted into the air. About ten newly arrived guards were hurled against the walls, their hands still clutching their weapons as they were sent flying.

“I was ordered by Duke Idris to set out from Uraniborg, and now I am pursuing that very same Duke. It’s an interesting life, isn’t it, Hyulick?”

“Thanks for the summary, Miranda.”

“It’s the life of a traitor, really.”

“Could you at least try to be less blunt about it?” grumbled Hyulick, averting his eyes from the human blood that had sprayed as far as the ceiling. “Doctor, say something.”

“Winner becomes king<ref name="ftn19">“Winners are loyalists” (勝てば官軍) which is the Japanese expression equivalent of “history is written by the winners”, is here pronounced “winner becomes king”.</ref>.”

“What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“It is perhaps the greatest truth of life. Between the young nobles who went up to the upper floors and the Clanner likely waiting for them, which side will prevail, and which one will survive? This is the decisive moment for my thesis.”

As Hyulick genuinely wondered if Duchess Theresa might have been more sane than this man, the sound of gunfire rang out once again. The roar of the hand cannon had summoned more than thirty guards.

“Even so, why on earth do they not use an automated security system?”

“The mark of the upper class is to go out of one’s way to use humans for tasks that the poor would simply let machines handle. If her circumstances were different, Miranda too would likely be surrounded by thirty or fifty ladies-in-waiting.”

“It’s just not my style. I prefer to do what I can do for myself.”

“It is not just that. In practical terms, it creates employment. There is class discrimination, certainly, but that is a different matter altogether from slavery.”

Within the magnificent palace, the audacious group of space pirate terrorists known as the Blaze Flag Army continued their bloody rampage. Bullets and beams showered the area from all directions, but the counterattacks were so fierce that the dreamlike palace was transformed into a nightmarish skirmish. Overly ornate military uniforms lay scattered everywhere, serving as shrouds for the dead.

Finally, casualties began to fall among their own. Walenkov, who had been firing away with autorifles in both hands, suddenly tumbled as he attempted to dash from the hall towards the shelter of the stairs.

“Walenkov! Hey, what’s wrong!?”

“Ah, Pagès, having such a big body, it’s quite a disadvantage.”

Three holes had been pierced through Walenkov’s massive frame, and the flow of blood grew heavier with every passing second.

“Hold on, I’m going to get a doctor.”

“It’s no use. There’s no saving me.”

“Don’t go spouting lines like you’re some famous physician<ref name="ftn20">Walenkov used a ''cliché'' line (もう助からん) from medicine dramas/anime/manga.</ref>. Dying in a scene like this is for minor characters. It’s a cheap drama ''cliché''.”

“The drama will carry on, so I’ll leave the rest to you… It’s fine. I never thought I’d die in such a magnificent… palace.”

His voice faltered, the bubbles of blood burst, and Walenkov ceased to move. The pirates surrounding him, having witnessed the boundary between life and death, paid their respects to the deceased in their own ways. Miranda closed his eyelids, and Doctor Lee placed the man’s favourite handgun upon his broad chest.

“We have to move. This place is far too exposed. If we are surrounded, we will all end up following Walenkov.”

Suppressing their sentimentality, the pirates resumed their frantic sprint. Bullets splintered against the marble floor, flashes of light scattered, and gunshots rang out in rapid succession. Led by Doctor Lee, the pirates scrambled into the cover of a building and some hedges. They were fortunate not to have suffered a second casualty.

“This is a story that no one has ever confirmed, but…” Doctor Lee looked around at the group. “There is an urban legend—or rather a space legend—that an ultimate weapon is passed down through the successive Clanners. We can’t laugh this off.”

“An ultimate weapon, eh?”

Miranda gave a sardonic laugh.

“Is it a massive bomb capable of blowing up a star? Sounds like something straight out of a children’s anime.”

“No, it is a small black box<ref name="ftn21">“Black box” (黒箱) is pronounced “black box”.</ref>, about the size of one’s palm. And it has a red button on it.”

“And what happens when you press the button?”

There was a tone in Mahdi’s voice that seemed to be weighing the monetary value of this so-called “ultimate weapon”.

“Uraniborg will fall to the surface of the planet Vardana,” replied the Doctor with a quietness that felt entirely out of place. “The attitude control system of Uraniborg will be rendered useless.”

=== V ===
There was one individual who had managed to infiltrate Uraniborg far more stealthily than the boisterous members of the Blaze Flag Army. It was not a pirate or a veteran soldier, but a young woman.

Nineteen-year-old Francia Tytania, dressed in a form-fitting pair of overalls, leapt from the autocapsule and disappeared into the chaos of the crowd.

Even with the Tytania surname, she was neither a noble nor a public figure. There was no one there who could observe her beauty with any sense of composure. As the majority of the crowd surged towards the spaceport, Francia, running in the opposite direction, was frequently shoved, knocked aside, and showered with angry shouts. Although she was healthy, she was not particularly robust, and she had to pause many times to catch her breath and rest her feet, yet she never ceased her forward progress towards her destination.

“Lord Jouslain!”

Francia had wanted to cry out with enough force to empty her lungs, but she restrained herself. Even amidst such chaos, calling Jouslain’s name would undoubtedly draw the attention and suspicion of the crowd. In a state of such excitement and fear, she could not allow a vent for that energy to arise that might bring harm to Jouslain.

Francia steadied her breathing once more and ran with as much speed as possible, weaving through the crowd with fluid movements. Jouslain had infiltrated Uraniborg to confront Clanner Ajman. Naturally, he would be heading for the Clanner’s manor. Consequently, Francia set her destination for the Clanner’s manor as well. If this simple, straightforward principle of action proved to be incorrect, nothing but despair would remain for her.

With a modest privilege—a card permitted only to those bearing the Tytania surname—she managed to gain entry to the Clanner’s manor. In a wide corridor beneath a skylight, she encountered an obstruction. It was a noblewoman.

“Your face looks familiar.”

Countess Theodora’s gaze felt as though it were planting invisible needles into every part of Francia’s body. By this stage, Theodora was clad in a lavender dress that could only be described as extravagant.

“I remember now. You are Duke Jouslain’s mistress.”

“I’m his lady-in-waiting.”

“What is the use of dressing up your words at this late stage? What a foolish girl. In such an unseemly state, I don’t even need to ask what you’ve come here for…”

Since she had been told there was no need to ask, there was no need to answer. Prepared to fire her weapon should it become necessary, Francia stared back at Theodora. The Countess looked up towards the skylight.

“Don’t you ever wish to make those clusters of light that fill the universe your own?”

“I do not. They are of no use to me.”

“So, you are saying that all you require is the favour of Duke Jouslain?”

When Francia replied with silence, Theodora thrust the needles of her gaze and voice into her opponent.

“You have no right to claim the glorious name of Tytania. Even if one is a mere fringe member of the clan, even if one is born a woman, one must crave the greatest power, the highest status, and the greatest wealth. To seek the shortest path and devise the best strategy for that purpose is the divine destiny of a Tytanian. To be devoid of ambition is simply unacceptable.”

Theodora’s fierce tone disturbed her own breathing. In that brief moment, Francia retorted.

“And yet, you shall meet the worst possible consequences, Countess.”

Theodora’s sneer vanished, and as the hem of her dress rippled, she closed the distance towards Francia.

“Stop chirping such clever little remarks, girl. I cannot abide a woman of my own kind. If you had truly intended to do so, you had countless opportunities to manipulate Duke Jouslain from behind the scenes and seize actual power, yet you let them all pass you by.”

Any weaker woman would have cowered under her intensity. Francia, however, did not flinch.

“I do not intend to criticise your values, Countess. I am well aware that I cannot match your brilliance or strategy. Therefore, I ask that you grant me leniency for this small degree of independent action.”

A sneer once again graced Theodora’s lips.

“Always a retort. I wonder if this is Duke Jouslain’s influence. Unfortunately, I cannot grant such leniency. Should your meddling have even one in a million chance of making Duke Jouslain survive, it would be most unpleasant for me.”

“I know this is the height of rudeness, but I have no more time to continue this conversation. Please excuse me.”

As Francia bowed and prepared to walk away with haste, Theodora thrust her right hand into the waist of her dress. What she withdrew was a pistol with a black sheen. Reflexively, Francia pointed her charged particle gun at her. Neither of them fired.

The reason Theodora had hesitated was because the pistol in her hand was a model that fired gunpowder-based bullets. Naturally, such a weapon would produce a gunshot. The purpose of a gunshot is to alert others to danger and call for help. However, Theodora did not want anyone else to know she was confronting Francia. If others were to rush to the scene, they would, of course, find it suspicious that she was involved in such an encounter and wonder why she was holding a pistol.

Francia had surmised Theodora’s psychological state in an instant. Therefore, she acted without hesitation. She simply took off at full speed. Slighting past Theodora’s side, she moved away like a youthful doe.

“Wait!”

Theodora let out a furious cry. A mere girl, younger than herself and a mere-to-be relative with no title whatsoever, had disobeyed a command from a Countess of the highest order. It was a sin worthy of ten thousand deaths.

At that moment, Theodora had clearly lost her composure. It mattered not if the gunshot rang out and the guards came rushing to the scene. She could simply explain that she had retaliated because Francia had shot at her. Since the guards were also lacking in calm amidst the bewilderment and confusion, they should have had no leisure to doubt Theodora’s excuses.

Letting Francia escape right before her eyes, Theodora clicked her tongue at her own carelessness and drew a heat gun from the left side of her dress. Had she presented it first, she could have incinerated the brat to a rare or even a medium grade, but because she was right-handed, she had missed her chance.

Theodora had been taught, and had firmly believed, that fencing and marksmanship were as essential to a Tytania lady’s refinement as dancing, piano, or horse riding. Her exceptional nature lay in the fact that she never neglected such training. Had it come to a direct shootout, Theodora might have been able to bring not only Francia but even Jouslain and Fan Hyulick to their knees.

At that moment, a shift occurred in Theodora’s psyche. The sharp edge of the fury that had been directed at her suddenly veered away.

Duke Jouslain Tytania.

That insolent little girl had wandered into the Clanner estate seeking her master. In other words, Duke Jouslain was somewhere within this dinosaur-like massive palace. Once she had rushed to his side, she would burn them both to death together.

At the same time? No, the correct order would be to make Duke Jouslain prey to the intense heat before her very eyes and then proceed with the girl. It was the mercy of a noble to grant her a few seconds of overwhelming shock and sorrow.

For Theodora, who aimed to become the first female Clanner in Tytania’s history, Jouslain was an entity that had to be absolutely eliminated. She had no intention of dirtying her own hands to remove him. However, the situation had changed. She needed to deal with it flexibly and achieve results swiftly.

With a freezing smile upon her face, the Countess began to walk.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5

2026-10-13T15:49:09Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 4 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 6 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels == === I === Tytania’s greatest battleship, the ''Black Prince'', might have been more app..."

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== Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels ==
=== I ===
Tytania’s greatest battleship, the ''Black Prince'', might have been more appropriately named the “Black Moby Dick<ref name="ftn13">“Black whale” (黒鯨) is pronounced “black Moby Dick”.</ref>” given its true nature. A demonic beast that had leapt into a sea of war where good and evil could not be defined, devouring all manner of animate and inanimate life, repelling every desperate attempt at resistance and continuing its slaughter and destruction at will. Acting entirely upon its own volition, it unleashed its main and secondary batteries to their full extent, burying both friend and foe within a tidal wave of energy.

The being inhabiting the brain of this magical beast was a youth who wasn’t even twenty years of age, yet he appeared less like a young nobleman of the Tytania Clan and more like the complete embodiment of human destructive impulses made flesh. Even from the perspective of his allies, this held true. No, in an absolute sense, he had no allies; they were only the “vassals” he forced into submission.

Conversely, what was the situation at Uraniborg?

Sweat trickled down Vice-Admiral Ridenhour’s forehead. His resilient mind and body, which had endured forty years of rigorous military service, were reaching their limit after only a single day of combat.

“Our forces still hold the advantage. Furthermore, Duke Ariabert is no longer present. If we can drag this into a war of attrition, we can hope for the situation to turn for the better.”

The name of Ariabert slipping from his lips was the seasoned officer’s small, desperate attempt to maintain his sanity. What was unfolding before his eyes was nothing so grand as a pitched battle. It was merely a slaughter, devoid of any tactical meaning or military doctrine.

The ''Black Prince'', which ought to have been traversing the astral sea leading the Tytania grand fleet in all its majesty, had been transformed into a ferocious carnivorous dinosaur, devouring everything in its path. There was not a shred of dignity left in its form.

Even the onlookers and outlaws, who had been content to observe from their safe heights, were on the verge of falling into a bottomless pit of dread. The destroyer’s fangs might descend, ignoring all strategic significance or tactical necessity. Even so, the pirates aboard the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' remained insolent.

“The AJ Alliance forces are doing quite well for themselves even without the A.”

“Of course. Why do you think I sent H in?”

“If Duke Ariabert had been here, this battle might have been a little more sophisticated. As it is, it’s nothing more than a scrap between wildcats.”

Pagès spat these words out venomously.

“That was exactly what I thought would happen,” replied Doctor Lee, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Hyulick was a man who could not demonstrate his true worth unless driven into a corner. His formations, tactics, and chain of command were non-existent. It was only amidst melee, confusion, rampaging, and total chaos that Hyulick truly excelled. The Doctor’s intention had been to observe how the battle for Uraniborg would shift by deploying the Hyulick element onto the battlefield equipped with a tracking device. However, the universe was vast, and an even more irrational commander than Hyulick had appeared, furthermore an inhumane one who was currently in the process of destroying the stage itself.

“Enemy ship at ten o’clock, coming in for a breach!”

“Clean them up quickly; the secondary batteries will suffice.”

“Five o’clock, enemy approaching at maximum combat speed!”

“Clean them up.”

Radmoth’s orders were the very definition of brevity. Should he eventually achieve final victory, he might even inspire a proverb such as, ‘A hero does not concern himself with trivialities’. For now, however, they were merely crude and irresponsible.

A small but unmistakable vibration shook the bridge. One of the navigation officers cried out, his voice cracking.

“Damage to the port side! An enemy vessel has collided with us at maximum combat speed!”

“Collided?”

Radmoth glared at the sensor officer with eyes that belied his age. His overwhelming gaze sent a shiver through the officer.

At Uraniborg, Idris sat in the command centre, tapping his palm against the surface of the desk.

“This is laughable. Has Jouslain decided to switch careers to become a comedian? Does he truly believe he can crush the ''Black Prince'' with a ramming tactic? How amusing. By all means, give it a try.”

Idris burst into loud laughter, yet the eyes watching him seemed to hold an ominous undertone.

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the ''Austra'', Jouslain could not hide the look of anguish on his face.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Understood.”

“I feel terrible for you. To use a vessel as if it were nothing more than a mere bullet to hurl at the ''Black Prince''…”

''… was something Ariabert would never have done. ''Jouslain nearly swallowed these words as he thought them. Captain Edna Fredericks merely offered a silent bow in response.

All around Uraniborg, centred on the ''Black Prince'', the fires of war expanded and order began to collapse. No one was able to envision what the world would look like a mere five minutes from then.

Idris laughed, his voice drier than a midsummer desert.

“It is unlikely that Jouslain will suddenly receive some divine revelation and transform into a military genius. If that were the case, the staff officers left behind by Ariabert would likely devise a conventional strategy. It might be quite entertaining to see whether common sense can triumph over the extraordinary.”

Regardless of whether Jouslain’s fleet or Radmoth’s ''Black Prince'' emerged victorious, both would ultimately remain Idris’ enemies. If the two sides fought to the death and destroyed one another, Idris would be able to reap the rewards of the struggle.

“If victory was always ensured by following a computer-generated plan, human commanders would be entirely unnecessary.”

Miranda was right. At any rate, compared to the forces of Uraniborg, who stood in shock at the reckless actions of their supposed ally, the ''Black Prince'', Jouslain’s side, after adopting a ramming tactic, was still managing to maintain what could at least be called a battle.

“Suppression fire! Do not let the ''Black Prince'' fire its rear secondary batteries!”

Captain Fredericks’ voice was fierce.

“Concentrate fire! Concentrate! Concentrate!!”

The orders were thorough, even relentless.

The rear secondary battery of the ''Black Prince'' had its energy shutters breached and its armour torn asunder, until finally, a single gun exploded, scattering blue and white light. That became the first breach, and the radiance of destruction stretched outwards like a serpent to the left and right. New orbs of light were spawned, growing instantly to strip away the surrounding armour and sweep away the gun turrets.

Part of the light breached the interior of the ship and bonded with oxygen molecules, racing through the corridors as scorching gas. Amidst horrific screams, a scarlet haze filled the space.

The crew of the ''Black Prince'' should have been composed of elites, yet they were thrown into great disarray after Radmoth had ordered the cannons to be aimed at Uraniborg. As one soldier attempted to leap onto a docked fighter, another questioned him.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going!?”

“It’s none of your business where I go.”

“So, you intend to desert.”

“And what if I do?”

“And you call yourself a Tytanian soldier? Have some sense of shame!”

The soldier who was shouted at showed no sign of remorse.

“Hmph. The ones who should be ashamed are the high command.”

“What did you say!?”

“My younger brother was assigned to Duke Ariabert’s fleet. I don’t know if he is alive or dead. If I remain aboard the ''Black Prince'', not only will my life or death become uncertain, but I’ll become a rebel that attacked Uraniborg under Baron Radmoth’s orders.”

The person he was talking to was left speechless. It was true that if they continued to blindly obey Radmoth, they risked attacking Uraniborg and suffering the disgrace of being branded as traitors.

Uraniborg was home to over ten million residents and, above all, the Clanner, who was sacred and inviolable to the people of Tytania. To attempt an attack on such a place…

With the military strength of the ''Black Prince'', a temporary tactical victory might be possible. But if that happened, would Baron Radmoth become the new Clanner? That violent man, who lacked any popularity and was still merely a minor?

Tytania would be finished. It was far too foolish to be dragged into such a disaster.

In those three seconds, that was the conclusion he reached. He bellowed at the soldier who had begun to start the engine of the mounted craft.

“Fine, I’m coming with you!”

“Hurry up, we don’t have time to wait another five seconds!”

In that instant, a flash and a roar erupted, and both machine and human flesh vanished into flames. A charged particle cannon had been fired, treating the unauthorised departure as a desertion.

=== II ===
The fourth and fifth unmanned ships rammed into the ''Black Prince'', erupting in a dizzying light of explosions. Doctor Lee, who had been staring intently at the screen, muttered.

“This is beyond absurd.”

“Eh? What is?”

“The ''Black Prince'' has been rendered immobile. The fleet of Uraniborg is almost entirely annihilated. Duke Ariabert has perished, and the AJ Alliance forces have lost a third of their strength.”

“That’s terrible.”

Miranda shook her head.

“Tytania fighting against itself… a truly disgraceful sight.”

“That is the reality, Miranda. The military might of Tytania, which was once greater than any other nation in the universe, is now as good as nonexistent.”

Doctor Lee placed a hand to his chin, his expression turning pensive.

“It is the greatest instance of cannibalism in history. If someone devised this whole situation single-handedly, it would be a terrifying mastermind.”

“Doctor Lee, are you talking about yourself?”

The Doctor responded with a dismissive smile.

“That is the greatest overestimation in history. Duke Ariabert was a top-tier commander of the highest order. Duke Zarlisch was an unparalleled ruthless general. Fan Hyulick was, if one were to be complimentary, a master of unpredictable stratagems—wait no, I shouldn’t use the past tense here. Anyway, each of these three had their own complicated history with one another, but not a single one of them could have inflicted this much damage and disgrace upon Tytania.”

The beams of light invading the ship from the screen created a contrast of light and shadow, much like ancient monochrome footage. While possibly thousands of lives were extinguished every time the shadows shifted, no pirate aboard felt inclined to voice such sentimental opinions at that time.

Thanks to Captain Casimir’s exquisite manoeuvring, the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' sailed through the fringes of the vast battlefield almost entirely unscathed. At the same time, the ''Black Prince''’s utterly irrational ferocity in battle was throwing both armies into disarray. It was as if a pack of well-trained hounds were being tossed about by a single mad dog.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to fight someone like that.”

Miranda shrugged her shoulders, which were more robust than those of any ordinary man.

“I almost feel sorry for the Tytanians. If they were pirates, they’d just make a quick escape, but an army can’t do quite that easily.”

“The survivor pensions are going to be astronomical, aren’t they?”

After Mahdi made that remark so characteristic of himself, a question was directed back at him:

“Do you know what a snowman is, Mahdi?”

“Enough of that, Doctor. You’ve asked me that same question before.”

“Yes. So, how do you make one?”

“Well, first you make a small snowball, and then you roll it across the snow, and it keeps getting bigger and bigger. Eventually, you lose control of it, and it starts rolling off on its own in unexpected directions.”

The Doctor massaged his upper eyelid with his fingertip.

“The various incidents and chaos that have occurred in space over this past year were built up just like a snowman. Someone created a snowball filled with poison and malice, rolled it across the snow, and allowed it to grow rapidly.”

“That… surely you don’t mean Fan Hyulick, do you?”

“No, Seraphine. Whether by good fortune or bad, Hyulick was merely the catalyst. After that, he was simply caught up in it. He was merely used by someone’s hidden scheme.”

Perhaps to gather his thoughts, Doctor Lee fell silent, but he opened his mouth again shortly after.

“That individual was waiting patiently for the right moment to arrive. Consequently, he immediately used Hyulick to set his plan for the destruction of Tytania into motion.”

Everyone listened quietly to the Doctor’s “lecture”.

“After Duke Zarlisch died, the balance of power between the Four Dukes collapsed. I thought the remaining three dukes would enter a three-way struggle, but because two of them formed a strong alliance, it became a two-against-one situation. As the outcome of the conflict seemed poised to be decided early and threatened a soft landing, that individual schemed to have Duke Ariabert assassinated to restore the balance of conflict.”

The group listening to the lecture stared at Doctor Lee in collective shock. The image they had been vaguely imagining until then suddenly came into sharp focus.

“Anyway, I have finally identified the culprit. However, there is still something I cannot grasp regarding his motives… To reach a final conclusion, I must see it with my own eyes.”

Her voice raspy, Miranda asked:

“Doctor, you don’t mean…?”

He lowered the hand that had been rubbing his eyelids.

“Won’t you understand unless I explicitly say his name?”

As Doctor Lee looked around at his “students”, the one who was probably the most insensitive among them shouted.

“If you put it like that, of course we know! It’s the Clanner. Clanner Ajman himself is trying to destroy Tytania, though I don’t know why. Am I right, Doctor?”

“Yes, that is a passing grade, Mahdi.”

“If it is so, he shouldn’t have been the Clanner in the first place!”

“Are you saying he should have gently waited to let himself be purged?” asked Walenkov, as if seeking confirmation, while stroking his large head with his large palm. “In other words, you are saying the Clanner attempted to bring about the collapse of Tytania from the very top? The exact opposite of a normal ''coup''<ref name="ftn14">The expression used here is “inferiors overthrowing their superiors” (下克上).</ref>?”

“Well, to simplify it, it sums up pretty simply the general scheme.”

“Quite a long process of simplification,” complained Pagès. “Besides, I find it difficult to accept your reasoning, Doctor. If someone goes to great lengths to wield the power and cunning in order to rise to the position of Clanner, it would be only natural to attempt to maintain it. Am I wrong?”

“Ultimately, I suppose I could say in plain terms that he simply found himself disappointed once he arrived at the top.”

“If that were the case, he could have just retired of his own accord,” said Seraphine, stating her opinion.

“Even if Ajman himself were to retire, Tytania would remain.”

“He could just leave it be, couldn’t he?”

“You don’t understand, Miranda.”

“Ah, yeah, I just don’t get it. I don’t understand the psychology of the Clanner, and I don’t quite follow your analysis, Doctor. Perhaps we’re all far more ordinary than we thought.”

Doctor Lee responded to Miranda’s words with a look of rare exhaustion.

“Maybe so. If I had to state it plainly, I believe that Ajman wanted to rule over the cosmos, not as the Clanner of Tytania, but in his own right. I surmise that this is his struggle, at least for the time being.”

It was Mahdi, rather than Miranda, who reacted first to the Doctor’s explanation. With impressive dexterity, he let out a simultaneous click of his nose and tongue.

“Does the distinction even matter? He could have simply sat upon his throne and lived out comfortably. To me, Ajman’s worries are nothing more than the self-consciousness of a spoilt young rich brat.”

“Is it truly that simple? Knowing the Clanner, I suspect there might be something much deeper to it.”

“No, Mahdi has a point. Ajman’s perception is profoundly distorted. It is just that Mahdi’s linguistic skill in expressing it lacks some refinement.”

“Are you complimenting me? You’re not, aren’t you?”

“I have merely provided an objective evaluation.”

Doctor Lee rose from his seat, a self-deprecating smile playing upon his lips.

“Well then, isn’t it about time we made our departure? It will be difficult to know whether we shall make it in time for the final scene.”

“All batteries of the fortress guns aboard the ''Black Prince'' are to commence bombardment. Immediately. Delay won’t be tolerated.”

Idris issued the order within the command centre of Uraniborg. A silent stir ran through the officers.

“Are you certain this is acceptable, even without an order from His Clanner Highness?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“D-Duke Idris…”

“Do it! I won’t repeat myself!”

There was a piercing intensity in Idris’ gaze, one that was difficult to meet directly.

“The hull has been breached…!”

Three minutes later, the reconnaissance officer of the ''Black Prince'' cried out. Had a direct hit from the fortress cannons of Uraniborg occurred, even the energy shutters and armour of the ''Black Prince'' would not have remained unscathed. A massive pillar of light had obliterated several allied ships of Uraniborg all at once and continued its trajectory to pierce straight into the hull of the ''Black Prince''.

The hull of the ''Black Prince'' had already been wounded by the successive ramming attacks launched by Jouslain’s forces. Dragons of flame raced through the ship’s interior, a thick scarlet haze hung in the air, and charred corpses lay heaped upon one another.

Amidst the carnage, Radmoth realised that gun barrels were being pointed at him from every direction. About twenty officers and soldiers with stiff expressions surrounded him, radiating an aura of resolve and hostility.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“We can’t follow you any longer.”

“Bastards, don’t you realise who you are addressing?”

“I understand very well. Radmoth Tytania, you are now our prisoner. Drop your weapons.”

A sinister light flickered in Radmoth’s eyes as he scanned the rebels. The moment his hand reached for the holster at his waist, one of the NCOs, who had been watching him without a moment’s lapse in vigilance, fired silently.

=== III ===
A thin flash of light pierced through Radmoth’s right hand like a needle. It went from his palm to the back of his hand. A thin stream of blood spurted from both sides. Radmoth grimaced. Red droplets scattered across the command desk. Without letting out a scream, Radmoth kicked his chair back and stood up.

“Seize him!”

Simultaneously with the cry, three officers lunged at Radmoth from the front and rear. Radmoth let out a roar of pain and fury. He threw one aside with his left hand and kicked another with his right leg. However, his struggle ended there. The third officer slammed the butt of a heat rifle into the back of Radmoth’s head.

He barely held back doing so. Radmoth let out a groan of agony and dropped to one knee on the floor. He attempted to support his weight with his right hand, but another officer stomped down upon the wound on the back of it, putting his entire weight into the blow.

At that same moment, a tremor shook the bridge. Before a report could even be given, an officer shouted:

“Another ramming attempt!”

“Location?”

“Probably the same place.”

The officers and soldiers exchanged glances. The enemy’s intention was clear. No matter how thick the armour, if a sword were thrust into the same spot more than ten times, one could not remain unscathed.

“No matter how we look at it, we can’t hold much longer. The lower half of the hull is going to be blown away. The myth of the unsinkable battleship is over.”

The officers struggled to endure the weight of the encroaching sense of defeat.

“Place Baron Radmoth in handcuffs. Then, send the following emergency transmission to Duke Idris: ''‘I surrender’''. We shall explain the situation after that.”

“To Duke Idris? Not to His Clanner Highness?”

“Exactly.”

“But if you do that, there is no telling how His Clanner Highness might react.”

“Don’t be a fool and think for a minute. Baron Radmoth received a royal decree from his Your Clanner Highness, and yet he went so far as to threaten Uraniborg. It was nothing less than an act of treason. We must first inform Duke Idris that we are loyal subjects of Tytania and then have him mediate our surrender.”

One minute later, Idris received the report.

“Transmission from the ''Black Prince'' incoming! It’s an emergency message.”

Idris gazed at the ''Black Prince'' on the screen. It was barely maintaining its majesty, appearing on the verge of collapse.

“Has that wretch Radmoth finally come crawling to us with his complaints? Very well, put him through.”

Idris was not in a position of leisure himself. Though he had straightened his collar in preparation for a war of words, the person who appeared on the communication screen was not his brother.

''“I have a matter I wish to report to His Ducal Grace Idris. I am Commander Corrientes.”''

Suppressing his surprise, Idris composed himself into an air of haughty indifference.

“What has happened to Baron Radmoth?”

''“We have taken him into custody.”''

“Into custody?”

''“While it may be disrespectful to Your Grace’s brother, we can no longer follow Baron Radmoth. With everyone’s consent, we have risen in revolt.”''

Idris suppressed a laugh. He himself was not quite sure what kind of laugh it was.

“Good, you have done well.”

''“Will you accept our surrender?”''

“To whom are you surrendering?” he asked back with a composed, feigned composure.

''“We are surrendering to Your Grace, Duke Idris.”''

“Not to His Clanner Highness?”

''“We pledge our loyalty to Your Grace, Duke Idris. We humbly pray that Your Grace will show us your mercy and accept our submission.”''

Flashes of thought crossed Idris’ mind.

How should he answer? Yes or no?

If he answered yes, he would be criticised for acting “without the Clanner’s permission.” If he responded with no, he would invite their disappointment and could not rule out the possibility of turning the ''Black Prince'' against him once again.

His decision was made. He could no longer bear the struggle of trying to divine the Clanner’s intentions.

“Very well, I shall accept your loyalty.”

''“We are deeply grateful. We shall depart for our return journey now, so please bear with us for a short while.”''

A single decision, without a moment’s delay, demanded a new one. If the Clanner began to ponder whether to approve Idris’ treatment, there would be no end to it. He could simply dispose of Radmoth and then provide a post-facto report, pointing out that it was the Clanner himself who had entrusted the command of the ''Black Prince'' to Radmoth. After all, since Radmoth was the one who had ordered the shelling of Uraniborg, the responsibility for the appointment lay with the Clanner.

“I had thought he was utterly useless, but he might just serve as a trump card.”

However, caution was still necessary.

“So, Radmoth is alive. Put him on the screen.”

There was a fleeting thought that he might be covered in blood, but when Radmoth was brought before the communication screen, he was almost unscathed, save for electromagnetic handcuffs on both wrists and a bandage wrapped around his right hand. Surprisingly, it was Radmoth who spoke first.

''“Idris, Brother, you haven’t once praised me since I was old enough to understand words.”''

“What childish resentment is this? If you had done at least something worthy of praise, then it would have been a simple matter.”

''“Hmph, as I thought, you still don’t understand. That’s not what I meant.”''

“Then what did you mean?”

A small tremor of unease stirred within Idris’ chest.

''“You have never praised me, Brother. But look at the current situation. Have you not been driven into a corner because of me?”''

“C-can this even be called being driven into a corner?”

Idris coughed slightly, overcome by indignation.

''“Brother, when it comes to making excuses, I’m not your match. I’ll admit that much. What I am trying to say is that if I were someone worthy of your praise, then it would have been me, not you, attending the Council of Five Families.”''

“…”

When he understood the full weight of his brother’s outburst, Idris’ mind was momentarily shrouded in a thick, white fog. It was certainly as Radmoth had said. He had thought of him as nothing more than a coarse, reckless, and unworthy younger brother, but how had reality proven to be? He had suffered a complete defeat against Ariabert, had struggled against enemies who thrived in Ariabert’s absence, and had ultimately allowed the ''Black Prince'' to roam unchecked.

''“It seems you finally understand, Brother.”''

“… Bastard.”

That low groan was the greatest effort Idris could muster to maintain his dignity. Once he had steadied his breathing, he issued a series of rapid-fire commands.

“The ''Black Prince'' is to stand down from battle formation and return to base immediately. Baron Radmoth is to report to me at once. I guarantee immunity for everyone from the captain downwards, so all are to disembark and await orders. Let this be executed without delay!”

Decisions born of passion often lead to unexpected consequences. One such instance occurred through the screen, within Idris’ field of vision.

Even with his hands bound in irons, Radmoth’s arms swung like a whirlwind. The officer who had been pointing a gun at him was struck squarely in the face, recoiling without a sound. Blood from his nose and a broken front tooth sprayed into the air before falling to the floor. Even faster, a second officer was kicked in the abdomen and collapsed to the floor, spinning as he fell.

Yet, as his elder brother Idris had coldly observed, Radmoth had never been anything else than a pale imitation of the late Zarlisch. At least, when it came to hand-to-hand combat.

The moment he slammed both fists into the third soldier’s face and spun around, a gunshot rang out. Amidst the succession of overlapping shots, four titanium rounds struck Radmoth’s body. His left ear was blown away, and holes were punched just below his right collarbone, his left abdomen, and his left femoral artery.

Through the screen, Idris watched his unloved brother receive these fatal wounds. He did not move to stop it; he simply looked on with indifference.

A bloodstained, dark grin spread across Radmoth’s face. Slumped on the floor, wearing a macabre smile, Radmoth forced his lips to move one last time.

''“… Just once, I wanted to see your crying face turn pale with grief as I overtook you… I was so close… Wasn’t I…?”''

Radmoth slumped completely to the floor, sliding downwards. It was the final movement of his life.

The soldiers who had shot him averted their eyes in a daze.

''“D-do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve murdered a Tytania noble!”''

''“What do I care? We’re going to die anyway. At this rate, we’ll be caught in a pincer between Uraniborg and Duke Jouslain’s fleet…”''

''“Shut up!”''

The one who barked the command was Commander Corrientes. He directed a pleading look toward Idris, his face resembling that of a dead man.

''“Regarding your younger brother, I beg for your forgiveness. There was no other way.”''

Before Idris could even respond, an alarm began to blare throughout the hull of the ''Black Prince''. Upon hearing it, Commander Corrientes’ complexion turned as deathly as the deceased.

The lithium-hydrogen reactor had begun to run out of control.

The system, designed to control the reactor through five redundant layers both manually and automatically, had lost all control, with no one left to halt or correct it. The reactor was situated in close proximity to the heavily damaged section of the massive ship.

Throughout human history, claims made by profit-seekers like “these reactors will never fail” or “that ship is one hundred per cent unsinkable” had all proven to be lies, and the ''Black Prince'' was no exception. Jouslain’s relentless, concentrated assault had inflicted cunning damage upon the belly of the supposedly unsinkable behemoth. Had it been a fleet of ordinary battleships, fifty of them would have been utterly destroyed. Instead, the immense energy had carved wounds deep within the bowels of the ''Black Prince'', dealing a blow that remained invisible from the outside.

Before there was even time to issue orders to evacuate, in a moment of pure terror, the ''Black Prince'' exploded.

The massive mass transformed into a tornado of energy and billions of fragments, raining down upon the outer shell of Uraniborg, battering it and cracking it, triggering new, smaller explosions.

Every inhabitant of Uraniborg let out a scream in their hearts, and half of them acted upon it with their bodies. The outer shell of Uraniborg was subjected to vibrations that were also from within.

“This is the end!”

“Uraniborg is falling!”

“How can such a thing be allowed to happen?”

It should not have been a matter of good or evil, yet no one stopped to notice or to condemn. The crowd reached the height of panic; they paid no heed to tear gas or rubber bullets as they surged towards the security forces. Orders to use live ammunition were issued in some quarters, and the echoes of gunfire rang out. The shots were immediately swallowed by the crowd, and countless boots trampled over the fallen bodies.

=== IV ===
Idris stood before the screen, staring in a daze. The hysterical voices of the reports reached his ears.

“The ''Black Prince'' has exploded…!”

“You don’t need to tell me!”

What burnt into Idris’ retinas were not images but words. The word “destruction”. The two-hundred-year history of Tytania, which had dominated the universe and reigned over humanity, was coming to an end in the most violent and pathetic manner possible.

The immense military might of the ''Black Prince'' and the ensuing catastrophe had become things of the past. However, the chaos continued to expand and multiply. On the battlefield, both friend and foe were so struck by shock that they forgot the combat right before their eyes; there were even sectors where the gunfire had ceased altogether.

In the residential district of Uraniborg, terror and panic overflowed amidst a complete lack of understanding. People collided with one another and came to blows. The warning shots fired by the security forces had long since lost their effectiveness, and horizontal volleys of tear gas and rubber bullets had begun. Blood flowed across the polished streets, the elderly and infants collapsed, trampled by citizens who had become like frenzied herbivores, and a torrent of screams filled the air.

Idris was being forced to make several decisions simultaneously. When he turned towards the communications officer, intending first to deal with the tragedy in the residential district, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

The orange uniforms, somewhat excessive in their ornamentation with feathered military caps and gold braid, were those of the Clanner’s personal guard.

“Your Grace Idris, by order of His Clanner Highness, we must place you under arrest.”

“And the reason?”

“Treason against His Clanner Highness.”

“That is rather abstract.”

Facing the barrel of a gun, Idris was able to step back from a position that had nearly left him in a state of panic. Ironically, one could abandon both the battlefield and one’s home with equal ease.

“Is this about the ''Black Prince''?”

“Your Grace granted permission for the rebels to surrender. They have defied Baron Radmoth, who was commanded by His Clanner Highness to take command of the ''Black Prince''.”

A slight sneer curled Idris’ lips.

“And what did Radmoth then do? He trained the cannons on Uraniborg and threatened them to surrender. Is he not the true traitor? The crew members who detained him are loyal subjects. Far from being blamed, they deserve to be rewarded.”

“I have no desire to debate this further. Please, accompany us quietly.”

Idris rose from his command seat, calculating the number of gun barrels pointed at him. He remembered that Radmoth had been less than twenty years old and felt a flicker of something resembling pity stir in a corner of his heart. However, he had neither the will nor the time to dwell on it. His movements were swift.

“So, who is in command here now?”

A stiff response met his mocking question.

“That is for His Clanner Highness to decide.”

The officer who answered fell silent, the muzzle of a heatgun pressed against his throat. Idris held a gun in his left hand.

“Y-you cannot escape, Your Grace.”

“I thank you for the warning. Now, walk!”

Idris moved the muzzle to the captain’s left ear and stood behind him.

A violent passion raged within the young duke’s body, churning his organs and nerves as if even the position of his heart were shifting erratically. Nevertheless, Idris’ mind maintained an unnatural level of composure. Ignoring the standing soldiers with arrogance, he exited the command centre while keeping the muzzle pressed against the captain’s left ear. The moment the door closed behind him, Idris slammed the barrel of the heatgun against the back of the captain’s head.

Without sparing even a glance at the collapsing captain, he spun around and unleashed a thermal blast upon the door’s mechanism. The metal glowed red-hot and fused together, sealing the command centre. While far from a perfect seal, it should buy him some time.

Idris sprinted forward. The soldiers were struck with horror as they watched the young duke, whose hair was dishevelled and who ran without even a single attendant, his gun still gripped in his hand. They stood frozen under his ferocious gaze and scathing reprimand.

''Radmoth is undoubtedly dead. If survived that, he’s a monster. Is Zelpha alright? I’ll definitely come to save you, please wait.'' However, before that could happen, Idris himself had to survive.

In any case, Idris was a solitary fugitive. Despair often flickered its red tongue, mocking his struggles, but each time, Idris repelled it with everything he had. He would become the final victor, no matter what. To achieve that, what was the one thing he absolutely had to do?

''“I will kill the Clanner.”''

That resolve had already become unshakeable.

''“If I fail, it’s Jouslain who will do it. I won’t let him take the glory.”''

Suddenly, Idris was seized by a dreadful thought. The distrust, bewilderment, suspicion, and frustration he had cultivated over the past year merged, rapidly taking shape.

''“… Did the Clanner intend to kill all four of us from the very beginning?”''

If he thought of it that way, most of the contradictions and mysteries seemed to dissolve.

''“But, for what purpose?”''

He could go no further with his thoughts. Idris continued to creep step by step towards the private chambers of the Clanner, Ajman, running where he had to run and hiding where he had to hide, disabling several soldiers and a few surveillance cameras along his path.

Of course, it was impossible to render every soldier and surveillance camera “inactive”. His figure was exposed to numerous gazes, and the number of those pursuing him continued to grow. However, no order to shoot had been issued, and Idris’ movements did not cease.

The explosion of the ''Black Prince'', which had shaken even Uraniborg, had naturally not failed to engulf the ''Austra'' upon which Jouslain and his followers were travelling.

Jouslain stared at the main screen without a word. Both Fan Hyulick and Balamy staggered from the ship’s swaying, grasping at pillars and walls to barely avoid falling.

The massive battleship ''Black Prince'' had exploded in close proximity to Uraniborg. The distance to the outermost layer was perhaps one hundred metres at most. To the human eye, it looked as though they had collided.

An immense amount of light, heat, and shock energy battered Uraniborg like a storm. To the citizens, it was a hellish sight; sunlight was eclipsed by dark clouds, flashes of lightning streaked the sky, and fragments of meteors battered the firmament.

The ''Black Prince'' must have carried over ten thousand crew members. Had anyone managed to escape? Even if they had, it likely wouldn’t have been even one per cent. As Radmoth brought his own life to an end, he took ten thousand souls with him.

The fleets of both armies were shrouded in astonishment. For Jouslain’s side, it was the destruction of the enemy, but for the forces of Uraniborg, the situation was not so clear-cut. After all, the ''Black Prince'' had crushed allied ships as well, and, in its final moments, had turned its main guns toward Uraniborg.

One soldier slammed his helmet against the floor and screamed.

“Damn it, just tell us who is an ally and who is an enemy!”

It was the shared desire and the desperate prayer of all. The once clear, strong, and stable order of friend and foe, of harm and benefit, of good and evil, had collapsed, leaving them cast out into the void, drowning in anxiety and terror.

Even within the residential districts of Uraniborg, in those areas that remained relatively calm, an elderly woman hurried through the streets with a look of grim determination, her meagre assets stuffed into a bag and her precious granddaughter’s hand held tightly. At a nearby ''café'' terrace, an exhausted middle-aged man continued a solitary tarot reading, his expression shifting from despair to a sort of hollow enlightenment as he muttered to himself. Suddenly, an elderly man, pushed aside by the crowd, tumbled into him, overturning the table and sending the cards scattering across the ground.

On the bridge of the ''Austra'', Duke Jouslain Tytania was desperately racking his brains, his entire body drenched in a cold sweat. The frenzy unfolding within Uraniborg was vividly projected in his mind.

“Is there any way we might infiltrate Uraniborg?”

Ten million citizens and one million Tytania personnel. All crowded inside a half-destroyed floating city being trampled by chaos and disorder. This indicated that Tytania’s ability to govern Uraniborg had significantly deteriorated. Perhaps, by taking advantage of this chaos and disorder, an infiltration of Uraniborg might now be possible.

With the ferocious threat of the ''Black Prince'' having passed, the allies held the advantage in space combat. Jouslain steeled his resolve.

=== V ===
Jouslain was the supreme commander of the rebel forces besieging Uraniborg. For him to personally infiltrate enemy territory, much like a member of an amphibious assault unit, was unorthodox both strategically and tactically. When Balamy, his expression shifting, demanded an explanation, Jouslain answered:

“I shall kill the Clanner with my own hands.”

Balamy was not convinced.

“And do you intend to become the next Clanner? Still, there should be no need for you to do the deed yourself.”

“No, the Clanner’s throne means nothing to me. I will avenge Ariabert. That’s all.”

“If you do that, Duke Idris will become the next Clanner. Are you truly prepared to accept that!?”

As Balamy’s voice rose unconsciously, Jouslain gazed at the youth, who was nine years his junior, with a strange look in his eyes.

“Why do you proceed as if it were already decided that Idris shall be the next Clanner?”

“How can I ask why? If you do not take the mantle, is Duke Idris not the only one left? Of the four Dukes of Tytania, Duke Ariabert and Duke Zarlisch have already passed away. If you say that you will not become Clanner, it is only natural that Duke Idris would seize the opportunity to reap the rewards.”

Jouslain wore a smile that could not quite be called a bitter one.

“The Council of Five Families is a terrifying system.”

The Five Families, which included that of the Clanner himself, monopolised the highest authority within Tytania. Unless one first became a member of these five families, it was impossible to ascend to the seat of Clanner.

“Besides, were you not attempting to dismantle the very structure of the Council of Five Families? No, sorry, I said too much. I will not become Clanner. That is all.”

Balamy’s expression hardened. Indeed, had he not harboured dissatisfaction with the way the Council of Five Families functioned and intended to push for the late Marquis Estrade Tytania to take the Clanner’s throne, with the aim of becoming Clanner himself after ten years?

Regardless. The current Balamy was entirely in his role as Jouslain’s aide-de-camp, serving as a guardian to a young girl of barely ten years, a princess of a small and weak nation. Where had that ambitious man, who had been young and filled with vigour and spirit, vanished to? In truth, should he not have welcomed a situation where Jouslain killed the Clanner and then met his own demise?

However, at some point, almost without his realising it, Balamy’s state of mind had changed. His desire for supremacy had receded, and the sensibilities and values he had once so deliberately disregarded had grown significantly in importance.

“Then, I shall accompany you as well,” offered Balamy with determination. “If I may be so bold, my marksmanship is somewhat superior to yours. I believe I can be of some use.”

“I cannot deny that…”

“Above all, if anything were to happen to you, Princess Lydia and Lady Francia would be devastated. Please, allow me to accompany you.”

“The same would apply to you. Besides, your duty is to protect Princess Lydia. As for Francia…”

As Jouslain faltered, Balamy pressed on:

“That is why I shall accompany you, Duke Jouslain, so that we may both return alive. You are welcome to laugh at me. This is my current ambition.”

“I cannot laugh… though I have certainly twisted the course of your life quite significantly.”

As Jouslain sighed, Balamy responded with a smile that was startlingly mature:

“My life is not so cheap that it can be twisted by the hands of others. I take pride in that. No, I have become able to take pride in it. Even if I do not have your permission, I shall accompany you.”

“Very well. I appreciate it. You shall come with us.”

“It is I who appreciates it.”

After bowing, Balamy moved his gaze. Princess Lydia was staring at her knight, with Francia holding both of her shoulders. Balamy made sure to offer the most dependable smile he could manage. As if to say, ''Please believe in me''. Then, he turned his question to Jouslain.

“How do you intend to handle the command of the entire army?”

“I shall entrust it to four men: Rear-admiral Mittendorf, Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey.”

It was not as if he intended to launch an offensive using any extraordinary stratagems. He only required them to maintain the siege lines around Uraniborg. Furthermore, this would not be a prolonged affair. Provided they were the four generals who had gained combat experience under Ariabert’s command and possessed steady abilities in command and troop management, they should have been able to fulfil their duties without failure.

He would not take much time. He would infiltrate Uraniborg and confront Clanner Ajman and Idris. He would kill Ajman. It was not merely about avenging Ariabert. As long as that man, who ruled Tytania and reigned over the universe, existed, he would continue to toy with the fates of others and manipulate their lives.

He had finally understood that. No, he had understood it all along but had simply turned a blind eye. Whether he was called an ambitious man or a rebel, the responsibility to strike down the Clanner had rested with Jouslain much sooner.

“Might I accompany you as well?”

Suddenly, a voice that seemed to blend a certain frivolity with audacity rang out, and a head of carrot-orange hair popped forward. Jouslain remained silent as he looked upon Fan Hyulick’s face, which showed absolutely no sign of tension, while the still half-baked pirate continued speaking.

“I actually hold an interstellar B-class pilot’s licence. I believe I could infiltrate Uraniborg more skilfully than the two of you. How about it?”

“That is unexpected.”

“Are you talking about my offer?”

“… Well, something like that.”

There were endless reasons he could list, from Hyulick’s character and his past history to the current situation. For some reason, Jouslain felt that Hyulick was someone he could trust. Even so, the gesture was somewhat presumptuous.

“Very well, then, I shall accept your offer.”

With those words, Jouslain accepted.

Hyulick was different from Princess Lydia or Francia. In all honesty, even if he ended up dragging him into this, his conscience would not suffer much. He might feel it was a pity, but nothing more than that. While aware of his own coldness, Jouslain’s decision to readily accept Hyulick’s offer was a characteristic Tytanian judgement. Jouslain himself was well aware of this fact.

“Prepare a shuttle<ref name="ftn15">“Shuttle” (機動艇) is pronounced “mobile”.</ref> immediately.”

At Jouslain’s command, one of the officers scrambled to the ship’s communication console. Balamy looked as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he merely shrugged his shoulders in silence and accepted the situation. It was a gesture that did not suit him particularly well.

Furthermore, Jouslain turned to the four generals—Mittendorf, Magnorton, Yuan, and Durey—and formally entrusted them with the command during his absence. The four seasoned generals accepted the order, understanding that their mission was not to launch a great offensive but rather to maintain the ''status quo''.

“It may be late to say this, but this is nothing more than a family feud within a merchant house<ref name="ftn16">The expression refers to succession disputes.</ref>. It would be stranger if we involved the entire universe. Please allow us to settle this within the family.”

The matter might be settled by Jouslain himself being killed. In fact, that possibility seemed quite high.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Understood.”

“I am sorry to have put you through so much hardship, but I entrust the safety of Princess Lydia and Francia to you.”

Jouslain deliberately avoided looking towards Francia. Captain Fredericks’ response was dignified.

“As you will.”

“Thank you. I am most grateful.”

Jouslain bowed deeply, looked around at those nearby, and offered a Tytania-style salute. He brought his right fist to his left shoulder. He had a feeling that this would be his final salute.

Upon receiving word that the shuttle was ready, Jouslain walked towards the boarding hatch. Balamy and Hyulick followed him. The bridge doors opened and closed without a sound, concealing the figures of the three men.

As Francia stood still, her hands clenched tightly, a hand was placed upon her left shoulder. When she turned around, what she saw was the face of Captain Edna Fredericks.

“Miss Francia.”

“…”

“You want to go, don’t you? Then go.”

Captain Fredericks’ words petrified Francia for a moment.

“Is it truly alright?”

“I have been entrusted with your safety by Duke Jouslain. Under that authority, I hereby permit you to depart this vessel and proceed to Uraniborg.”

Francia gasped and gripped Edna’s hands with all her strength.

“Oh, thank you, Captain Fredericks—no, please, let me call you Miss Edna. I shall take you up on your kind offer.”

“However, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Take this with you.”

Edna drew a charged particle gun from her holster and handed it to Francia.

“I shall have an autocapsule prepared for you immediately.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

“It is enough that I alone shall have something to regret.”

As Edna murmured those words impassively, Princess Lydia threw herself at her.

“I’m going with Francia too!”

“I am sorry, Your Highness, but you must remain here and look after the home front.”

“Why? If Francia may go, why am I forbidden from departing?”

“It is because you are still a child, Your Highness.”

“That is not my fault!”

Princess Lydia’s logical argument brought a smile to Captain Edna Fredericks’ face.

“Your Highness, there are certain things in this world that can only be accomplished by adults. That is precisely why adults exist. Furthermore, you are a person destined to one day become Queen. If you do not learn to listen closely to the opinions of others, you will never become a great monarch.”

Princess Lydia looked up at Edna’s tall stature, finding within those eyes the profound expression of a grown woman. The Princess nodded as if to persuade herself, then shouted toward the closed doors.

“Duke Jouslain, Bal, Francia! I shall wait here and be a good girl, so you must return to me safely!”

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4

2026-10-13T15:48:05Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 3 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 5 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 4 – Overture of the “Slaughter Opera” == === I === Long ago, Nuri, the second-generation Tytania Landless Clanner, ha..."

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</noinclude>
== Chapter 4 – Overture of the “Slaughter Opera” ==
=== I ===
Long ago, Nuri, the second-generation Tytania Landless Clanner, had looked upon the clan’s stronghold, Uraniborg, with cold disdain and called it:

''“A mere bauble floating in space.”''

About two hundred years had passed since then, and although the scale had diminished, both Dukes Ariabert Tytania and Jouslain Tytania would come to hold almost the same opinion regarding the super-dreadnought ''Black Prince''.

''“There is a limit to the usefulness of big guns. If the enemy escapes the range of the main battery, it is all for naught; and considering manoeuvrability, they act rather as a hindrance to tactical deployment.”''

Ariabert had said as much, and Jouslain repeated his cynical theory.

''“A wolf that has lost the thumb of its right paw would surely be beaten to death by fifty little lambs.”''

They argued that if certain functions were disabled, the massive ship would become entirely useless.

In truth, they were not alone in this sentiment. Even Zarlisch, who had placed the highest value on overwhelming crushing power, had said as much.

''“What matters is the crushing power of the fleet as a whole, not that of a single ship. What I need is my own courage and my own mastery of tactics.”''

While not merely mimicking the elders, Idris also voiced his sarcasm.

''“The crowds will surely rejoice during the victory parade. The larger the spectacle, the greater their joy.”''

The reason Idris, who had spoken in such a manner, attempted to board the “''Black Prince''” during this “Uraniborg Incident” was that he had been tactically cornered and sought to find a way out through the sheer crushing power of a single vessel. In the midst of such chaotic, swirling combat, Idris honestly had no certainty as to how effective that crushing power could actually be. However, now that things had come to this, he felt it necessary to manifest his resolve and determination as supreme commander through a tangible action.

Yet, despite their individual differences, their thoughts converged upon a single point. That point was “military rationality”, the goal of “minimising friendly casualties and maximising enemy losses”, and the question of what benefits victory would bring to Tytania.

Radmoth, however, was different. He undoubtedly intended to win, but his disregard for how much damage his own allies might suffer, crushing both the wheat and the chaff, was neither strategy nor tactics.

Radmoth had departed on the ''Black Prince'' with the permission of Clanner Ajman. Why Ajman had issued the order to Radmoth instead of Idris was a mystery. Even someone else than Idris would have found it difficult to comprehend.

Thus, what was the state of affairs? The fleet that was meant to defend the exterior of Uraniborg had now been almost entirely annihilated. Since one-third of them had been destroyed by the ''Black Prince'', the situation was nothing short of an absurdity.

“While we were away from Uraniborg fighting, that wretch Radmoth used the ''Black Prince'' to hold a sword to the very throat of Uraniborg. He set out as our ally, but he returned as our enemy!”

Balamy kicked the floor violently.

“I never imagined him to be so cunning! I was caught off guard.”

Jouslain crossed his arms lightly.

“Viscount Balamy, it was I who was careless. Not you. I, too, am far too naive. To think that a man of my standing could be toyed with by someone like Radmoth.”

Had Ariabert been alive, would things have turned out differently? No, since Ariabert was a true master of military strategy, he might have been just as caught off guard by Radmoth’s irrational behaviour as Jouslain was. However, in the battles to come against Radmoth, he would have surely made use of tactics that balanced both strength and flexibility.

Even so, one had to wonder if Radmoth truly understood the significance of his actions. Ironically, Jouslain and Idris were in complete agreement regarding their assessment of Radmoth. It was simply impossible for Radmoth to be involved in the selection of the next Clanner.

“Ariabert, Zarlisch, Idris, and I. Ultimately, all four of us were bound by the authority of the Clanner and the history of Tytania. We could not forget the weight of things such as honour and tradition. Radmoth, however, is different. He can trample over such things without a second thought.”

“… In other words, you are saying that Baron Radmoth is turning his sights against his own brother?”

There was yet another man here who held Radmoth in low regard. Though Fan Hyulick had been endeavouring to remain as quiet as possible, he had nevertheless found himself interjecting.

“This is not an outsiders’ business!”

It was Balamy who responded thus, but Jouslain continued, a bitter smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Correct. And quite possibly not the Clanner’s either.”

“Possibly?”

“I have no idea what is going on inside!”

Balamy spat the words out with irritation.

“Hmm, well, to tell you the truth, Duke Jouslain, I think it would be best if you were to become the next Clanner.”

Hyulick spoke even more unnecessarily.

“Duke Idris is not incompetent, but he is rather precarious. If you were to become the Clanner, the political situation would stabilise, and many people would support you… though I have no right to interfere in such matters.”

“I thought you might say that, but I have no intention of becoming the Clanner.”

“I expected as much, but if I may be so bold as to say, Duke Ariabert has already passed away.”

Balamy gasped and was about to say something, but upon seeing Jouslain’s face, he caught his breath once more. There was no sign of Jouslain reprimanding Hyulick’s unnecessary interjection, yet his expression was not one of composed dismissal either; he merely cast a shadowed glance their way.

“Idris is superior to me.”

“In what respect, may I ask? Would you care to tell me?”

“He loves Tytania.”

Jouslain turned his whole body around and directed a strange smile at Hyulick.

“Ever since I was a child, I felt a sense of displacement regarding the environment in which I was born and raised. Even after reaching adulthood, no matter how much I pondered why Tytania was so special or why others chose to follow my clan, I could never find a satisfactory answer. Gradually, I grew to loathe Tytania and found myself wanting to lead a life disconnected from it… No, that is not a tale worthy of your ears.”

Jouslain fell silent, and Hyulick offered only an ambiguous nod as he also fell quiet. However, Balamy, who loathed Radmoth thoroughly, not just from a strategic standpoint but also personally, would not remain silent:

“If the Clanner truly granted Radmoth command of the ''Black Prince'', it would be like arming a carnivore dinosaur with the Blue Dragon Sword<ref name="ftn9">青竜刀 is pronounced “blue dragon sword”. It was a legendary polearm wielded by the Chinese general Guan Yu.</ref>.”

“Do you believe the Clanner did such a thing?”

“Duke Idris held opposing feelings toward his two younger brothers. He doted upon Zelpha, but he loathed Radmoth from the bottom of his heart. I simply cannot believe that he would allow Radmoth to command the ''Black Prince''.”

Jouslain gave a small shrug.

“A younger brother rebelling against a cold elder brother—even so, this is excessive. It is certain, though, that Idris was not the one who granted command of the ''Black Prince''.”

As far as the screens could tell, the ''Black Prince'' appeared, ironically, to be defending Uraniborg from close range. In reality, however, it had placed Uraniborg entirely within its range, cutting off any possibility of long-distance reinforcement, and was effectively holding the entirety of Uraniborg hostage. Whether this would last for a long time remained to be seen, but at that moment, Radmoth was the one in control of space.

“The ''Black Prince'' is targeting Uraniborg right now. Even though the Clanner is stationed there.”

“Does he intend to blow the Clanner away along with it?”

“Returning kindness with cruelty. It is just like him.”

Balamy spat these words, sharing the same sentiment as Idris, with whom he shared a profound loathing for Radmoth.

About two light-seconds away, the ''Black Prince'' gazed down arrogantly from the heavens. Looking upon Uraniborg and the Vardana home planet situated below. It was a double act of rebellion, and had Emperor Harsha VI learned of the truth, he might have been driven to agony.

Seated in the commander-in-chief’s chair, Radmoth remained as motionless as a statue titled “Arrogance”, but he suddenly asked one of the officers for the time.

“Exactly thirty minutes have passed, sir.”

“Hmph. In that case, let us announce the hour with a small fanfare.”

Radmoth let a sinister smile creep across his face.

“Fire the secondary batteries at the canopy. Six guns, six rapid salvos.”

The officers froze.

“However, do not concentrate them on a single spot. Our objective is not to destroy the canopy. Instead, let us provide the commoners of Uraniborg with a magnificent firework display.”

“B-Baron, my Lord…”

“Don’t panic, you cowards. I told you it was a time signal. Keep the output to a minimum.”

A heavy, exhausted sigh rippled through the officers. It was unlikely that history would ever record a command centre so gloomy despite such advantageous circumstances.

“Six guns of the first secondary battery, aimed!”

“Fire!”

And so, the commoners of Uraniborg bore witness to a spectacle where six streaks of white light exploded overhead, sending fissures racing through three layers of the canopy.

=== II ===
“The residential districts have fallen into a state of panic!”

The harrowing report was brought to Idris. In the main command room, a crowd of pale faces moved about like ghosts.

“Vehicles are clogging the roads leading to the civilian harbour gates. Many are driving against the flow of traffic, and accidents are occurring everywhere…”

One of the monitors was occupied by a scene of a crowd pushing and screaming against one another. On the adjacent screen, a ground vehicle lay overturned on the road, spewing flames and white smoke, as a weeping woman carrying a small child ran past it.

“The emergency shelters are being swarmed by the crowd. The situation is already beyond our control.”

“If even Uraniborg is blown to pieces, there will be no point in fleeing to the shelters.”

Idris’ handsome mouth twisted into a grimace.

“I wonder if Theodora has sought refuge in one of those shelters herself.”

That scheming and cunning Countess Theodora Tytania, clutching a bag stuffed with jewels and cash to her chest, wandering aimlessly amidst a panicked crowd… When Idris imagined such a scene, he felt a slight sense of gratification. However, feeling that such a thought was somewhat petty, he shook his head and banished the image from his mind.

“Impose martial law upon the civilian residential districts. Appoint the Captain of the Military Police as the Martial Law Enforcer. I shall focus my efforts on the battle against the external enemy.”

External enemy? Was his brother the external enemy? Idris nearly burst into a derisive laugh but managed to restrain himself. In any case, the man had turned the cannons of the ''Black Prince'' towards Uraniborg.

The people in the general residential district scrambled about, searching for a glimmer of light at the bottom of a well forged from anxiety and terror. Jewellery shop showcases shattered with loud crashes, and the sound of warning shots fired by the military police echoed through the air. Even at this late stage, some people resorted to looting, though it was less a product of greed and more the result of a hysteria born of despair.

As they fled in confusion, the crowds exchanged words in hushed, frantic tones.

“Has the Uraniborg fleet been completely d-destroyed?”

“Surely not.”

“But they were just being picked off one after another!”

“And why on earth would the ''Black Prince'' attack Uraniborg?”

“Maybe the enemy took control of it.”

A military policeman shouted, brandishing his gun:

“Everyone, keep quiet! Anyone spreading rumours will be detained under the Public Order Act!”

Most situations would have been settled by that, but this particular situation was unprecedented.

“In that case, you lot need to pull yourselves together. You only get brave when your opponents aren’t carrying weapons.”

The voices of dissent arose, though they were admittedly low. As soon as the military policeman left the area, the chorus resumed almost instantly.

“If, and I mean strictly if, Duke Jouslain led his troops and stormed Uraniborg, what would you do?”

“There’s nothing I could do. I’d just stay hidden at home until things settled down.”

“I’d welcome it. Lord Jouslain is a decent man. Things might actually be better under him than they are now.”

“Don’t be so irresponsible. What would happen to Duke Idris?”

“Duke Idris is the irresponsible one here. What does he even intend to do from now on? He could at least put out a broadcast.”

The commoners enjoyed their freedom of speech, yet they still held themselves back at the very precipice. Even at this late stage, no voices of criticism were raised against Clanner Ajman. It was not that he was particularly well-loved, but the fact remained that he was an object of awe, and thus, tongues were naturally silenced.

Idris, however, was the unfortunate one. Having engaged in unnecessary conflict with Ariabert and Jouslain and having driven them to the frontiers only to face a counterattack that escalated into armed conflict, he was now placing the lives of ordinary citizens in mortal danger. On the surface, he was the Administrator of Uraniborg. He ought to be held accountable for his responsibilities.

For Idris, the impulse was to scream, “What did I do?” Of course, he could not deny that he bore half the responsibility for today’s situation. It was undeniable that he had been excessively aggressive towards the other three dukes, including the late Ariabert and Zarlisch, and had brought isolation upon himself. If it were said that he was the very height of a lack of virtue, he could not argue that it was not true.

There were many points regarding Clanner Ajman that Idris found difficult to understand, but what he could not help but feel was particular confusion and resentment was the fact that Radmoth had been ordered to command the ''Black Prince''. After having inflicted immense damage upon his own allies, Radmoth was now pointing heavy artillery at Uraniborg, demanding its surrender. No matter how much one might defend the Clanner, when it came to the matter of appointing Radmoth, should the Clanner not be held responsible?

In the face of Radmoth’s astonishing rebellion, was the Clanner flustered by the sheer unexpectedness of it? Or perhaps…

Idris was struck with horror. Before the march had begun, didn’t Radmoth boast about something? ''“I understand the heart of the Clanner. You, brother, don’t”''.

Idris had ignored such delusions, but when the current situation reached a stage that could only be described as the worst possible, Radmoth’s boast suddenly resurfaced in his mind. As he felt an inexplicable sense of dread towards his younger brother, the name of his true enemy rose to the surface in opposition.

''“Jouslain is still better than Radmoth. At the very least, he possesses common sense and political judgement.”''

Because Jouslain, who was only three years his senior, always seemed to be acting far more mature than he was, Idris had disliked him since they were children.

''“I will not lose to someone like him.”''

Even though he felt that way, Idris had never thought that Jouslain was inferior to Radmoth. He was not that biased. What truly weighed on his mind, however, was not Radmoth but his youngest brother.

''“I wonder if Zelpha is safe.”''

Zelpha was safe. The members of the Blaze Flag Army were outlaws, but impressively, they did not engage in any unnecessary lawlessness.

That being said, in practical terms, the members of the Blaze Flag Army found Zelpha quite difficult to handle. Having never dealt with a high-born young noble before, they were unsure of how they ought to treat him.

Mahdi, in particular, was strangely enthusiastic; he had scoured the warehouse for junk and tossed a collection of old-fashioned mops, brushes, buckets, and sponges in front of Zelpha.

“Here, these are the tools for cleaning the toilets. Use them to scrub everything until it shines.”

“Don’t mess with me, you scum of the sea! Why on earth should I have to perform such a lowly task as cleaning the toilets?”

“If you don’t want to, then don’t,” scolded Miranda. “In exchange, you won’t get any food. He who does not work shall not eat. It’s been the rule for thousands of years.”

“Now, now, Mahdi, do go easy on him. We may have many crimes to our name, but I won’t have any child abuse involved.”

She turned back towards Doctor Lee and voiced her complaint.

“And you’re just as bad, Doctor. Why on earth did you go out of your way to take in such a difficult child? He’s nothing but trouble.”

In a rare occurrence, Doctor Lee gave a wry smile.

“Now, now, there’s no need for you to get caught up in this, Miranda. Let them handle it themselves. Those two might even end up getting along quite well.”

“I see. If that is what you say, Doctor, then I’ll do so. But still, I wonder what will become of Uraniborg. Surely, it won’t be destroyed within the next couple of days…?”

“No one could have imagined that things would change so drastically.”

“Heh? Not even you, Doctor?”

When Miranda teased him lightly, Doctor Lee nodded heavily.

“I am only human, after all. It is the way of man to strive never to forget that. However, even if it is only in hindsight, I can accept that Radmoth was the factor behind this sudden shift. No one had been paying him any mind. In that time, a mere lizard became a dinosaur.”

Mahdi, who had been arguing childishly with Zelpha, glanced at Miranda and licked his lips as if he had realised something.

“Let me tell you one useful thing, rich kid. That scary lady standing by your side is actually a Princess of a certain principality.”

Zelpha’s expression and voice wavered.

“Y-you’re lying.”

“He’s not lying. I am indeed Her Highness the Princess of the Principality of Casabianca. Not that my physical makeup is any different from anyone else’s. And as you can see, my manners are quite poor.”

Zelpha swallowed hard, looking up and down at Miranda’s entire body as if trying to peer through her.

Suddenly, Zelpha dropped to one knee on the floor, pressed his right fist against his left chest, and bowed his head.

“I cannot claim to be aware of everything, but I would be most grateful if you could forgive the many discourtesies I have shown towards your Highness.”

The members of the Blaze Flag Army stared at Zelpha, utterly astonished, their faces reflecting their various personalities.

=== III ===
“That’s quite a surprise. It’s the first time in my life I have received such a formal greeting. Now, please stand up, Baron.”

“I am a Baronet.”

“Very well, Baronet. Now, please, stand. I have noted your proper deference.”

Even Miranda lost her composure somewhat, and her usual manner of speaking became mixed with the formal, courtly tone she rarely ever used. Mahdi whispered to the Doctor:

“Hey, is that brat really Radmoth’s brother? I can hardly believe it.”

“He is really his brother. There is no reason to doubt it.”

“Maybe they should have their DNA retested. If I were the father, I’d be suspecting my wife of having an affair.”

Mahdi’s joke was quite ''risqué'', but whether by luck or misfortune, it did not reach Zelpha’s ears. Zelpha remained perfectly polite and bowed once more.

“With your permission, I shall stand.”

Rising with elegance, Zelpha cast a look of hostility towards those around him once more.

“Even so, please forgive my insolence, Your Highness, but why is someone of your high standing choosing to associate with such human scum?”

“Scum, he says,” remarked Pagès.

“Better than rubbish,” added Walenkov.

Miranda looked down at Zelpha’s serious face, her eyes clouded with a multitude of emotions and thoughts, but after letting out a small sigh, she pulled an S.F.<ref name="ftn10">S.F. is pronounced “simple phone”.</ref> from her inner pocket.

“Ah, darling, I’m sorry, but could you come down from the bridge for a moment? Yeah, I need you to meet with the Baronet.”

When Captain Casimir, who possessed the most virtuous appearance among the group, appeared still clad in his work suit, Zelpha stared at him with a bewildered gaze. As the Captain and Miranda exchanged an affectionate smile, Zelpha questioned them in a tone thick with suspicion.

“Who is this person?”

“He’s my husband.”

“Your husband… You mean, your esteemed spouse!?”

Zelpha’s eyes widened once again.

“Then, is he an Archduke or a Duke? I am…”

“No, he’s just a commoner. I’m sorry, but would you mind showing that photo to this boy?”

Miranda made the request with a hint of pain in her voice. Seeing his wife’s expression, Captain Casimir nodded as if in understanding, and then, towards the bewildered Zelpha who was watching them, he opened the S.F. screen. Zelpha was so stunned that he instinctively began to recoil half a step.

“What on earth has happened to him?”

“His vocal cords were destroyed.”

“…! Who could have done something so horrific!?”

“A Tytanian grunt.”

Zelpha’s expression stiffened. He shook his head in disbelief, his face sinking with a look of utter helplessness.

“I am sorry to have given you such a shock. But unfortunately, it is the truth. Well, I did ensure that person received his well-deserved punishment, though.”

“…”

“Listen, Baronet, Tytania possesses wealth and power so vast they are beyond description. Our enemies are those who are unable to wield that wealth and power correctly.”

Miranda leaned forward slightly to peer into Zelpha’s eyes.

“Everyone here is an outlaw, but tell me, what do you think of outlaws?”

“They are villains.”

“Why?”

“Because they break the law… Am I wrong?”

“You are not wrong. It is just that there are many kinds of villains.”

“Many kinds…?”

Zelpha was bewildered. Looking at him, it was difficult to believe that this boy was the perpetrator of the conspiracy to assassinate Ariabert.

“We break the law whenever we find it necessary. But, on the other hand, there are villains who actually create laws, and if you ask me, they are far more malicious.”

“For example… what kind of villains?”

“Well, for instance, they might create a law like this: ‘Anyone who criticises Tytania shall have their vocal cords destroyed. Those who carry out the punishment shall be rewarded.’”

“…”

“Or perhaps something like this: ‘From this day forward, Planet Caricar shall only trade with Tytania-affiliated companies. Should Caricar violate this law, Tytania shall launch a military attack. No responsibility shall be held, no matter how many people die’…”

Zelpha slumped his shoulders and looked down. It was as if several conflicting values were clashing within the boy’s body.

Nearly an hour later, Pagès returned from the restroom, looking strangely impressed.

“Who cleaned the toilets? When I went in, they were the cleanest they’ve ever been in the entire history of this ship!”

“It was His Lordship the Baronet.”

“Heh!? Now that is surprising. It seems even the nobility possesses unexpected talents.”

Miranda glanced back over her shoulder at Doctor Lee.

“It seems you have taken on quite an enormous responsibility. I wonder how one must handle that boy to achieve a good result.”

“It will allow me to write a book titled ''The Growth and Observational Records of a Certain Young Boy''.”

“Now, just a moment, Doctor.”

“Ah, my apologies. In all seriousness, this concerns the very future of a human being… But, Miranda, even if you find yourself becoming emotionally attached, please do not forget one thing. That boy is a Tytanian. And Tytania’ greater cause is what compelled a thirteen-year-old child to commit murder.”

“I think I understand. Well, I don’t believe it’s his fault.”

Miranda hated the Tytania collective with all her heart, but she did not harbour the desire to kill every single person that comprised it. Her life, both in the past and in the future, was meant to be spent ensuring that Tytania continued to exist, only to move about and thwart its tyranny.

“So, do you have a concrete plan for what we shall do next, Doctor?”

“I have something, at any rate.”

Doctor Lee adopted a self-important air.

“We have sent Hyulick to Duke Jouslain. He will certainly take an interest in Hyulick. I have instructed Hyulick to behave as discreetly as possible, but if a great catastrophe were to loom due to Radmoth’s lack of common sense—or rather, his lack of any sense at all—he will be forced to employ unconventional tactics, whether he likes it or not. If Jouslain and Hyulick can form an alliance, I believe they might be able to stand against the Clanner.”

It was time to eat. Bread, a soup of cabbage and ham, and an omelette were placed before Zelpha, who sat at the table looking uncomfortable.

As Zelpha tentatively took a bite of the omelette, an expression of surprise crossed his face. It was a simple omelette, containing nothing but potato and onion.

“This is delicious. I have never had an omelette this tasty before.”

Seraphine Coopers puffed out her chest with pride.

“Really? I’m glad. I have certainly become skilled at making omelettes. It was a necessity for taming a hopeless man.”

“A hopeless man?”

Zelpha paused with his fork, looking suspicious. Miranda laughed heartily.

“Sera, you shouldn’t be so conceited. The secret ingredient this time is the exquisite seasoning of hunger brought on by hard labour.”

While Baronet Zelpha Tytania was eating the most meagre yet most delicious omelette of his life, his eldest brother was being caught in a pincer movement of rage and impatience in the command centre of Uraniborg.

“Countess Theodora is not in her quarters.”

“What?”

“It appears she sensed the danger of arrest and fled to the general residential area.”

“Do you think this will end with her escaping?!”

At Idris’ fierce reprimand, the officer stood pale and motionless.

“Trace her whereabouts immediately. Dispatch every soldier and police officer at your disposal to find that woman. No, wait, not soldiers. We are still in the middle of combat. Use only the police. Broadcast that woman’s face prominently on all public monitors!”

The officer saluted, then quickly turned on his heel and exited. With every step, the colour returned to his face, and he found himself unable to suppress his expression of fury. What on earth was Duke Idris thinking? With the massive cannons of the ''Black Prince'' trained upon Uraniborg, he shouldn’t even care about a single woman!

“What is Duke Idris thinking!?”

Even at this late stage, the officer found himself using honorifics toward one of the Four Dukes. He was Tytanian to his very marrow. Nevertheless, he had begun to vaguely realise that the ultimate responsibility for these events rested with Clanner Ajman.

“I no longer understand… I cannot tell friend from foe.”

The officer who muttered these words contacted the police in the civilian residential district, but the moment he finished, a heavy flood of cold sweat broke out across his face. It was because he had realised that even the slightest thought that the Clanner bore the ultimate responsibility would be considered an act of treason.

=== IV ===
Radmoth, the younger brother of Idris and older brother of Zelpha, looked down at his left wrist with deliberate movement. He addressed the officers, who were gathered like a swarm of ghosts.

“An hour has passed.”

“Y-yes.”

“Any word from Uraniborg?”

“N-none, sir.”

“Hmph.”

Radmoth gave a short, derisive snort and issued his command in a tone of absolute certainty.

“Prepare the three main cannons for simultaneous fire.”

“A-are we firing?”

“What else do you intend to do?”

“My family is down there…”

He couldn’t manage to finish his sentence. With a look of utter annoyance, Radmoth drew the flintlock pistol from his waist…

Thirty seconds after the gunshot echoed through the bridge of the ''Black Prince'', the three main cannons aligned their muzzles with a corner of Uraniborg.

Idris, who had been staring intently at the screen, was momentarily blinded. The entire command centre turned into a monochrome, three-dimensional image.

“Damage report!”

He shouted this only after his vision had returned.

“Residential Sector 17 has been completely destroyed!”

The officer watching the monitor cried out in agony.

“Four hundred thousand citizens lived there, and it appears more than half died instantly from a single blow. People and vehicles are being sucked out into space in a swirling vortex!”

“Seal all passages to other sectors. We must not allow the damage to spread. Execute this immediately.”

Beads of cold sweat formed on Idris’ forehead. The seventeenth residential sector had been left to die.

Idris had long admired the idea of a cold, unscrupulous ruler. He worshipped the second Clanner, Nuri, and had himself carried out harsh purges against the subjects of the Vardana Empire. However, at least in Idris’ own mind, those actions were meaningful and necessary. He had no memory of him massacring large numbers of innocent civilians. Radmoth had trampled upon the noble cause of “Tytania” with muddy boots, delivering a calculated kick to Idris’ very conscience. Idris had been forced to exert every effort just to maintain his dignity as an elder brother.

“Well, brother, isn’t it quite a magnificent view? If you like, I could even show it to you two or three more times.”

''“Radmoth, you bastard! After killing four hundred thousand civilians, do you feel no shame in your conscience?!”''

“Well, well, look at this.”

Radmoth replied to his brother with a sneer. It was proof of his complete psychological superiority.

“Didn’t you pretend to be a cold and ruthless dictator, Brother? That you would kill Ariabert, kill Jouslain, and wouldn’t regret a million or two million soldiers if they became stardust in the universe? Surely you recall uttering such lines, don’t you?”

''“I was talking about the enemy! The people you killed were our allies. Even worse, some were non-combatants!”''

“Enemies and allies? And who exactly makes that distinction? You are merely drawing the line yourself, Brother. What is wrong with me doing the same?”

''“…”''

“If you truly wish to save the commoners, then you should simply open the gates of Uraniborg. Go on, do it.”

At that moment, a small but sharp epiphany flashed through Idris’ mind. He composed himself and pierced his triumphant younger brother with a gaze filled with extreme malice.

''“Regrettably, I am merely an agent for His Clanner Highness. Furthermore, I have not been entrusted with full authority. I have been granted power only in regard to the subjugation of Jouslain and his men. If you wish to open the gates of Uraniborg, you shall have to negotiate with His Clanner Highness directly.”''

Radmoth suppressed a laugh and pierced his brother in return with a spear of mockery.

“Hmm. So, you are admitting yourself to being someone’s dog, Brother?”

At almost the same time, aboard the battleship ''Austra'', a drama that could, depending on how one looked at it, be described as unbefitting of a battlefield was unfolding.

Princess Lydia stood with her hands on her hips, glaring up at Jouslain.

“Duke Jouslain, you shouldn’t cause Francia such worry.”

“My apologies. Francia, I am sorry.”

“No, Lord Jouslain, please do not trouble yourself on my account.”

Princess Lydia, who had been observing the pair with equal attention, nodded to herself and then tugged on the sleeve of Balamy, who was standing nearby.

“Bal, let us go to the gunroom<ref name="ftn11">“Officer's lounge” (士官談話室) is pronounced “gunroom”.</ref>.”

“Yes?”

“In times like these, being a proper adult means allowing them to be alone.”

“… As you wish.”

As Balamy extended a hand, Princess Lydia gripped her knight’s<ref name="ftn12">“Knight” (騎士) is pronounced “knight”.</ref> hand with great vigour and, with her small frame, marched out of the private room with great dignity. Perhaps sensing the need to be discreet, the nurse had also disappeared, leaving Jouslain and Francia alone in the room.

“This was this hand that saved me, wasn’t it?”

He took her hand in his once more.

“These are hands meant to hold flowers. It was my mistake to let them hold a gun. Please, forgive me.”

Francia looked her master straight in the eye.

“Lord Jouslain, I do not wish to spend my life holding nothing but flowers. I wish to hold whatever is necessary, whenever it is needed. Whether it be a gun or a sword, if it is what you require, Lord Jouslain…”

Through their clasped hands, Jouslain and Francia shared the sensation of each other’s blood flowing into the other’s body. Jouslain imagined and came to understand that this pure-hearted girl, nine years his junior, had been watching over him like an elder sister. Jouslain was of the great and mighty main line of Tytania, while Francia was of such a distant branch that it was almost presumptuous for her to bear the Tytania name.

“Lord Jouslain…”

“Francia, please forgive me.”

Jouslain raised Francia’s hand and pressed his lips against the white, gentle back of it. He did so with a sense of both tenderness and solemnity.

“I was arrogant. I was observing and judging whether you were a woman worthy of me. But it was the opposite. It was I who should have been reflecting upon whether I was a man worthy of you.”

Jouslain had attained a level of prestige far beyond what was expected of a man of twenty-eight. He had achieved great success in many fields: politics, diplomacy, and strategic manoeuvring, demonstrating keen abilities and garnering numerous honours. While this was a product of his own talent, it was also the fruit of a privileged environment that allowed him to wield it.

When a bayonet was pointed at him by a deranged soldier, Jouslain had simply declared, ''“Very well, fire away.”'' He had not said it as a grandiose gesture. Even the images of Princess Lydia, Balamy, and Francia had vanished from his mind; he had simply accepted that his time to die had come.

He had even voiced the thought that he was “half-hearted”. It was because, deep within his unconscious, he had realised that he had no desire to become a Clanner, nor did he possess the ambition to destroy the Tytania with his own hands; he had lived only within the confines of the Tytania framework.

Suddenly, Francia’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Lord Jouslain, let us abandon this trivial war and go somewhere far away. We should simply let Uraniborg and the ''Black Prince'' continue their slaughter amongst themselves.”

Francia gazed at her master with suspicion, her lips remaining sealed. What he had heard as Francia’s voice was, in truth, his own overflowing innermost thoughts.

“And as for the future, I don’t know what to do,” muttered Jouslain, wondering what he would do if Ariabert were still alive.

Jouslain understood what Francia wanted to say. She was suggesting that Jouslain himself should become the Clanner. However, when Ajman had shattered his plan to install Ariabert as the Clanner and act as his supporter, Jouslain had been forced to face the reality that he possessed no other vision.

“Perhaps Princess Lydia’s opinion was the most correct, after all.”

They should have all departed for Elbing. That was what Princess Lydia had so fervently argued. Perhaps that would have been the better course. Yet, even if they had secured a moment of peace by leaving the vengeance for Ariabert undone and leaving the Clanner, Idris, and Radmoth as they were, those men would surely have pursued them. He would not have minded surrendering the privileges of the Tytania nobility, but he had felt compelled to settle the current situation with responsibility.

“Francia, please rest peacefully for now. For the only place I have to return to is by your side.”

With a somewhat clumsy touch, Jouslain stroked Francia’s forehead as gently as he possibly could. It was cold, seemingly devoid of any warmth. In response, she gave him a faint, soft smile.

When Jouslain called for a nurse, Princess Lydia, who had entered alongside him as a matter of course, rushed to Francia’s side, took her hand, and made her declaration.

“Duke Jouslain, let me take care of Francia.”

“I am humbled, Princess. In that case, I shall leave her in your hands.”

“You may leave it to me.”

After nodding, Princess Lydia commanded the young duke with a look of utmost gravity.

“You must fulfil your own duties properly. Otherwise, Francia shall abandon you.”

=== V ===
Jouslain rushed back to the bridge. With every step, he cast aside his misplaced romanticism and returned to the stage of slaughter and destruction. The moment he took his seat in the command chair, the search officer’s cry rang out.

“The ''Black Prince''’s main guns are bearing towards us!”

“All ships, disperse!” commanded Jouslain instantly. “Do not look to others! Think only of your own survival!”

“''Austra'' turning, departing Uraniborg at maximum combat speed!”

Captain Edna Fredericks’ voice was sharp and taut with tension.

There was perhaps a single moment to draw breath before a flash of light streaked towards the eight o’clock position from the ''Austra''. Everything in sight turned monochrome as fireballs engulfed dozens of ships at once. The embrace of death and destruction was devoid of mercy or pity, swallowing countless fates.

“Communications lost with first-class battleship ''Montran''!”

“Communications lost with heavy cruiser ''Agora''!”

“Currently, approximately ninety ships are unaccounted for!”

Jouslain suppressed a sigh.

“Continue attempting to establish contact.”

On the screen viewed from the command seat, hundreds of millions of dust particles floated. They were the remains of living and non-living things, all having endured a merciless onslaught.

“It feels as though we have been mowed down.”

“We were swallowed whole in a single bite,” replied Balamy, his voice heavy with exhaustion and resentment.

Both Ariabert and Jouslain had thought that there was no tactical significance to launching a single ship, but as a mere display of violence below the level of tactics, it had been more than significant.

“Your Grace, if a second strike comes…”

Just as Commodore Yuan voiced his apprehension, another voice struck Jouslain’s ears.

“No, a second strike will not come.”

Hyulick stood where all eyes were focused. According to him, even that massive vessel did not possess infinite power. They would likely have reserved enough energy to destroy the entirety of Uraniborg.

“I have a small idea.”

“What is it?”

“A method to neutralise the ''Black Prince''. It would be difficult to destroy that enormous dinosaur through firepower alone.”

“Are you perchance thinking of a ramming manoeuvre?”

“Duke Jouslain, as expected from you, your insight is impeccable. I am truly impressed.”

“I am honoured by your praise. However, would it not be futile to ram such a massive hull?”

“No, Duke Jouslain, I agree with Mr Hyulick.”

Balamy supported Hyulick with a rare fervour.

“We could direct about twenty ships at maximum speed towards a single point. Unmanned, of course. What would then happen if we pincer the ''Black Prince'' between itself and the outer hull of Uraniborg, rendering it unable to move?”

“We would then send in mobile infantry to capture Radmoth?”

“Yes, we shall detain him. Furthermore, I am in favour of Mr Hyulick’s plan.”

“Um, I… I mean, I also agree with Viscount Balamy. However, I have just one point of divergence.”

“And what is that?”

Hyulick chose his words with great care.

“Detaining Baron Radmoth would be futile and would only leave seeds of future resentment. If I may be so bold, I recommend his immediate elimination.”

“Very well.”

Jouslain nodded deeply.

“We shall decide on the matter of Radmoth after the operation has succeeded. If absolutely necessary, I authorise his execution. Naturally, I shall take full responsibility.”

“As you wish.”

“Then, shall we proceed with that?”

At that moment, all three of them were muttering the same words to themselves.

“I never imagined I would end up fighting side-by-side with these two.”

Over at Uraniborg, Idris was shouting in fury.

“For now, fire at the ''Black Prince''! He’s a rebel who actually launched an attack on Uraniborg. Neutralise it first, and we shall deal with the rest later!”

“He”—his younger brother, Radmoth. Was he truly going to have to kill his own flesh and blood with his own hands? The mere thought was, as expected, horrific. However, having reached this point, if he did not kill him, he himself would be killed. Idris no longer doubted his brother’s intentions. Radmoth intended to wipe out both his elder brother and the Clanner together.

''“The Clanner…”''

Idris shuddered. Had the Clanner not granted Radmoth command of the ''Black Prince'', this situation would never have come to pass. It was the Clanner’s responsibility that had brought the brothers to the point of killing one another. It was also the Clanner who had ordered Zelpha to act as the perpetrator in the assassination of Duke Ariabert. Ajman was apparently merely using them while only pretending to hold Idris’ brothers in high regard.

No. The Clanner was not merely pretending. Perhaps he had been blatantly using him from the very beginning, and Idris had simply deluded himself into believing he was held in high regard. Could it be that Idris had merely been toyed with, blinded by the Clanner’s prestige…?

''“If push comes to shove, I shall use the Clanner as my shield.”''

Idris had steeled himself with that much resolve and spirit. However, the uncertainty lay in how many of his subordinates would truly face death by his side. Even if they pointed their guns at the Clanner on Idris’ command, a single glance from Ajman might make their knees buckle, causing them to turn their barrels toward Idris instead. In terms of what people call charisma, Idris did not come close to the level of Ajman.

Idris thought of his own death. He did not believe he feared death itself, but he could not endure a dishonourable end. Furthermore, as long as he remained ignorant of Clanner Ajman’s true intentions, he could not find peace in dying. Should he happen to be killed by Radmoth, he would be left with nothing but to become a ghost. It was a state of mind far removed from true enlightenment.

“We are under engagement!”

The reconnaissance officer’s voice dragged Idris from the depths of his contemplation.

“What do you mean, ‘under engagement’?”

“The ''Black Prince'' is under attack!”

“Is it an ally!?”

“N-no, it’s… the enemy. Vessels from the AJ Alliance.”

Idris furrowed his brow and stared at the screen, somewhat dazed.

“The AJ Alliance is attacking the ''Black Prince''! H-how are we to interpret this?”

Even anyone other than Idris would have been confused. He pressed a finger against the space between his eyebrows. He wondered whether it was simply a matter of rejoicing at the fact that “enemies” were engaging one another.

“Just who is an ally, and who is an enemy? Can I assume that the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

Because his opponent was Jouslain, he needed to discern his true intentions. It would have been most ideal if the man were to take Radmoth down with him, but he was not such a fool.

Before executing their ramming manoeuvre, Jouslain and his crew needed to deceive the enemy. They concentrated an absurdly massive amount of firepower onto a single point on the ''Black Prince''’s main battery. As an incalculable amount of light and heat suddenly converged, one of the ''Black Prince''’s forward main turrets transformed into a mass of light and energy before exploding into fragments. While dozens of serpents of light writhed in midair only to vanish one after another, the destroyed turret collapsed, flickering with blue and white light.

“We did it!”

Cheers and the sound of high-fives echoed across the bridge of the ''Austra''.

“Serve you right! Did you learn your lesson yet?”

“They thought they were invincible… how arrogant.”

Hyulick was under a slight illusion. Even though they were within the Tytania camp, he felt as if he were in the very heart of the Blaze Flag Army. There was no difference in the hearts of the soldiers between Tytania and the anti-Tytania forces. The only difference lay in the intentions of the high command.

The communications officer spoke up. A message had arrived from Uraniborg. Had they come to say, “Thank you for your help”?

They had not.

Idris’ gaze sharply scanned every corner of the screen. He fixed his eyes on Jouslain, who was in the centre of the display, and interrogated him:

''“Where is Zelpha?”''

“I cannot say where he is, but I guarantee his safety.”

''“Guarantee it?”''

“Upon my honour as a Tytanian noble.”

For Idris, it was the most effective line possible. Idris opened his lips as if to say something, but in the end, he remained silent.

Jouslain pressed him:

“By the way, whatever happened to your other brother?”

''“I do not consider that person to be my brother.”''

“Such prejudice, though I suppose I understand.”

A voice, sounding somewhat out of place, drifted through the air, and Idris’ gaze snapped to fix upon a man who was not wearing a Tytania uniform.

''“Fan Hyulick! You bastard, what kind of face do you dare bring here…”''

“This face, right here. Well, we shall speak again in due course.”

At that moment, on the bridge of the ''Black Prince'', a second officer shot by Radmoth lay sprawled on the floor.

“Fool. Did he truly think he would be forgiven if he laid down his arms only now?”

Radmoth let out a boisterous laugh. That officer had paid the price for attempting to persuade the Clanner to grant him clemency.

The ''Black Prince''’s staff officers learned for the first time that a hollow laugh, even one filled with such force, could exist. They stood frozen, paralysed by despair and terror.

“I have two choices. Either I shall become the master of Uraniborg or die a traitor. There is no other path.”

If one were to listen to those words alone, it seemed as though Radmoth possessed the qualities of a ruthless tyrant far greater than those of Jouslain or Idris.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3

2026-10-13T15:46:48Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 2 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 4 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 3 – The Black Prince == === I === The state of stunned disbelief lasted only a moment. Duke Idris Tytania took a breath b..."

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| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4]]
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</noinclude>
== Chapter 3 – The Black Prince ==
=== I ===
The state of stunned disbelief lasted only a moment. Duke Idris Tytania took a breath before glaring at his brother, who was overflowing with an eerie confidence.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought you might say that.”

He appeared many times calmer than his elder brother. It was something Idris found difficult to believe.

“If you are sane, I shall have you detained for treason. Be prepared to face the death penalty.”

His brother ignored his words.

“It is a decree from the Clanner. Read it, and you’ll understand. It states that the command of the ''Black Prince'' and the accompanying fleet is entrusted to Baron Radmoth Tytania. That is what is written, is it not?”

The scroll containing the decree was tossed onto Idris’ lap.

“… Why…?”

Idris groaned, feeling as though he were falling into the depths of a dark well.

“Why, at the last minute, would you do something to obstruct my authority and responsibilities…? Radmoth, there is no way you could possibly command the ''Black Prince''!”

His younger brother responded arrogantly:

“Brother, don’t you understand the Clanner’s heart?”

“And you claim that you do?”

Idris replied to the question with a question, glaring at his brother’s face, only to recognise an impossible expression there. It was pity. An expression of composure, backed by the pride of a victor. Having ensured his elder brother tasted more than enough humiliation, Radmoth declared:

“I do.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense!”

“Think whatever you like. I don’t have time, so I am leaving. You can stay in the command room and enjoy the view at your leisure, brother.”

The scroll containing the decree fell to the floor, but Idris did not notice, and Radmoth did not care. After taking two or three steps, the younger brother came to a halt.

“Oh, let me tell you one thing. The reason you cannot understand the Clanner’s heart is because you try to think your way through it. I suspect Jouslain is much the same.”

“Such pretentious nonsense… Then explain to me exactly what you think you know and why.”

“Simple. The Clanner and I are much the same kind of person. Of course, the Clanner is more intelligent and, how shall I put it, possesses a greater talent for acting… but, well, perhaps it is merely a matter of our age difference.”

Every single word lashed at Idris like a whip, sealing his ability to retort. Radmoth picked up the decree that had fallen to the floor and rolled it up roughly.

“In any case, there is no use thinking. One must feel. Yes, one must feel, or one shall never truly understand.”

Leaving behind words that sounded like they belonged to some ancient mystic from millennia past, Radmoth strode out of the room. He left behind Idris, who trembled with passion as his hands gripped the command table, and a group of staff officers wearing pale, hollow expressions.

Aboard the ''Austra'', a truly bizarre ritual was about to unfold. Before long, the lawless brigands of the Blaze Flag Army were expected to board for negotiations. Prior to that, Jouslain spoke to his lady-in-waiting:

“Francia.”

“Yes?”

“Do not come to the bridge. Remain in the VIP lounge with Princess Lydia.”

“Ju…”

Francia started to speak but then bowed her head as if having changed her mind.

“Yes, I shall do exactly as you command.”

“Look after the Princess.”

“Yes, of course.”

This conversation stemmed from Jouslain’s inner conflict. It had been perfectly natural for Princess Lydia to accompany him aboard his flagship, the ''Austra'', until now. During Ariabert’s lifetime, this had even been considered the safer option, but he wondered what the future held. Would it not be safer to simply leave her in the hands of the Blaze Flag Army, alongside Zelpha?

He had considered such an idea for a time, but there was no way Princess Lydia would accept being separated from Jouslain and his men, and if she were to go into hiding somewhere aboard the ship, it would lead to nothing but immense trouble. Unlike with Zelpha, Jouslain could not evade his responsibility regarding the safety and future of Princess Lydia.

Thus, an exchange of personnel was carried out between Jouslain’s fleet and the Blaze Flag Army. A bridge could not be established between the ''Austra'' and the ''Honest Old Man Junior''. Their specifications differed too much. Consequently, four individuals, Doctor Lee, Fan Hyulick, Mahdi, and Walenkov, boarded the ''Austra'' via a shuttle. On the return journey, Zelpha took Hyulick’s place as the passenger on the shuttle.

The strange ceremony of exchange concluded without incident, leaving Zelpha unable to move within Walenkov’s massive grip. The strangeness of this exchange lay in the fact that, fundamentally, there had been no urgency, no political significance, and no necessity for Jouslain’s side to accept the opponent’s proposal. All of these factors would eventually lead to a change in the situation at a later date.

“That boy is steeped in Tytanian values from the tips of his hair to the ends of his toes.”

“It would appear so, Duke Jouslain.”

“Teach him that other values exist.”

“It is late for me to be saying this, but are you truly certain about this?”

Doctor Lee pressed for confirmation.

“To be honest, I lack confidence in my self-control regarding what I might do if that boy were within my reach. That said, I have no intention of sending him back to the Clanner for nothing. Let him train under you.”

“Understood.”

As Doctor Lee bowed, an out-of-place voice erupted from among his comrades.

“Damn it, give me back my savings! Unfreeze my account! Add interest, late fees, and compensation for emotional distress! I am absolutely furious!”

“And that one?”

“Ah, he’s a patient with a money-worshipping disease. He isn’t that violent, so do not worry.”

“As for causing any harm to Zelpha…”

“On that point, we shall take full responsibility.”

“Then I shall leave it to you.”

Jouslain and Doctor Lee found a shared sense of intense curiosity reflected in each other’s eyes.

“I would like to speak with you both further, but given the current circumstances…”

“As you wish. We shall take our leave now. Since there will surely be an opportunity to meet again, we shall look forward to it.”

“Quite so; we shall have to exchange guests between us, after all.”

“Guests? No, no, as long as that man is at least fed an omelette, I do not care how much you work him to the bone. Well then, farewell.”

The Blaze Flag Army departed, with one member different from those who had arrived. Left behind was a single man, burdened with both frustration and a sense of resignation. In terms of both age and build, he was not much different from Jouslain.

''So, this man is Fan Hyulick?''

Jouslain gazed at his opponent with utter composure. The mastermind behind the ingenious tactics that had defeated the late Ariabert on two occasions gave the impression of being nothing more than an ordinary commoner. One could easily imagine him swapped with a young man working a sausage stall on the streets of the Uraniborg residential district without any sense of incongruity. He was likely assessing Jouslain in his own mind as well.

“You are our guest. Please, make yourself at home.”

“I appreciate your hospitality.”

“Well, of course, this vessel is no cruise liner. There are certain limits to what you can do, but as long as you do not cause any disruption, you are free to do as you wish. Now then, shall I have you shown to your private quarters?”

“There is one thing I request, Duke Jouslain.”

Jouslain remained silent, waiting for Hyulick to continue.

“If it is at all possible, I would be honoured to pay my respects to the remains of Duke Ariabert. Would that be permissible?”

For the first time, Jouslain felt genuinely impressed by Fan Hyulick.

“Very well… Still, human relationships are strange things.”

After signalling for him to follow, Jouslain began to walk. He had expected that upon meeting Hyulick, a flood of things he wanted to know, to say, or to ask would overflow, and yet strangely, that did not happen.

Wherever they went, soldiers clad in Tytania military uniform saluted Jouslain with reverence while casting curious glances at Hyulick. Hyulick was grateful that he couldn’t notice any overt hostility or hatred. Conversely, it meant that people could kill one another even without such animosity.

Ariabert’s remains had been neatly prepared, looking “as if sleeping”, as the saying went. After Hyulick gazed upon his former enemy commander for a moment and offered a salute as respectful as possible, Jouslain bowed in tribute.

“I appreciate your courtesy.”

“… If I may be so bold, what of Duke Ariabert’s surviving family?”

There was a moment of silence.

“He has a brother.”

“I see. I have no right to say such a thing, but please convey my regards.”

“He will surely appreciate your courtesy as well. Now, shall we move on?”

The private room Hyulick was escorted to was intended for high-ranking officers. It felt almost presumptuous to compare it to his own quarters on the ''Honest Old Man Junior''. Internally, Hyulick felt a pang of sympathy for young Zelpha, who will likely be forced to endure much worse living conditions.

=== II ===
Hyulick then proceeded to greet the occupant of the adjacent room. After they exchanged a Tytania-style salute and a salute in the manner of the Blaze Flag Army, his counterpart spoke up immediately.

“Are you Fan Hyulick?”

“I am, but…”

To Hyulick’s eyes, his counterpart was young enough to be called a boy, yet he wore an admiral’s uniform. He was undoubtedly a Tytanian noble. Hyulick decided it was best to remain polite.

“I am Viscount Balamy Tytania.”

“It is an honour to meet you.”

“You likely do not know me, but I have long wished to meet you. It may be presumptuous, but I held the military prowess of the late Duke Ariabert in high regard.”

It was the first time Balamy had ever used the word “regard” in relation to Ariabert. During the latter’s lifetime, he simply could not bring himself to use it.

Aboard the battleship ''Black Prince'' in Uraniborg, just before departure, the crew could not help but be in an uproar. The figure that had arrived at the harbour gate was not Idris’.

“B-Baron Radmoth, my Lord… what has happened to Duke Idris?”

“My brother is not coming. From this moment on, I shall command this ship.”

“I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“You are a tiresome fellow. Look at this.”

Radmoth threw the imperial decree he held at the captain. Though utterly astonished by such unbelievable insolence, Commodore Kendall caught it, read the contents, and saluted with a stiffened expression.

“I have indeed read it.”

“Now that you understand, escort me to my seat.”

Since the ''Black Prince'' had been constructed as the Tytanian fleet’s flagship, a seat for the commander-in-chief had been provided in addition to the captain’s seat. Radmoth, of course, settled his massive frame there without hesitation. While the seat was undoubtedly exceptionally comfortable, perhaps because Radmoth lacked the capacity for “sentiment”, he merely crossed his powerful knees with a look of boredom.

“We are setting out, Captain.”

Fifteen minutes later.

“A vessel is departing! It appears to be the ''Black Prince''!”

Startled by the lookout’s strained voice, Jouslain peered at the combat screen. The first port gate of Uraniborg was being obstructed by some massive, dark object. The black mass advanced slowly, as if being birthed from the womb of Uraniborg itself.

“What is that… enormous thing…?”

“It looks to be nearly a kilometre in length.”

Its maximum width appeared to be around 150 metres. Compared to a standard battleship, it was three times larger in both length and width. Its mass seemed to be perhaps thirty times greater. ''Whether it was the strongest in history or not, it was certainly the largest,'' thought Jouslain sarcastically.

“How many escort vessels?”

“None. It is a solo ''sortie''.”

“Hoh…”

That dinosaur<ref name="ftn7">“Dinosaur” (巨獣) is pronounced “dinosaurus”.</ref> surely needed no escort. The fleet already deployed was more than enough. Memories from nearly two years ago flooded back to Jouslain’s mind. When this black colossus had first been completed, the Tytania nobility had each visited to behold it. Gazing up at the massive frame of the ''Black Prince'', Jouslain had been unable to suppress his sarcastic tone.

“And who exactly is meant to ride in this oversized coffin? Our Titan<ref name="ftn8">“Giant race” (巨人類) is pronounced “titan”.</ref> ancestors?”

“Y-Your Grace, this ship is intended to announce the military might of Tytania to the entire universe. I beg you to take that into consideration.”

“Yes, I am well aware. However, no matter how massive a ship it may be, a single vessel cannot manage tactical deployment. If we are spending that amount of money, it would be far better to construct thirty high-speed frigates.”

Jouslain had found himself unable to stop talking.

“Surely you don’t mean to send it out alone. There would be about ten escort ships regardless. To think the mightiest vessel in the universe requires an escort—what a contradiction.”

The officer offered no reply, but he seemed to feel something akin to creepiness rather than indignation towards Jouslain. Jouslain was not regarded as someone who tended to be overly verbose regarding military matters, and that was indeed the case.

Because Ariabert later expressed the same sentiment, the ''Black Prince'' arrived at the present day without much expectation, despite its massive size. In other words, while moored at Uraniborg, it had served as little more than a magnificent ornament, never having participated in actual combat. It was even used as an object of study for primary school field trips, as its outward appearance alone was deemed sufficient.

If the ''Black Prince'' possessed a will of its own, its days must have been filled with wounded pride. At long last, Radmoth was set to launch it into the vast cosmic ocean. Idris had, in effect, been robbed of making “history” by boarding the ''Black Prince'' as its first commander-in-chief, a distinction snatched away by his younger brother.

With true majesty, the ''Black Prince'' cut through the turbulent waves of a deep space that should not have existed, venturing out into the great sea of stars. Ahead, points of light flickered and flashed violently. An aerial battle was unfolding between the boarding craft.

“Hmph. A three-on-one formation, is it?”

“Your orders for an interception, my Lord?” asked the captain, Commodore Kendall, in a voice devoid of emotion.

“The secondary battery will suffice. Fire a single shot into the centre of the formation.”

An invisible wave of icy water was splashed across the bridge. Commodore Kendall groaned.

“M-My Lord, if we do that, we will be burying our own allies alongside the enemy.”

“It is because you speak with such half-measures that you keep getting defeated by the same tactics time and time again. Fire a single shot into the centre. By doing so, we lose only one craft, but the enemy loses three.”

“……!”

“It is primary school arithmetic. Do you not grasp our advantage? Our enemy is Jouslain. Once we blow his flagship apart, this battle is over.”

“…”

“Don’t you get it!? You could become the hero that suppressed the rebellion!”

Radmoth was a year younger than Balamy. Looking at his age alone, some might have used the term “boy” to describe him. However, the Tytanian troops, who had seen him as nothing more than the “unworthy younger brother weighing down Duke Idris”, envisioned a terrifying sight.

Radmoth’s face split from side to side, and as the fissures extended downwards, human skin burst apart, revealing an unidentified monster of dazzling, multicoloured brilliance. It was a type of unknown threat, distinct from the awe felt toward Clanner Ajman, possessing a power that uprooted the very resentment and will to resist from the soldiers.

“If you get it, then do it!”

No one resisted any longer. The artillerymen clung to their respective control consoles, their fingers moving mechanically. The artillery commander reported in a cracked voice.

“Firing preparations, complete.”

“Good, fire at once.”

In response to the casual command, the secondary batteries responded. Thirty-six secondary guns released an equal number of energy beams. An equal number of formations vanished almost simultaneously, turning into fireballs. In that single moment, one hundred and forty-four enemy and friendly craft were lost.

The search officer aboard the ''Austra'' gasped.

“What on earth are they doing… They’ve shot down their own allies along with us…!”

“Was it not friendly fire?”

“… Ah, again!”

Fireballs of all sizes bloomed everywhere, as death and destruction, clad in iridescent colours, danced hand in hand. Beside Jouslain, who stared fixedly at the screen, Balamy remained silent, while Hyulick, who had been permitted to remain on the bridge, let out a long sigh of relief.

Indeed, with this “tactic”, one could wipe out three times as many enemies as allies with every single strike. Even if the mathematics supported it, no one had ever utilised such a “tactic” before. Until now, that is. This was likely a mere demonstration to showcase the firepower of the ''Black Prince''. With that thought, Jouslain issued the orders to continue with their previous manoeuvres.

“All ships, all docked craft, launch!”

“Repeating. All ships, all docked craft, launch!”

Small eggs of light were born across various parts of the screens, lining up in perfect, orderly rows. One could well imagine the skill of the pilots, seasoned by both training and combat.

“How does this look to you, Mr Hyulick?”

“I believe it is a sound tactic.”

Jouslain nodded, watching as the allied points of light surged towards the enemy in an orderly formation. Before there was even time to be astonished, the enemy lights were split apart and were instantly ensnared in a three-to-one formation that boasted an undefeated record.

In truth, as they were both part of the Tytania forces, there should have been no significant difference in the performance of their weaponry or the skill of their pilots. And yet, in a mere three minutes, the Uraniborg side had lost over two hundred units. During that same interval, upon the bridge of the ''Black Prince'', Radmoth had been facing resistance from his own officers while ordering them to fire the main cannons.

“Why do you hesitate? Fire, damn you!”

Radmoth did not shout. Instead, his low voice, which resembled the rumble of distant thunder, sent a shiver through the officers. One of them mustered his courage:

“But at this distance, and in this state, if we fire the main cannons, we shall take many of our own with us.”

“That again?”

The Tytanian scion clicked his tongue loudly. He raised his right fist as if to strike, but he did not bring it down.

“Listen, I said I would annihilate the enemy, but I didn’t say we must slaughter every single one of them. Once we eliminate their leader, Jouslain, the rebels will collapse. Some of them might be your old acquaintances, but if we leave them be, they’ll surrender. For now, you just need to obey my orders.”

“…”

“I won’t say it a third time. Fire!”

“Main cannons, volley fire!” responded the master gunner, his voice sounding as if he were gasping for breath.

Next, or rather almost simultaneously, nine long beams of light tore through the eternal darkness like the pillars of an ancient temple. They pierced into the heart of the melee between friend and foe and exploded.

Though no sound should have been audible, everyone froze at the unprecedented blast. Clouds of light expanded and tore apart in every direction, changing colours with dizzying speed. Within each small fragment, lives numbering in the thousands were reduced—even down to the cellular level.

In a single stroke, one hundred vessels were turned into cosmic dust, and perhaps half of them had been allies and comrades. The master gunner covered his mouth, barely managing to suppress the contents surging up from his stomach.

Aboard the ''Austra'', Hyulick let out a low groan.

“Space is truly a vast place. To think someone out there is even more reckless than me.”

“Was it intentional?”

Hyulick nodded firmly.

“That is correct, Duke Jouslain. They intend to sacrifice one thousand units of their own in order to devour our three thousand.”

Balamy cried out, his voice almost a shout:

“A tactic that kills their own allies…!”

“Would Idris… no.”

Would Idris truly do such a thing? To kill his own soldiers with his own hands, only to boast of a victory? Ariabert would certainly never do it. But Idris… would he commit such an atrocity and, in doing so, undermine his own prestige as the next Clanner? Idris was not so foolish.

“Who exactly is aboard that ship?”

For the first time, Jouslain felt a seed of doubt. It was late to realise this, but he had been under the firm impression that Idris was the one aboard. Consequently, when he witnessed that initial, reckless bombardment, he had dismissed it as mere posturing rather than a full-scale assault. But he had been wrong. Who was this enemy general, who cared nothing for sacrificing his own men as long as he secured victory?

Everyone watched as sophisticated and rational tactics were utterly shattered by sheer, indiscriminate violence.

“It is an unbelievable sight! And yet, we are witnessing it with our own eyes. Has the tide truly turned so completely that we are now hurtling straight towards the final stage!?”

Hundreds of mouths uttered the same lines, which then expanded a thousand, ten thousand times over, scattering to every corner of human society. The media amplified and magnified their own excitement as they broadcast it to the public. Information drifted far and wide, riding upon the waves of an explosive light.

=== III ===
Having fully demonstrated its deranged firepower, the ''Black Prince'' continued its arrogant advance. Inspired by its magnificent silhouette, the forces of Uraniborg began their charge, like rabid hounds following after their master.

Though the movements were quite chaotic, the momentum of the two armies was in the process of completely reversing. This reached its climax when the ''Black Prince'' suddenly surged forward at its maximum combat speed.

“It’s going to ram us… Aaaaargh!”

A scream flooded the hearing range of everyone present.

A first-class battleship had been rammed from behind by the ''Black Prince''. It was a clearly intentional collision; the first-class battleship was crushed under a mass more than thirty times its own. Its image, spinning helplessly before shattering into a fireball that scattered in all directions, was captured on the screens of the ''Austra''.

“He does not love ships. Neither his own nor his enemies’.”

Captain Edna Fredericks spoke with fierce resentment.

“Otherwise, he would never commit such an act, destroying both himself and his opponent with such a meaningless attack… Unforgivable.”

Before the eyes of the captain, who bit her lip, a second ship fell victim to the great beast. This time, it was a heavy cruiser. It was torn apart, exploding into a fireball. Fan Hyulick watched the tyranny of the black magical beast in stunned silence, until he was suddenly nudged at the shoulder. A soldier, wearing a helmet and clutching an electromagnetic rifle, looked at him intently and whispered.

“Hey, you. You’re Fan Hyulick, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then do something! Are you really just going to let us lose like this? Especially after you managed to beat Duke Ariabert.”

“Don’t make impossible demands.”

Hyulick sighed and ran his hand through his carrot-coloured hair.

“To be honest, I don’t even quite know why I’m even here right now.”

Because Doctor Lee presented the terms so naturally and brought the negotiations to a successful conclusion, the members of the Blaze Flag Army ended up agreeing to Hyulick being handed over to Duke Jouslain Tytania in exchange for Baronet Zelpha. Hyulick himself was now tilting his head in confusion, wondering, “Why me?” But from Doctor Lee’s perspective, he had secured safety by taking a Tytanian scion as a hostage while simultaneously being able to send Hyulick into the heart of Tytania to begin his operations. The negotiations had been so utterly nonsensical that no one realised that Doctor Lee was the only one who stood to gain.

“Don’t panic! Five o’clock! Full speed in reverse!”

Captain Fredericks’ voice rang out with heroic clarity. An electromagnetic missile had been pursuing them at high speed from the six o’clock position, leaving no time for a reversal manoeuvre. The captain’s piloting had proved successful. The missile passed diagonally just fifty metres ahead of the nose of ''Austra''.

“We-we’re saved…” gasped someone.

Jouslain offered praise.

“Splendid work, Captain Fredericks.”

“You are too kind.”

Since Ariabert’s death, Captain Edna Fredericks’ expression had seemed as though it were turning towards that of the deceased, but for the first time, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, and a spark of fighting spirit flickered in her eyes.

“We are receiving a transmission from the enemy vessel.”

“Put it through.”

Jouslain commanded the communications officer, only to be struck with astonishment when the young, fierce face appeared on the communication screen.

“Radmoth!”

''“Hey, Jouslain, you traitor. What’s the matter? You don’t look too well.”''

“Why are you on the bridge of the ''Black Prince''!?”

''“Why? Are you an idiot? I’m here because I am the commander-in-chief. I’d love to hear what other reasons you think I might have.”''

“What happened to Idris?”

A predatory laugh was the only response.

''“That man who is unworthy of being my brother is likely cowering in some safe corner of Uraniborg. He’s probably shrinking back, terrified that his position will be usurped while he watches me obtain glorious feats of arms. Small-minded wretch! Being one of the Four Dukes is of no interest to me.”''

So Idris had not been killed by Radmoth—at least, not yet. For some reason, Jouslain felt relieved. If his opponent was Idris, negotiation was still possible. It was a matter of comparison, though.

''“Well? Have you small-minded traitors learnt your place yet?”''

Radmoth let out a boisterous laugh. Beside Jouslain, Balamy leaned forward, glaring at the communication screen.

“You’re the one who will learn his lesson. Someone like you could never serve as commander-in-chief.”

''“If you lot are truly human, you ought to know the meaning of ‘reflection’ and ‘regret’. Your crimes are heavy, but His Clanner Highness is as merciful as a god. If you repent and prostrate yourselves, I might even let you clean my latrines.”''

“You lowlife!”

Hyulick, who had remained silent until then, suddenly whispered:

“Duke Jouslain.”

“What is it?”

“That spoilt brat’s attitude… he’s incredibly full of himself, isn’t he?”

“Indeed… It is almost as if he has been appointed the Clanner’s heir.”

“Eh!?”

“I’m merely speculating.”

It was merely an absurd, unfounded speculation. There was no way the Clanner would hold such a crude and tyrannical youth in high regard. No matter how hard he strove, he was meant to be nothing more than a crude imitation of Zarlisch.

“… But has the Clanner’s eye for talent changed so drastically? If that were the case, what would become of Idris? Would he be forced to serve his younger brother with a bowed head? No, though Clanner Ajman and Balamy’s father were brothers…”

Radmoth’s voice rang out through the communication screen:

''“I know the meaning of pity. Therefore, I shall teach you all something useful. If you carry out what I instruct, all your crimes shall be pardoned, and furthermore, I shall ensure you receive immense rewards.”''

Wearing the grin of a predator, Radmoth pressed thick fingers against his own throat and mimicked a violent slicing motion.

''“Bring me the head of Jouslain, the leader of the rebels! Bring it before me. If you do, I shall not only grant you a full pardon, but I shall also promote you by two ranks and bestow upon you bounty, a medal, and special leave!”''

Hyulick and Balamy both turned their gazes towards Jouslain from either side at once. What a devious scheme. Taking advantage of the favourable battle conditions, he was attempting to incite treason among the enemy troops. If it succeeded, of course, that would be fine. Even if it failed, it would not affect them in the slightest. Given everything that had transpired thus far, Balamy held his opponent, who was one year his junior, in extremely low regard. Therefore, he could only conclude that Radmoth must have been possessed by something.

“You have certainly become quite magnanimous, Radmoth.”

As Jouslain responded, one side of his form gleamed white. Once again, several of his allies had been destroyed in quick succession at close range.

=== IV ===
“You’re certainly putting in the work, laddy.”

Hyulick could not help but let out an exasperated voice.

Even though Ariabert was gone, the professional soldiers who had been trained by him in life were being forced into a desperate struggle against Radmoth’s unprincipled, violent warfare. Their courageous attacks could not pierce the high-output energy shutters or the thick armour, resulting in nothing more than a vain shower of sparks. Before the single magical beast, the corpses of the wolves continued to pile up in heaps.

An indescribable feeling swirled within Hyulick’s heart. What would the situation be like now if the Blaze Flag Army had not expelled Radmoth in that capsule? Was the current devastation, with the ''Black Prince'' rampaging and crushing Jouslain’s army, not the direct result of the Blaze Flag Army irresponsibly releasing a beast like Radmoth?

When he thought of it that way, even Hyulick’s carefree nature could not shield him from a sense of guilt.

Once again, an explosion of light illuminated the screen, sending clouds of iridescent dust dancing through the air.

Even so, had they truly been deceived? Was Radmoth such a master actor that he could evade Doctor Lee’s icy, penetrating gaze?

“If that is the case, he as much as a rogue as Clanner Ajman… there is definitely something going on behind the scenes.”

Hyulick was harshly criticised for his “lack of professional skills”, and that was a deduction one could easily make. However, now was not the time to be investigating what was “behind the scenes”.

If things went wrong, the AJ Alliance forces would be annihilated by a single vessel. Within the body of the young man, whom both he himself and others acknowledged to be a hopeless case, something resembling a fighting spirit began to well up.

Inside the ''Austra'', the situation was a mere two and a half steps away from pure panic. Through the door, angry shouts and heavy footsteps raced past the VIP suite where Princess Lydia and Francia were secluded. Princess Lydia had been playing three-dimensional chess with commendable devotion, but she had suffered a series of losses due to her lack of concentration.

“Francia, what on earth is happening outside?”

“Please wait for a while, and trust in Lord Jouslain and Lord Balamy.”

“Of course I believe in them! That goes without saying,” cried out Princess Lydia.

The expression of genuine frustration on her face was not because she had lost consecutive games of chess.

“I am so sorry, Princess. If only I had been more observant, I might have been able to bring you some news…”

“There is no need for you to apologise, Francia. I am angry with myself. Why must I be such a child at a time as important as this?”

“It is not your responsibility, Princess. I am certain that a day will come when you shall protect Lord Jouslain and Lord Balamy.”

“I hope so… No, that is not right, Francia. If he needs my protection, then Lord Jouslain is surely doomed.”

The Princess pressed a button on the monitor. As she cycled through several channels, she spotted a man with carrot-coloured hair who looked rather restless.

“Could that be Fan Hyulick?”

“It is indeed, Princess.”

“Hmm. He doesn’t look particularly imposing.”

After critiquing him without hesitation, Princess Lydia looked towards Francia’s waist, as if she had only just noticed something.

“Francia, are you carrying a gun?”

“Yes, Princess, for I must protect you.”

“I’d like to try holding one myself.”

Francia felt conflicted, but she persuaded her skilfully.

“A ruler should never be seen carrying such a thing, Princess.”

“You were about to say it’s because I’m a child, weren’t you, Francia?”

“I would never suggest such a thing…”

“Well, no matter. Francia, I shall stay here and be a good girl, so go and peek at what is happening outside, and tell me later.”

The Princess’ tension seemed to have passed its saturation point, leaving her feeling sleepy. As the Princess sank deep into her armchair and closed her eyes, Francia covered the girl’s body with a blanket, offered a smile, and stood up. She quietly opened the door and peered out into the corridor.

Her soft expression sharpened, becoming as if possessed by another person. An unimaginable sight lay before her. Jouslain stood frozen. And behind him, the back of a soldier pressing a gun against him. An enemy soldier? No, it was not. Good heavens, wasn’t it a Tytanian soldier?

“D-Duke Jouslain.”

The soldier, sweating profusely, stammered out words that sounded like an excuse.

“If it were Duke Ariabert, I might be willing, but I owe you no debt that requires me to die for you. I am sorry, but I have no desire to die.”

He took a breath and then continued.

“I left my family behind at Uraniborg. You, however, have brought your beautiful mistress even to a place like this. Ah, humans are not equal, and the world is unjust. But surely, one should be given a chance to rectify it.”

Jouslain had come to check on Princess Lydia and Francia, but he found himself utterly helpless against this unforeseen catastrophe.

“It is a fitting end for someone as half-hearted as I. Very well, fire away.”

“No need to—”

The words “say it” were never spoken. The soldier, who had been aiming his heatgun, recoiled violently. After stumbling one or two steps like a drunkard, he collapsed to the floor. Standing behind the now-dead soldier was a beautiful young woman, clutching the ray gun with both hands, her face deathly pale.

“Francia! It was you…”

“Lord Jouslain, are you safe?…”

“You have saved my life.”

“I… I am so poor with guns, I could only aim for the centre of his back… I… I killed… a person…”

“Don’t say this, Francia. It was I who caused this soldier’s death.”

Jouslain embraced Francia’s shoulders as she stood there, clutching the gun in a daze.

Captain Edna Fredericks rushed to the scene, listened briefly to the situation, and bowed her head deeply, her face pale.

“I have no proper apology to offer. One of my own subordinates fell for the enemy’s sweet words and targeted Your Grace’s life. It was a shameful act, unworthy of a Tytania soldier. I shall accept whatever punishment you deem necessary.”

“No, Captain, it is not your responsibility.”

Jouslain waved his hand.

“This was brought about by my own inadequacy. No matter how massive the enemy vessel may be, I could not employ an effective tactic, nor could I even protect my own person. It is pathetic.”

“Your Grace, this is not a matter of tactics or anything of the sort. That was nothing short of an atrocity, and you must consider our response.”

“I understand, but regardless, Captain, you are not at fault. Do not punish yourself. Francia, you neither.”

Jouslain returned Francia to the VIP suite, where Princess Lydia lay sleeping. After ordering the other soldiers to clear away the dead and requesting a female medic for Francia, he hurried back to the bridge alongside Captain Fredericks.

“Wait! Advancing in tight formation is dangerous!”

Balamy was loudly rebuking the officers.

“If we maintain a half-hearted distance, our fire will fail to reach them, yet their bombardment will still hit us. We risk being slaughtered one-sidedly.”

The main guns of the ''Black Prince'' were a threat in their own right, both in their massive calibre and their immense range. If those main guns were to fire into a dense formation, the damage would be catastrophic. Furthermore, if the enemy commander had no regard for their own casualties, it would likely result in nothing less than unprecedented carnage.

“Mr Hyulick, could you let us hear your opinion?”

Upon hearing Jouslain’s words, Hyulick realised that he could no longer afford to be hesitant.

“In any case, the opponent is not a sensible foe. Even if we fight him head-on, our casualties will only increase. Let’s flee.”

“You mean, retreat?”

“I mean: we flee.”

“… I suppose that’s our only option?”

Jouslain glanced back at Balamy. Balamy was biting his lower lip. As a Tytanian noble, and given his personality, the very word “flee” was taboo. Hyulick, however, had no way of knowing such taboos.

“And what do you intend to do after we flee, Mr Hyulick?”

This time, Hyulick turned his gaze toward Jouslain.

“Please answer me, Mr Hyulick.”

“Well… we shall see how the enemy reacts. Whether he pursues us in earnest or feigns a pursuit only to switch to another tactic.”

“If it were you, would you not place an ambush in front of the fleeing enemy and strike them from both sides?”

Hyulick blinked at Balamy’s words.

“Indeed, if I had surplus troops, I would do just that. However, is Baron Radmoth the sort of man to resort to such underhanded tricks?”

Balamy shook his head immediately, and Jouslain muttered:

“Will the ''Black Prince'' continue the pursuit? Or will it remain near Uraniborg by itself?”

Radmoth’s actions were unpredictable. Jouslain and Hyulick both held their breath, waiting for the enemy’s reaction.

=== V ===
“The enemy forces are retreating.”

Upon receiving the report from the communications officer, Radmoth nodded. Watching this from beside him, Commodore Kendall, the ship’s captain, prepared himself for what felt less like an order from a young Tytania noble and more like a command for a manoeuvre. It was standard military doctrine to pursue a retreating enemy, destroy a greater number of vessels, and expand one’s achievements in battle. However, what emerged from Radmoth’s wide mouth was not an instruction to “charge with the entire fleet”, but rather a bored yawn.

“Alright, order all other vessels to pursue at full speed.”

“What?! Then, what of our ship?”

“Me? I’ve had enough. Let’s go home.”

Without so much as a glance at the speechless Commodore Kendall, Radmoth stretched his limbs out in the commander-in-chief’s seat.

Three minutes later, on the ''Austra'', the reconnaissance officer delivered a bewildered report.

“The ''Black Prince'' is not moving at all.”

“What?”

“Only the other vessels are pursuing us. The ''Black Prince'' has… has begun preparing to turn back!”

Jouslain’s staff officers erupted into a commotion.

“What is Baron Radmoth up to?”

“That can wait until later!” shouted Hyulick, almost half-deliriously.

To his own dismay, he had completely immersed himself in the mindset of a staff officer of Jouslain’s army. Regardless, the immediate enemy was that unpleasant Radmoth. He would not let the man win.

“Without the ''Black Prince'', we can employ a reverse encirclement tactic. Under the banner of Duke Ariabert, it should be possible. We shall retreat while sequentially forming an inverted V-shaped formation.”

Ariabert’s former subordinates exchanged glances. Fan Hyulick had always been their enemy, and they had been forced to taste defeat by him on two separate occasions. However, they could not bring themselves to believe he was attempting to deceive them now. Hyulick’s proposal was sound in terms of military logic, and his expression was one of pure earnestness.

“We shall adopt Mr Hyulick’s plan. We are all in the same boat, after all.”

With Jouslain’s words, the matter was decided.

An hour passed. Despite sustaining damage to the rear, Jouslain’s fleet succeeded in forming the inverted V-shaped formation as planned.

Meeting Jouslain’s gaze, Hyulick nodded with all his might.

“Now is the time.”

“All forces, turn about!”

Jouslain issued his command with sharp precision. It pleased him that there was no tremor in his voice. Indeed, he had the late Ariabert and the living Hyulick by his side. Jouslain was no mystic, yet he felt a primal certainty that his flanks were well protected.

As if commanded by the living Ariabert, Jouslain’s fleet turned with order and incredible speed, enveloping the forces of Uraniborg within the V-shaped formation in an instant.

“All ships, aim primary cannons individually. Triple volley!”

Thousands of energy beams wove a pattern of death through the darkness in hues of blue, white, and gold. Great and small fireballs lined up within the V-formation, scattering like the broken beads of a necklace. Deprived of the ''Black Prince'', the forces of Uraniborg fell victim to perfectly conventional tactics and were annihilated in nearly thirty minutes.

Jouslain extended his right hand.

“My thanks to you, Mr Hyulick. I owe you my life.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I went too far. Please forgive my presumption.”

As he shook the offered hand, Hyulick ran his other hand through his hair.

Balamy posed a question.

“What do you intend to do now?”

“Well, I believe that we should require rest and regrouping, but…”

“No, we shall not.”

With a flush rising to his cheeks, Balamy raised his objection resolutely.

“If we require rest and regrouping, then so does the enemy. Our forces have defeated the majority of theirs, and the morale of our soldiers is high. Conversely, the shock inflicted upon the enemy was immense, and as for Radmoth’s leadership, it is hardly worthy of the name.”

“Are you suggesting we charge Uraniborg as we are?”

As Jouslain tilted his head in confusion, Balamy’s gaze drifted to the side.

“Admiral Hyulick, what are your thoughts?”

Hyulick hesitated for a brief moment, but then he answered:

“I agree with the Viscount.”

Jouslain looked at both of them in turn and nodded with conviction.

Idris remained silent, but deep within his heart, a ferocious dragon was raging, spewing flames and roars. His reason, his intellect, and his discernment were all being bitten, wounded, and bled by that dragon.

It should have been Idris who should have boarded the ''Black Prince'', scattered the rebels, subdued them, and crushed them. It should have been Idris.

The military glory he deserved had been snatched away. A lava of hatred for Radmoth erupted from every part of Idris’ being, unseen by anyone.

Still, how had things ever come to this?

It was certainly true that he had underestimated Radmoth. However, he did not believe he had misjudged his very essence. He was a man who would not spare a single of his own allies if it meant striking the enemy. Should he ever ascend to the position of Clanner, he would undoubtedly become the worst tyrant in the history of Tytania.

From the perspective of Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana, Idris must surely be nothing more than a treasonous minister. Others, aside from Idris, might think it wouldn’t matter who became Clanner. Yet, that was only because they did not yet truly know the nature of Radmoth.

Ultimately, the use of tactics was intended to minimise the loss of one’s own troops on the battlefield. What Radmoth employed was not tactics. How could one call tactics “slaughtering friend and foe alike”?

Even so, it was a reality that Radmoth had surpassed Idris in the sole regard of “inflicting maximum damage upon the enemy”, and Idris’ displeasure went beyond expression. Had the ship ''Austra'' been among those enemy vessels caught in the blast, or had Jouslain met a sudden death, Idris would have been forced to question the very meaning of his own existence. Even so, one had to wonder how Radmoth had even conceived seizing the ''Black Prince'' with the Clanner’s decree.

Suddenly, Idris let out a groan that shimmered with a dark crimson hue.

''“Theodora! That damn vixen… She whispered sweet, cunning words into Radmoth’s ear.”''

The force with which he rose abruptly from his command seat caused the surrounding officers to instinctively recoil half a step. Idris, however, did not notice.

Once, Princess Lydia had witnessed Radmoth and Theodora in deep conversation. She had told Jouslain about it, but Idris, of course, had no way of knowing it.

Nevertheless, Idris connected the two images in his mind. Although the circumstances were entirely different from Jouslain’s, by blending various scenes and suspicions from his past with a primitive intuition, he had reached the very threshold of the truth.

“Is anyone there!?”

At Idris’ loud cry, about ten soldiers immediately gathered.

“Arrest and detain Countess Theodora at once, and bring her to me. Do it immediately. If she shows any sign of resistance or attempts to flee, you are authorised to shoot her dead.”

The soldiers gasped. A junior officer, clutching a photon rifle, hesitantly spoke up:

“W-with all due respect, are we truly permitted to shoot a noble bearing the Tytania surname without even a trial?”

“Don’t you dare spout such clever nonsense! Have you already forgotten the manner in which Duke Ariabert Tytania met his end just a moment ago? Now, get moving!”

The officer faltered, and after a perfunctory Tytania-style salute, he practically bolted away. The soldiers, weapons at the ready, followed suit.

Idris let out a breath and resettled himself in the command seat. Pressing his fingertips to his temple, he thought with as much speed as possible. If Theodora were brought in alive, he would ensure a thorough investigation. But what if she died? How would he justify that to the Clanner…?

“The ''Black Prince'' has returned to base!”

Startled by the communications officer’s voice, Idris looked up. For a mere moment, the screen appeared as nothing more than a curtain of darkness. This was because the massive silhouette of the ''Black Prince'', having closed in on Uraniborg, was obscuring the clusters of stars and the points of light from other vessels scattered behind it.

“Returned to base? What is the battle status?”

As if punctuating the end of Idris’ sentence,

''“To all stations on Uraniborg!”''

There had been no need to shout, yet Radmoth’s voice shook every communication circuit with the roar of thunder.

''“This is Baron Radmoth Tytania. I address everyone aboard Uraniborg. Surrender within the hour and transfer command to me. Otherwise, I shall bring the full broadside of the Black Prince to bear upon Uraniborg in a naval bombardment. Even if it means striking the civilian residential sectors. Do you get it? Do I need to repeat myself?”''

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2

2026-10-13T00:40:20Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Main Characters | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 2 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race == === I === It was generally believed that the main appeal of a pirat..."

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== Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race ==
=== I ===
It was generally believed that the main appeal of a pirate’s feast, though somewhat vulgar, lay in it being cheerful and lively. However, once it strayed from that path, alcohol was consumed gloomily, and nothing followed but heavy, morose conversation.

“I never imagined Duke Ariabert would meet such an end.”

“It would have been one thing if he had died in battle.”

“But the possibility of assassination was even being considered.”

There was nothing to distinguish these conversations from those of ordinary law-abiding citizens. The dining room of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', the flagship of the Blaze Flag Army, felt half like a haunted mansion.

“Clanner Ajman is truly a terrifying man.”

“Terrifying? I don’t see it that way. What a petty bastard. When he saw there was no chance of winning in a fair fight, he resorted to the cheap tactic of assassination. And he even used a child to do it.”

“I agree with Hyulick. I thought he would be a more dignified ruler, but he’s unexpectedly small-minded.”

Doctor Lee shook his head.

“Miranda, that is exactly what makes the Clanner terrifying. To be seen as petty, despised, or hated—he doesn’t give any of that a second thought. He eliminated the strongest enemy commander with absolute ruthlessness and efficiency. There is no one more frightening than a person who possesses the power to achieve their goals without regard for their reputation or the means used.”

He placed his small mug of dark beer upon the table.

“Today, Duke Ariabert was murdered using such a method. Tomorrow, there is no way to predict who will be killed or how. Those associated with Tytania must feel as though they are constantly on edge.”

“In short, it is a reign of terror. If Duke Idris decides to strike first to prevent being struck himself, I shall find myself reconsidering my opinion of that arrogant nobleman.”

Doctor Lee gazed at the foam clinging to the rim of his mug.

“Do you know what the greatest happiness in life is? Ah, let me clarify, it is not being able to eat a superb omelette every day. That lacks too much universality.”

Having been outmanoeuvred, Hyulick exhaled a breath heavy with the scent of alcohol.

“I suppose ‘it depends on the person’ won’t suffice as an answer?”

“It is nothing short of a miracle that I have not given up on you. For almost all human beings, the greatest happiness is the ability to always make the best possible choice.”

Mahdi let out an eerie laugh.

“Isn’t that what they call a pipe dream? It is no easy task to choose the best bank based on interest rates and customer service.”

“I sympathise with you Mahdi, but in the end, you chose this path yourself.”

Miranda spoke with irony as she picked up the stack of papers resting on the table. It was the latest news output from the general-purpose computer.

“The Clanner has rescinded the decree, then.”

“… Anything goes, it seems. It will hold no weight, neither legally nor morally.”

“It holds weight precisely because it is Tytania.”

“… To dispatch an envoy and present such favourable terms, only to kill Duke Ariabert the very next moment…”

Fan Hyulick excelled above all others in unconventional tactics, yet his political views and ideologies were utterly mediocre—though he himself described them as “sound”. Consequently, regarding Clanner Ajman’s assassination of Ariabert, he felt nothing but pure loathing.

Doctor Lee flicked the side of his tankard with his fingertip.

“This is merely the alcohol speaking, so there is no need to take it seriously, but what do you think, Hyulick? If you find the Clanner distasteful, why not simply side with Duke Jouslain?”

To side with Duke Jouslain.

It had never even crossed his mind. Or perhaps, in the depths of his subconscious, such a thought had been writhing. To begin with, he had never harboured any ill will towards Jouslain Tytania personally. Well, the same went for the late Ariabert Tytania, but as someone being pursued by the Tytania as a whole, he was not in a position to give such matters serious thought. Had that moment finally arrived, then? Doctor Lee had said it was merely the alcohol talking, but…

“No, but wait a minute. Even if we were inclined to do so, would they even accept it? Even if we say we are siding with Duke Jouslain, the ones he is actually leading are Duke Ariabert’s men.”

“You did well noticing that.”

“Of course I noticed! I’ve fought him three times, after all.”

“You came out on top with two wins and one loss. That’s quite an achievement.”

“Hmph, it was more like a sneak attack.”

“No need to disparage yourself. Duke Ariabert accepted his defeats with grace, and it would actually be quite rude to him to belittle yourself. I doubt they hate the Clanner any less than they hate you.”

“If they had challenged him to a fair fight, it might have been one thing, but this was an assassination. And using a child to do it, no less. They must have thought that removing Duke Ariabert would sap their will to fight. But, unfortunately for them…”

“It was a textbook example of backfiring.”

“Honestly, out of every thousand, every ten thousand people, all would think the same. The Clanner truly did something stupid.”

“Was it stupid?”

“Should I use a more refined term like ‘foolish’, Doctor?”

“It is not a matter of phrasing. It is a matter of motive.”

“Motive…?”

“To go so far as to commit an act that everyone would deem foolish. It isn’t simply Duke Ariabert’s subordinates who must find it distasteful, but even Duke Idris himself.”

Doctor Lee took on a pensive expression.

“Sometimes, I find myself thinking this: the Clanner might be intentionally creating circumstances disadvantageous to Tytania.”

“No way.”

“When you look at it that way, many things start to make sense.”

“Do they? It might seem so if you only look at his outward actions, but what would his motives be? Why would the Sovereign of Tytania engage in deeds that undermine his own power?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Don’t get defensive. You’re the one who always insists that there can be no conclusion without evidence.”

When Hyulick provoked him, Doctor Lee responded with a laugh, though the gloominess had significantly diminished.

“It seems my beer has gone lukewarm. I haven’t even taken a sip yet. Would anyone like it? Now then, Hyulick, I haven’t reached a conclusion just yet. So, let me ask you this: if Duke Jouslain were to resort to the most extreme measures, to what extent do you think we would have a chance at victory?”

“Extreme measures?”

“A full-scale offensive with all available forces, an assault on Uraniborg.”

“An assault on Uraniborg? Like urban warfare!?”

A hint of a scream tinged Mahdi’s voice. Miranda chimed in as well:

“The number of civilian casualties would be enormous. No, even before that, I cannot imagine Duke Jouslain would even consider such a thing. It annoys me to say it, but he’s a man with common sense.”

“How many troops can Uraniborg’s side deploy for urban warfare?”

When Hyulick asked that question, Miranda pulled out a dedicated tablet.

“If we only count the mobile infantry specialised in ground combat, it would be around one hundred thousand. They likely never anticipated being invaded. If they mobilise the fleet’s crew, it might be ten times that amount.”

“And Jouslain’s side?”

“Well, their side is also at a maximum of one hundred thousand. I cannot quite gauge the extent of their amphibious assault capabilities.”

“If they were to settle this in outer space, strictly outside of Uraniborg…”

As Hyulick carefully chose his words while deep in thought, Mahdi interrupted him:

“From Duke Jouslain’s perspective, a withdrawal strategy might make sense.”

“Hmm, and what would he do after retreating?”

“He could establish a base in some suitable planetary nation, resupply his food and energy, refit the fleet, and start anew.”

“It remains to be seen which side time will favour. Besides, what would he do if the forces from Uraniborg pursued them during their retreat?”

“That is precisely the point.”

Mahdi casually pulled the tankard placed before Doctor Lee towards himself.

“So? Do you want to know?”

“I can tell that you are eager to speak.”

“Well, if you have an idea, I suppose I could listen.”

Mahdi did not seem to mind the passive atmosphere.

“In short, he can counterattack as they pursue. He can advance in an inverted V-formation, then, at the opportune moment, turn around all at once. And this time, encircle the forces of Uraniborg in a V-shape and annihilate them. What do you think?”

=== II ===
“I don’t think it’s a bad plan, but it is far too technical. If a single error is made, the formation would collapse during his turn. Duke Jouslain would be the one who would end up being annihilated.”

“Well, it’s an apple pie in the sky<ref name="ftn4">This is an alteration of the Japanese expression “a picture of a rice cake” (something that looks nice and impressive but lacks any actual utility) to “a picture of an apple pie”.</ref>.”

Miranda agreed with Hyulick.

“If we could win every time just by moving according to the tactical computer’s calculations, human commanders would be unnecessary.”

“Exactly as Miranda says.”

Doctor Lee nodded. Computers could provide answers based on records and calculations. In other words, a tactic that ignores precedent is “unforeseen”, and therefore, a computer couldn’t respond to it.

“After all, we have a living specimen right here among us, do we not?”

The “specimen” ran his hands through his carrot-coloured hair and glared sullenly at the screen. Far beyond the five suns, a small cloud of light was swirling. It was the fleet of the AJ Alliance—now consisting of only J—encircling Uraniborg. How would he move if he were inside that cloud of light? Hyulick thought vaguely, his brain cells submerged in a pool of alcohol.

“In the end, Doctor, which side does a war of attrition actually disadvantage?”

“That is a good question, Miranda. What do you think yourself?”

“Honestly, you never give a straight answer. It is quite frustrating.”

“We have been acquainted for a long time. I want to hear your thoughts first.”

When Miranda looked towards her mute husband, Captain Casimir gave a laughing nod. Miranda shrugged and set her own mug down on the table with a thud.

“Men tend to flock together instantly, which makes them such a troublesome lot… But oh well. Right now, Uraniborg is besieged and isolated, but as long as the source of power and authority—that is, the Clanner—remains, they hold the advantage.”

Miranda turned her eyes towards the cloud of light as well.

“The method they used was utterly unfair, but regardless, Uraniborg managed to assassinate Duke Ariabert and eliminate their greatest threat, didn’t they? Even if Duke Jouslain opts for a war of attrition here, how will it appear to the eyes of others? It might only look like indecisiveness.”

The public and the media both craved a spectacular, decisive battle. At Miranda’s words, Doctor Lee nodded twice.

“Very well, Miranda. Then let us consider seriously. How to force a decisive battle?”

The interior of Uraniborg was thick with a sense of suffocation. Even more so than the civilians, the Tytania mobile infantry were preoccupied with rumours. It was hardly surprising, given that they were on a war footing yet had nothing to do for the time being.

“I want Tytania to survive,” a young voice whispered. “I mean, if Tytania disappears, where would we go? What would we even do?”

“There are plenty of places that need mercenaries.”

“If something were to happen to the upper management too…”

“We are already in the middle of it. What’s the point of using the subjunctive?”

“Don’t nitpick. Hmph, true, even in the midst of a crisis, the routine for the low-ranking grunts doesn’t change.”

The sounds of helmets and rifles clashing echoed. Silence would pass through only when a grim-faced NCO marched by, but it never lasted for more than a minute.

“Not all planets are self-sufficient. On my home world, all we can grow are sunflowers and cotton. With five hundred thousand people we’d all starve to death.”

“Why grow only sunflowers and cotton?”

“This is why dealing with the uneducated is such a nuisance. The soil in my home world is high in salt. Sunflowers and cotton are pretty good at absorbing salt, so they’re necessary for soil reclamation.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I’m just a city boy from Ementhal.”

Throughout the universe, conversations of all kinds, useful or useless, harmful or harmless, were being exchanged. The uncertainty of an invisible future made people loquacious.

“''Pax Tytaniana''” had brought peace and prosperity to all human society. It was a fact that, despite the boredom and the gap between the rich and the poor, peace and prosperity had continued in the aggregate for two centuries. Consequently, most people desired to maintain the ''status quo'' and feared change, but now that change appeared to be unavoidable, the prevailing sentiment was that they simply wished for the storm to pass quickly so that peace might be restored.

“You are handing Zelpha over!?” interrogated Balamy as if shouting.

Jouslain replied curtly:

“That is correct.”

“Unharmed?”

“Of course… it’s not as if I intended to hand him over with his ears or nose sliced off.”

Balamy let out a ragged breath.

“Stop making such terrible jokes.”

“Sorry.”

Balamy pursed his lips after receiving another brief answer, but to Francia, who stood beside him, it felt as though the sound of a click of his tongue had filled the room.

“In form, this would mean we are succumbing to Duke Idris’ intimidation.”

“Outward appearances matter not. I have absolutely no intention of making this matter public.”

Jouslain turned his entire body towards Balamy.

“The Clanner has forced us to handle not only the assassination of Ariabert but the disposal of the assassin as well. How we deal with Zelpha is our business.”

Jouslain tapped the armrest with his fingertips.

“That is why I shall hand that boy over to Idris. It is for both our sakes, rather than keeping him detained here.”

“But will Duke Ariabert’s men accept this? They are seething with hatred and a desire for vengeance.”

“They know who the true culprit is,” pointed out calmly Jouslain. “There is no point in punishing the tool rather than the true culprit. If we were to punish it, the only option would be an execution for murder. That would only serve to corner us. People will wonder if we are really going to execute a child.”

Francia placed her hand gently upon her master’s shoulder.

“If there is something you wish to say, then say it. It is not as if I believe my choice is the best one.”

Balamy steadied his breathing and his tone.

“Then, if I may, I was under the impression that you intended to use Zelpha’s life as a bargaining chip in your dealings with Duke Idris.”

“Naturally… that was my intention at first.”

“Then…”

“However, I was forced to abandon this idea. The ruler of Uraniborg is the Clanner, not Idris. The Clanner would never agree to such a deal. To the Clanner, Zelpha’s life is a trivial thing. You understand that, don’t you?”

Balamy understood. The very act of sending Zelpha into the jaws of death as an assassin spoke volumes of the Clanner’s cold, calculating will.

“I am sorry to have disappointed you, Lord Balamy, but at this moment, I have no means of shattering the Clanner’s icy resolve. Therefore, I intend to release the boy quickly. While I do not know the Clanner’s true intentions, for now, it will at least save me the trouble of looking after him.”

Balamy groaned.

“And what will become of Zelpha once he has returned safely?”

“Idris might hold an award ceremony or a party for him.”

Jouslain replied with a hint of boredom, and, almost unconsciously, placed his palm over Francia’s.

At present, he was nothing more than a mere cynic. A vital part of his very core had slipped out of place and wandered off. He had no right to be entrusted with tens or hundreds of thousands of lives. Though he had resolved to fight, if he were to fail, he would only lead Ariabert’s brave and elite soldiers to a hollow death. And if he were to win? While Ariabert was still alive, it had seemed as though there were more tasks to be accomplished after victory than there were stars in the sky, but now that his half-brother was gone, his ideas and visions had grown wings and flown away. “My plans have turned into pigeons<ref name="ftn5">“Pigeon” (鳩) is pronounced “pigeon”.</ref>”—it was quite laughable. He even went so far as to think that if he were to simply kneel before the Clanner, he might let him decide his fate for him.

In short, Jouslain had not yet recovered from Ariabert’s death. In a sense, it was only natural. Only six hours had passed since “that moment”. Nothing had been decided regarding Princess Lydia or Francia, either.

The tense voice of the communications officer pierced through Jouslain’s heart, which was on the verge of sinking into an infinite twilight.

“We have an incoming transmission from the Blaze Flag Army.”

Jouslain instinctively exchanged a glance with Balamy.

=== III ===
“The message says, ‘We wish to consult with His Ducal Grace Jouslain Tytania regarding a certain matter’.”

Jouslain raised a hand to silence Balamy just as he was about to speak.

“Regarding this ‘certain matter’, do they mention anything specific?”

“Y-yes.”

“Let me hear it.”

“… They say, ‘We wish to take Baronet Zelpha Tytania into our custody’.”

“What—!?”

It was Balamy who let out a cry of astonishment, while Jouslain remained silent, gazing at the communications officer’s face. The officer exaggerated his expression of bewilderment, searching the duke’s eyes for guidance.

“How shall I respond?”

“I will provide the reply. Activate the interception prevention system, then establish the video link.”

“Yes sir.”

“However, ensure that everyone’s face is pixelated except for mine.”

He did not want to reveal the presence of Francia and the others to an opponent who could be neither identified as friend nor foe. After a struggle between emotion and reason, Jouslain received the Blaze Flag Army’s transmission with an attitude that was, surprisingly, quite composed.

The feeling was mutual. This was because the opponent had also pixelated everyone in the frame except for a single person positioned directly in front of the screen. He was a young man of Jouslain’s generation, with black hair and an intelligent face. However, that intelligence did not appear to follow a straight path.

“I am profoundly honoured that you have granted me this audience. My name is Lee Shanchen. You must be His Ducal Grace Jouslain.”

“Correct. I have received an interesting proposal from you, but do you really intend to purchase Zelpha’s freedom with money?”

“If you were to gain material profit by handing over Baronet Zelpha, it would constitute human trafficking. Your honour would be tarnished. It is precisely because we ask for no compensation that the goodwill of both parties may prevail.”

Behind the mosaic, Balamy shifted, and Jouslain wore an expression that stopped just short of a wry smile.

“You seem to be a master of rhetoric.”

“You may clearly call it outright sophistry.”

“Had you belonged to Tytania, you would have surely flourished in the Department of Foreign Affairs… No, I suppose that the fact that I bring up Tytania at the drop of a hat shows my limits.”

A sharp intensity flashed through Jouslain’s eyes and voice.

“I shall ask you something quite unrefined, but what are you plotting?”

Doctor Lee replied with an air of utmost seriousness:

“To be honest, we too are conflicted about our course of action regarding this matter. We considered keeping our distance and remaining uninvolved, but given the circumstances thus far, we found that impossible. As we are of little consequence to begin with, we have decided to take a leap of faith and side with Your Grace.”

“To side with me? Those are sweet words.”

“Since the Blaze Flag Army has a rather strict aunty… I mean, older sister, I do not believe it is a suitable environment for a child’s upbringing. I implore you to place your trust in us and allow us to look after the Baronet.”

Something moved behind the mosaic of the screen. It was Miranda, waving her hands in a panic. Jouslain paid it no mind.

“A killer cannot return to being a child. Whether he is thirteen, ten, or younger, it matters not.”

“I believe your insight is correct, Your Grace, but…”

Doctor Lee’s gaze was that of a scholar observing a subject.

“Surely, you cannot bring yourself to execute a thirteen-year-old boy.”

“Why do you think so?”

“You must know why. If you were to do such a thing, Your Grace, you would descend to the same standards as your enemies. It would be contrary to your wishes.”

Jouslain gave a silent laugh. It was likely exactly what his opponent had expected, but he did not mind.

“Standards, eh? You’re being harshly sarcastic. I believe Tytania’s standard of morality is somewhat removed from that of the common people.”

“A slip of the tongue. Please pardon me.”

“I shan’t pardon you—that was no slip of the tongue. Even a fool like myself can see that you are a shrewd man.”

“Your Grace…”

“I am not merely being self-deprecating. It is a disgraceful display that I am unable to decide even how to deal with the life of a single child. If you have any other advice to offer, I shall listen.”

Doctor Lee cleared his throat.

“This matter must absolutely be kept secret. I believe that the location of Baronet Zelpha must never be known to the Uraniborg faction.”

“That is certainly true. It would become quite troublesome if it were discovered. However, and I hope this won’t offend you, I wish to hold something in return to guarantee Zelpha’s safety. I do not believe this is an unreasonable request, but what say you?”

A smile befitting Mephistopheles’ disciple appeared on Doctor Lee’s face.

“Regarding that point, I am prepared to entrust a certain individual to Your Grace in exchange for Baronet Zelpha.”

“What individual?”

“He is a man with low social skills who holds a childish love for omelettes, but he may still prove of some use to Your Grace Jouslain.”

“… Admiral Fan Hyulick?”

“You are most perceptive.”

Doctor Lee spoke without a hint of irony or mockery and offered a thoroughly serious bow.

Doctor Lee had demonstrated extraordinary processing power by concluding a “business deal” with Duke Jouslain Tytania that could only be described as absurd, but the person who had been used as bargaining material was far from appeased.

“Listen, Hyulick, Duke Jouslain’s unit was under the command of Duke Ariabert. You are lucky. Had they been former subordinates of Duke Zarlisch, you would have been turned into the filling for a giant omelette while still alive.”

“How exactly is that lucky? You used a person as a bargaining chip without permission. What would you have done if I’d been turned into a fried egg instead of an omelette? If you intend to toy with Duke Jouslain, that is one thing, but…”

“Hyulick, while I might be able to handle just you, turning Duke Jouslain into a plaything is more than I can manage. I expect you to assist Duke Jouslain with the utmost sincerity.”

“And will the other party even trust me?”

“That depends entirely on your character. For now, the negotiations are settled. Hallelujah!”

Uttering a celebratory phrase so ancient that its origins were unknown, Doctor Lee patted Hyulick on the shoulder. The young carrot-top brushed the hand away with an annoyed expression, then asked in a sulky tone:

“So, am I going alone?”

“You’re an adult, aren’t you?”

“That’s a completely different issue! Besides, what do you intend to do after taking custody of Baronet Zelpha? Are you planning to sell him off somewhere?”

“Human trafficking is not part of the Blaze Flag Army’s tradition.”

“It’s a matter of tradition?”

“Well, although we sided with Uraniborg recently and had everything ruined by young master Radmoth, this time, I shall have to consider how best to utilise young master Zelpha for Duke Jouslain’s sake.”

“Then, how will our position be described? Unscrupulous traitors?”

“No, no, there is no need to be so self-deprecating,” declared Doctor Lee solemnly. “We are the champions of justice who shall overthrow the tyrant Ajman.”

Hyulick fell silent. He was intensely furious with both Doctor Lee and Clanner Ajman, though the nature of his anger was not the same for each.

Towards Ajman, he felt a sense of loathing for his political methods and an indefinable, creeping eeriness. Towards Doctor Lee, though he found it strange himself, he felt an impulse that might be satisfied by a single well-placed slap. While he should have suffered more actual harm from Doctor Lee, it was unclear why, perhaps because he viewed Clanner Ajman as their shared, common enemy.

“Whatever happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In the end, despite his immense dissatisfaction, Hyulick accepted Doctor Lee’s “business proposal”.

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge of the battleship ''Austra'', Baronet Zelpha Tytania was glaring at a remnant of his sworn enemy—

“Has my fate been decided?”

“I have decided.”

The perceptive boy noticed that Jouslain had not used the phrasing “it has been decided<ref name="ftn6">Essentially, Zelpha has noted that Jouslain used the transitive (決める “to decide”) rather than the intransitive (決まる “to be decided”).</ref>”. He tried his utmost to keep his expression unchanged, but he could not prevent his face from turning pale. There was no way he would be released unconditionally. He had been prepared for the death penalty, but to have it stated so explicitly, it was only natural that he felt terror.

“I am handing you over to the Blaze Flag Army. You know what the Blaze Flag Army is, don’t you? They are notorious space pirates who temporarily joined forces with your beloved brother.”

For a moment, Zelpha wore an expression of bewildered confusion, and despite himself, his gaze darted to the sides of Jouslain. He could read nothing from the faces of the poised Balamy and Francia.

“I am a Tytanian noble.”

“And?”

“I would rather die with my pride intact than be sold off to pirates. Kill me!”

Jouslain looked Zelpha straight in the eye. Zelpha was excessively sharp, intense, and heated. To put it coldly, there was no need to kill him. He would likely destroy himself before ever reaching adulthood.

“A fitting end for a murderer, wouldn’t you say? What have you done to an opponent who trusted you and showed you every courtesy? You may praise yourself all you like, but your methods were nothing short of cowardly.”

Sweat glistened on Zelpha’s brow.

Jouslain could not tell if the reason he was handing Zelpha over to the pirates was because he hated the boy so much or because he didn’t hate him but had a feeling that it was a “waste to kill him”. His hatred for Clanner Ajman remained frozen like a flame, refusing to lose its shape.

“Do you understand, you coward? During your stay with the pirates, try to become at least as human as they are.”

Zelpha glared at Jouslain without a sound. His gaze was like a volley of fierce arrows. This was exactly what Francia and Balamy had expected. However, something occurred that exceeded their expectations.

A liquid that was not sweat overflowed from both of Zelpha’s eyes, trickling down his cheeks and mingling with his perspiration. The single word “coward” had caused the ramparts of the boy’s heart to collapse.

=== IV ===
It was said that a “peaceful democracy” had never existed since ancient times. It was described as “a vibrant debate to put it charitably, the height of chaos to put it less favourably”, it sometimes even escalated into physical altercations, with eggs and shoes flying through the air. Nevertheless, because it was deemed preferable to “silent dictatorship” or “bloody tyranny,” hundreds of millions of organisations and groups from great and small nations to pirates all wore the formal necktie of democracy.

The Blaze Flag Army was no exception. Even among those who brazenly styled themselves as “Warriors of Freedom” or “Gentlemen of the Dark Nebula”, sparks of verbal conflict flew. The loudest voice, however, belonged to Mr Mahdi.

“What on earth are they thinking… We went to all the trouble of driving out young Radmoth to restore a modest peace, only to bring back a pampered Tytania scion once again.”

“He’s much cuter than Radmoth, isn’t he?”

“Hmph. That cute rich kid went and assassinated the greatest commander in the universe. There’s no telling what he might do on this ship either. What will we do if he harms someone?”

Doctor Lee nodded heavily.

“Indeed, that is a valid point.”

“Right? So…”

“That is why we shall assign him an attendant to look after him.”

“An attendant will only serve to pamper him!”

“Well, you could say that. As long as he is educated with proper discipline, it will be fine.”

“… Hey, wait a minute!”

“Therefore, I hereby appoint former Lieutenant Mahdi as the person in charge of Baronet Zelpha’s rehabilitation and education. Does anyone object?”

Mahdi leapt up, intending to roar in protest, but his angry shout was drowned out by an overwhelming wave of voices crying, “No objections!”

“My, democracy certainly is a wonderful thing.”

Doctor Lee wore a smile reminiscent of Mephistopheles, and with a devilish grin, even directed it towards Walenkov, who was considered relatively good-natured.

“I beg of you, Mr Mahdi, please teach the boy that earning money is a far more meaningful way to live than killing people.”

“And that this is for his own sake, as well as all mankind.”

Between the arguments and the verbal sparring, the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' approached the Jouslain fleet surrounding Uraniborg, as silently as a lion and as boldly as a hyena. The objective was to take custody of Zelpha Tytania. There was, however, another equally important purpose.

On the bridge of the ''Austra'', Duke Jouslain Tytania gathered a small group of high-ranking officers, including Balamy, and made his announcement.

“Once Zelpha has been handed over, we shall resume combat. All ships, transition to semi-A-class battle formation immediately!”

Rear-admiral Mittendorf, Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey responded with tense salutes. The four of them had only just been struck with astonishment by the announcement that Zelpha would be handed over to the Blaze Flag Army.

“That bastard Jouslain, what is he thinking?” muttered Idris to himself, standing before the screen, bathed in the blue and white light of the stars.

It was pointless to try to calculate how many hours it had been since he last slept, so he did not bother. Though he was exhausted, his body was filled with a strange energy, and he had no intention of resting. He felt as though his body was brimming with an excess of heat, yet the cold air gathered around him like beads of frost, stimulating his senses. His eyes, which stared fixedly at the countless points of light, large and small, looked as though they were bloodshot.

“Zelpha is somewhere within that fleet… If only I could determine where…”

Idris bit the inside of his lower lip. As long as Zelpha remained in Jouslain’s grasp, it was impossible to launch an indiscriminate attack upon the enemy.

Although he had attempted to use words that bordered on threats against Jouslain, he knew they would have no effect. What Idris feared most, however, was that by taking Zelpha hostage, Jouslain would force him to accept a peace treaty. It was only natural; if Idris were Jouslain, he would do the same. He would impose terms of extreme severity. Yet, for Idris to accede to those negotiations in order to save Zelpha would mean removing himself from the Clanner’s seat forever.

In the first place, there was no way Clanner Ajman would approve of surrendering to the enemy without a fight. The sense of awe that loomed beyond his hatred had not vanished.

Clanner Ajman had retreated once more into his inviolable sanctuary, vanishing from sight. Before the closed doors, Idris could do nothing but stand frozen.

''“I have dealt with Ariabert. Now, try to handle the rest on your own,”'' is likely what the Clanner would say.

Yet, in exchange for Ariabert’s life, his beloved younger brother, Zelpha, had fallen into the hands of the enemy. The life of Zelpha was clearly of no concern to the Clanner. To Idris, the uncertainty surrounding Zelpha’s safety felt like an especially piercing shard of ice.

At that moment, Idris’ inner universe was filled with a whirlwind of passion, and even he could not predict how it would run rampant once it focused upon a single direction.

“Regardless, we cannot afford to fall any further behind in battle.”

If even a single other part of Uraniborg were to sustain damage, ten million citizens would fall into a panic. Allocating troops to manage such an occurrence would leave the defences against the enemy even more depleted. He had to demonstrate a posture of primary engagement in a way that was visible to all.

Idris summoned the newly appointed interception commander, Vice-Admiral Ridenhour, and informed him of a certain matter that left him utterly astonished.

“Do you intend to board the ''Black Prince''?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“With all due respect, if the ''Black Prince'' were to set out under the current circumstances, it would be met with concentrated fire the moment it cleared the harbour gates. I judge it to be far too dangerous.”

Idris stared intently at the Vice-Admiral.

“I appreciate the warning, but is it a vessel that would be destroyed by mere concentrated fire?”

“No, that is not quite… I mean…”

“I did not say I would board it immediately. I merely said to have it prepared so that I can board at any time. Is that understood?”

“As you wish…”

As Vice-Admiral Ridenhour departed with the composure befitting a high-ranking officer, another person appeared as if in his stead. It was the Countess Theodora Tytania.

“It seems the final battle is about to begin. What are our chances of victory?”

Idris gave a low laugh.

“If I gave you a blank canvas, Theodora, I suppose you would produce a decent enough painting. Unfortunately, however, the majority of the picture is already finished. All that you and I can do, at most, is adding a bit of colour.”

Theodora looked at Idris with surprise. In truth, she was indeed surprised.

“You speak with the flair of an artist.”

“Hmph. If I told you that I wanted to be a painter when I was a child, would you believe me?”

As Theodora remained silent, Idris continued, his words sounding like a monologue.

“Well, I do not care for your opinion, but there was something utterly inexplicable. When you mix all colours together, they become black. No matter how many times I tried, this is what happened. There was no other way to approach it. Therefore, the only option left was to absorb every colour and master the essence of black.”

“… Do you intend to depart in person? At last?”

“There is no point in keeping the ''Black Prince'' moored any longer. That ship is the very pinnacle of black.”

“One cannot blame the late Duke Zarlisch, then.”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

Theodora looked at Idris with a calculating smile.

“You used to mock Duke Zarlisch quite often. You said he was a slave to his hysterical mother, that he couldn’t distinguish between public and private affairs, that his cause was secondary to the greater good, and whether someone like him was truly fit to be the Clanner.”

“…”

“I wonder about that. For you, who aspire to be the next Clanner of Tytania, did you not hesitate to engage in the final battle because you were so concerned for your younger brother?”

“That is in the past. Enough. I did not summon you here, so leave at once and go splash some perfume on that invisible tail of yours.”

Every five or ten minutes, the tension among the soldiers continued to rise. In proportion to that, they repeated the same topics, attempting to soothe their own anxieties.

“I never imagined Duke Ariabert would die in such a manner.”

“I certainly didn’t.”

“That just wasn’t right. He was an enemy commander, true, but he was a fine man.”

“I served in his fleet for about two years once; he was a very pleasant person…”

“Hey, everyone, why so gloomy!?”

An unnaturally cheerful voice drifted through the gaps in their helmets.

“The greatest threat has been eliminated. Only Duke Jouslain remains, but there is no way he possesses the same tactical prowess as Duke Ariabert. We have won.”

“…”

“What’s wrong? Celebrate!”

A storm of rebuttals instantly swirled through the ranks.

“How can we celebrate, you reckless fool!?”

“It isn’t as if we fought with honour and took Duke Ariabert’s head ourselves.”

“What is there to be happy about, having our great achievement snatched away by a mere child of some twelve-thirteen years?”

The motorised infantry, who were being nudged from both sides and tapped on their helmets, raised their voices in discontent.

“Then, are you implying that we won through cowardly means?”

“Are you suggesting that what happened was a fair tactic?”

“Hmph. You might have a point. But if that’s the case, why don’t you go tell Duke Idris exactly that!?”

In an instant, a chill descended upon the scene. The soldiers exchanged glances, but no matter which face they looked upon, they could find no expression of hope. Their courage, their fighting spirit, their animosity, and even their pride had fallen into a state of suspended animation. To bolster their morale, they would have needed a grand, almost magical speech, or a tangible, decisive victory, or perhaps something even greater. However, none of those things seemed likely to arrive in the near future.

The soldiers of Uraniborg possessed an arrogance born of their immense pride in being members of the Tytania regime. That pride was lost because the very best part of Tytania had vanished with the untimely death of Ariabert. Those who anchored their self-esteem in external factors were prone to losing their identities easily through the collapse of an organisation or the death of a superior. Consequently, it stood to reason that the officers and men, who had derived their pride from being “under the command of Duke Ariabert,” would fall into despair and disband; yet, it was precisely because the opposite phenomenon occurred that the “Uraniborg Incident” was so peculiar.

In short, what the troops of the Uraniborg army required was a supreme commander possessing a charisma equal to that of the late Ariabert, but Idris had not yet proven himself to be such a man.

In a corner of the Clanner’s manor, where officers and officials were scurrying about in a state of commotion, a woman dressed in an out-of-place, pale lilac gown was stumbling along. She was the Duchess Theresa Tytania.

“Come to think of it, Zarlisch wasn’t such a bad boy… his only flaw was that his features were a bit rough-looking…”

The Duchess’ voice, which wavered in pitch, drifted through the room upon the heavy scent of rum.

A noblewoman permitted to bear the Tytania name ought to have been a symbol of nobility and grace, but that was already a lost cause. Had Zarlisch merely remained alive, she would surely have been accorded the respect due to his mother; yet now, Duchess Theresa Tytania was nothing more than a nuisance to the doctors and nurses, a subject of ridicule and pity for every Tytania-related person from the highest to the lowest rank.

The only things that indicated her former nobility were the pale lilac dress made of the finest Meishan silk and the jewels pressed into her thick neck and fingers; even her hair was no longer elegantly arranged. In her right hand, she clutched a bottle of rum.

As the lady stumbled along her path, a middle-aged man dressed in an expensive-looking suit appeared before her. It was Count Elman Tytania.

Count Elman attempted to turn on his heel swiftly. He had no intention of getting involved with Theresa. Even without this, he had already incurred Idris’ displeasure regarding the matter of the Blaze Flag Army. He had intended to establish himself as the person holding full authority in negotiations with the pirate factions, acting, so to speak, as a minister of foreign affairs during wartime. However, his worldly yet healthy ambition had been crushed by the combination of those unscrupulous pirates and the short-tempered duke.

Having suffered enough misfortune, Count Elman had no desire to experience any more. He tried to quickly round the corner of the corridor, leaving Theresa behind in her state of loneliness and delusion. Yet, misfortune was not yet ready to let go of the middle-aged nobleman.

“Oh, if it isn’t Count Elman. Now, I wonder if I should say it has been a long time since we last met.”

Count Elman cursed himself. In aristocratic society, one could not simply ignore a person of higher rank when they addressed you.

“It has indeed been a long time, Duchess.”

“Oh my, oh, my, I feel as though that was the first time someone has actually replied to me today… Or is it just my imagination?”

Suddenly, Count Elman was overcome by an unexpected emotion. It went by the name of “pity”.

Theresa’s husband was already dead, having left her with two sons. Her sons, namely Duke Zarlisch and Count Arses, had both predeceased their mother. They had been murdered by the same person. It was Count Elman who had brought the individual responsible for Theresa’s vengeance to Uraniborg. And the one who had hindered the avenging of her sons’ deaths was…

All at once, Count Elman bellowed.

“Guards! Nurses! Anyone! Is no one there!?”

The Duchess, whose body had become a compound of alcohol, resentment, and despair, slumped into Count Elman’s arms. Once again, a group of unfortunate guards came rushing over, numbering three or four.

“Your Lordship, for a civil official to be in such a place…”

“If you have time to talk, then take the Duchess to her infirmary! Hurry! What do you intend to do if the worst should happen!?”

The expression and furious shouts of Count Elman, who had long been regarded as a moderate gentleman, left the guards aghast. Two of the guards took turns with Count Elman, supporting the Duchess’ body with arms far more powerful than his own. A third man pulled out a mobile phone to call the medical office. While keeping his eyes on the Duchess, Count Elman pulled out a handkerchief.

“Why has it come to this? Why?…”

As Count Elman wiped the saliva from the lady’s suit,

“That is something I would like to know myself.”

A cold, dry voice spoke, halting the movement of Count Elman’s hand. Standing there, amidst the bewildered staff officers and guards, was a man.

“Duke Idris…”

“You have certainly shown great kindness. However, it must have been a nuisance.”

When Idris spoke, without even a hint of sympathy, a mass of alcohol-soaked flesh stirred and uttered a voice.

“Oh my, it isn’t Idris this time… No, you look just like him, but it’s not you, is it?”

“Are you calling me an impostor?”

Idris frowned and cast his gaze towards Count Elman. The Count shook his head in a panic. It was a silent dialogue. It conveyed the sentiment of ''“Has this woman finally lost her mind?”'' and ''“No, I do not know.”''

Idris let out an affected sigh.

“Duchess Theresa, you never fail to catch me off guard. I am the true Idris. Forgive my bluntness, but it appears you are finally seeing hallucinations.”

“Oh dear, but that isn’t right. If you were the true Idris, you would be carrying the heads of Ariabert and Jouslain in both your hands.”

“……!”

“You were boasting so loudly, after all. I assumed you had already scattered the enemy and received words of praise from His Clanner Highness?”

“Duchess, Duke Ariabert is…”

Count Elman, who had been on the verge of revealing the truth because he could no longer bear it, felt his tongue freeze at the sound of that youthful voice, which was brimming with murderous intent.

“There is no need to say anything more, Count Elman.”

Idris walked forward slowly and came to a halt before Duchess Theresa. He frowned as the breath of alcohol hit him directly. It was at that very moment that an officer, receiving a call on his mobile phone, cried out almost in a shout.

“Duke Idris, I come to report!”

“What is it?”

“The enemy has resumed their attack!”

For a moment, Idris steadied his breathing; he started to walk but then stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at Count Elman.

“Count Elman, I leave the matter of Lady Theresa to you. It is a burden, but such is the way of things. You must accept it.”

As Idris walked away with brisk strides, Elman bowed to his retreating back with a heavy sigh. He had decided to “accept” it. The left side of his face shone pale. The enemy’s artillery fire was reflecting through the transparent wall.

“Do not falter! Hold your ground!” shouted Idris.

The screen before his eyes was turning into a storm of intersecting lines of fire, beams of light, and the glare of explosions.

Ariabert’s death would bring about a major turning point in the war. Idris told himself this with conviction. He strove to ensure it. After all, Ariabert’s legion, stripped of his leadership, would be nothing more than a pack of leaderless wolves. He anticipated that the various armies, currently observing the situation, would begin to move once they realised there was no hope of victory against Jouslain’s lone “Anti-Uraniborg” force. They would undoubtedly rush toward the rear of the “AJ Alliance without A,” seeking to gather even the smallest morsel of the fruits of victory. If that happened, they would pincer the hated Jouslain from both sides and annihilate him within a complete encirclement.

The movement of the various factions was much like discovering a glowing supernova in the midst of a dark nebula. At least, that was how Idris viewed it. After all, Clanner Ajman remained in power at Uraniborg, and it was the Clanner himself who had ordered Ariabert’s “execution”. As long as the Clanner represented authority and justice, it should have been only natural for the various factions to join forces at Uraniborg to crush the rebel Jouslain.

“Vice-Admiral Ridenhour!”

“Yes?”

“I am entrusting you with the command of the interception. I trust the ''Black Prince'' is ready for a ''sortie''.”

“Yes sir. At a moment’s notice.”

“I shall board in fifteen minutes. Inform all crew members accordingly. Furthermore, open the first port gate in ten minutes.”

“Brother.”

At the sudden call, the elegant lines of Idris’ cheek stiffened. It was not Zelpha’s voice.

“You certainly have a lot of nerve, coming back here like this.”

Idris’ voice pierced Radmoth like a poisoned needle of hatred and contempt. At least, it was meant to, but his younger brother, who had returned safely, merely stood there staring at him with dull eyes.

Looking at Radmoth made Idris feel confused about whom he was actually supposed to view as an enemy. He shook his head and spat out words devoid of even a shred of affection.

“What business do you have, showing up here so boldly? I have no recollection of calling for you.”

The reply came immediately.

“Brother, I shall be the one to pilot the ''Black Prince''.”

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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1

2026-10-12T18:30:12Z

Bob Morane: /* I */

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== Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision ==
=== I ===
Whether the funeral was truly fitting for the deceased was something Duke Jouslain Tytania could not be certain of. He had ordered the funeral for Duke Ariabert Tytania, who had been both his half-brother and his cousin, but left the specific arrangements to the deceased’s subordinates. He sat in silence before the capsule containing the body.

Jouslain had lost his composure. His only solace was the awareness of this fact, yet he was merely barely keeping his head above the surface of reason to draw breath and was unable to save anyone. The cause was clear and singular, yet there were countless reasons why that single cause was able to devastate him so completely.

If one were to use extreme phrasing, it could be said that Ariabert’s death shook the whole of human society. Not only those directly involved in the “Uraniborg Incident”, but also the people who had been excited by the possibility of witnessing a moment in history changing through the media, lost their voices in shock. While it was entirely predictable that a commander might die in battle amidst the flames of war, the fact that a side on the verge of victory was assassinated during a temporary ceasefire exceeded the imagination of the general public.

In the name of the Landless Clanner Ajman, Tytania officially announced Duke Ariabert Tytania’s “sudden death”. The cause of death was declared to be an “unofficial execution”, which was a just punishment for the “outrageous act” of launching a military attack against Tytania’s headquarters. All questions and doubts were coldly ignored.

The Tytania-affiliated media—in other words, the vast majority of the press—attempted to justify this proclamation and work towards calming the situation, but it was impossible for viewers and readers to accept what the journalists themselves could not reconcile. It was certain, however, that Uraniborg had undermined its own credibility.

Within the military forces under Ariabert’s command, resentment and indignation swirled, overriding all other emotions. This was only natural.

“Damn it, who are we even fighting for?” spat out aimlessly in the air a man who appeared to be an NCO. “We were so close to victory. Just on the verge of achieving the great feat of capturing Uraniborg… How can something like this happen?”

Then, another man, likely a fellow NCO, snapped back with an even more fierce tone of anger.

“We were supposed to win? Don’t talk such nonsense! We had already won! It was Uraniborg that resorted to a cowardly ambush!”

That was no exaggeration. The majority of those fighting believed in the unprecedented situation: the victory of Ariabert’s army and the fall of Uraniborg. It should have been merely a matter of time. Yet, everything had been overturned in a single instant.

“I have never heard of such a foul method. So this is how Uraniborg operates!”

Ariabert’s death dealt an unprecedented shock to the Tytania troops. Could a commander of such renown be allowed to fall not in battle, but to assassination? And by a young boy claiming to be a peace envoy, no less. It was the complete antithesis of the word “fairness”.

“Duke Ariabert fell victim to a despicable conspiracy.”

This was the view held by the majority of the soldiers, while others argued,

“We’re the ones at fault for our own carelessness.”

Such opinions were almost non-existent.

There are countless examples of assassination being employed as a means when there is no chance of victory in a fair fight. However, Tytania had always fought openly once hostilities had commenced. While they had occasionally used rather forced pretexts for war and had sometimes crushed enemies without mercy or refused offers of peace, they had, at the very least, never offered a peace treaty only to assassinate their opponent.

“Death in battle would have been one thing.”

“But assassination is far too despicable.”

“And to use children, no less…”

In the end, those three points served to set the will to fight against Uraniborg ablaze. The officers of the Ariabert fleet naturally gathered together, quickly reached a consensus, and descended upon Duke Jouslain to demand an audience.

“We have fought with our lives on the line under His Grace Ariabert.”

“Ariabert fleet’s military record has remained untarnished by even a single blemish.”

“We are not cowards who would retreat without even seeking vengeance after having our commander murdered.”

“Justice for His Grace Ariabert!”

With flushed faces and eyes gleaming, they pressed Jouslain, their fists clenched. Jouslain gazed at them with a somewhat vacant expression. He had imagined this might happen, yet he had been unable to resolve how he should deal with them.

These were proud, battle-hardened subordinates who had achieved great feats under Ariabert’s service. Had Ajman perhaps anticipated this reaction from them?

He likely had. No, perhaps he had gone beyond anticipation and even expected it. Jouslain felt as though he had been cast into the darkness of a bottomless cavern.

“Your Grace Jouslain, we implore you to take command over us.”

“We shall follow you.”

“Give us your orders, please!”

“Command us to launch a general assault on Uraniborg!”

From senior officers in their later years to lieutenants barely into adulthood, they seemed poised to surround Jouslain, their faces openly displaying fury, sorrow, and a thirst for vengeance.

“Calm yourselves, gentlemen. I understand your sentiments well. However, I ask you to reconsider. To persist in an attack on Uraniborg at this moment would mean opposing Clanner Ajman and would make us nothing less than a rebel army.”

In terms of battlefield command capability and the trust of the soldiers, Jouslain was nowhere near the level of Ariabert. That was an undeniable fact, and Ariabert’s subordinates would likely have to rely solely on their own experience and execution at the tactical level.

“Even so, do you gentlemen truly intend to fight the forces of Uraniborg?”

“Yes, we do, Your Grace.”

Jouslain looked around at the assembly and posed his question with an air of unshakeable composure.

“Do you believe I am worthy of being your commander?”

“Your Grace, you were a comrade of the late Duke Ariabert. We have no hesitation in looking to you as our commander.”

“The late Duke Ariabert always spoke highly of your talents, Your Grace. Just as we followed him, we shall follow you.”

“I am grateful for your words, but…”

Jouslain felt the expectations of Ariabert’s subordinates swell around him like a wave of pressure. It was a torrent of emotion, so great that he could do nothing more than maintain his posture and keep his expression unchanged. To be swallowed by this would be dangerous. If Clanner Ajman had foreseen this situation, then even more treacherous pitfalls might be lying in wait.

“Gentlemen, I have a proposal to make. I ask that you discuss it amongst yourselves.”

The officers looked at one another. Jouslain continued:

“Once you have reached a conclusion, I shall abide by it. I only ask that you listen with an open mind.”

A middle-aged man stepped forward before Jouslain. It was a face Jouslain recognised. He saluted, introducing himself as Rear-admiral Mittendorf.

“In all likelihood, we have already reached a conclusion, but if Your Grace Jouslain says so, then we would be honoured to present it.”

“Please, do proceed.”

In an instant, silence dominated the room. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed intently on Jouslain, waiting to hear what he was proposing.

“It is quite simple. Restrain me and use me as a hostage to offer your surrender to Uraniborg. Though I say restrain, there is no need to concern yourselves with whether I live or die. I shall use my own life to plead for your pardon. I shall ensure that no punishments are imposed and that your former positions are not forfeited.”

“Are you truly serious, Your Grace!?”

“Of course, I am serious. I do not care for jokes, and this is no joke.”

Rear-admiral Mittendorf looked at Jouslain, his confusion plain to see.

“You are suggesting that we surrender without further fighting…. If we do so, what then becomes of our honour, our cause?”

“The entire universe and all of humanity know how bravely you have fought and how brightly your names have shone. Who could possibly slander you for having surrendered? That is my proposal. What say you?”

“Whether others slander us or not is of no concern to me. However, what will become of the honour of the Ariabert Army? Our consciences will not permit us to surrender shamelessly, sacrificing Your Grace Jouslain, and act as though nothing had ever happened.”

“If you follow my proposal, only I will die. If we fight, tens of thousands more will fall. There is room for consideration.”

At that moment, Francia glanced at Jouslain’s profile. From the opposite side, Viscount Balamy Tytania stared at Jouslain as well. Jouslain remained facing forward, yet he felt their gazes piercing intensely into his left and right cheeks.

A single female officer stepped forward. She saluted while gazing intently at Jouslain, though prior to that, her eyes had been directed rather towards Francia. It was Captain Edna Fredericks.

“If I may be so bold as to offer my opinion, Your Ducal Grace Jouslain.”

“Nothing bold about it; let me hear you.”

“Then, if I may, Your Grace, we—no, I personally—desire to continue the battle against the forces of Uraniborg.”

Meeting Jouslain’s direct gaze head-on, Edna spoke with absolute clarity.

“To offer peace only to assassinate the opposing commander. We shall not bend our knees to an enemy that employs such despicable means. Please, allow us to deliver the righteous retribution these scoundrels deserve.”

A wave of whispers and glances erupted all at once. Like a breached levee, Jouslain was completely swallowed by the surging tide of combat spirit.

“I second Captain Fredericks!”

“I also agree. Fire upon Uraniborg!”

“Let justice be served to those villains!”

=== II ===
Jouslain had not realised that Captain Edna Fredericks possessed such eloquence. He leaned forward slightly, gazing at Edna.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Yes.”

“… Forgive my presumption in asking, but is your desire to seek vengeance for Ariabert?”

“I will not deny it.”

“And is that not a matter of personal grievance?”

“I shall not deny that either. However, it is a grievance we share. And I believe that Your Grace Jouslain will understand, or rather, will empathise with that sentiment.”

A smile played upon Jouslain’s lips. If there was such a thing as a smile that served only to stiffen one’s expression, it was precisely that.

“That, I cannot deny… After all, this is nothing more than a private conflict within the Tytania faction.”

Jouslain’s self-deprecation failed to resonate with Ariabert’s subordinates.

“Your Grace, please make a statement!”

As one officer cried out, dozens of voices rose in unison. Any further delay was now impossible.

“I have understood your will, gentlemen. There is no need to waste any more time. In my name, we shall proceed with the assault on Uraniborg.”

A roar of cheers erupted like a rising tide. Jouslain raised a hand to quell the few seconds of frenzy.

“There is but one thing I ask you to promise. It concerns Baronet Zelpha. While that boy was the one who physically carried out the conspiracy to assassinate Ariabert, he was merely a tool used by the true culprit. His detention is a given, but his ultimate fate must be left to a fair trial after the war. I will absolutely not tolerate any form of abuse or violence. Against the baseness of Uraniborg, we must achieve victory not only through military might but through fairness<ref name="ftn1">“Fairness” (道義性) is pronounced “fairness”.</ref> as well. Do not bring shame upon the name of Duke Ariabert.”

“As Your Grace commands!”

Along with numerous shouts, military berets were tossed into the air.

“Report the enemy’s movements. Are there any signs of an enemy ''sortie'' from Uraniborg?”

An officer pushed his way through his comrades to step forward, saluted, and introduced himself as Captain Ripple, the officer in charge of reconnaissance.

“I have a report. So far, the enemy has shown no signs of a ''sortie''. It appears they are preoccupied with repairing damaged facilities and vessels, as well as reorganising their combat groups.”

In his brisk manner and precise speech, one could sense the influence of the late Ariabert.

“Good work. Continue to maintain vigilance and ensure we are in a position to respond immediately to any enemy attack.”

“Understood!”

Internally, Jouslain felt a sense of relief. He had been contemplating the possibility that Uraniborg might take advantage of Ariabert’s death to launch an all-out offensive. If the enemy possessed a cold and ruthless strategist, they would not have missed such an opportunity. The fact that they had not done so meant…

“Is it the effect of holding Zelpha hostage?” he murmured to himself. “If that boy is indeed effective as a hostage… then can it be assumed that Idris is the one currently holding military authority at Uraniborg?”

Jouslain, who had nearly lost himself in thought, managed to redirect his attention to the people before him. Dealing with them was his immediate priority.

“Gentlemen, I shall say this once more: when it comes to the command of actual combat, I do not even come close to the late Lord Ariabert. Without the cooperation of gentlemen with both knowledge and experience, such as yourselves, there is no certain path to victory—not against Duke Idris, let alone the Clanner. I ask for your cooperation.”

“Hail Tytania!”

“Victory to Duke Jouslain!”

The generals responded with enthusiasm, thrusting their fists into the air.

For the time being, it seemed the collapse of the army had been averted. Jouslain ordered the assembly to disperse and remained standing in a salute, seeing them off until the very last person had departed.

With Ariabert’s death, Jouslain lost sight of “what Tytania ought to be in the future.” It happened with an intensity even he could not have imagined, striking Jouslain down and scattering all his designs.

Countless options remained. However, in the end, there was only one path to follow. Because he had once firmly chosen the course of “making Ariabert the Clanner and supporting him to gradually downsize Tytania itself,” the shock of having that path severed was fatal. Jouslain had reached the heights of fury towards Ajman, who had wiped Ariabert away without regard for reason, means, or public opinion, but now that fury was beginning to tilt towards terror and a sense of defeat.

After seeing the others away, Jouslain remained seated before the capsule containing Ariabert’s remains for a long time. The cooling gas used for preservation filled the capsule, coating its surface in frost.

Suddenly, a soft, youthful voice brushed against his ear.

“Please, take a moment to rest, Lord Jouslain.”

“Do not trouble yourself so, Francia. I shall rest soon enough… eternally.”

“That way of speaking is proof of how exhausted you are.”

Francia’s voice caused a flicker of surprise in Jouslain. Rather than the voice of a lover or a lady-in-waiting, it sounded to him like that of an elder sister. Since Jouslain had no biological sister, this was merely a thought born of his meagre imagination. In reality, given the true nature of the relationship between Jouslain and Francia, the proper response would have been a sharp ''“Don’t overstep your boundaries”''. However, Jouslain did not do so. He averted his gaze from Ariabert’s body, which was faintly visible through the frost, and looked upon Francia.

He had always intended to protect Francia, but he wondered if, in truth, it wasn’t he who had been relying on her. Confused by the thought, Jouslain responded in a weary voice:

“Very well, then. I shall rest for a while.”

“Yes. It would please me greatly if you would do so.”

There was a slight impulse in Francia’s voice. The fact that Francia would be pleased if Jouslain rested brought a strange sensation to him. It was not unpleasant, yet it carried a sense of bewilderment. He had believed himself to have cherished Francia, but he wondered if he had instead been accumulating layers of unconscious insensitivity and arrogance.

Once the blood and burn marks had been carefully tended to, Ariabert’s face at the moment of death had been peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. However, he would no longer converse or deliberate with Jouslain.

Jouslain summoned Viscount Balamy Tytania and informed him that he was entrusting him with full authority during his absence. Balamy’s eyes widened slightly, and an expression flickered across his face as if he were searching for Jouslain’s true intent, but he uttered no unnecessary words and responded with a salute.

“I shall humbly obey your orders.”

“I am counting on you.”

It had been an uninspired exchange, but once he had seen it through safely, Jouslain entered his private quarters, took a shower, swallowed some sleeping pills, and rolled into bed. The abyss of sleep pulled him under instantly, but it did not last long. Within two hours, the communications officer arrived with a report.

“There is a request for an emergency call from Duke Idris from Uraniborg. He wishes to speak with you directly, Duke Jouslain.”

It was not Jouslain who reacted immediately. Viscount Balamy, who had been temporarily entrusted with full authority, frowned in the command seat on the bridge of the battleship ''Austra''.

“A conversation!? Isn’t it too late for that?”

“With what face does he intend to speak to us?”

Voices of fury erupted all around, but Balamy, as expected, did not join in. Depending on how they responded, there was a possibility that Uraniborg might suddenly resume hostilities. Balamy was well aware that he still lacked the strength required to confront Idris. The reason he had taken so long to summon Jouslain was not only that he needed time to wake him and straighten his uniform but also to provoke Idris. He felt that such a small tactic was well worth the effort.

When Jouslain sat before the communication screen, Idris half-shouted without even a greeting:

''“State your conditions.”''

“Conditions?”

''“Don’t play dumb! I am telling you to state the conditions for returning my brother Zelpha!”''

Jouslain’s expression darkened. He organised his newly awakened thoughts and responded with deliberate slowness:

“I have no conditions.”

''“What?”''

“If I return him, I shall do so unconditionally.”

''“You expect me to believe such words?…”''

Jouslain interrupted Idris’ tirade with chilling composure.

“You needn’t believe me. Interpret my words however you see fit.”

''“No, wait… wait! You said, ‘If I return him’?”''

“I used the subjunctive mood. What of it?”

''“So you have no intention of returning him… none at all.”''

Idris jumped to the conclusion. It was a shortsighted and suspicious leap, yet it was understandable from his position. He had gone so far as to suppress his own pride and bow his head to save his beloved younger brother, yet Jouslain refused to face him directly.

“You certainly provided me with plenty of hints, Idris.”

''“You bastard…”''

“Do not worry. I won’t harm the child. However, it remains a fact that your brother is a murderer. He may be intoxicated by his own childish heroism, acting the part of an assassin, but it would be problematic if he did not at least reflect upon the fact that he took a life.”

Jouslain’s voice was encased in a shell of ice, yet a subtle crack had formed within that armour. That was because Idris’ hatred and resentment towards him felt entirely justified.

“Ah, I really am a hateful man.”

Jouslain mocked himself, but even that expression might have appeared to Idris as nothing more than unpardonable arrogance.

=== III ===
''“Return Zelpha. Without a scratch.”''

In Idris’ tone was laced with a venomous threat, and Jouslain sensed a shred of genuine feeling. His affection for his youngest brother did not seem to be a lie.

“Idris, I must ask you one thing…”

''“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me with such familiarity. What is it?”''

“Are you conducting this communication with the Clanner’s permission?”

Idris’ handsome lips pressed together, then opened again, releasing a voice on the verge of trembling:

''“None of your business.”''

“So, you do not have permission.”

''“Quiet! At this stage, is there any need to consider the Clanner’s intentions? You need only negotiate with me. If you aren’t afraid of the Clanner, that is.”''

After a brief pause, Idris glared at Jouslain once more, but Jouslain replied with composure:

“Indeed, there is no use worrying about the Clanner’s intentions at this point. Even if I were to surrender, there would be no forgiveness. I have already passed the point of no return<ref name="ftn2">“Point of no return” (帰還限界点) is pronounced “point of no return”.</ref>. If that is how you wish to proceed, then so be it.”

Idris spoke of nothing but the glory and authority of the Tytania. Jouslain found this tiresome. Yet, perhaps it was Jouslain who had been the one lacking in foresight.

That their very existence today was due to the power and wealth of the Tytania. Had they not been born and raised within the Tytania, they would have never been granted the opportunity to display such talent at such a young age. Was it not Idris, rather than Jouslain, who held these facts in such clear recognition? Perhaps it was precisely because he was aware of the terror of loss that he had clung so fervently to the name of the Tytania, brandishing it as a weapon.

… After severing the communication with Jouslain, Idris threw his legs out across the desk in the combat command room and interlaced his fingers over his tucked abdomen. He had wanted to see just how shaken Jouslain would be by Ariabert’s untimely death, but he was instead struck with horror upon learning that the captured assassin was Zelpha. Was it not Jouslain who truly held a trump card? In his state of agitation, Idris had failed to say even a tenth of what he truly wished to say to Jouslain.

“Your Grace, Baron Radmoth has returned.”

Upon receiving the report, Idris was reminded of something he had no desire to recall. Besides Zelpha, Idris had another brother. Quite naturally, a shadow of loathing and fury darkened his brow. During the ensuing seconds of silence, Idris barely managed to suppress a passion that bordered on murderous intent.

“Your Grace, how would you like to proceed?”

The attendant asked, appearing somewhat obtuse.

“Don’t say it.”

“… Pardon?”

“Don’t utter his name! It defiles my ears.”

“Y-Yes, sir…”

Though the attendant was terrified, he could not bring himself to flee the spot, remaining there as motionless as a poorly crafted statue.

As if in inverse proportion, Idris regained his composure. He had long understood that a ruler had to be, in a sense, an actor. It was simply that he often forgot. It was due to his youth and the intense stress he endured.

With an immense effort, he steadied his tone.

“Baron Radmoth Tytania failed to fulfil his assigned mission. It is a disgrace as one who bears the name Tytania and enjoys the privileges of the nobility. While the official penalty shall be determined in the presence of His Clanner Highness, I hereby order him to remain under house arrest for the time being. All outings and leisure activities are prohibited. Communicate this to the individual in question, and let the responsible officers carry out this order immediately.”

“Understood.”

Both the speaker and the recipient felt, for the moment, a sense of relief. Idris had managed to avoid losing his dignity, and his subordinate had obtained a justifiable reason for his actions. Radmoth’s resentment would likely be directed towards his elder brother.

Once the subordinate had departed, Idris lowered his legs, rested both elbows on the desk, interlaced his fingers, and pressed his forehead against them. While his young body did not yet require much rest, his overworked brain continued to crave glucose. Idris craved something sweet, much like a child. Changing his posture, he scanned his surroundings and summoned an NCO standing in a corner of the room, ordering him to bring some hot chocolate. As the officer hurried away after receiving the solemn command, Idris pressed his forehead against his hands once more and sank into deep thought.

Ariabert’s untimely death should have been a cause for joy for Idris. He had, for the time being, managed to postpone a one-sided defeat. However, his mood could, at best, be described as an “unexpected victory by default”, and he was in no way capable of feeling triumphant. He had never imagined that the Clanner would assassinate Ariabert, nor could he have ever conceived that his youngest brother, Zelpha, would be used as a mere tool for such an end. He would have sooner died than admit it but the sweat trickling down his cheeks was composed mostly of terror.

Around this time, on a local scale, the subordinate organisations of Tytania continued their daily activities without interruption. On Planet A, a water supply system for arid regions was under construction, and the export of wheat and milk had commenced from Planet B to Planet C. On Planet D, negotiations were ongoing to extend the instalment payments for a 10-billion dakar loan from Tytania from twenty-five to forty instalments. All of these were minor matters that did not require the sanction of Uraniborg.

The people within the lower structures of Tytania were shocked by the death of Duke Ariabert and mourned him. Had it been death in battle, it might have been one thing, but assassination! Though they did not speak of it carelessly, the scales of their favour were beginning to tilt away from Uraniborg. It was only human nature, after all, that if one must be ruled by Tytania, one would prefer to be ruled by someone more just.

Though they remained cautious, they shared sighs among trusted colleagues and family members. What, after all, would become of Tytania?

Mediating conflicts between small nations. Checking the pressure exerted by great powers upon the small. Protecting the interests of the small to build up debts and favours. The influence of Tytania was the vast accumulation of such deeds.

If Tytania were to collapse, the group of small nations would lose the party to whom they could appeal for help. The shield behind which they could hide would vanish. The very axis of order would disappear. It was an unknown terror.

For the members of the anti-Tytania faction, Ariabert’s untimely death was a profound shock.

“I wonder if things will become easier for us. Even so, I wonder who will be left in the end.”

Miranda cast her gaze towards Doctor Lee. The Doctor perfectly controlled his facial muscles, maintaining an expression that prevented anyone from reading his thoughts. They were actually aboard the interstellar transport vessel ''Honest Old Man Junior'', which was, in truth, a pirate business ship. For a brief period, due to the miscalculations, misunderstandings, and misjudgments of those involved, they had sought refuge at Uraniborg, but that arrangement had not lasted. It was a delicate matter which party bore more responsibility, but the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' had slipped from the grasp of Tytania and was racing through the cosmic labyrinth. Or rather, it was merely wandering.

“There are still hundreds of others who carry the Tytania name.”

“Are there no ambitious souls among them who plot to seize the main house?”

“I heard no mention of any outstanding individuals. After all, the Four Dukes only became heads of their houses because they were exceptional, did they not? If there had been anyone more capable, they would have become the duke instead.”

No one could dispute Miranda’s view. The scent of cheap coffee filled the small dining room. The Salbestan coffee served at Uraniborg was far too high-quality to suit the palates of pirates. The inexpensive variety from Bertine was more than sufficient. The impoverished, who lived in defiance of authority, firmly believed that coffee was something meant to be gulped down.

“I never imagined things would turn out like this.”

Miranda shook her head. She wondered how many dozens of times she had done exactly that.

The leadership of Tytania was young. Even Clanner Ajman was only forty-one, and the four dukes were all in their twenties. Most people believed that stability would continue, despite any minor turbulence, until a generational shift occurred.

''“The Universe exists along with Tytania.”''

Yet, in just a single year, such radical changes had taken place. Half of the Four Dukes, the highest-ranking officials, had joined the ranks of the dead, and Uraniborg, which could be called the capital of the entire universe, had come under military attack. Just before the moment it was on the verge of falling, a spectacle occurring once in two centuries—the people’s imagination was tested once again.

“How did things end up like this?”

“That much is obvious, Mahdi. It’s because Hyulick won the Battle of Cerberus.”

“Hey, wait a minute, this is my fault!?”

“Exactly as Miranda says,” stated Doctor Lee with a tone of voice that might have been described as incurable. “That battle, an unforeseen defeat for Tytania, awakened a sleeping monster.”

“A monster?”

“It’s a metaphor, Hyulick.”

“I can grasp that much. I won’t ask what kind of monster it is, since you clearly won’t tell me, but if that’s the case, then Duke Ariabert, who was defeated back then, must also bear some responsibility.”

As Hyulick glared around at his companions, they each nodded with their own distinct expressions.

“Duke Ariabert, eh? Even for Tytania, it was a loss of a truly great man.”

“Wait a minute, Miranda! What is the reason for that disparity in evaluation compared to me!?”

“In my opinion, the difference in virtue,” replied maliciously Mahdi on her behalf.

=== IV ===
The death of Ariabert, who possessed absolute military prestige and widespread trust, sent shockwaves through human society. At a time when the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain were closing in on Uraniborg with greater momentum than anyone had anticipated, leaving observers breathless with fears that it might fall within days, the protagonist had made a sudden exit.

Zelpha had become a killer at the age of thirteen. Until then, his name had not been known to many, but as he became counted among the most famous individuals in the universe almost overnight, the media scrambled to uncover the boy’s profile.

A historian would later recount:

''“If Duke Idris had been the second-generation Clanner, Nuri, he would have launched an immediate, all-out assault to annihilate the enemy, even if his beloved brother were held captive. He certainly would have made the decision that even if his brother died, it was an unavoidable sacrifice.”''

“However, Duke Idris was unable to do so, as his attention was diverted by his brother’s safety. In the first place, the act of assassinating an enemy supreme commander holds no military significance, unless it is accompanied by an all-out offensive designed to trigger the collapse of the enemy forces.”

As an outside observer might remark, had Idris immediately ordered a major offensive, would he truly have been able to annihilate the AJ Alliance forces?

It was a biting irony, but in the sense that they were shaken by Ariabert’s death, the soldiers of Uraniborg were no different from Ariabert’s own men. Furthermore, in direct opposition to how Ariabert’s subordinates had strengthened their fighting spirit and unity through rage and a thirst for vengeance, the troops of the Uraniborg army had seen their morale decline amidst growing confusion. Although they felt a sense of relief at having temporarily averted the death looming before them, especially since it had been achieved through the very stratagem of Clanner Ajman himself.

''“No matter how you look at it, that was a dirty way to do things.”''

At least, that was the inner voice that hesitated to speak aloud. For the soldiers and officers who had believed in the “Great and Invincible Tytania,” it felt as though their pride and honour had been dragged through the mud. Furthermore, that mud had been hurled at them from above and behind, and they could find no way to voice any protest against the person who had thrown it. Clanner Ajman was, to them, no different from a living god.

''“Humans are emotional creatures.”''

It was a maxim with over five thousand years of history, and certainly, the masses were moved by emotion. Ariabert’s untimely death was so senseless that, following the initial shock, it gave rise to a simple, gnawing doubt: ''“Surely, this cannot be right”''. The official announcement from Uraniborg failed to satisfy the people.

The common citizens grew wary of those associated with Tytania, but in truth, the agitation among the Tytanians themselves was even greater than that of the populace. No matter who held the reins of Tytanian hegemony, there should have been no direct impact on the low-ranking soldiers or shopkeepers, yet certain “rumours” circulated.

“I hate to say it, but can Duke Jouslain really conquer Uraniborg?”

“He isn’t a soldier, is he? Though it’s in politics and diplomacy that he is pretty remarkable.”

“Still, it’s not as if he is a complete amateur, is it? I don’t remember it clearly, but I’m sure he defeated someone somewhere.”

“But come on, surely he only won by overwhelming them with far greater numbers?”

“Well, of course. Why would anyone go out of their way to fight with fewer troops than the enemy?”

“No, that’s my point. It won’t be like that this time. You’re thick, aren’t you?”

“What was that, you smooth-talker?!”

An electronic newspaper belonging to the Tytania Clan reported the following:

''“Duke Ariabert Tytania meets an untimely death during ceasefire negotiations.”''

While it appeared to merely report the facts in a detached manner, the writer’s true sentiment was revealed in the phrasing “during ceasefire negotiations.”

Due to the remarkable tactical superiority of the AJ Alliance forces, the state of human society had fallen into chaos, but rather than settling the matter, Clanner Ajman seemed only to have deepened it. Within that murky situation, time itself drifted by in a heavy, sluggish haze. Inside Uraniborg, low-voiced conversations flickered whenever three or more soldiers gathered:

“I thought for sure we might scatter in flight after losing such a respected commander.”

“But we didn’t surrender, nor did we even retreat.”

“It looks like we actually grew more united.”

“When you think about it, Duke Jouslain is still standing strong, after all.”

“However, compared to Duke Ariabert, his standing as a soldier was likely inferior. He’s a politician, after all.”

“So, what happens in the end?”

“It will be what it will be.”

Just then, the heavy, deliberate footfalls of a superior echoed, and the soldiers hurriedly fell silent.

This was the state of affairs three hours after the death of Duke Ariabert Tytania had been made public. Both the attackers and the defenders waited with bloodshot eyes and bodies taut with tension. Though none knew truly what they were waiting for.

In such a situation, perhaps the most fortunate of them all was Zarlisch, who passed away without witnessing the day’s tragedies for Tytania.

Duke Jouslain Tytania thought in a manner characteristic of himself, and a bitter smile etched itself upon his lips.

He, too, had been waiting. Just like the masses and the soldiers, he had been waiting for something. For the most part, it was something for which the responsibility for the decision lay with Jouslain himself. He believed he had made his decision. He was prepared to fight Clanner Ajman at the risk of his life. That resolve was set. However, strange as it was, he could not form a concrete judgement as to what must be done first to achieve it. There were more than a dozen options available to him, but he could not predict his opponent’s reaction. He almost wished the enemy would strike first. Yet, there was a limit to how long he could wait.

The person who provided the saving move was the very individual who had directly created the current situation. Zelpha. Having been granted an audience with Jouslain, the boy spoke bluntly the moment they met.

“I am not afraid of death.”

Jouslain responded with silence to Zelpha’s lofty voice. Observing that expression, a shadow of fear silently spread its wings across the young assassin’s face. The thirteen-year-old boy had managed to hide his fear of death from his opponent. It was a remarkable feat, yet it was also his limit. Faced with Jouslain’s cold gaze and flanked by soldiers on either side, the boy raised his voice:

“I am not afraid of death! Do you hear me?”

“… I am listening.”

“Then say something!”

“From the very beginning, I had no intention of killing you.”

Jouslain’s voice was, so to speak, a frozen flame. A wave of shuddering dread surged through Zelpha’s entire body.

“… What do you intend to do?”

He used every ounce of his strength to suppress the trembling in his voice.

“To kill Idris.”

Zelpha’s vision went dark. The shock had caused his field of vision to narrow. He staggered before Jouslain, but he did not even have the luxury of feeling ashamed of such an unsightly display.

“Don’t lay a hand on my brother! If you’re going to kill someone, kill me. I am the one who killed Ariabert!”

“So?”

“Kill me!”

“I refuse.”

Jouslain’s voice sent a shiver through even Viscount Balamy Tytania, who stood by his side.

“I will not kill you. You are not worth killing. You shall atone for the crime you have committed through the death of your brother. Live as long as you can, and carry the weight of your crime upon your shoulders until the day you die.”

“If you kill my brother, I’ll kill you! I swear, I will kill you!”

Jouslain responded to Zelpha’s scream with nothing but cold derision:

“Ah, we are certainly engaged in sophisticated conversation. Truly, this is Tytania! Strip away the status and the honour, and there is nothing that distinguishes this from the chatter of common criminals. And yet, it feels as though we are presiding over a summit to decide the fate of all mankind. However, there is a vacancy in this meeting.”

“A vacancy? What seat are you referring to?” asked Zelpha, drawn in by the thought.

Jouslain replied, a single corner of his lip curling upward:

“Conscience and morality.”

Before Zelpha could even decide how to react, Jouslain commanded the soldiers:

“Take him away at once. I have no time for idle chatter with a useless captive.”

“Jouslain! I will kill you, I swear it! I will make you regret this…!”

As Zelpha was led away, halfway dragged along, Balamy shrugged his shoulders, and Francia gazed at her master with a look of concern. Jouslain suppressed a bitter sigh within his throat.

He felt that it would be better to show leniency here. Should he kill Zelpha, the public sentiment would shift. It would provide the masses with the very reason they needed to turn against him, painting Jouslain as a cold and heartless man who murdered a thirteen-year-old boy.

“This ruthlessness and calculation are the true nature of Tytania. What is there to be ashamed of now that an outsider has discovered it? No, we never had the right to be ashamed in the first place.”

Jouslain shifted his gaze.

“Francia.”

“Yes?”

“Zelpha shall remain in custody for the time being. I have no intention of subjecting him to abuse, but Francia, you are not to go near him.”

Francia widened her eyes slightly as she gazed at her master.

“That boy has currently lost his reason. If he thinks too hard, there is no telling what he might do. If he were to kill himself with something like a fork, it would be one thing, but if he were to take you hostage, I would… be troubled.”

Francia bowed her head to her master, infusing the gesture with as much compassion as she could muster.

“I am honoured by your concern.”

“No, it is not that I am particularly worried about you, as you are a reliable person, but when dealing with an opponent whose actions are unpredictable, well, how shall I put it—it is always best to be cautious.”

Revealing a commonness that sat poorly with his illustrious record, Jouslain shifted his gaze once more toward Balamy. Since Balamy had been struggling to choose an appropriate expression for some time, he had simply erased all emotion from his face as much as possible. Jouslain ordered him to summon three of Ariabert’s primary aides.

=== V ===
Within five minutes, the three aides arrived before Jouslain.

Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey were their names. Edna Fredericks was not among them.

While the ancestral lineages of the three officers were all different, the result of dozens of generations of interbreeding meant they shared a very pale wheatish skin tone. As for their hair, the elder Magnorton had a golden hue streaked with grey, while the two middle-aged men had black hair. In any case, they had not been chosen based on their appearance. It was said that Ariabert placed great trust in these three, as they were not flashy but steady and sound military strategists.

Jouslain walked towards the three saluting officers himself and shook hands with each one. A wave of emotion and excitement pulsed through Jouslain’s palms.

“As a tactician, I do not hold a candle to you. To fairly carry out Ariabert’s vengeance, your strength is indispensable. I want Rear-Admiral Mittendorf and the three of you to lead a meeting of experts and present me with combat plans as soon as possible. You may submit multiple alternatives.”

“Understood!”

“Duke Ariabert was a comrade-in-arms to both you and me. Let us each do our utmost to avenge that comrade. I am counting on you.”

As the three officers departed, their faces flushed with the vigour of youth after being somewhat pale until that moment, Jouslain fell into thought for several seconds.

“Lord Balamy.”

“Yes?”

“Would you be so kind as to escort Princess Lydia back to her homeland?”

Balamy was taken aback by the sudden change in subject, but he quickly understood. Upon reflection, although Princess Lydia was accompanying Jouslain due to circumstances, she was a princess of a nation that did not belong directly to Tytania; leaving a girl of barely ten years at the front lines of a war was dangerous and, quite frankly, pointless.

“Then, whom shall you appoint as her escort?”

Jouslain’s expression shifted with suspicion.

“What are you saying? Obviously you’re the one who shall escort the Princess.”

“Me?”

“Who else?”

“Do you intend to remove me from this battle!?”

Balamy raised his voice.

“I have only just been entrusted to act as commander the other day. Though unworthy, I was prepared to serve with all my heart, but you change your orders so soon<ref name="ftn3">Literally “an order in the morning modified at night” (朝令暮改), an expression referring to changing laws or order with no rhyme or reason.</ref>?”

What Balamy said was true. Jouslain had no room for argument. This proposal had been born from Jouslain’s simple desire to prevent Balamy from dying, but it could not be denied that there had been a certain lack of foresight on Jouslain’s part. He had, after all, tasked a young man who possessed more vigour and sharpness than his actual age suggested with the care of a child. It was a task far beneath his station.

“Lord Balamy, you’re the only one I can entrust with Princess Lydia. That is why I am asking this of you. If you are willing, you need only return here alone immediately after the Princess has been safely delivered.”

“And what will you do if the ship carrying Princess Lydia is attacked by the enemy?”

“… What?”

“There are many, both far and near, who would seek to kidnap Princess Lydia to prove their loyalty to Uraniborg.”

“That is precisely why I am providing an escort.”

“Will ten or twenty escort ships be sufficient?”

“I shall send more.”

“If you do that, our forces will be depleted. To disperse one’s strength is a tactician’s greatest taboo. What do you intend to achieve by merely pleasing the enemy?”

In the face of the momentous task of conquering Uraniborg, the fate of a princess from a weak, frontier nation was a mere trifle. At least, that was Tytania’s way of thinking.

It was the voice of a young woman that interrupted the strange dispute between the two men.

“Princess, please, wait!”

It was Francia’s voice. Even without looking, the situation was clear. Just as Jouslain and Balamy exchanged an involuntary and wry look, a small bird flew into the fray, pursued by the others.

“May I enter, Lord Jouslain? Ah, I expected to find Bal here as well. You were discussing something important, weren’t you? I am sorry, but I have something important to discuss with you as well.”

Francia, who had approached closely behind the Princess, bowed in silence, her white cheeks flushed with the colour of cherry blossoms. Jouslain felt as though a door to her heart had opened without a sound, allowing a warm breeze to drift in.

“Please, Princess. I shall have some pastries prepared for you immediately.”

“No, there is no need. This is a matter of great importance.”

Princess Lydia declined, sounding regretful yet firm.

“We are all going to Elbing.”

“Pardon?”

“Lord Jouslain, Bal, Francia—everyone shall go to Elbing together. As my guest, the old King will welcome you dearly. Though we are a poor nation…”

Jouslain found himself smiling naturally.

“Princess, your offer is most gracious, but I am afraid that cannot be done.”

“Why not?” asked Princess Lydia before providing her own answer. “Is poverty unpleasant after all? I suppose from your perspective, we are but a pitiful frontier nation. Just a moment ago, I was in shock when Lord Ariabert died. Lord Jouslain or Bal, I don’t want for either of you to die. That is why I thought it would be fine as long as we could live in peace, even on the frontier.”

Francia gently took the Princess’ hand from behind.

“That is not the issue, Princess. We cannot simply leave the soldiers who are fighting alongside us behind?”

Jouslain explained with more gravity than any of the many diplomatic negotiations he had ever experienced.

“If we were to take them with us, then your own country would suffer great hardship.”

“Hardship? Nonsense. We are all comrades, and if my country’s population were to grow…”

Jouslain slowly shook his head.

“If you bring hundreds of thousands of soldiers into your country, they will require just that much food and supplies. You will no longer have the luxury of exporting potatoes. Furthermore…”

Jouslain looked over at Balamy.

“Furthermore, if you accept to give us asylum, you will of course be viewed as a complete enemy by Uraniborg. A great army will be dispatched, your country will become a battlefield, and every potato field will be stained with blood.”

Balamy was on the verge of a derisive laugh, but he hurriedly tightened his expression. For a moment, he had almost forgotten the dire predicament in which they found themselves. The image of the potato fields stretching as far as the eye could see was so simple that it brought a strange sense of humour to everyone present.

To Princess Lydia, the potato fields were likely a symbol of peace and friendship. When hearing that they would be stained with blood, she gasped softly and slumped, unlike her usual energetic self. To exaggerate, one might have said it was the moment her ideals collided with the wall of reality and shattered. However, after a few seconds, Princess Lydia lifted her head and spoke with newfound vigour:

“In that case, we shall simply win this war, and after that, we can all go to Elbing together.”

“Princess.”

“This is a promise. Listen, the old King once said that if an adult breaks a promise to a child, they shall become a calamity for the next generation.”

It was at this moment that Balamy spoke for the first time:

“Do not worry, Princess. We shall certainly prevail. I shall show you victory.”

A light, almost too bright, returned to the Princess’ eyes.

“I have certainly received your promise, Bal. If you break it, I shall make you eat two dozen cream puffs.”

“… Yes.”

This time, Balamy lost his spirit. It turned out that he had a distaste for cream puffs.

In the end, what truly gave voice to the fears and confusion of the masses was likely the furious roar of Idris, brimming with indignation and hatred.

“It seems you have no intention of retreating. Do you truly believe you can take Uraniborg without Ariabert? The one who is out of his depth is you, Jouslain.”

Though the speaker was unaware of it, this remark served as a clear tribute to the deceased.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1

2026-10-12T18:25:07Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Main Characters | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 2 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision == === I === Whether the funeral was truly fitting for the deceased was somet..."

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== Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision ==
=== I ===
Whether the funeral was truly fitting for the deceased was something Duke Jouslain Tytania could not certain of it. He had ordered the funeral for Duke Ariabert Tytania, who had been both his half-brother and his cousin, but left the specific arrangements to the deceased’s subordinates. He sat in silence before the capsule containing the body.

Jouslain had lost his composure. His only solace was the awareness of this fact, yet he was merely barely keeping his head above the surface of reason to draw breath and was unable to save anyone. The cause was clear and singular, yet there were countless reasons why that single cause was able to devastate him so completely.

If one were to use extreme phrasing, it could be said that Ariabert’s death shook the whole of human society. Not only those directly involved in the “Uraniborg Incident”, but also the people who had been excited by the possibility of witnessing a moment in history changing through the media, lost their voices in shock. While it was entirely predictable that a commander might die in battle amidst the flames of war, the fact that a side on the verge of victory was assassinated during a temporary ceasefire exceeded the imagination of the general public.

In the name of the Landless Clanner Ajman, Tytania officially announced Duke Ariabert Tytania’s “sudden death”. The cause of death was declared to be an “unofficial execution”, which was a just punishment for the “outrageous act” of launching a military attack against Tytania’s headquarters. All questions and doubts were coldly ignored.

The Tytania-affiliated media—in other words, the vast majority of the press—attempted to justify this proclamation and work towards calming the situation, but it was impossible for viewers and readers to accept what the journalists themselves could not reconcile. It was certain, however, that Uraniborg had undermined its own credibility.

Within the military forces under Ariabert’s command, resentment and indignation swirled, overriding all other emotions. This was only natural.

“Damn it, who are we even fighting for?” spat out aimlessly in the air a man who appeared to be an NCO. “We were so close to victory. Just on the verge of achieving the great feat of capturing Uraniborg… How can something like this happen?”

Then, another man, likely a fellow NCO, snapped back with an even more fierce tone of anger.

“We were supposed to win? Don’t talk such nonsense! We had already won! It was Uraniborg that resorted to a cowardly ambush!”

That was no exaggeration. The majority of those fighting believed in the unprecedented situation: the victory of Ariabert’s army and the fall of Uraniborg. It should have been merely a matter of time. Yet, everything had been overturned in a single instant.

“I have never heard of such a foul method. So this is how Uraniborg operates!”

Ariabert’s death dealt an unprecedented shock to the Tytania troops. Could a commander of such renown be allowed to fall not in battle, but to assassination? And by a young boy claiming to be a peace envoy, no less. It was the complete antithesis of the word “fairness”.

“Duke Ariabert fell victim to a despicable conspiracy.”

This was the view held by the majority of the soldiers, while others argued,

“We’re the ones at fault for our own carelessness.”

Such opinions were almost non-existent.

There are countless examples of assassination being employed as a means when there is no chance of victory in a fair fight. However, Tytania had always fought openly once hostilities had commenced. While they had occasionally used rather forced pretexts for war and had sometimes crushed enemies without mercy or refused offers of peace, they had, at the very least, never offered a peace treaty only to assassinate their opponent.

“Death in battle would have been one thing.”

“But assassination is far too despicable.”

“And to use children, no less…”

In the end, those three points served to set the will to fight against Uraniborg ablaze. The officers of the Ariabert fleet naturally gathered together, quickly reached a consensus, and descended upon Duke Jouslain to demand an audience.

“We have fought with our lives on the line under His Grace Ariabert.”

“Ariabert fleet’s military record has remained untarnished by even a single blemish.”

“We are not cowards who would retreat without even seeking vengeance after having our commander murdered.”

“Justice for His Grace Ariabert!”

With flushed faces and eyes gleaming, they pressed Jouslain, their fists clenched. Jouslain gazed at them with a somewhat vacant expression. He had imagined this might happen, yet he had been unable to resolve how he should deal with them.

These were proud, battle-hardened subordinates who had achieved great feats under Ariabert’s service. Had Ajman perhaps anticipated this reaction from them?

He likely had. No, perhaps he had gone beyond anticipation and even expected it. Jouslain felt as though he had been cast into the darkness of a bottomless cavern.

“Your Grace Jouslain, we implore you to take command over us.”

“We shall follow you.”

“Give us your orders, please!”

“Command us to launch a general assault on Uraniborg!”

From senior officers in their later years to lieutenants barely into adulthood, they seemed poised to surround Jouslain, their faces openly displaying fury, sorrow, and a thirst for vengeance.

“Calm yourselves, gentlemen. I understand your sentiments well. However, I ask you to reconsider. To persist in an attack on Uraniborg at this moment would mean opposing Clanner Ajman and would make us nothing less than a rebel army.”

In terms of battlefield command capability and the trust of the soldiers, Jouslain was nowhere near the level of Ariabert. That was an undeniable fact, and Ariabert’s subordinates would likely have to rely solely on their own experience and execution at the tactical level.

“Even so, do you gentlemen truly intend to fight the forces of Uraniborg?”

“Yes, we do, Your Grace.”

Jouslain looked around at the assembly and posed his question with an air of unshakeable composure.

“Do you believe I am worthy of being your commander?”

“Your Grace, you were a comrade of the late Duke Ariabert. We have no hesitation in looking to you as our commander.”

“The late Duke Ariabert always spoke highly of your talents, Your Grace. Just as we followed him, we shall follow you.”

“I am grateful for your words, but…”

Jouslain felt the expectations of Ariabert’s subordinates swell around him like a wave of pressure. It was a torrent of emotion, so great that he could do nothing more than maintain his posture and keep his expression unchanged. To be swallowed by this would be dangerous. If Clanner Ajman had foreseen this situation, then even more treacherous pitfalls might be lying in wait.

“Gentlemen, I have a proposal to make. I ask that you discuss it amongst yourselves.”

The officers looked at one another. Jouslain continued:

“Once you have reached a conclusion, I shall abide by it. I only ask that you listen with an open mind.”

A middle-aged man stepped forward before Jouslain. It was a face Jouslain recognised. He saluted, introducing himself as Rear-admiral Mittendorf.

“In all likelihood, we have already reached a conclusion, but if Your Grace Jouslain says so, then we would be honoured to present it.”

“Please, do proceed.”

In an instant, silence dominated the room. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed intently on Jouslain, waiting to hear what he was proposing.

“It is quite simple. Restrain me and use me as a hostage to offer your surrender to Uraniborg. Though I say restrain, there is no need to concern yourselves with whether I live or die. I shall use my own life to plead for your pardon. I shall ensure that no punishments are imposed and that your former positions are not forfeited.”

“Are you truly serious, Your Grace!?”

“Of course, I am serious. I do not care for jokes, and this is no joke.”

Rear-admiral Mittendorf looked at Jouslain, his confusion plain to see.

“You are suggesting that we surrender without further fighting…. If we do so, what then becomes of our honour, our cause?”

“The entire universe and all of humanity know how bravely you have fought and how brightly your names have shone. Who could possibly slander you for having surrendered? That is my proposal. What say you?”

“Whether others slander us or not is of no concern to me. However, what will become of the honour of the Ariabert Army? Our consciences will not permit us to surrender shamelessly, sacrificing Your Grace Jouslain, and act as though nothing had ever happened.”

“If you follow my proposal, only I will die. If we fight, tens of thousands more will fall. There is room for consideration.”

At that moment, Francia glanced at Jouslain’s profile. From the opposite side, Viscount Balamy Tytania stared at Jouslain as well. Jouslain remained facing forward, yet he felt their gazes piercing intensely into his left and right cheeks.

A single female officer stepped forward. She saluted while gazing intently at Jouslain, though prior to that, her eyes had been directed rather towards Francia. It was Captain Edna Fredericks.

“If I may be so bold as to offer my opinion, Your Ducal Grace Jouslain.”

“Nothing bold about it; let me hear you.”

“Then, if I may, Your Grace, we—no, I personally—desire to continue the battle against the forces of Uraniborg.”

Meeting Jouslain’s direct gaze head-on, Edna spoke with absolute clarity.

“To offer peace only to assassinate the opposing commander. We shall not bend our knees to an enemy that employs such despicable means. Please, allow us to deliver the righteous retribution these scoundrels deserve.”

A wave of whispers and glances erupted all at once. Like a breached levee, Jouslain was completely swallowed by the surging tide of combat spirit.

“I second Captain Fredericks!”

“I also agree. Fire upon Uraniborg!”

“Let justice be served to those villains!”

=== II ===
Jouslain had not realised that Captain Edna Fredericks possessed such eloquence. He leaned forward slightly, gazing at Edna.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Yes.”

“… Forgive my presumption in asking, but is your desire to seek vengeance for Ariabert?”

“I will not deny it.”

“And is that not a matter of personal grievance?”

“I shall not deny that either. However, it is a grievance we share. And I believe that Your Grace Jouslain will understand, or rather, will empathise with that sentiment.”

A smile played upon Jouslain’s lips. If there was such a thing as a smile that served only to stiffen one’s expression, it was precisely that.

“That, I cannot deny… After all, this is nothing more than a private conflict within the Tytania faction.”

Jouslain’s self-deprecation failed to resonate with Ariabert’s subordinates.

“Your Grace, please make a statement!”

As one officer cried out, dozens of voices rose in unison. Any further delay was now impossible.

“I have understood your will, gentlemen. There is no need to waste any more time. In my name, we shall proceed with the assault on Uraniborg.”

A roar of cheers erupted like a rising tide. Jouslain raised a hand to quell the few seconds of frenzy.

“There is but one thing I ask you to promise. It concerns Baronet Zelpha. While that boy was the one who physically carried out the conspiracy to assassinate Ariabert, he was merely a tool used by the true culprit. His detention is a given, but his ultimate fate must be left to a fair trial after the war. I will absolutely not tolerate any form of abuse or violence. Against the baseness of Uraniborg, we must achieve victory not only through military might but through fairness<ref name="ftn1">“Fairness” (道義性) is pronounced “fairness”.</ref> as well. Do not bring shame upon the name of Duke Ariabert.”

“As Your Grace commands!”

Along with numerous shouts, military berets were tossed into the air.

“Report the enemy’s movements. Are there any signs of an enemy ''sortie'' from Uraniborg?”

An officer pushed his way through his comrades to step forward, saluted, and introduced himself as Captain Ripple, the officer in charge of reconnaissance.

“I have a report. So far, the enemy has shown no signs of a ''sortie''. It appears they are preoccupied with repairing damaged facilities and vessels, as well as reorganising their combat groups.”

In his brisk manner and precise speech, one could sense the influence of the late Ariabert.

“Good work. Continue to maintain vigilance and ensure we are in a position to respond immediately to any enemy attack.”

“Understood!”

Internally, Jouslain felt a sense of relief. He had been contemplating the possibility that Uraniborg might take advantage of Ariabert’s death to launch an all-out offensive. If the enemy possessed a cold and ruthless strategist, they would not have missed such an opportunity. The fact that they had not done so meant…

“Is it the effect of holding Zelpha hostage?” he murmured to himself. “If that boy is indeed effective as a hostage… then can it be assumed that Idris is the one currently holding military authority at Uraniborg?”

Jouslain, who had nearly lost himself in thought, managed to redirect his attention to the people before him. Dealing with them was his immediate priority.

“Gentlemen, I shall say this once more: when it comes to the command of actual combat, I do not even come close to the late Lord Ariabert. Without the cooperation of gentlemen with both knowledge and experience, such as yourselves, there is no certain path to victory—not against Duke Idris, let alone the Clanner. I ask for your cooperation.”

“Hail Tytania!”

“Victory to Duke Jouslain!”

The generals responded with enthusiasm, thrusting their fists into the air.

For the time being, it seemed the collapse of the army had been averted. Jouslain ordered the assembly to disperse and remained standing in a salute, seeing them off until the very last person had departed.

With Ariabert’s death, Jouslain lost sight of “what Tytania ought to be in the future.” It happened with an intensity even he could not have imagined, striking Jouslain down and scattering all his designs.

Countless options remained. However, in the end, there was only one path to follow. Because he had once firmly chosen the course of “making Ariabert the Clanner and supporting him to gradually downsize Tytania itself,” the shock of having that path severed was fatal. Jouslain had reached the heights of fury towards Ajman, who had wiped Ariabert away without regard for reason, means, or public opinion, but now that fury was beginning to tilt towards terror and a sense of defeat.

After seeing the others away, Jouslain remained seated before the capsule containing Ariabert’s remains for a long time. The cooling gas used for preservation filled the capsule, coating its surface in frost.

Suddenly, a soft, youthful voice brushed against his ear.

“Please, take a moment to rest, Lord Jouslain.”

“Do not trouble yourself so, Francia. I shall rest soon enough… eternally.”

“That way of speaking is proof of how exhausted you are.”

Francia’s voice caused a flicker of surprise in Jouslain. Rather than the voice of a lover or a lady-in-waiting, it sounded to him like that of an elder sister. Since Jouslain had no biological sister, this was merely a thought born of his meagre imagination. In reality, given the true nature of the relationship between Jouslain and Francia, the proper response would have been a sharp ''“Don’t overstep your boundaries”''. However, Jouslain did not do so. He averted his gaze from Ariabert’s body, which was faintly visible through the frost, and looked upon Francia.

He had always intended to protect Francia, but he wondered if, in truth, it wasn’t he who had been relying on her. Confused by the thought, Jouslain responded in a weary voice:

“Very well, then. I shall rest for a while.”

“Yes. It would please me greatly if you would do so.”

There was a slight impulse in Francia’s voice. The fact that Francia would be pleased if Jouslain rested brought a strange sensation to him. It was not unpleasant, yet it carried a sense of bewilderment. He had believed himself to have cherished Francia, but he wondered if he had instead been accumulating layers of unconscious insensitivity and arrogance.

Once the blood and burn marks had been carefully tended to, Ariabert’s face at the moment of death had been peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. However, he would no longer converse or deliberate with Jouslain.

Jouslain summoned Viscount Balamy Tytania and informed him that he was entrusting him with full authority during his absence. Balamy’s eyes widened slightly, and an expression flickered across his face as if he were searching for Jouslain’s true intent, but he uttered no unnecessary words and responded with a salute.

“I shall humbly obey your orders.”

“I am counting on you.”

It had been an uninspired exchange, but once he had seen it through safely, Jouslain entered his private quarters, took a shower, swallowed some sleeping pills, and rolled into bed. The abyss of sleep pulled him under instantly, but it did not last long. Within two hours, the communications officer arrived with a report.

“There is a request for an emergency call from Duke Idris from Uraniborg. He wishes to speak with you directly, Duke Jouslain.”

It was not Jouslain who reacted immediately. Viscount Balamy, who had been temporarily entrusted with full authority, frowned in the command seat on the bridge of the battleship ''Austra''.

“A conversation!? Isn’t it too late for that?”

“With what face does he intend to speak to us?”

Voices of fury erupted all around, but Balamy, as expected, did not join in. Depending on how they responded, there was a possibility that Uraniborg might suddenly resume hostilities. Balamy was well aware that he still lacked the strength required to confront Idris. The reason he had taken so long to summon Jouslain was not only that he needed time to wake him and straighten his uniform but also to provoke Idris. He felt that such a small tactic was well worth the effort.

When Jouslain sat before the communication screen, Idris half-shouted without even a greeting:

''“State your conditions.”''

“Conditions?”

''“Don’t play dumb! I am telling you to state the conditions for returning my brother Zelpha!”''

Jouslain’s expression darkened. He organised his newly awakened thoughts and responded with deliberate slowness:

“I have no conditions.”

''“What?”''

“If I return him, I shall do so unconditionally.”

''“You expect me to believe such words?…”''

Jouslain interrupted Idris’ tirade with chilling composure.

“You needn’t believe me. Interpret my words however you see fit.”

''“No, wait… wait! You said, ‘If I return him’?”''

“I used the subjunctive mood. What of it?”

''“So you have no intention of returning him… none at all.”''

Idris jumped to the conclusion. It was a shortsighted and suspicious leap, yet it was understandable from his position. He had gone so far as to suppress his own pride and bow his head to save his beloved younger brother, yet Jouslain refused to face him directly.

“You certainly provided me with plenty of hints, Idris.”

''“You bastard…”''

“Do not worry. I won’t harm the child. However, it remains a fact that your brother is a murderer. He may be intoxicated by his own childish heroism, acting the part of an assassin, but it would be problematic if he did not at least reflect upon the fact that he took a life.”

Jouslain’s voice was encased in a shell of ice, yet a subtle crack had formed within that armour. That was because Idris’ hatred and resentment towards him felt entirely justified.

“Ah, I really am a hateful man.”

Jouslain mocked himself, but even that expression might have appeared to Idris as nothing more than unpardonable arrogance.

=== III ===
''“Return Zelpha. Without a scratch.”''

In Idris’ tone was laced with a venomous threat, and Jouslain sensed a shred of genuine feeling. His affection for his youngest brother did not seem to be a lie.

“Idris, I must ask you one thing…”

''“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me with such familiarity. What is it?”''

“Are you conducting this communication with the Clanner’s permission?”

Idris’ handsome lips pressed together, then opened again, releasing a voice on the verge of trembling:

''“None of your business.”''

“So, you do not have permission.”

''“Quiet! At this stage, is there any need to consider the Clanner’s intentions? You need only negotiate with me. If you aren’t afraid of the Clanner, that is.”''

After a brief pause, Idris glared at Jouslain once more, but Jouslain replied with composure:

“Indeed, there is no use worrying about the Clanner’s intentions at this point. Even if I were to surrender, there would be no forgiveness. I have already passed the point of no return<ref name="ftn2">“Point of no return” (帰還限界点) is pronounced “point of no return”.</ref>. If that is how you wish to proceed, then so be it.”

Idris spoke of nothing but the glory and authority of the Tytania. Jouslain found this tiresome. Yet, perhaps it was Jouslain who had been the one lacking in foresight.

That their very existence today was due to the power and wealth of the Tytania. Had they not been born and raised within the Tytania, they would have never been granted the opportunity to display such talent at such a young age. Was it not Idris, rather than Jouslain, who held these facts in such clear recognition? Perhaps it was precisely because he was aware of the terror of loss that he had clung so fervently to the name of the Tytania, brandishing it as a weapon.

… After severing the communication with Jouslain, Idris threw his legs out across the desk in the combat command room and interlaced his fingers over his tucked abdomen. He had wanted to see just how shaken Jouslain would be by Ariabert’s untimely death, but he was instead struck with horror upon learning that the captured assassin was Zelpha. Was it not Jouslain who truly held a trump card? In his state of agitation, Idris had failed to say even a tenth of what he truly wished to say to Jouslain.

“Your Grace, Baron Radmoth has returned.”

Upon receiving the report, Idris was reminded of something he had no desire to recall. Besides Zelpha, Idris had another brother. Quite naturally, a shadow of loathing and fury darkened his brow. During the ensuing seconds of silence, Idris barely managed to suppress a passion that bordered on murderous intent.

“Your Grace, how would you like to proceed?”

The attendant asked, appearing somewhat obtuse.

“Don’t say it.”

“… Pardon?”

“Don’t utter his name! It defiles my ears.”

“Y-Yes, sir…”

Though the attendant was terrified, he could not bring himself to flee the spot, remaining there as motionless as a poorly crafted statue.

As if in inverse proportion, Idris regained his composure. He had long understood that a ruler had to be, in a sense, an actor. It was simply that he often forgot. It was due to his youth and the intense stress he endured.

With an immense effort, he steadied his tone.

“Baron Radmoth Tytania failed to fulfil his assigned mission. It is a disgrace as one who bears the name Tytania and enjoys the privileges of the nobility. While the official penalty shall be determined in the presence of His Clanner Highness, I hereby order him to remain under house arrest for the time being. All outings and leisure activities are prohibited. Communicate this to the individual in question, and let the responsible officers carry out this order immediately.”

“Understood.”

Both the speaker and the recipient felt, for the moment, a sense of relief. Idris had managed to avoid losing his dignity, and his subordinate had obtained a justifiable reason for his actions. Radmoth’s resentment would likely be directed towards his elder brother.

Once the subordinate had departed, Idris lowered his legs, rested both elbows on the desk, interlaced his fingers, and pressed his forehead against them. While his young body did not yet require much rest, his overworked brain continued to crave glucose. Idris craved something sweet, much like a child. Changing his posture, he scanned his surroundings and summoned an NCO standing in a corner of the room, ordering him to bring some hot chocolate. As the officer hurried away after receiving the solemn command, Idris pressed his forehead against his hands once more and sank into deep thought.

Ariabert’s untimely death should have been a cause for joy for Idris. He had, for the time being, managed to postpone a one-sided defeat. However, his mood could, at best, be described as an “unexpected victory by default”, and he was in no way capable of feeling triumphant. He had never imagined that the Clanner would assassinate Ariabert, nor could he have ever conceived that his youngest brother, Zelpha, would be used as a mere tool for such an end. He would have sooner died than admit it but the sweat trickling down his cheeks was composed mostly of terror.

Around this time, on a local scale, the subordinate organisations of Tytania continued their daily activities without interruption. On Planet A, a water supply system for arid regions was under construction, and the export of wheat and milk had commenced from Planet B to Planet C. On Planet D, negotiations were ongoing to extend the instalment payments for a 10-billion dakar loan from Tytania from twenty-five to forty instalments. All of these were minor matters that did not require the sanction of Uraniborg.

The people within the lower structures of Tytania were shocked by the death of Duke Ariabert and mourned him. Had it been death in battle, it might have been one thing, but assassination! Though they did not speak of it carelessly, the scales of their favour were beginning to tilt away from Uraniborg. It was only human nature, after all, that if one must be ruled by Tytania, one would prefer to be ruled by someone more just.

Though they remained cautious, they shared sighs among trusted colleagues and family members. What, after all, would become of Tytania?

Mediating conflicts between small nations. Checking the pressure exerted by great powers upon the small. Protecting the interests of the small to build up debts and favours. The influence of Tytania was the vast accumulation of such deeds.

If Tytania were to collapse, the group of small nations would lose the party to whom they could appeal for help. The shield behind which they could hide would vanish. The very axis of order would disappear. It was an unknown terror.

For the members of the anti-Tytania faction, Ariabert’s untimely death was a profound shock.

“I wonder if things will become easier for us. Even so, I wonder who will be left in the end.”

Miranda cast her gaze towards Doctor Lee. The Doctor perfectly controlled his facial muscles, maintaining an expression that prevented anyone from reading his thoughts. They were actually aboard the interstellar transport vessel ''Honest Old Man Junior'', which was, in truth, a pirate business ship. For a brief period, due to the miscalculations, misunderstandings, and misjudgments of those involved, they had sought refuge at Uraniborg, but that arrangement had not lasted. It was a delicate matter which party bore more responsibility, but the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' had slipped from the grasp of Tytania and was racing through the cosmic labyrinth. Or rather, it was merely wandering.

“There are still hundreds of others who carry the Tytania name.”

“Are there no ambitious souls among them who plot to seize the main house?”

“I heard no mention of any outstanding individuals. After all, the Four Dukes only became heads of their houses because they were exceptional, did they not? If there had been anyone more capable, they would have become the duke instead.”

No one could dispute Miranda’s view. The scent of cheap coffee filled the small dining room. The Salbestan coffee served at Uraniborg was far too high-quality to suit the palates of pirates. The inexpensive variety from Bertine was more than sufficient. The impoverished, who lived in defiance of authority, firmly believed that coffee was something meant to be gulped down.

“I never imagined things would turn out like this.”

Miranda shook her head. She wondered how many dozens of times she had done exactly that.

The leadership of Tytania was young. Even Clanner Ajman was only forty-one, and the four dukes were all in their twenties. Most people believed that stability would continue, despite any minor turbulence, until a generational shift occurred.

''“The Universe exists along with Tytania.”''

Yet, in just a single year, such radical changes had taken place. Half of the Four Dukes, the highest-ranking officials, had joined the ranks of the dead, and Uraniborg, which could be called the capital of the entire universe, had come under military attack. Just before the moment it was on the verge of falling, a spectacle occurring once in two centuries—the people’s imagination was tested once again.

“How did things end up like this?”

“That much is obvious, Mahdi. It’s because Hyulick won the Battle of Cerberus.”

“Hey, wait a minute, this is my fault!?”

“Exactly as Miranda says,” stated Doctor Lee with a tone of voice that might have been described as incurable. “That battle, an unforeseen defeat for Tytania, awakened a sleeping monster.”

“A monster?”

“It’s a metaphor, Hyulick.”

“I can grasp that much. I won’t ask what kind of monster it is, since you clearly won’t tell me, but if that’s the case, then Duke Ariabert, who was defeated back then, must also bear some responsibility.”

As Hyulick glared around at his companions, they each nodded with their own distinct expressions.

“Duke Ariabert, eh? Even for Tytania, it was a loss of a truly great man.”

“Wait a minute, Miranda! What is the reason for that disparity in evaluation compared to me!?”

“In my opinion, the difference in virtue,” replied maliciously Mahdi on her behalf.

=== IV ===
The death of Ariabert, who possessed absolute military prestige and widespread trust, sent shockwaves through human society. At a time when the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain were closing in on Uraniborg with greater momentum than anyone had anticipated, leaving observers breathless with fears that it might fall within days, the protagonist had made a sudden exit.

Zelpha had become a killer at the age of thirteen. Until then, his name had not been known to many, but as he became counted among the most famous individuals in the universe almost overnight, the media scrambled to uncover the boy’s profile.

A historian would later recount:

''“If Duke Idris had been the second-generation Clanner, Nuri, he would have launched an immediate, all-out assault to annihilate the enemy, even if his beloved brother were held captive. He certainly would have made the decision that even if his brother died, it was an unavoidable sacrifice.”''

“However, Duke Idris was unable to do so, as his attention was diverted by his brother’s safety. In the first place, the act of assassinating an enemy supreme commander holds no military significance, unless it is accompanied by an all-out offensive designed to trigger the collapse of the enemy forces.”

As an outside observer might remark, had Idris immediately ordered a major offensive, would he truly have been able to annihilate the AJ Alliance forces?

It was a biting irony, but in the sense that they were shaken by Ariabert’s death, the soldiers of Uraniborg were no different from Ariabert’s own men. Furthermore, in direct opposition to how Ariabert’s subordinates had strengthened their fighting spirit and unity through rage and a thirst for vengeance, the troops of the Uraniborg army had seen their morale decline amidst growing confusion. Although they felt a sense of relief at having temporarily averted the death looming before them, especially since it had been achieved through the very stratagem of Clanner Ajman himself.

''“No matter how you look at it, that was a dirty way to do things.”''

At least, that was the inner voice that hesitated to speak aloud. For the soldiers and officers who had believed in the “Great and Invincible Tytania,” it felt as though their pride and honour had been dragged through the mud. Furthermore, that mud had been hurled at them from above and behind, and they could find no way to voice any protest against the person who had thrown it. Clanner Ajman was, to them, no different from a living god.

''“Humans are emotional creatures.”''

It was a maxim with over five thousand years of history, and certainly, the masses were moved by emotion. Ariabert’s untimely death was so senseless that, following the initial shock, it gave rise to a simple, gnawing doubt: ''“Surely, this cannot be right”''. The official announcement from Uraniborg failed to satisfy the people.

The common citizens grew wary of those associated with Tytania, but in truth, the agitation among the Tytanians themselves was even greater than that of the populace. No matter who held the reins of Tytanian hegemony, there should have been no direct impact on the low-ranking soldiers or shopkeepers, yet certain “rumours” circulated.

“I hate to say it, but can Duke Jouslain really conquer Uraniborg?”

“He isn’t a soldier, is he? Though it’s in politics and diplomacy that he is pretty remarkable.”

“Still, it’s not as if he is a complete amateur, is it? I don’t remember it clearly, but I’m sure he defeated someone somewhere.”

“But come on, surely he only won by overwhelming them with far greater numbers?”

“Well, of course. Why would anyone go out of their way to fight with fewer troops than the enemy?”

“No, that’s my point. It won’t be like that this time. You’re thick, aren’t you?”

“What was that, you smooth-talker?!”

An electronic newspaper belonging to the Tytania Clan reported the following:

''“Duke Ariabert Tytania meets an untimely death during ceasefire negotiations.”''

While it appeared to merely report the facts in a detached manner, the writer’s true sentiment was revealed in the phrasing “during ceasefire negotiations.”

Due to the remarkable tactical superiority of the AJ Alliance forces, the state of human society had fallen into chaos, but rather than settling the matter, Clanner Ajman seemed only to have deepened it. Within that murky situation, time itself drifted by in a heavy, sluggish haze. Inside Uraniborg, low-voiced conversations flickered whenever three or more soldiers gathered:

“I thought for sure we might scatter in flight after losing such a respected commander.”

“But we didn’t surrender, nor did we even retreat.”

“It looks like we actually grew more united.”

“When you think about it, Duke Jouslain is still standing strong, after all.”

“However, compared to Duke Ariabert, his standing as a soldier was likely inferior. He’s a politician, after all.”

“So, what happens in the end?”

“It will be what it will be.”

Just then, the heavy, deliberate footfalls of a superior echoed, and the soldiers hurriedly fell silent.

This was the state of affairs three hours after the death of Duke Ariabert Tytania had been made public. Both the attackers and the defenders waited with bloodshot eyes and bodies taut with tension. Though none knew truly what they were waiting for.

In such a situation, perhaps the most fortunate of them all was Zarlisch, who passed away without witnessing the day’s tragedies for Tytania.

Duke Jouslain Tytania thought in a manner characteristic of himself, and a bitter smile etched itself upon his lips.

He, too, had been waiting. Just like the masses and the soldiers, he had been waiting for something. For the most part, it was something for which the responsibility for the decision lay with Jouslain himself. He believed he had made his decision. He was prepared to fight Clanner Ajman at the risk of his life. That resolve was set. However, strange as it was, he could not form a concrete judgement as to what must be done first to achieve it. There were more than a dozen options available to him, but he could not predict his opponent’s reaction. He almost wished the enemy would strike first. Yet, there was a limit to how long he could wait.

The person who provided the saving move was the very individual who had directly created the current situation. Zelpha. Having been granted an audience with Jouslain, the boy spoke bluntly the moment they met.

“I am not afraid of death.”

Jouslain responded with silence to Zelpha’s lofty voice. Observing that expression, a shadow of fear silently spread its wings across the young assassin’s face. The thirteen-year-old boy had managed to hide his fear of death from his opponent. It was a remarkable feat, yet it was also his limit. Faced with Jouslain’s cold gaze and flanked by soldiers on either side, the boy raised his voice:

“I am not afraid of death! Do you hear me?”

“… I am listening.”

“Then say something!”

“From the very beginning, I had no intention of killing you.”

Jouslain’s voice was, so to speak, a frozen flame. A wave of shuddering dread surged through Zelpha’s entire body.

“… What do you intend to do?”

He used every ounce of his strength to suppress the trembling in his voice.

“To kill Idris.”

Zelpha’s vision went dark. The shock had caused his field of vision to narrow. He staggered before Jouslain, but he did not even have the luxury of feeling ashamed of such an unsightly display.

“Don’t lay a hand on my brother! If you’re going to kill someone, kill me. I am the one who killed Ariabert!”

“So?”

“Kill me!”

“I refuse.”

Jouslain’s voice sent a shiver through even Viscount Balamy Tytania, who stood by his side.

“I will not kill you. You are not worth killing. You shall atone for the crime you have committed through the death of your brother. Live as long as you can, and carry the weight of your crime upon your shoulders until the day you die.”

“If you kill my brother, I’ll kill you! I swear, I will kill you!”

Jouslain responded to Zelpha’s scream with nothing but cold derision:

“Ah, we are certainly engaged in sophisticated conversation. Truly, this is Tytania! Strip away the status and the honour, and there is nothing that distinguishes this from the chatter of common criminals. And yet, it feels as though we are presiding over a summit to decide the fate of all mankind. However, there is a vacancy in this meeting.”

“A vacancy? What seat are you referring to?” asked Zelpha, drawn in by the thought.

Jouslain replied, a single corner of his lip curling upward:

“Conscience and morality.”

Before Zelpha could even decide how to react, Jouslain commanded the soldiers:

“Take him away at once. I have no time for idle chatter with a useless captive.”

“Jouslain! I will kill you, I swear it! I will make you regret this…!”

As Zelpha was led away, halfway dragged along, Balamy shrugged his shoulders, and Francia gazed at her master with a look of concern. Jouslain suppressed a bitter sigh within his throat.

He felt that it would be better to show leniency here. Should he kill Zelpha, the public sentiment would shift. It would provide the masses with the very reason they needed to turn against him, painting Jouslain as a cold and heartless man who murdered a thirteen-year-old boy.

“This ruthlessness and calculation are the true nature of Tytania. What is there to be ashamed of now that an outsider has discovered it? No, we never had the right to be ashamed in the first place.”

Jouslain shifted his gaze.

“Francia.”

“Yes?”

“Zelpha shall remain in custody for the time being. I have no intention of subjecting him to abuse, but Francia, you are not to go near him.”

Francia widened her eyes slightly as she gazed at her master.

“That boy has currently lost his reason. If he thinks too hard, there is no telling what he might do. If he were to kill himself with something like a fork, it would be one thing, but if he were to take you hostage, I would… be troubled.”

Francia bowed her head to her master, infusing the gesture with as much compassion as she could muster.

“I am honoured by your concern.”

“No, it is not that I am particularly worried about you, as you are a reliable person, but when dealing with an opponent whose actions are unpredictable, well, how shall I put it—it is always best to be cautious.”

Revealing a commonness that sat poorly with his illustrious record, Jouslain shifted his gaze once more toward Balamy. Since Balamy had been struggling to choose an appropriate expression for some time, he had simply erased all emotion from his face as much as possible. Jouslain ordered him to summon three of Ariabert’s primary aides.

=== V ===
Within five minutes, the three aides arrived before Jouslain.

Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey were their names. Edna Fredericks was not among them.

While the ancestral lineages of the three officers were all different, the result of dozens of generations of interbreeding meant they shared a very pale wheatish skin tone. As for their hair, the elder Magnorton had a golden hue streaked with grey, while the two middle-aged men had black hair. In any case, they had not been chosen based on their appearance. It was said that Ariabert placed great trust in these three, as they were not flashy but steady and sound military strategists.

Jouslain walked towards the three saluting officers himself and shook hands with each one. A wave of emotion and excitement pulsed through Jouslain’s palms.

“As a tactician, I do not hold a candle to you. To fairly carry out Ariabert’s vengeance, your strength is indispensable. I want Rear-Admiral Mittendorf and the three of you to lead a meeting of experts and present me with combat plans as soon as possible. You may submit multiple alternatives.”

“Understood!”

“Duke Ariabert was a comrade-in-arms to both you and me. Let us each do our utmost to avenge that comrade. I am counting on you.”

As the three officers departed, their faces flushed with the vigour of youth after being somewhat pale until that moment, Jouslain fell into thought for several seconds.

“Lord Balamy.”

“Yes?”

“Would you be so kind as to escort Princess Lydia back to her homeland?”

Balamy was taken aback by the sudden change in subject, but he quickly understood. Upon reflection, although Princess Lydia was accompanying Jouslain due to circumstances, she was a princess of a nation that did not belong directly to Tytania; leaving a girl of barely ten years at the front lines of a war was dangerous and, quite frankly, pointless.

“Then, whom shall you appoint as her escort?”

Jouslain’s expression shifted with suspicion.

“What are you saying? Obviously you’re the one who shall escort the Princess.”

“Me?”

“Who else?”

“Do you intend to remove me from this battle!?”

Balamy raised his voice.

“I have only just been entrusted to act as commander the other day. Though unworthy, I was prepared to serve with all my heart, but you change your orders so soon<ref name="ftn3">Literally “an order in the morning modified at night” (朝令暮改), an expression referring to changing laws or order with no rhyme or reason.</ref>?”

What Balamy said was true. Jouslain had no room for argument. This proposal had been born from Jouslain’s simple desire to prevent Balamy from dying, but it could not be denied that there had been a certain lack of foresight on Jouslain’s part. He had, after all, tasked a young man who possessed more vigour and sharpness than his actual age suggested with the care of a child. It was a task far beneath his station.

“Lord Balamy, you’re the only one I can entrust with Princess Lydia. That is why I am asking this of you. If you are willing, you need only return here alone immediately after the Princess has been safely delivered.”

“And what will you do if the ship carrying Princess Lydia is attacked by the enemy?”

“… What?”

“There are many, both far and near, who would seek to kidnap Princess Lydia to prove their loyalty to Uraniborg.”

“That is precisely why I am providing an escort.”

“Will ten or twenty escort ships be sufficient?”

“I shall send more.”

“If you do that, our forces will be depleted. To disperse one’s strength is a tactician’s greatest taboo. What do you intend to achieve by merely pleasing the enemy?”

In the face of the momentous task of conquering Uraniborg, the fate of a princess from a weak, frontier nation was a mere trifle. At least, that was Tytania’s way of thinking.

It was the voice of a young woman that interrupted the strange dispute between the two men.

“Princess, please, wait!”

It was Francia’s voice. Even without looking, the situation was clear. Just as Jouslain and Balamy exchanged an involuntary and wry look, a small bird flew into the fray, pursued by the others.

“May I enter, Lord Jouslain? Ah, I expected to find Bal here as well. You were discussing something important, weren’t you? I am sorry, but I have something important to discuss with you as well.”

Francia, who had approached closely behind the Princess, bowed in silence, her white cheeks flushed with the colour of cherry blossoms. Jouslain felt as though a door to her heart had opened without a sound, allowing a warm breeze to drift in.

“Please, Princess. I shall have some pastries prepared for you immediately.”

“No, there is no need. This is a matter of great importance.”

Princess Lydia declined, sounding regretful yet firm.

“We are all going to Elbing.”

“Pardon?”

“Lord Jouslain, Bal, Francia—everyone shall go to Elbing together. As my guest, the old King will welcome you dearly. Though we are a poor nation…”

Jouslain found himself smiling naturally.

“Princess, your offer is most gracious, but I am afraid that cannot be done.”

“Why not?” asked Princess Lydia before providing her own answer. “Is poverty unpleasant after all? I suppose from your perspective, we are but a pitiful frontier nation. Just a moment ago, I was in shock when Lord Ariabert died. Lord Jouslain or Bal, I don’t want for either of you to die. That is why I thought it would be fine as long as we could live in peace, even on the frontier.”

Francia gently took the Princess’ hand from behind.

“That is not the issue, Princess. We cannot simply leave the soldiers who are fighting alongside us behind?”

Jouslain explained with more gravity than any of the many diplomatic negotiations he had ever experienced.

“If we were to take them with us, then your own country would suffer great hardship.”

“Hardship? Nonsense. We are all comrades, and if my country’s population were to grow…”

Jouslain slowly shook his head.

“If you bring hundreds of thousands of soldiers into your country, they will require just that much food and supplies. You will no longer have the luxury of exporting potatoes. Furthermore…”

Jouslain looked over at Balamy.

“Furthermore, if you accept to give us asylum, you will of course be viewed as a complete enemy by Uraniborg. A great army will be dispatched, your country will become a battlefield, and every potato field will be stained with blood.”

Balamy was on the verge of a derisive laugh, but he hurriedly tightened his expression. For a moment, he had almost forgotten the dire predicament in which they found themselves. The image of the potato fields stretching as far as the eye could see was so simple that it brought a strange sense of humour to everyone present.

To Princess Lydia, the potato fields were likely a symbol of peace and friendship. When hearing that they would be stained with blood, she gasped softly and slumped, unlike her usual energetic self. To exaggerate, one might have said it was the moment her ideals collided with the wall of reality and shattered. However, after a few seconds, Princess Lydia lifted her head and spoke with newfound vigour:

“In that case, we shall simply win this war, and after that, we can all go to Elbing together.”

“Princess.”

“This is a promise. Listen, the old King once said that if an adult breaks a promise to a child, they shall become a calamity for the next generation.”

It was at this moment that Balamy spoke for the first time:

“Do not worry, Princess. We shall certainly prevail. I shall show you victory.”

A light, almost too bright, returned to the Princess’ eyes.

“I have certainly received your promise, Bal. If you break it, I shall make you eat two dozen cream puffs.”

“… Yes.”

This time, Balamy lost his spirit. It turned out that he had a distaste for cream puffs.

In the end, what truly gave voice to the fears and confusion of the masses was likely the furious roar of Idris, brimming with indignation and hatred.

“It seems you have no intention of retreating. Do you truly believe you can take Uraniborg without Ariabert? The one who is out of his depth is you, Jouslain.”

Though the speaker was unaware of it, this remark served as a clear tribute to the deceased.

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Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters

2026-10-12T18:23:51Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 1 |- |} </noinclude> == Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc == === ☆ Tytania Faction === * Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clan..."

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== Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc ==
=== ☆ Tytania Faction ===
* Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clanner”.
* Ariabert Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
* Jouslain Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Zarlisch Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
* Idris Tytania (25 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Theresa Tytania (51 years old)… Zarlisch’s mother. Duchess.
* Balamy Tytania (19 years old)… Jouslain’s senior aide-de-camp. Viscount.
* Theodora Tytania… Countess.
* Elman Tytania (43 years old)… Diplomat. Count.
* Radmoth Tytania (18 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baron.
* Zelpha Tytania (13 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baronet.
* Francia… Jouslain’s lady-in-waiting.
* Edna Fredericks… Captain of the ''Austra''. Captain.
* Lydia (11 years old)… Princess of the Kingdom of Elbing. Jouslain’s ward.
* Harsha VI (36 years old)… Emperor of the Vardana Empire. Official ruler.
* Aisha (32 years old)… Empress of the Vardana Empire.

=== ☆ Anti-Tytania Faction ===
* Fan Hyulick (29 years old)… Former commander of the Euria City Fleet. Tytania’s arch-enemy.
* Lee Shanchen (28 years old)… Commonly known as Doctor Lee. Mastermind of the anti-Tytania faction.
* Lira Florentz… A girl who helped Hyulick during his escape. Deceased.
* Mikhail Walenkov (28 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former aide-de-camp. Sub-Lieutenant.
* Louis Edmond Pagès (27 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former Intelligence Staff Officer. Sub-Lieutenant.
* Miranda (29 years old)… Former Princess of the Principality of Casabianca.
* Compton Casimir… Captain of the ''Honest Old Man Junior''. Miranda’s husband.
* Alan Mahdi (23 years old)… Former lieutenant of the Vardana Imperial Army. Currently on the run.
* Seraphine Coopers… Female soldier of the anti-Tytania faction.
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Tytania

2026-10-11T14:46:55Z

Bob Morane: /* Updates */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 11th October 2026 - Volume 4 complete
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
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===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
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===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
</div>
</div>
|}
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<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
</div>
</div>
|}
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{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
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===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 4|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
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<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==
First editions (the editor switched from Tokuma Shoten to Kodansha after volume 3 due to the long hiatus).
* 31st December 1988 – Vol 1 「疾風篇」、ISBN 4-19-153817-9
* 30th November 1989 – Vol 2 「暴風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154060-2
* 31st May 1991 – Vol 3 「旋風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154542-6
* 25th September 2013 – Vol 4 「烈風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-182890-2
* 4th February 2015 – Vol 5 「凄風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-299042-4

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania:Volume 4

2026-10-11T14:46:31Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc}} {{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest}} {{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"}} {{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance}} {{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System}} {{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma}} {{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapt..."

{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last}}

<noinclude>
==Translator's Notes and References==
<references />

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| Back to [[Tytania :Volume 3|Volume 3]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 5|Volume 5]]
|-
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</noinclude>

Tytania

2026-10-11T14:45:14Z

Bob Morane: /* Volume 4 - The Gale Arc */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
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===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
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===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
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|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha03.jpg|border|250px]]
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===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
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|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha04.jpg|border|250px]]
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<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 4|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha05.jpg|border|250px]]
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<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==
First editions (the editor switched from Tokuma Shoten to Kodansha after volume 3 due to the long hiatus).
* 31st December 1988 – Vol 1 「疾風篇」、ISBN 4-19-153817-9
* 30th November 1989 – Vol 2 「暴風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154060-2
* 31st May 1991 – Vol 3 「旋風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154542-6
* 25th September 2013 – Vol 4 「烈風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-182890-2
* 4th February 2015 – Vol 5 「凄風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-299042-4

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8

2026-10-11T14:44:39Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 7 | Return to Main Page |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 8 – That which was Last == === I === The translucent wall continued to reflect the ongoing skirmish between the kin outside Uraniborg without ever tiring. The dancing interpl..."

<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>
== Chapter 8 – That which was Last ==
=== I ===
The translucent wall continued to reflect the ongoing skirmish between the kin outside Uraniborg without ever tiring.

The dancing interplay of light and shadow was, in itself, a brawl of life and death, but the man, clad in a silk gown and reclined deep within his armchair, kept his eyes closed, appearing entirely unexcited. Eventually, as two points of light flickered above the dark shadows, a heavy yet inorganic voice drifted out.

“Idris is likely fighting with all his might, but there is little excitement in seeing things unfold exactly as we predicted.”

The figure reached out a hand lightly, picked up an antique bell-shaped bell from the side table, and rang it twice. After replacing the bell, he rose leisurely from his armchair and continued to watch the battle through the wall, resting both hands lightly behind his waist.

It did not take long. The lights in the grand room brightened by two levels, and the figure of the Tytania Clanner’s butler appeared.

The butler, Oblon, bowed reverently towards his master’s back. As if his lord had eyes on the back of his head.

“I await your commands, Your Clanner Highness.”

“Change my clothes.”

“As you wish.”

Oblon showed no sign of being startled, nor did he ask any unnecessary questions. He had served Ajman for a quarter of a century. He knew what he needed to know regarding the Clanner’s private life, and he knew how to distinguish it from what he had no need to know.

“Prepare my formal attire.”

“As you wish.”

For the first time, he asked a question:

“Which of your formal sets should I prepare?”

“Let us go with the second one.”

“Very well. I shall attend to it immediately.”

Oblon withdrew, observing perfect etiquette.

After finishing his change of clothes at the hands of the four ladies-in-waiting Oblon had summoned, Clanner Ajman left the room, appearing entirely unconcerned by the fact that a life-or-death struggle was unfolding in the vacuum outside. Count Elman, the political secretary, the chief aide-de-camp, the chief scribe, and other high-ranking officials waiting at the doorway all saluted him in unison.

Ajman gave a slight nod before announcing:

“The private feud between those greenhorns must be nearing its limit. I am going to my office.”

“As you wish.”

“Your Highness.”

A woman’s voice rang out. It was Countess Theodora.

“If I may be so bold, should there be anything I can assist with, I shall accompany you.”

The Clanner gave a short laugh.

“What a cunning woman. Do you intend to instigate something in my name to protect your own interests? Since you presume to meddle in affairs beyond your station, perhaps I should have someone like Ariabert or Jouslain execute you.”

Even Theodora appeared to have lost her composure. Ajman passed before her, standing there like a living statue, without so much as a single glance.

Theodora cast a gaze filled with both terror and hostility at his arrogant back, but it proved entirely futile, as if a steel armour deflected her fury. She leaned against the wall and struggled to steady her breathing, letting herself succumb to the sensation of beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead, which looked as though it had been sculpted from marble.

Idris tossed the empty energy drink bottle over his shoulder. One of the soldiers barely managed to catch it. A small bitterness stung Idris’ stomach as he thought that his manners were becoming increasingly coarse. His hair and clothing were not as immaculate as usual, which instead lent a certain ferocity to the young nobleman’s beauty.

“Your younger brother has returned!”

Even upon hearing this, Idris did not react immediately. After a short pause, he looked back at the messenger with suspicion.

“My brother? Was Zelpha away?”

“No, well, I am referring to His Lordship Baron Radmoth…”

“Radmoth?”

It was a reaction as if Idris had completely forgotten he even had a brother by that name. Though he frowned overtly, he nevertheless proceeded to enquire.

“Is he wounded?”

“I wouldn’t call it a wound… He is sleeping, but he is perfectly well.”

“Then it is fine. We shall deal at a later date with his crime of failing to suppress those pirates. Do not allow Radmoth into the combat command room. Let him sleep.”

“Administer an injection and do not wake him for two or three days,” commanded Idris. To be honest, he felt as though he wished the man would simply sleep for eternity. Then, another urgent, important report was brought to him in haste.

“What is it this time!?”

“His Clanner Highness requests your presence, Duke Idris.”

“Now?”

“Indeed, he does.”

“But I cannot leave the combat command centre at a time like this.”

“I must reiterate that His Clanner Highness requests you attend him as soon as possible.”

''“What nonsense is that at a time like this!”'' roared Idris—although only entirely within his own mind.

Was it not only a few days ago that the man had refused Idris’ request for an audience? Whether his mood had changed or his supposed illness had improved, he had chosen, of all times, to summon him in the midst of combat operations. Just how far did he intend to manipulate others at his whim?

Even so, Idris possessed no option to refuse.

“I may be facing judgement regarding that matter.”

Idris felt a dark shudder run through him, but he shuddered once and shook off the fear with a self-deprecating smirk. If it were to come to that, then so be it. What would happen to the battles with Ariabert and Jouslain after his death? Would the Clanner himself fight them, or… No, let it be what it will.

“Furthermore, there is an order that you must bring your younger brother.”

“My brother… Radmoth?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realised his nerves were beginning to fray. However, the messenger’s reply was unexpected.

“No, your youngest brother.”

“Zelpha?… Nevermind, I understand.”

Though he doubted the Clanner’s true intentions, he had no choice but to comply. Idris called out his youngest brother’s name and beckoned him.

“Zelpha, get yourself presentable. We are having an audience with His Clanner Highness. You are ordered that you accompany me.”

“With His Clanner Highness? Me?”

The boy seemed just as astonished.

“You have met him before, have you not?”

“A few years ago… when I was a child.”

Despite the situation, Idris gave a wry smile at Zelpha’s visibly nervous reply. It seemed the boy still believed himself to be a mere child.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Idris’ mind. It was entirely disconnected from the current situation and the events that had transpired thus far; it was a question so basic it was almost ridiculous.

He was on good terms with Zelpha. But what about Ariabert and Jouslain? Why were they killing one another? And why did the Clanner stand by and watch such carnage with such indifference?

The doubt quickly swelled into suspicion, battering at Idris’ heart from within. Being branded “incompetent” would have been far more bearable than this.

However, the voice of the Clanner, whom he was meeting for the first time in a long while, remained utterly calm.

“What is the progress of the battle?”

“Well…”

Suppressing the dark crimson flames that flared within his chest, Idris replied:

“It is truly a matter of great shame, but the situation is exactly as you behold. We have yet to succeed in annihilating the traitors…”

“It appears the battleship ''Golden Sheep'' remains intact.”

“I humbly believe that we have inflicted some degree of damage.”

Ajman curled one corner of his mouth slightly.

“If you begin to falsify your battle reports, you will only sink yourself into a mire of disgrace. I am fine with candid responses, Lord Idris.”

“You are too kind.”

Idris was certain he was being mocked, yet he replied with a steady tone. He resisted the impulse to laugh at his own endeavours.

Ajman’s gaze had already shifted to the side of Idris.

“Raise your head.”

In obedience to the command, Zelpha looked the Clanner directly in the eye.

=== II ===
“Are you Lord Idris’ youngest brother?”

“Y-yes.”

“No need to fear.”

“He is so overwhelmed by your presence that he can scarcely find my voice. As he is still but a child, I beg for your indulgence.”

The Clanner showed no interest in Idris’ words.

“And what did you say your name was?”

“Z-Zelpha.”

“Zelpha, is it? I have high hopes for you. One day, you shall become a fine right hand to Lord Idris.”

“That is my greatest wish, no, my greatest desire.”

Sincerity filled Zelpha’s voice.

“It seems you have a good brother, Lord Idris.”

“I am honoured by your words.”

Idris tasted the height of bitterness, thinking that this was a conversation he truly wished Radmoth could have heard. Even so, the Clanner’s true intentions in summoning Idris to this place remained as obscure as ever. From what he could see, although the Clanner appeared somewhat pale, his posture was not in the slightest disarray. Idris simply could not believe he was a man recovering from illness.

“What do you intend to do from here, Lord Idris?”

“I deserve ten thousand deaths for the sin of causing you distress. At present, while the progress of the battle has been sluggish, our army has not yet exerted its full strength. The annihilation of the rebel forces shall be achieved within a day or two.”

“Lord Idris, that is rather vague.”

“Yes, I am most sorry.”

“Was two-to-one too much to handle, after all?”

That murmur set Idris’ younger brother ablaze with shame.

“With all due respect, Your Clanner Highness…”

“Remain silent, Zelpha.”

“But, Brother…”

“Do not speak without His Highness’ permission! Have you forgotten the etiquette of Tytania nobility?”

At Idris’ reprimand, Zelpha fell silent.

“It is quite alright, Zelpha. If you have something to say, then speak.”

“Yes, with Your Highness’ permission, I shall speak. My brother possesses talents far superior to both Ariabert and Jouslain, and his loyalty to Your Highness is unparalleled. I humbly pray that you will continue to place your trust in him.”

It was an extraordinary thing for a boy of twelve or thirteen years to say. Ajman stared intently at Zelpha, taking a moment of silence before breaking it:

“In that case, Baronet Zelpha Tytania, for the sake of your beloved brother, why not attempt to fulfil a mission even if it means staking your life?”

At this sudden command, both elder and younger brother held their breaths, but the younger brother’s reaction speed surpassed that of his elder.

“I am deeply honoured. I await your command.”

“Words are easy enough to speak.”

“Your Highness, I beg you to believe me. For my brother’s sake and my own, I, Zelpha, wish to be of service to you.”

With flushed cheeks and a brilliance like falling stars in his eyes, Zelpha raised his voice fervently. It was an appearance sufficient to make one believe he was a man of great potential.

“Very well, then. I shall place my trust in you and bestow upon you a mission.”

“I… I am deeply grateful. Though I am still inexperienced, I shall never under any circumstances fail to meet your expectations, Your Highness.”

The Clanner and Idris gazed at the boy with their respective expressions. After a moment, Ajman nodded with a sense of satisfaction and resolve, his voice resonating with a heavy depth.

“I intend to meet with Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain.”

Idris felt as though his suspicions had, in fact, been confirmed.

“Do you intend to invite them to Uraniborg?”

“Do you truly think they would come here?”

The Clanner tilted his head slightly. To Idris, the gesture seemed somewhat affected.

“No…”

“I shall send an envoy to act on my behalf. There are matters that are difficult to discuss properly through a communication screen.”

“…”

“While it remains to be seen how they will react as a result, I have, for my part, been able to confirm something important this time.”

“And what might that be?”

“To be honest, I had my concerns regarding Lord Ariabert’s competence, but those have been dispelled. To face forty thousand ships with only twenty thousand and achieve this level of combat. To put it simply, Lord Ariabert’s prowess as a commander is equal to twenty thousand vessels on his own. There shall be no one left who can oppose him militarily.”

Only Zelpha stared directly at him, as if in protest of the Clanner’s words. Having been judged as lacking Ariabert’s strategic genius, Idris could not bring himself to raise his eyes.

Idris bowed his head deeply toward the retreating figure of Ajman as he turned on his heel. It was not out of awe, nor was it out of reverence. It was because if he were to raise his face and look directly, others would see his eyes, scorched with hatred.

By the time he finally raised his head, the Clanner, who had been holding Zelpha’s shoulder like a father, was just disappearing around the corner of the room.

Idris remained standing there, motionless. He had a vision and heard a voice in his head, as if the very throne of Clanner was receding from before him, echoing with the sound of derisive laughter.

Through the transparent walls, swirling eddies of light and shadow enveloped Idris. He appeared like a living corpse.

Was it over? Had it truly ended? Had the Clanner given up on Idris and decided to hand the future of Tytania over to Ariabert and Jouslain?

However, Idris was mistaken.

“Cease fire!”

An authoritative command surged through the communication networks of both armies.

“Cease fire immediately. This is the will of His Clanner Highness. Seal all weapons at once and stand down from combat status. Furthermore, both armies are to maintain a distance of fifty thousand kilometres and remain stationary. I repeat, this is the will of His Clanner Highness.”

Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged glances from their respective positions. When they turned their eyes back to the screens, the forces of “Uraniborg” were in a state of slight confusion, yet they were silencing their artillery and retreating, as if to demonstrate their loyalty and obedience to the Clanner.

As Ariabert and Jouslain followed suit, a mysterious sight appeared ahead of the media fleet.

“The clouds of light appear to be rapidly separating and converging. What could have happened? Military commentator Mr Peterhead, please give us your thoughts.”

“It appears to be a temporary ceasefire. Both sides have ceased their attacks simultaneously and are retreating to increase the distance between them.”

“This is sudden. And quite unexpected. What on earth happened, Mr Peterhead?”

“Something of extreme gravity must have occurred.”

“Something very significant, then.”

“We have no choice but to keep a close watch for a while.”

The conversation they exchanged was by no means meaningless. It served only to intensify the anxiety and suspicion shared by everyone. As for the media, they continued their observations relentlessly, while letting their imaginations run wild with the thought that ''“such a situation would be unthinkable without a direct order from the Clanner.”''

Aboard the battleship ''Austra'', Ariabert and Jouslain were away from the bridge. Tytania-style dreadnoughts always featured an “Audience Chamber”, prepared for instances when the Clanner himself might board. It was a room of approximately fifteen square metres, adorned with classical decorations, with one wall covered by a screen. Upon seeing Ajman dressed in ceremonial attire on the screen, the two dukes knelt.

''“I am glad to see you both are well. I would like to meet and speak with you; will you grant me this?”''

It was Jouslain’s turn to speak:

“Do you order that we both appear before you in person?”

''“That was indeed my intention.”''

“As we are but humble members of the Tytania Clan, suspending combat is one thing, but we cannot simply abandon our forces and move recklessly. We humbly request that you issue further instructions.”

''“I see. That is a valid point.”''

Ajman nodded magnanimously.

''“If you were to believe my words without question and rush in without caution, you would not be worthy of being entrusted with the future of Tytania. Moreover, the advantage lies with your side—overwhelmingly so.”''

Jouslain felt as though the waves of Idris’ fury were palpable. The combat, which had lasted half a day, had merely exhausted both armies, and Idris still held Uraniborg.

''“However, it would be unimaginative to allow us to descend into fratricide without even a final round of negotiations or debate. I shall dispatch an envoy to you. If it is at all possible, I wish to prevent this bloodshed.”''

“…”

''“It goes without saying that the reason you two raised your banners was due to the belief that Lord Idris had detained me. However, since I am standing here before you, it has become clear that this was a misunderstanding. Therefore, there should no longer be any reason to continue this conflict, is there?”''

=== III ===
The moment had finally arrived.

Everyone trembled with dread. The time had finally come for Clanner Ajman to appear before the public.

The media’s excitement reached a fever pitch all at once.

“Clanner Ajman is alive and well!”

“Fighting has ceased between the Uraniborg forces and the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces!”

“A meeting regarding peace negotiations is set to take place at Uraniborg between the Clanner and the three dukes!”

“From this point on, an explanation regarding the terms of the peace will be provided by the Clanner himself…”

It was as if the interstellar communication circuit itself had descended into madness.

“My, it has certainly taken an unexpected turn, hasn’t it, military commentator Mr Peterhead?”

“Well, it is certainly within the realm of what can be expected,” replied the commentator, sounding exactly like a commentator.

“Clanner Ajman…”

Even Doctor Lee stared intently at the screen, muttering the words unconsciously. He even held back his blinks, as if not wanting to miss a single movement of the lips, a twitch of an eyebrow, or the angle of a gaze. Holding a bottle of dark beer in one hand, Fan Hyulick sat with his legs crossed in silence.

“Ah, damn it, if only I could interview him. My name would be etched in history!”

“There is no way you could interview him. Just standing before a Clanner would leave you drenched in cold sweat, unable to speak a word.”

Such a conversation was being exchanged in one corner of the media contingent, but the moment Clanner Ajman, who had appeared on the screen, opened his mouth, all conversation and monologue ceased instantly.

''“Of the tens of billions of all humankind, Ajman alone spoke”'' (K. K. Microft).

The contents of that speech would, in the days to follow, be replayed hundreds of millions of times.

Wounded, exhausted, and shrouded in the sense of defeat, the fleet returned to Uraniborg.

Forty thousand vessels had set out. Fewer than thirty thousand returned, of which eight thousand were heavily damaged and deemed unfit for redeployment within fifty days. Remarkably, ten thousand ships had returned almost entirely unscathed, yet this was not the result of heroic combat, but quite the opposite. They had become mere spectators, never engaging the enemy or even firing a single shot, left only to witness the disastrous defeat of their allies in stunned silence. Ariabert had perfectly neutralised the enemy’s numerical advantage.

The soldiers, disembarking from their ships, spoke to one another with hollow voices.

“Can you believe it? The enemy had twenty thousand; we had forty thousand. How on earth did we end up in such disgrace?”

“The thousand enemy ships weren’t even destroyed. I now certainly understand the meaning of the expression ‘one-sided’.”

“Where was Duke Idris, anyway? Where was our Commander-in-Chief?”

“At Uraniborg. They say he was holed up in the command centre the whole time.”

“He didn’t even deploy!? Then who was leading us on the front lines? It would have made more sense if His Clanner Highness was in the command centre, and Duke Idris was out there leading with the ''Black Prince''.”

“This was a case of letting a treasure waste<ref name="ftn45">“Leaving a treasure unpossessed” (宝の持ちぐされ) refers to possessing something extraordinarily valuable or an outstanding talent, and not use it and let it go to waste. Essentially, wasting a talent, keeping a possession unused, or “casting pearls before swine”.</ref>. We at the bottom can’t understand what the higher-ups are thinking.”

The gazes of the soldiers, some with arms in slings and others with bandages wrapped around their heads, were fixed upon a corner of the harbour. There, a pitch-black space battleship lay moored. Its form was grand and perfectly composed, its massive hull so immense it created the illusion of occupying half the harbour facilities, and its darkness seemed to swallow all colours. Yet, despite its overwhelming majesty, it never finally revealed its true splendour upon the battlefield.

It was only after the fighting had ended that the leaders of the enemies of Uraniborg felt the onset of exhaustion. Ariabert and Jouslain had sheathed the spears of victory, accepting the Clanner’s recommendation for a ceasefire.

This decision would lead a historian, a hundred years later, to remark:

''“Both Ariabert and Jouslain were capable and extraordinary, yet they did not measure up to Nuri.”'' (Lian Hoon Dao)

A single destroyer<ref name="ftn46">“Destroyer” (駆逐艦) is pronounced “destroyer”.</ref> set out from Uraniborg towards the battleship ''Austra''. The Clanner’s envoy was supposed to be aboard. Standing shoulder to shoulder as they watched the screen, Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged low whispers.

“His Clanner Highness did not mention the name of the envoy. Was that intentional?”

“It was intentional. He likely intends to take us by surprise in some way.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea who it might be. Perhaps Count Elman?”

“Something like that.”

They waited for a while, sipping on the tea Francia had brewed for them. Just as they were about to finish their cups, the communications officer contacted them, announcing the identity of the Clanner’s envoy.

“It is the younger brother of Duke Idris.”

“Radmoth!?”

Ariabert was stunned. He had not expected Idris himself to arrive, but he certainly had not expected that such a violent young man, a person entirely unacquainted with the concept of diplomacy, would be sent as an envoy. Did the Clanner truly intend to nullify the ceasefire?

“That is not the case.”

“Not the case? So, it is not Radmoth?”

“No.”

“Then who is it?”

When Jouslain questioned him sharply, the communications officer faltered, even though the matter was beyond his control.

“I… I was told it was Baronet Zelpha Tytania.”

“… Ah, indeed he is Idris’ youngest brother. But was he not only twelve or thirteen years old?”

“He will be arriving shortly.”

At that moment, Jouslain was seized by an ominous premonition. The thought even crossed his mind to refuse the special envoy entry to the ship and send him away. However, he could find no justification for such a blatant breach of protocol.

The two ships moored alongside one another, and the cylindrical passageways docked and opened. Zelpha stepped into the interior of the ''Austra''.

Zelpha came to a halt. Turning slowly to scan the crew, the young nobleman spoke with a dignified severity.

“Bear in mind that any discourteous behaviour towards His Clanner Highness’ envoy shall tarnish your master’s reputation in the eyes of the world. Do you understand?”

The crew, weapons at the ready, stood frozen in stunned silence.

“Escort me to Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain. Should there be any further insolence towards me, I shall deem it an act of disrespect toward His Clanner Highness himself!”

In a panic, the soldiers lowered their laser rifles and railguns. An officer stepped forward after an affected cough and addressed him with as much utmost reverence as he could muster.

“Your Lordship Baronet, we shall escort you, but we must insist on a physical inspection first.”

“A physical inspection? That is something a coward would demand.”

“You are free to refuse, but would that not mean failing in your great responsibility?”

“I understand. Very well, you have my permission. Proceed.”

Zelpha cast a contemptuous glance at the soldiers before straightening his spine once more and standing still.

“Pardon us.”

Overwhelmed by the young boy, the soldiers exchanged a few words amongst themselves, feeling a sense of irritation. A female soldier whispered, with the easy confidence of a victor:

“Ten years… no, I look forward to what he looks like in five years.”

Though he could not have possibly heard her, Zelpha cast a glance towards the female soldiers while undergoing the inspection, causing them to narrowly stifle their squeals. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of having survived a battle against twice their number. The inspection itself was conducted with great care, and it did not cause Zelpha any discomfort.

Before long, Zelpha proceeded alone into the depths of the corridor, leaving five or six attendants behind. Ariabert and Jouslain were waiting in the Audience Chamber.

“I am Baronet Zelpha Tytania, envoy sent by His Clanner Highness Ajman.”

Zelpha’s voice was still close to a boy soprano. The sight of a boy on the verge of voice breaking, desperately trying to maintain his dignity while looking up as if to glare at the two older men, invited a smile.

Zelpha raised his voice, as if refusing to be looked down upon.

“I have stated that I am His Clanner Highness’ envoy. Why, then, do you both not kneel in response?”

“Honoured Envoy, while you have a point, the two of us have already been stripped of our status as Tytanians,” replied calmly Ariabert.

A flush of crimson crept into Zelpha’s smooth cheeks.

“That point was explicitly stated in this imperial decree. If both Ariabert and Jouslain are upholding the etiquette expected of Tytanian nobility… then is it not only natural that an envoy acting as His Clanner Highness’ proxy should be afforded the same level of respect as His Clanner Highness himself until his mission is concluded? Am I wrong!?”

Ariabert and Jouslain acknowledged the logic. After exchanging glances, they dropped onto one knee in silence. Zelpha nodded, looking satisfied.

“You both may rise.”

With solemn expressions, the two young dukes stood up. Since it had come to this, there was no choice but to go along with the boy.

“I shall now deliver His Clanner Highness’ decree.” The boy read aloud, opening the archaic silk<ref name="ftn47">“Silk” (絹布) is pronounced “silk”.</ref> scroll he had brought with him. “All penalties<ref name="ftn48">“Punishment” (罰則) is pronounced “penalty”.</ref> imposed upon both Ariabert and Jouslain are hereby annulled. Both shall have their duchies restored and are permitted to rejoin the Clan Supreme Council… Henceforth, within the Tytania leadership, both Ariabert and Jouslain shall be delegated the authority of His Clanner Highness Ajman. That is to say, Ariabert shall be bestowed the title of Fleet Admiral of the Vardana Empire and shall assume command over both the Tytania forces and the Vardana Empire forces. Jouslain shall be granted the title of Prime Minister of the Vardana Empire, and shall hold full discretion over all domestic and foreign affairs, without requiring prior imperial permission. How do both of you respond?”

Ariabert and Jouslain suppressed their astonishment, attempting to mask their expressions as much as possible. After a short pause, Jouslain spoke:

“We are honoured by these words, but to speak frankly, this result far exceeds our expectations. It is difficult to believe that Duke Idris would accept such unilateral terms.”

“… As for Idris, I shall speak of him presently.”

Zelpha’s voice trembled, and a flame of anger ignited in both of his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he forgot his position as an envoy, and his resentment towards his brother became plain to see. However, Zelpha composed himself and resumed reading the imperial decree.

“Idris shall bear the primary responsibility for this recent civil war. His rank shall be demoted one grade to marquis, and he is ordered to an indefinite posting to the Tyron planetary mission.”

=== IV ===
Unconditional surrender. Those words surfaced in the hearts of Ariabert and Jouslain simultaneously. The eyes of the boy standing there, seemingly struggling to suppress his tremors, were brimming with tears, which involuntarily evoked a sense of sympathy.

“… Had it been the second-generation Clanner, Nuri, he would have shown no mercy. He would have demanded Idris’ execution. Still, for a Clanner, he has made quite a concession.”

Jouslain had no intention of following Nuri’s example. Idris would likely spend the rest of his life as a mere figurehead marquis within the Tyron estate. It was possible that Clanner Ajman was keeping Idris alive only to trip up Ariabert or Jouslain in the future.

But even so…

Just as Jouslain gazed into the depths of his own heart and nearly grasped the tail of something festering within the darkness, he heard Zelpha’s voice:

“Lord Ariabert, if you would be so kind, let us shake hands in reconciliation.”

“With pleasure.”

Ariabert was moved by the boy’s earnestness. Holding the imperial decree, which Zelpha had returned to its original form after reading, in his left hand, he extended his right.

The hands met in a handshake. At that moment, Zelpha, along with the scroll, collided with Ariabert’s tall frame.

When the heat ray pierced through Ariabert’s chest to his back, not a single drop of blood escaped. Because the temperature of the heat ray was so high, the wound was cauterised instantly, preventing any outward bleeding.

However, massive internal haemorrhaging occurred. Scorching blood overflowed from his injured organs and seared blood vessels, surging in search of an exit. A crimson torrent erupted from Ariabert’s shapely nose and mouth, searing the mucous membranes of his throat in the process.

Yet, his intense agony did not last long. Casting a gaze filled with the stillness of death upon the boy, Ariabert closed both eyes, dropped to both knees upon the floor, and slowly fell upon his side.

“Witness the end of the traitor Ariabert, who persisted in his defiance against His Clanner Highness!”

Zelpha’s cry reverberated through the room like an intense death knell. In an instant, everything froze, and in an instant, it thawed.

Jouslain reached out with tremendous force, grabbed Zelpha’s wrist, and twisted it without mercy or restraint. A scream of agony escaped Zelpha’s lips.

Jouslain then drove his knee into the back of Zelpha’s knee, forcing the latter to buckle. While nearly crushing Zelpha, Jouslain cried out:

“Ariabert…!”

The young nobleman, though called by name, attempted to struggle amidst the heavy bloodshed, but his strength had already been lost. Captain Edna Fredericks, heedless of the eyes of others, knelt upon the floor and cradled his head, her face deathly pale.

“… My brother<ref name="ftn49">“My brother” (わが兄弟) is pronounced “my brother”.</ref>.”

Ariabert, his vocal cords scorched by boiling blood, could not have possibly produced a sound. Even so, Jouslain distinctly heard his voice. Jouslain violently shoved the too-young assassin aside and approached Ariabert with unsteady steps.

“Don’t die, Ariabert… Brother…”

Jouslain’s voice trembled violently. The young nobleman, who had often been praised for a coolness and detached rationality unbefitting his age, knelt on both knees beside the man who was his comrade, his cousin, and his half-brother, attempting to lift his upper body with trembling hands. He felt no vital sign whatsoever.

Balamy had the soldiers pin Zelpha down and examined the imperial scroll. When Balamy announced that the shaft was a heatgun of a unique shape made of carbon fibre, Jouslain interrogated the assassin with a voice that sounded like the dead:

“I trust you are prepared to atone for your crimes?”

To no one’s ears did that sound like anything other than a death sentence. Held down by the soldiers, Zelpha gasped.

“I have committed no crime. I merely executed a traitor.”

“It seems Idris’ teachings have taken root well.”

Jouslain’s gaze was so piercing that even an adult would have struggled to meet it. It felt as though a torrent of hellfire were being spewed forth from the gates of the underworld.

“Lord Jouslain! He is but a child!”

Francia leaned against Jouslain’s right arm. Jouslain did not attempt to shake her off, but instead stood before Zelpha as if half-dragging her along. With a voice as fiery as his gaze, he interrogated him:

“Do you feel no regret?”

“Regret?”

Zelpha attempted to laugh with everything he had.

“Ah, I do regret one thing. I should have shot Jouslain<ref name="ftn50">Zelpha actually says “I should have shot that guy first”, but “that guy” has the reading “Jouslain”.</ref> first.”

Balamy was rendered speechless by such sheer audacity. He thought that this boy might even surpass Idris. Jouslain smiled too, but it was a smile the likes of which Francia had never seen before.

“You mustn’t, Lord Jouslain, you mustn’t!”

Francia clung to Jouslain’s right arm with all her strength. She did not want the master whom she so dearly loved to become a child killer.

“Long live Idris, the next Clanner of Tytania!” shouted Zelpha.

It was a cry of pride, yet one that simultaneously incited murderous intent. Though Zelpha had not consciously intended it, the cry was little more than a declaration of an execution sentence against Idris.

“Are you that proud of having killed someone? Cut it out!” rebuked Balamy, while bitterly recalling his own past self.

Zelpha threw a defiant glare back at Balamy.

“If one is not of Tytania, one is not a human!”

There was no saving him. As Balamy became certain of the boy’s death, Jouslain groaned:

“Baronet, your actions, whose idea were them? Was it Idris?”

“No.”

“Then was it the Clanner?”

“It was my own idea.”

Jouslain shook his head with a sneer.

“Lord Jouslain.”

“Francia, make no mistake. I am of Tytania. I am neither a good person nor an ally of justice.”

Jouslain’s eyes were bloodshot. His capillaries had burst from the sheer intensity of his passion. As her master almost abandoned reason and intellect, Francia placed her hands upon his arm and supported him with all her might.

A strange, misplaced joy stirred within Francia’s heart. She could not help but feel a sense of guilt in the face of Ariabert’s misfortune, but at that moment, she certainly felt a sense of responsibility to support Jouslain, and she found joy in that feeling.

“Lord Jouslain, the screen…”

At Francia’s whisper, Jouslain turned an unusual gaze toward the screen. Having begun to operate without any warning, the screen showed static for two or three seconds before revealing the figure of the person responsible for sending the assassin.

Ajman did not utter a single word regarding the gruesome scene that had surely been imprinted upon his eyes.

''“With this, things have become fair.”''

From the abyss of nothingness, a wind imbued with magical power blew directly toward Jouslain.

''“You shall compete one-on-one against Lord Idris for the position of Clanner. I shall find great pleasure in seeing which of you triumphs and how.”''

“Ariabert…”

''“Lord Ariabert’s existence was redundant. He held significant importance as Lord Zarlisch’s worthy rival. However, with the death of Lord Zarlisch, a purely military confrontation of equal standing can no longer be expected.”''

Jouslain took a step towards the screen.

“Ariabert was the one who should have been the next Clanner. Ariabert was…”

''“You may have a million words to mourn the loss of Lord Ariabert, but did you have even a single word for Lord Zarlisch? Even if your mothers were different, I suppose that is simply how brothers are.”''

“…”

''“However, in any case, there can only be one supreme seat. My plan was to force you and Ariabert to kill one another, but you should consider it my small act of mercy that I did not proceed with it. If your opponent is Idris, your heart won’t ache even if you kill him. The same would apply to Idris; indeed, he would likely scheme with great joy to see you slain.”''

Hearing his brother’s name spoken so coldly, Zelpha stared at the screen in a daze.

“Clanner!” cried out Jouslain.

An invisible clot of blood was spat from his throat along with his voice. He would no longer use the respectful title “Your Highness<ref name="ftn51">“Your Highness” (殿下) is pronounced “Your Highness”.</ref>”. The arrogant figure occupying the screen before his eyes was nothing more than a monster who had murdered his brother and preyed upon human life, both in body and soul.

“No matter how much you play with sophistry, you murdered Ariabert. You even used a child as a tool! Did you truly think I would submissively act according to your designs!?”

=== V ===
''“I had hoped you would not disappoint me, Lord Jouslain. I believed I had granted you something advantageous. I remained silent, thinking it would be unrefined to speak of it, but since you lack the insight to see it, then I have no choice. I shall simply give up on you.”''

“Advantageous…?”

''“Where is this child that you claim I have turned into a tool? You still have a hostage against Idris held in your custody, do you not?”''

Jouslain turned his gaze towards Zelpha, feeling as though he had been struck across the face; he could no longer remember how many times this had happened.

Pinned to the floor with a gun barrel pressed against him, Zelpha glared back at Jouslain. His entire body trembled finely, and his breathing was heavy. It was a display of bravado. Yet, this boy was maintaining that bravado at the cost of his entire life and honour. He did so while being halfway crushed by the harsh conditions demanded of a Tytania noble.

Wiping the expression from his face, Jouslain approached and ordered the soldiers to force Zelpha, who refused to stop struggling, to stand up.

“Did you hear that, Baronet? It appears that after you have fulfilled your duty as an assassin, you must also serve as a hostage.”

“I will never become a hostage! If it has to come to that, I’ll bite my tongue and die!”

The moment those words left his lips, Jouslain’s hands moved. He gripped Zelpha’s slender chin with his left hand. The fingers of his right hand thrust into the boy’s mouth, seizing his tongue. Zelpha choked, unable even to attempt a cough, as tears of pain and resentment flowed from both eyes.

“If you want to die by biting your tongue, then go ahead. I’ll even help you.”

“Ah… ah… cough…”

“What will it be? Will you die?”

At that moment, Jouslain looked like neither a young nobleman nor a gentleman. Amidst the staff officers who stood frozen, breathless and silenced, the avenger seemed to have surrendered himself entirely to his own ferocity; however, upon glancing at Francia, who remained clinging to his right arm, he suddenly released his grip and shoved Zelpha away.

“This child acts far more grown-up than he really is. Keep him under guard.”

The soldiers nodded gloomily while keeping Zelpha pinned down.

“Do not let him die, no matter what.”

Jouslain looked towards Ariabert. Captain Edna Fredericks remained on both knees upon the floor, her hands silently stroking Ariabert’s hair as his head rested upon them.

“If he dies now, he will pass away with the satisfaction of having slain an enemy general for his brother’s sake. I will not allow Ariabert’s foe to taste such happiness!”

Jouslain steadied his breathing once, then twice. He lightly tapped the back of Francia’s hand, which was resting on his arm, before speaking. To the woman Ariabert had likely spent his final night with.

“Captain Fredericks, I am sorry, but…”

“Yes.”

As Edna attempted to stand, lowering Ariabert’s head from her lap, Jouslain raised his hand to restrain her.

“Leave him as he is. I am sorry, but please assign two or three soldiers to confine this boy somewhere.”

“Understood… Sergeant!”

Just as Zelpha was about to be led away,

“Wait!”

Princess Lydia rushed forward. She bowed her head towards Ariabert, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands together in the ancient custom before turning back towards Zelpha.

“Lord Ariabert was a good man.”

“…”

“Did you never wish you could be an adult like him?”

“…”

“Did you truly allow him to die of your own will?”

Unable to endure Princess Lydia’s direct gaze, Zelpha averted his eyes. He had intended to respond with logic and reason, but the words that escaped his lips were far from it.

“Hmph, how could a child possibly understand?”

“I can understand.”

A strong, sharp voice made Zelpha flinch. The owner of that voice was a fellow clansman whom he had met many times at ceremonies and parties, Viscount Balamy Tytania.

Balamy realised it. He had respected Ariabert, at least as a commander. He had desired to become a commander who possessed both the skill in military deployment and the personal leadership that Ariabert held.

Balamy was nine years younger than Ariabert and Jouslain. While that age gap seemed large, from the perspective of the generational succession of the Clanner throne, it was actually far too small. If Ariabert or Jouslain had ascended to the Clanner throne, their era would have continued for twenty or thirty years, leaving no place for Balamy to emerge. However, Balamy could not bring himself to feel glad that this had not happened.

“With this, both the peace negotiations and the imperial decree have vanished, right?”

Balamy deliberately changed the subject.

“We still have nineteen thousand vessels remaining. The enemy likely possesses twenty-four or twenty-five thousand. Even if hostilities resume, there is no reason to fear.”

“If Ariabert were still here, that is.”

“… I…”

“The Clanner will announce Ariabert’s death. Once that happens, I wonder how many of those nineteen thousand will actually remain.”

Jouslain’s expression and tone were not so much sombre than somewhat resigned. It was the first time Balamy had ever seen Jouslain like this. Jouslain’s strategy, both political and military, had relied entirely upon the presence of Ariabert.

With Ariabert dead and Jouslain currently struggling to regain his composure, who was it that commanded the great army of nearly twenty thousand that had arrived at an expedition from Bargash? Was it not Balamy, the only one left holding a Tytania title? Realising this, Balamy was struck with horror.

“Lord Balamy, please escort Princess Lydia.”

“Yes.”

As Balamy departed with the Princess and the soldiers, Jouslain spoke to the lady-in-waiting who remained alone.

“Do not worry, Francia. I am not yet finished. It is simply that I have lost both my past and my future at once.”

“You must still have a future, Lord Jouslain.”

“I do not. There is no such thing.”

“Lord Jouslain, the future that was lost belongs to Tytania. It does not belong to you.”

Francia’s voice grew fervent. Jouslain merely responded with a feeble smile. It was the first time Francia had ever seen her master so utterly defeated and at a loss.

The sound of footsteps approached. When Francia looked up, she saw Captain Edna Fredericks, the commander of the battleship ''Austra'', which had become the site of this historic tragedy. There was a large, dark stain upon her uniform. Ariabert’s blood.

“Your Grace, should you have any instructions, I stand ready to receive them.”

“Prepare Ariabert’s funeral.”

“Yes.”

“Make it something worthy of him: simple, yet dignified and elegant.”

“As you wish.”

“Captain Fredericks, we shall speak again sometime… though not now, for either of us.”

Edna saluted in silence and departed. Francia tightened her grip on her arm.

“After the funeral, are you to fight Lord Idris again?”

“Idris?”

Jouslain gave a silent laugh.

“I am afraid he is of no consequence. The Clanner… Ajman, is telling le to try my hand at challenging him.”

Francia gasped, grasping Jouslain’s right hand with both of hers. A horrific terror, beyond anything she could have imagined, enveloped her entire being. To fight the Clanner! A living god to the Tytanians…

“I was naive. I was a fool. If only I had realised just one day sooner, I could have prevented Ariabert’s death… Ajman had been hiding himself in the darkness, pulling the strings of a puppet named Idris. If only I had been able to see through those puppet strings…”

“But, Lord Jouslain, why would the Clanner do such a thing?”

Before long, even Francia had forgotten to use the respectful title of “Highness”.

“I do not know… I do not know yet. I am no match for Ajman. I may never be… But I refuse to dance one-sidedly upon the palm of his hand.”

Jouslain looked at Francia. Although his passion had not yet subsided, his self-control and stability seemed to be returning. With a sense of relief, Francia voiced her own thought.

“Is it not because the Clanner is attempting to eliminate anyone in his way so that he may pass the throne to his own child?”

“For Theophilus? I believe he is seven years old.”

“Yes. It takes fifteen years to reach adulthood, a duration everyone finds acceptable.”

“Hum…”

Francia’s words were sensible and persuasive. It was true; history was full of countless examples of dictators massacring other clans in order to secure their own child as heir.

However, for some reason, Jouslain remained unconvinced. Was Ajman truly such a conventional man? Or rather, was he the kind of man who would orchestrate such a catastrophe for such a small, commonplace purpose?

Furthermore, there was Idris. He had been forced to fight Ariabert, only to be patronisingly rescued just as he was on the verge of defeat, and his devoted younger brother had been used as an assassin and was now amidst the enemy. Even so, would Idris remain a mere subordinate to Clanner Ajman?

Jouslain gripped Francia’s hand without even realising it. Francia squeezed back with all her strength.

Emptiness and rage took turns to seize Jouslain. Each time, the blood flowing through his veins froze cold, only to boil with heat once more. Having lost the other half of his soul, to whom he had entrusted the future of his clan, and tormented by an unfathomable sense of helplessness unlike any he had ever known, Duke Jouslain Tytania still had no choice but to press on along the path he had chosen himself.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7

2026-10-11T14:43:31Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 6 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 8 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 7 – The “Celestial City” == === I === A total of sixty thousand vessels from both sides were deployed in orbit around..."

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== Chapter 7 – The “Celestial City” ==
=== I ===
A total of sixty thousand vessels from both sides were deployed in orbit around the planet Vardana, engaged in an offensive and defensive struggle over Uraniborg.

It was a dance of death set against a backdrop of eternal night.

The grand spectacle that the anti-Tytania faction had dreamed of, and that Tytania supporters could never have imagined, had manifested around the planet Vardana. Beams of light intersected in a dizzying display. Destroyers were blown into fragments. Cruisers drifted aimlessly like drunkards, their propulsion systems destroyed. Battleships, even while engulfed in flames, continued to spew beams from their turrets.

Vast amounts of human blood and energy were being wasted, swallowed up into the everlasting darkness.

The horrific spectacle was broadcast live to all of human society via the media, accompanied by neither the scent of blood nor the sound of screams; tens of billions of people watched on, their palms sweating, despite the slight time delays. Some were mesmerised, calling it “art from hell,” while others cried out, “Someone stop this futile slaughter!”, yet those not directly involved could do nothing but lament their own helplessness.

By the standards of Space International Law, this battle of unparalleled scale was not considered an “act of war”. It was not a case of independent nations exercising their right to combat following a formal declaration. It was merely a series of private wars between mercenary groups belonging to massive corporations.

However, the reality of the situation far surpassed both law and common sense.

Quite prosaically referred to as the “Uraniborg Incident”, this war was the largest-scale slaughter of the Tytania Age. It began without a formal declaration of war, intensified all at once, and ended in a manner that no one, except for a single individual, could have ever imagined.

While Idris did not move from the combat command centre of Uraniborg, Ariabert boarded the battleship ''Austra'' with Jouslain in tow and raced across the battlefield. The ''Golden Sheep'', which was supposed to be the flagship, also appeared at various points across the battlefield as a single battleship, but it functioned effectively as a decoy, causing great distress to the forces of Uraniborg.

Like a swarm of mosquitoes descending upon an elephant, small double fighters<ref name="ftn37">“High-speed double fighter” (高速複座式戦闘艇) is pronounced “double fighter”.</ref> danced around the colossal space battleship, mocking the heavy, sluggish movements of its main cannons. In response, small-calibre autocannons spat out streaks of red and blue tracers, aimed directly at them.

In the silence, the double fighters were scattered, sending fragments of both organic and inorganic matter spinning into the void. As the gunfire reflected off these pieces, the shimmering clouds of debris were disrupted, dancing erratically until they became part of a vast, luminous nebula.

Regardless of its humanity, it was a magnificent painting of death, as beautiful as anything mankind could ever create.

As the ''Golden Sheep'' charged across the battlefield, leading a dozen escort vessels in its wake, the artillery fire from the Uraniborg fleet concentrated upon it, attempting to pursue and encircle the formation. In the meantime, the ''Austra'' moved in another direction, scattering small and medium-sized enemy ships and launching a persistent assault upon the port gate<ref name="ftn38">“Port gate” (港門) is pronounced “port gate”.</ref> of Uraniborg. The gate, which had only just finished its repairs, was swallowed once more by light and flame, taking with it a heavy cruiser that had thrust its forward section out as if to depart for battle, and fell into silence.

“Enemy ships are also emerging from the fourth port gate!”

“Hoh hoh!”

There was a pleasant ring of tension in Ariabert’s voice.

“A simultaneous ''sortie''? It seems Idris has thought this through at least a little.”

“What is Idris’ objective?”

On occasion, even Jouslain would raise his voice.

“Perhaps he intends to disperse our forces.”

“Precisely.”

“And what if we do not fall for his scheme?”

Jouslain had asked an abstract question.

“Just watch.”

Without showing even a hint of fluster, Ariabert answered, issuing two or three orders to Captain Edna Fredericks. He then issued further commands to the communications officer.

The ''Austra'' began a slow turn, appearing to head towards the fourth docking gate. To the enemy, it looked as though the ship was exposing its broadside. Just as the fleet from Uraniborg attempted to close the distance and attack, several ship silhouettes darted out from the shadow of the ''Austra'', intercepting their path.

“Unable to avoid!”

Simultaneously with that scream, which took the form of a report, the side walls of the cruisers collided. Had there been an atmosphere, the jarring sound of the impact would have thundered like a clap of lightning.

While there was no sound, the impact shook the hull, sending cracks racing through the walls. Inside the ship, soldiers who had been standing were knocked down by an invisible force, instruments erupted in sparks and smoke, and exposed gun barrels were snapped in two.

“The skiff<ref name="ftn39">“Single-seat fighter catapult” (単座式戦闘艇) pronounced “skiff”.</ref> is half-destroyed! Launch impossible!”

“Repair it! How long will it take?”

“We need one hour.”

“Damn it, they got us.”

The tactical methods employed by the Ariabert-Jouslain Allied Forces were diverse and extremely sophisticated. Ariabert appeared as if he were even enjoying the manoeuvres of local combat, having already established an advantage across the entire battlefield.

The moment over a dozen heavy cruisers of the Uraniborg fleet attempted to pass through the web of photons stretched between the patrol ships, enemy gun ports opened all at once.

The concentrated fire against the dense formation of large vessels was so effective that even aiming was unnecessary. Spears of pale blue light shimmered as they battered the line of ships. Small fireballs expanded rapidly, shining with particular intensity before scattering. In that silent world, a turbulence of energy erupted. It collided, tangled, and sucked everything into itself, growing larger and more ferocious.

The small and medium-sized vessels struggled desperately to escape this deadly turbulence, but they were swallowed up in groups of a hundred, spinning within the energy vortex. Soldiers were flung from floor to ceiling and from ceiling to wall; they were slammed against surfaces, their limbs broken as they coughed up blood. Amidst the threat of being consumed by the merciless turbulence, one massive ship charged through, overcoming the chaos. It was the battleship ''Faratax'' of Uraniborg.

“Eleven o’clock! Three consecutive main battery salvos!”

The voice of Captain Edna Fredericks rang out clearly.

The nine main guns of the ''Austra'' unleashed a dazzling, pure white flash.

The power displayed was enough to leave every witness breathless. The nine white dragons tore through the massive hull of the battleship ''Faratax'' of the Uraniborg fleet, positioned ahead, and continued straight on to pierce the heavy cruiser ''Diamentra'' behind it. As the massive frame of the ''Faratax'' scattered, transforming from an orange fireball into a white cloud, countless fragments of light, large and small, flew in every direction behind it.

In the midst of the desperate struggle, the destruction of the dock gates that Ariabert had carried out beforehand was beginning to yield devastating effects. Each gate’s original capacity for ships to enter and exit had been significantly reduced. While intact vessels were being prevented from launching through the narrowed entrances, repair work was simultaneously obstructing damaged ships attempting to flee inside.

“Requesting temporary return! Open the dock gates!”

A ship that sent this anguished transmission to Uraniborg was, in the very next moment, pierced by a spear of energy. One by one, the dock gates were transformed into a graveyard for the forces of Uraniborg.

“Battleship ''Paramiduse'', unable to continue combat!”

“Heavy Cruiser ''Kappenberg'', main battery damaged, repairs impossible!”

Communications reporting damage flooded the circuits.

Idris had not even eaten and was sitting in his seat within the combat command centre, leaning halfway forward.

“The unit that gathered at spatial coordinates J8, E4, P11… Why aren’t they attacking the enemy from the right rear!? If we can break through that sector, the enemy should be forced to spend time reorganising their formation!”

He issued highly detailed instructions, but…

“If we move that unit, the enemy will charge into the space left wide open. If that happens, the second port gate will be directly exposed to heavy gunfire.”

He could do nothing but grit his teeth at that reply.

The flames of war grew increasingly intense, with no end in sight.

However, this was because the forces of Uraniborg had calculated themselves to be twice as strong as the enemy. Had the forces on both sides been equal, the battle would likely have already reached its final stage.

It seemed as though a fact was being proven: as long as an unconventional stratagem as nonsensical as Fan Hyulick’s failed to meet the necessary conditions, no one could triumph over the deployment and command of Ariabert Tytania.

Ariabert organised his entire force into a long, serpentine formation and set Uraniborg to circle in a clockwise direction. Without so much as a glance at the enemy attempting to close in from behind, he concentrated his bombardment upon the six harbour gates of Uraniborg. Naturally, the gates were defended with exceptional strength, yet they could not withstand the concentration of firepower, which exceeded all expectations, and they began to explode and burst into flames one after another. Consequently, many vessels were trapped within the harbour, unable to ''sortie'', while elsewhere, the ships that had already departed were prevented from making temporary returns for supplies or repairs.

“Sixth Unit, maximum speed!” ordered Ariabert. “Advance rapidly at two o’clock position, break through the enemy centre diagonally, and divide their forces!”

To Jouslain, Ariabert’s figure appeared less like a combat commander and more like the conductor of a symphony orchestra. He even felt as though he were hearing the performance of a full orchestra within a silent world.

The voice of the reconnaissance officer rang out with excitement.

“We have successfully divided the enemy forces.”

“Good.”

“However, while they are in disarray, it appears the enemy is attempting to regroup.”

“No need for concern. Exactly as anticipated.”

Ariabert appeared as though he knew no fatigue.

In contrast, Idris appeared to those around him to be utterly exhausted. At his feet, coffee and truffle pies lay scattered. That was due to Idris brushing aside the lunch tray that his attendant had brought, thinking he was being helpful.

“Concentrate all fire on the ''Golden Sheep''! Ignore the cost!”

Idris’ voice rose with fervour. The ''Golden Sheep'' was a battle-hardened warship, renowned as Ariabert’s flagship. Destroying it had now become Idris’ supreme mission.

Idris had no way of knowing that Ariabert had transferred his command seat to the ''Austra''. If they could concentrate their fire upon the ''Golden Sheep'' and succeed in killing Ariabert, the tide of battle would turn in an instant. Jouslain was by no means incompetent from a military standpoint, but he did not possess the feat of defeating forty thousand ships with only twenty thousand. Besides, one cannot clap with only one hand.

That was precisely Idris’ aim. Lacking even trusted comrades, he was forced into a solitary struggle, attempting to mimic that one-handed clap all on his own.

=== II ===
Looking back now, Zarlisch’s sheer, forceful ferocity felt almost nostalgic. Every single vessel would charge forward with a roaring cry, crushing the enemy. Defeat, retreat, withdrawal—such words did not exist within Zarlisch’s army. There was only fierce assault, strenuous struggle, and valiant combat.

Yet, in the height of irony, a swarm of allied vessels blocked the path of Zarlisch’s former subordinates. There was no way they could simply force their way through them.

Commodore Redgrape, one of Zarlisch’s former subordinates, bellowed in indignation:

“These miscalculations are far too extreme! What is the point of leaving our finest elite units as mere-patrol forces? By the time our moment will come, it will already be too late!”

However, it was understandable from Idris’ perspective. It was precisely because he considered Zarlisch’s former subordinates to be the absolute elite that he had been preserving them. Had he waited for the right moment to commit those fresh, unscathed forces all at once, the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain should have fallen into total disarray.

But Idris failed to seize the opportunity. He missed several chances to deploy the fresh reinforcements. No, no, that was not quite it. It was Ariabert who had prevented Idris from ever seizing his moment.

Like masters of three-dimensional chess, the two young Tytania nobles deployed their available forces to various strategic points. Their minds clashed, sparks flying across distances and dimensions.

However, there was one decisive difference from three-dimensional chess. Idris was not afforded the luxury of deep thought. Ariabert had forced the conflict into a swift, short-term engagement and, by destroying the harbour gate of Uraniborg, had significantly depleted Idris’ massive army. This, too, had been a major miscalculation on Idris’ part.

Among the Uraniborg forces, trapped within the harbour due to the destruction of the gate, an argument had broken out between the officers and the soldiers.

“Don’t you lot get lax! We’re just unable to go out at the moment. No armistice or peace treaty has been signed. The order to ''sortie'' might come at any moment!”

“We can hear you perfectly well, even without you shouting.”

“You there, what did you say? If you don’t curb that insolent attitude, you’ll be spending forty-eight hours in the brig!”

“The brig? Thank you, that increases my chances of survival. I suppose I shall drink the wine of victory once I wake up.”

“You insolent wretch!”

Watching the scene, another officer let out a sigh.

“What an eyesore. Back when Duke Zarlisch was still with us, such a state of affairs would have been unimaginable. To think we’ve fallen in such disgrace in barely six months.”

Had Zarlisch been alive, he would have taken the lead of the fleet and launched a preemptive strike the moment he learned of Ariabert and the others approaching. While such a move might have been reckless, Idris, who had approached the battle with undue caution, had instead ended up creating numerous skirmishers and failing to capitalise on his own advantages.

It was originally a battle between allies. At first, there was no rise in morale, but as the exchange of artillery fire intensified and the fireballs and flashes increased, the professional soldierly consciousness among Zarlisch’s troops, who had already deployed outside Uraniborg grew rapidly accompanied by excitement.

“Are we going to lose just like this?”

“More like are we going to lose without even fighting?”

“The name of His Grace the late Zarlisch will be disgraced!”

“We were the ones who made the military might of Tytania shine throughout the cosmos!”

“Duke Ariabert, what can he possibly do?!”

Further emboldened by their own words, Zarlisch’s former subordinates began their advance. Seeing this, Idris attempted to stop them but ultimately abandoned the idea. He reconsidered, thinking that there was no time to hold back Zarlisch's former men. There was nothing quite like using their great prowess to deal a fatal blow to the enemy's strength.

This was exactly what Ariabert had hoped for. Before Zarlisch’s former subordinates could rush to the front lines, he concentrated his fire on Uraniborg’s Rear-admiral Edulton’s unit to solidify a favourable tactical position, while simultaneously slamming his mobile forces into the left flank.

As a result, in an attempt to evade the fierce onslaught from the left, Rear-admiral Edulton’s unit moved all at once towards the right. It was a predictable reaction, and one that did not exceed Ariabert’s expectations. Space mines, numbering around five hundred, were drifting in the direction of Rear-admiral Edulton’s movements. Following the screams of the reconnaissance officer, the first flash of an explosion erupted, triggering a chain reaction that stirred up a cloud of light.

“Concentration and speed.”

Ariabert believed that this was the very essence of military command on the battlefield, and he executed it with precision and steadfastness. While Idris was preoccupied with over-analysing the meaning behind every enemy movement, Ariabert utilised his mobility to deliver a stinging blow before swiftly withdrawing. From the perspective of Zarlisch’s school of tactical thought, one would have been tempted to curse him, shouting, “Fight with dignity, you cunning coward!”

Zarlisch’s former subordinates clung to the retreating enemy.

“Advance! Advance! Do not retreat!”

Commodore Redgrape, who claimed to be the successor to the late Duke Zarlisch—though not in the eyes of others—rose his massive frame from his command seat. He planted one foot on the floor and braced the other against the seat. To the young soldiers watching him, his presence appeared nothing less than reassuring.

“Two consecutive broadsides! And then, advance five thousand kilometres!”

“Blow away those rebels at 10:30 position, all at once!”

The order was carried out almost perfectly. In that regard, Commodore Redgrape was a brave and useful commander. However, the Duke, who had been able to control Commodore Redgrape’s reckless charge at a higher level, was no longer of this world.

Commodore Redgrape’s unit charged headlong, lacking coordination with the other units. This left them isolated and separated from their allies. Ariabert was not about to let this slip by. First, over a hundred single-seat fighters unleashed sharp, hit-and-run volleys of fire.

Three thick beams converged upon the wounded side of the hull. Incandescent fissures glowed with iridescent colours, as if the hands of an invisible giant were tearing the ship apart.

The battleship ''Fleetwood'', along with Commodore Redgrape, was transformed into an orange fireball and scattered into dozens of great serpents of light.

Having lost their flagship, Redgrape’s fleet fell into chaos without any formal delegation of command. It was then that Ariabert’s forces launched an assault, employing a three-to-one tactic. Redgrape’s remaining forces were forced to face three enemies at once and were destroyed in rapid succession. The three undamaged ships then set upon the next target, causing it to explode in an equally brief interval.

The disadvantage in overall numbers had been completely overturned through the thorough application of remarkable “concentration and speed”. At this moment, Idris, feeling the thirst in his throat as expected, was drinking some mineral water, but he clicked his tongue while still clutching the bottle and issued an order to the reconnaissance officer.

“Switch the display to Screen B!”

The screen switched immediately, displaying a different scene from the battlefield. Although it was supposed to have happened, the operators were under the illusion for a few seconds that the switch had failed. This was because there was almost no difference in the sight depicted on the screen.

Against a backdrop of dancing light and shadow, a scene of one-sided destruction and slaughter unfolded. Since both sides were regular Tytania forces, there should have been no disparity in the capabilities of the vessels. Their individual combat abilities should also have been equal, yet when it came to collective action, the level of sophistication was entirely different.

“Zarlisch’s Fleet exists only because of Duke Zarlisch.”

The one who lamented so was Commander Granite, who often served as a moderating influence while under Zarlisch’s command.

Commander Granite looked to the heavens in despair. Having maintained a fairly calm assessment of the late Duke Zarlisch, he found himself preoccupied by the fact that the enemy general was none other than Duke Ariabert.

The perception was that of the ruthless general Zarlisch pitted against the wise general<ref name="ftn40">Another one of these terms for leaders: ''chishou'' (智将) “wise general”, that describes a commander who is a brilliant tactician and strategist.</ref> Ariabert. To be sure, while Ariabert did not lack for cunning and certainly surpassed Zarlisch in prudence and judgement, he was ultimately an orthodox and meticulous commander who never resorted to unconventional or nonsensical tactics.

However, Commander Granite knew that Zarlisch, who should have been superior in raw strength, had met an unexpected death at the hands of Fan Hyulick. It was that very experience that misled the Commander. It was for this reason that, in this chaotic era, Fan Hyulick would be remembered as the “Trickster of the Battlefield”.

''“The individual known as Fan Hyulick was not particularly ambitious, nor did he possess a great passion for reform, nor did he lead vast armies to conduct magnificent large-scale battles. His military victories were such that they might almost be considered accidental, yet it remains a fact that the results exerted an immense political influence.”'' (M. Thornycroft)

This assessment was likely correct, but it undoubtedly overlooked a crucial point. The victories achieved through Hyulick’s unorthodox stratagems had a significant impact on the soldiers who fought in actual combat. The shock inflicted upon the military by the fact that “vast armies could be defeated through nonsensical, unconventional tactics” was profound.

Because the defeats of Ariabert and Zarlisch had been so striking, tactics that were originally intended as a “cornered rat bites the cat” desperation move were instead romanticised and celebrated. In terms of military theory, heresy had pushed orthodoxy aside. While Fan Hyulick should not have been held responsible, it was ironic that had he simply lost while leading the Euria army as the high command had planned, the Tytanian Age might never have been shaken.

Regardless of his personal intentions, Fan Hyulick had indeed created the catalyst that changed history. Before it began, the Battle of Cerberus was thought to be nothing more than a local skirmish, and even the victors believed so once it had concluded.

=== III ===
Historians of later generations noted that despite Ariabert’s defeat by Fan Hyulick on two separate occasions, he did not lose the trust of the troops under his command at all. It is recognised as a fact that he was not merely a military strategist but a renowned commander who possessed true personal leadership. As evidence, when he boldly attacked Uraniborg, there were zero desertions.

From the soldiers’ perspective, they did not view this as a rebellion against Tytania’s rule, nor did they consider it resistance against the Clanner. To them, it was simply a matter of determining who would take the seat of the future leader within the framework of Tytania’s permanent system of governance, through military means rather than peaceful ones.

Ariabert was beloved by the soldiers, but had Idris emerged victorious, they would have simply revered him as Clanner despite any underlying grievances. Looking at the scale and the aftermath of the “Uraniborg Incident”, the disparity between the perceptions of those involved and the reality of the situation was immense.

A tempest of heat and flame swept through the corridor, swallowing soldiers of all ages and genders who had failed to escape. Final screams rang out, and the stench of burning flesh stung the nostrils. A dark shadow, half-consumed by golden flames, struggled and flailed wildly before finally collapsing onto the floor. A soldier, his abdomen slashed by a flying fragment of something, lost the strength to continue as he tried to push his protruding intestines back inside with bloody hands, eventually falling still.

“Damn it, damn it! To think that Tytania was brought down by Tytania…”

“Medic!… Get a medic!”

Of course, if one emerged victorious, the future was bright, and even in defeat, a future could still exist. That was, provided one remained alive; the scent of blood and the state of the ravaged ship had replenished his nerves and veins with a fresh surge of terror that should have long since worn away.

“Will Duke Idris not be heading out with the ''Black Prince''!?”

An accusatory voice drifted through the communication network, yet Idris showed no intention of leaving the combat command room.

To brand Idris a “coward” would be far too harsh. He did not fear death. It was simply that, in inverse proportion to the strength of his ambition, he loathed failure. In particular, he feared that a military failure would lead to a political one, and while he was capable of making bold and cold-blooded decisions, he often hesitated to execute them.

The late Zarlisch, when referring to that aspect of Idris, gave the following conclusion:

''“That guy possesses far too much malice.”''

Because Idris’ relationship with Jouslain had soured, eventually even resulting in armed conflict, he was frequently compared to Jouslain. However, considering his lack of consistent strategy, his unyielding ambition, and his deficiency in tactical flexibility, ought he not rather be compared to Fan Hyulick? If Hyulick was a free man in exile, then Idris was a noble captive, confined within the magnificent prison known as Uraniborg.

''“Uraniborg is a prison.”''

Jouslain, who had once seen through the truth of it, desired an escape from that place and was now closing in upon him as an “enemy”.

“Did he guy himself ever imagine such a situation? Unlikely. Much less Ariabert…”

Idris, who was three years younger than Ariabert and Jouslain, harboured an excessive sense of rivalry towards them, which grew into complete hostility within a single year. Some historians went so far as to argue that the alliance between Ariabert and Jouslain was, in fact, created by Idris himself.

Of several political options available, Idris chose to turn both Ariabert and Jouslain into his enemies at once; however, to dismiss this as mere overconfidence or foolishness would be to overlook the rapid shift in circumstances that followed.

In any case, it was the first time in history that the flames of war had reached Uraniborg.

The transparent canopy covering Uraniborg would not sustain even a scratch from a collision with a frigate. It consisted of a six-centimetre-thick layer of diamond-hard transparent ceramic. Beneath that lay a thirty-centimetre layer of air, followed by more transparent ceramic, more air… and so on; the outer hull comprised twelve such layers. In the event of an emergency, fluid ceramic would be pumped into the air layers, further bolstering the defensive strength. Thus, it became clear that Ariabert’s later instruction to “destroy up to six layers” had been intended solely as a threat, rather than an attempt to achieve the complete destruction of Uraniborg.

The residents of Uraniborg, save for the Tytania military, were all peaceful recluses who had been permitted to reside within the Tytania stronghold, spending their days in tranquillity, cleanliness, and prosperity. They had never imagined that Uraniborg would ever fall under military assault, and indeed, such a thing had not occurred for generations. But now, all of that was a thing of the past.

It wasn’t only the citizens of Uraniborg. Half of the people living upon the surface of the planet Vardana also gazed up at the night sky and gasped. The expanding clouds of light looked almost like gargantuan interstellar organisms, swallowing and digesting the natural stars. Within the inner gardens of the grand, classical Vardana Imperial Palace, Harsha VI remained on the balcony, his gaze fixed upwards in ecstasy, having left his dinner unfinished.

“Behold! Lo and behold, Empress! Tytania is slaying herself. With her very own hands, strangling her own kin!”

Harsha VI’s ecstasy was gradually veering into madness. The unfortunate Emperor had been plagued by feelings of humiliation and helplessness regarding Tytania since before his adulthood, but now, his surging euphoria was on the verge of shattering the ceiling of his reason.

The Empress sensed danger, yet no matter how many times she attempted to soothe him, it was to no avail. She could do little more than sigh and dismiss the attendants, doing her utmost to ensure that her husband’s voice and manners were not witnessed by others.

Once again, a chain of explosions erupted, tracing a massive necklace of death and destruction across the night sky. As Harsha VI gazed up at it through the canopy, the silver goblet slipped from his hand and bounced upon the floor of the imperial palace balcony. A reddish-purple liquid stained the hem of his imperial robes, but the Emperor did not notice.

“Behold, Empress! I care not if it is by the thousands or tens of thousands, but those Tytanian bastards are dying! It is retribution for their wickedness. At last, the era I have dreamed of is arriving!”

The Empress, watching her frenzied husband from a distance, had a look of profound desolation in her eyes.

''“… In that mere private war, untold millions of people suffered physical and mental collapse. More than anything, it was the era itself that was in collapse.” ''(J. Augustus)

Duke Idris Tytania, who might be described as the natural nemesis of Harsha VI, appeared to be finally reaping the consequences of years of irreverence. Had Harsha VI been able to behold the young nobleman’s utterly haggard face, he might have died from sheer joy.

“To be overwhelmed so unilaterally…”

Idris was seized by a sensation as if the landscape before his eyes were losing its colour. It was as though intense stress had caused his optic nerves to malfunction.

In purely military terms, he was far from being Ariabert’s equal. Though he did not say it aloud, Idris had to admit it. He had never been so conceited as to believe his own military genius surpassed that of Ariabert. However, he had not been so self-deprecating as to believe there was a vast gulf between them; he had thought that he could catch up within five years and surpass him in achievements within ten.

To begin with, the talent and magnanimity worthy of the Tytania supreme commander were not limited solely to pure military prowess. It was enough to possess the discernment to appoint capable commanders whenever the need arose. At the very least, for the last three or four generations, no Clanner had demonstrated military ability that surpassed Idris.

Many times, Idris found a favourable opportunity in battle. The enemy fleet was emerging from the chaos of melee and attempting to regroup. After confirming their position, Idris shouted with lightning-fast decisiveness:

“Now! Fire! Fire! Fire!”

The rail cannons spat supersonic projectiles with a silent roar.

The concentrated fire proved successful, creating large and small fireballs that tore holes in the formation of the combined Ariabert-Jouslain fleet. Without hesitation, Idris ordered the deployment of corvettes<ref name="ftn41">“High-speed manoeuvring ship” (高速機動艦) pronounced corvette.</ref> aimed directly at those breaches. While five hundred ships would have been ideal, he could only move about three hundred and fifty. That was enough. Idris proceeded with the execution of his plan.

Ariabert made no attempt to intercept. Avoiding the manoeuvring attack of the charging corvette group, he focused on skilfully plugging the gaps while attempting to increase the distance between them and Uraniborg.

Idris found himself shouting aloud:

“It worked!”

=== IV ===
Something strange happened.

Or rather, it did not happen. Nothing happened at all. Although the guardian angels of Uraniborg—the military satellite constellations—had the vessels of the combined Ariabert-Jouslain fleet within range, they made no attempt to fire either their rail cannons or their laser cannons.

Ariabert continued the fleet manoeuvres with complete composure, forming a new battle line. Regardless of the artistic skill required, one had to wonder how he could remain so calm while utterly ignoring the satellite swarms.

“… Ah!”

Idris groaned, suddenly realising something.

It was the programme integrated to prevent military satellites from firing upon their own side. Their cannons were capable of identifying friendly forces. Every vessel within the Tytania fleet was equipped with identification tags. And the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' was no exception.

Because all the vessels in the combined Ariabert-Jouslain fleet originally belonged to Tytania, they utilised these identification tags to avoid accidental attacks caused by misidentification from the military satellites. They were known as “talismans<ref name="ftn42">“Talisman” (護符) is pronounced “talisman”.</ref>”. These tags transmitted identification signals to the satellites, and upon receiving them, the weapons equipped on the satellites would fail to activate entirely.

Idris felt murderous intent at his own carelessness.

“Change the programme!”

Passion and regret set Idris’ voice ablaze.

“Modify the tactical computer’s programme so that it no longer accepts the identification signals sent from Ariabert and Jouslain’s vessels’ talismans!”

“It… it will take one hour.”

“Do it in thirty minutes.”

“With all due respect…”

“I said do it!”

The interception commander in charge of the tactical computer was Vice-Admiral Elsey, an elderly thin man, but as he attempted to argue further, Idris pointed a finger at him.

“You are relieved of your post. Consider yourself lucky that you aren’t being punished for disobedience.”

In the silenced room, only Idris’ voice echoed.

“Who is the interception vice-commander?”

“I am, sir.”

“Your name?”

“My name is Ridenhour.”

“Very well. From this moment on, you are the interception commander. Your rank is rear-admiral? I am promoting you to vice-admiral. The official order will be issued before the end of the day. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes.”

The newly appointed Vice-Admiral Ridenhour offered a Tytania-style salute, while Vice-Admiral Elsey, having been stripped of his rank and honour, slumped his shoulders and departed the scene in dejection. Idris did not even see him out.

“An hour should be plenty, but let us be certain.”

Ariabert, too, had devised a new plan, taking into account the time required to repair the satellite constellation.

“Attack the military satellites… no, destroy them.”

If the battle dragged on and the military satellite constellation’s programme were altered, their allies would find themselves subject to attacks from large-calibre guns. He had taken this worst-case scenario into account. The reason he had changed his phrasing from “attack” to “destroy” was because, at that moment, the military satellites entirely lacked any capacity for counterattack and would simply be pummelled whilst unable to fight back.

Having chosen his words with an odd sense of fastidiousness, Ariabert proceeded to issue a demand for the surrender of the satellite constellation.

As a result, the commanders of each satellite were forced to make a decision. Death or surrender.

“It is cowardly to launch a unilateral attack against those who lack the means to retaliate.”

Protesting in such a manner was useless. As long as their power remained active, they possessed weapons. Since they had also demonstrated the intent to use them, Ariabert had no obligation to show them mercy. If left alone, they would be under attack within an hour or two. There was no need for hesitation in striking first.

In the end, every single one of the twelve satellites, so to speak, conveyed their intent to surrender. However, it was at this moment that Ariabert issued a ruthless command.

“If you intend to surrender, aim the heavy artillery at Uraniborg.”

Ariabert’s order was a perfect specimen of “Tytanian ruthlessness”.

“Control the output and prepare to destroy up to the sixth layer of the firmament. Any failure to comply with this instruction will be deemed an intent to resist, and you shall be destroyed immediately.”

Rejection was no longer possible. Furthermore, the instruction to destroy “only up to the sixth layer” signified that Ariabert had no intention of completely obliterating Uraniborg. One after another, the commanders of each satellite yielded, and they trained their heavy artillery upon Uraniborg.

Of course, Idris knew of this, but he remained so calm that he even felt a sense of irony himself. He possessed a strange premonition that everything would be over before the heavy artillery of the satellite constellation could even fire.

Ariabert continued to issue commands.

“Fourth Unit, you’ve heard the situation. Ascend from the nadir towards the zenith, and concentrate your fire on the enemy’s reassembly point.”

“Repeating orders! Ascend from nadir towards zenith…”

The crew on the bridge must have been accumulating fatigue, fighting without any rest, yet with their sympathetic nervous systems in full operation, there was no sign of flagging morale.

Balamy noticed someone tugging at his sleeve. When he cast his gaze downwards to the left, he saw Princess Lydia looking up at him with a dead-serious expression, a small parcel held in her left hand.

“You are quite lost in thought, Bal.”

“M-my apologies, Princess. Do you require something?”

“I shall give you half of this, so let us eat together.”

Upon opening the parcel, he found several kelsey<ref name="ftn43">“Plum” or “almond” (巴旦杏) is pronounced “kelsey”, which is one of the names of the Japanese plum.</ref> biscuits inside.

“I could not possibly accept your snacks, Princess…”

“I have heard that sweets help to activate the brain cells.”

“You are well-informed.”

“Even without such a reason, one should simply accept another’s kindness.”

“You are quite right. Thank you.”

While still holding a biscuit in his mouth, Balamy glanced at the screen and his eyes widened.

“There are reserve enemy forces in that position…”

Even as Balamy stood dazed, a group of high-speed ships emerged from an unexpected location and began to assault the Uraniborg forces from the eight o’clock position, wielding blades of light to start carving through the enemy formation. Amidst the dizzying dance of light and shadow, Balamy realised that Princess Lydia was still by his side.

“Princess, if you continue to stare for so long, you will hurt your eyes.”

“I know… but it feels such a waste.”

“A waste, your Highness?”

“The Kingdom of Elbing possesses three battleships. They were purchased from Tytania forty years ago. The older models had a twenty percent discount…”

They would likely be of no use at all. They were probably nothing more than mere ornaments. Balamy empathised with how much the Princess’ heart must have ached when she heard that the forces of Uraniborg were set to attack the Kingdom of Elbing. He possessed enough experience to be capable of such empathy.

Jouslain was lost in thought.

He had come into this world from the quagmire of Tytania, surrounded by magnificent flowers. He knew where he had come from. But where, then, was he headed next?

He knew that even contemplating such things was a luxury afforded only by privilege. Soldiers caught in the heat of a fierce battle had no leisure for such pseudo-philosophical musings. In a single moment of distraction, struck by the thought of being hungry, a beam might hit them directly, ensuring they would never feel hunger again.

Despite knowing this, Jouslain drifted into his own contemplations rather than synchronising with the spirits of the soldiers. Having been born in a high position with the power to sway individual lives and the fate of nations, what was he meant to do? He had reached a tentative conclusion, but to bring it to fruition…

“Lord Jouslain, what are you doing?”

“… Oh, Princess, well, I was lost in thought. It’s quite a difficult matter.”

“Is there something even you cannot understand, Lord Jouslain?”

“There is nothing but things I do not understand.”

Where would he be, and what would he be doing at this time tomorrow? No, Jouslain could not even predict what would happen five minutes from now. He was alive now. He would likely be alive in five minutes, too. There was no evidence for it; he simply thought so.

Jouslain gazed countless times at Ariabert’s back, which stood so composed at the command seat, and each time, he felt a sensation akin to relief. As long as Ariabert remained well, Jouslain could avoid overthinking the meaning of life. He could simply focus on his duties and support Ariabert. That day was already drawing near. Though he would likely have to deal with some quite unpleasant matters…

A light impact struck the bridge. A gunboat<ref name="ftn44">“Gunboat” (小型砲艦) is pronounced “gunboat”.</ref> from Uraniborg had lost control and collided with the ''Austra''. While the larger vessel had sustained no apparent damage, the smaller one was not so fortunate.

=== V ===
The gunboat, having been flung aside, spun wildly, scattering fragments from its torn outer hull, before colliding with the canopy of Uraniborg.

A few of the residents of Uraniborg might have seen a tiny crack appear in a corner of the night sky. Hundreds of times that many were convinced they had seen it. Though they likely thought it impossible, the very fact that actual combat between Tytania factions was unfolding around Uraniborg was, in itself, impossible.

“The canopy is cracking!”

“What happens if the canopy breaches!?”

“We’re all going to be tossed out into space!”

The panic-mongers, who existed in every era, in every place, and in every situation, let out screams. The men and women around them were visibly shaken, scurrying about in a desperate attempt to find somewhere to flee. Of course, there were some who remained calm.

“Fool, there is no way it could break. What do you think Uraniborg is?”

“But cracks are actually appearing like that…”

“Listen, you! You can make all the noise you want, but where exactly do you intend to flee to?” shouted a seemingly thoughtful officer among the Tytania soldiers tasked with city security. “Silence! Calm yourselves, citizens. It is impossible for the canopy of Uraniborg to break. I strictly forbid any words or actions that incite social unrest or provoke panic. Depending on the circumstances, I will authorise lethal force. Now, everyone disperse and return to your homes. Sleep in peace. We guarantee the safety of Uraniborg, do you understand?!”

There was no need to be timid; if the situation reached a point where one could accuse him of failing to provide such a guarantee, everyone would be dead anyway. It was perfectly fine to declare such things with absolute confidence.

“Now, move along, move along! If you want to watch a show, go home and watch it with your families!”

Once the residents had been driven from the square, the soldiers exchanged private conversation among themselves.

“At this rate, if we concentrated about a dozen heavy battleships on a single point and rammed them at high speed, we might be able to destroy the canopy all the way to the innermost layer.”

“And then leave future generations with the infamy of mass-slaughtering civilians? I doubt Lord Ariabert or Lord Jouslain would have any desire for such a thing.”

“True. Besides, even without resorting to such an act…”

“Fool, say no more.”

An officer with a pale face ran past them just a moment later, leading his subordinates. The soldiers quickly fell into line with solemn expressions and offered salutes. It seemed that the higher one’s rank, the paler one grew as the prospect of defeat became more certain.

The one who had gone the palest in Uraniborg was, of course, Duke Idris, but he had not lost his fortitude. While being crushed by the sheer scale of the losses, he muttered,

“There are still three hundred thousand carracks remaining.”

That was an undeniable fact, yet compared to the magnificent grandeur of the ''Black Prince'', those numbers likely lacked any real intimidation.

By their very nature, carracks were equipped with only the minimum necessary weaponry for the purpose of self-defence and as a deterrent against anti-Tytania factions. When attacked by pirates, they would flee while attempting to fight back. Provided they could hold out, the Tytania regular army, having received emergency communications, would arrive to the rescue. All they needed to do was buy enough time.

Furthermore, there was no guarantee that the three hundred thousand carracks would all side with Idris. They were currently watching the struggle for Uraniborg with bated breath. They had no obligation to support the loser, and their consciences would not suffer even if they let Idris perish. If Ariabert were to seize hegemony, they would scramble to prove their loyalty and vie for the lead.

As he imagined this, Idris loathed their lack of principle, though he knew he was merely taking his frustrations out on them.

“The first Neville, the second Nuri, the third Chatelet, the fourth Var, the fifth Barneveld…”

Idris murmured the names of the successive Clanners. Among them, he held the second, Nuri, in the highest reverence. He believed that Nuri’s cold ruthlessness was precisely what Tytania needed most. The fortitude of the first Neville was, of course, also worthy of praise. However, towards the Clanners from the third generation onwards, Idris felt no need to accord them any courtesy beyond that due to their status as ancestors.

Had they not merely remained upon the foundation laid by the first Neville and the second Nuri? They already possessed the greatest military power in the universe, and there had existed no one to oppose or attack them head-on. Had such formidable foes emerged, Idris wondered whether Tytania could have even survived until this day. Indeed, Idris had to admit that Ariabert was a powerful enemy. If he did not, he would be admitting to having been defeated by a weak one.

Zelpha, Idris’ younger brother, stood about ten paces behind his brother.

Zelpha watched the battle, biting his lip so hard it threatened to bleed and clenching his fists with such intensity that his nails dug into his palms. If his gaze possessed the physical power to destroy objects, the space battleships of the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces would have successively turned into fireballs and vanished.

“Ah, if this were ten years from now, or even five… I would be the one leading the fleet, and I would turn both Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain into stardust for my brother’s sake…!”

He had almost deified his eldest brother, yet he simply could not bring himself to undervalue the strength of Ariabert and the others.

The clouds of light were gradually contracting. Even within the media vessel observing the scene, communications were flying back and forth between the front lines and the rear.

“We might not be able to release it now, but think thirty or fifty years down the line! This could become a historical record of the Tytania split. Doesn’t your journalist’s blood stir at the thought?”

“Cap.”

“What is it?”

“… Do you really think Tytania is going to split apart like this?”

The Director fell silent, perhaps not because he had been asked an unexpected question, but because he himself harboured doubts and uncertainties.

“What do you think, Cap? Tytania…”

“You shouldn’t waste your meagre intellect on such things right now! What we need are the facts. Think of nothing but conveying the facts to future generations!”

It was certain that the end was drawing closer, bit by bit. Mingled with the hospital fleets, media vessels crept slowly towards the cloud of light, hoping to capture the decisive moment on film, but shells from rail cannons, arriving from out of nowhere, pierced their hulls, scattering life, ambition, and mission alike into the dark void.

Duchess Theresa Tytania was entirely ignorant of military affairs. She could not distinguish between strategy and tactics, and she referred to all warships simply as battleships. She preferred the tales of art, fashion, and romance told by her second son, Arses, to the grand stories of military exploits told by her eldest son, Zarlisch. In Lady Theresa’s view, the vast wealth of Tytania should be invested in art, sophisticated, elegant palaces, and gardens, rather than being squandered on war and political intrigue.

“Idris is quite incompetent. If he were my son, he would have wiped out Ariabert’s entire fleet in thirty minutes.”

Lady Theresa mocked Idris for his struggle, though when she spoke of a “son” in this instance, she was referring to Zarlisch. Zarlisch was a son who was not even half as charming as Arses, but he was useful as a watchdog.

As previously stated, having lost both of her sons, Lady Theresa was a woman who truly deserved the deepest sympathy. However, even the most well-meaning people avoided contact with her as much as possible. It was only natural, given she never gave any proper response to any display of kindness. The moment anyone offered words of comfort, a wine bottle would come flying at them.

Lately, Lady Theresa had stopped drinking wine. It was not that she had abstained from alcohol. Rather, she had grown fond of more potent spirits, such as vodka, rum, and absinthe. Watching from a distance as Lady Theresa dropped cubes of sugar or bits of butter into her vodka and gulped it down, her attendants and ladies-in-waiting trembled in fear.

“It is finally drawing near.”

“Indeed, it has been a long time coming.”

In places away from the nobility, they whispered prophecies among themselves. These were predictions concerning Lady Theresa’s mental breakdown and her physical ruin. Regarding the former, some argued that she had broken long ago, but the latter was progressing so rapidly that it was impossible to tell which end would arrive first.

Gazing through the alcoholic haze at the cluster of scattered bottles, Lady Theresa groaned.

“Idris, Ariabert, Jouslain… Hmph, nothing but a collection of weaklings. I will never hand the seat of the Clanner over to the likes of you. You should all just kill one another. And then, there will be no one left…”

Lady Theresa threw the glass in her hand with all her might towards the forest of bottles. The sound of shattering glass. The scattering of colourful spirits. The thick carpet turned into a marsh of liquor, and the scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air.

Yet, for something like that, no one attempted to rush to the Lady’s side anymore. Bearing a solitude loathed by all, Theresa, once known as a beautiful noblewoman, coughed violently.

When the nurses finally rushed to the scene, what they saw was the Duchess having tumbled from her sofa, her upper body drenched in an unidentifiable liquid. The fluid, a mixture of alcohol, gastric juices, and blood, continued to trickle from the corners of her mouth in small amounts, accompanied by bubbles.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6

2026-10-11T14:42:56Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 5 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 7 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before == === I === For Viscount Balamy Tytania, time passed against his will. He..."

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== Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before ==
=== I ===
For Viscount Balamy Tytania, time passed against his will. He was not treated as an equal to the two giants, Ariabert and Jouslain, nor was he entrusted with even a fraction of the fleet’s command and operations. Furthermore, following the news that Princess Lydia had gained great popularity by visiting the wounded and sick, whispers of him being “useless” seemed to echo from within his own body to the depths of his ears.

“If you were to observe Lord Ariabert’s use of troops from beside him, you would surely gain much.”

Jouslain had said this to him before the commencement of battle, and he had intended to thoroughly observe and analyse Ariabert’s deployment of forces at a later date. However, merely moving in and out of the bridge whilst attending to Princess Lydia made it difficult for him to grasp the true essence of such military manoeuvres.

“I can accept why he acted as he did in the past, but I cannot predict what he will do next.”

It was a conclusion that reached its natural end. Ariabert’s use of troops was consistent with the principles of warfare; therefore, the ultimate solution lay in mastering those very principles.

As things stood, even if they were to come to blows, they would never be able to defeat Ariabert. However, that rogue known as Fan Hyulick had twice forced Ariabert to taste bitter defeat. He should be vulnerable to unorthodox and cunning stratagems.

However, a cunning stratagem was not something that can be logically deduced. As the ancient saying goes, “A great army requires no stratagems.” When Tytania went into battle, they assembled vast forces, ensured complete supplies, gathered and analysed extensive intelligence, and struck precisely at the enemy’s weaknesses. That was Tytania’s way of war. They had never a drama-like commander who could “annihilate a superior force with a small one by using a clever trick.”

“Bal!”

Someone called out to him. Or rather, he only noticed after it called him several times. The voice belonged, of course, to Princess Lydia.

“Ah, Princess, please forgive me.”

Balamy bowed in a panic. Princess Lydia did not appear angry, but she looked up at his face from below with an expression of curiosity.

“Were you lost in thought?”

“Not particularly… I was just daydreaming for a moment.”

“If that’s the case, it’s fine, but you appeared a little tired. Are you alright?”

It was certainly true that the tension in his mind and body had not subsided over the last few days, but it was beneath his dignity to be pitied by a child. No matter how keen Princess Lydia’s eyes might be.

“Do not worry. It is you who must be tired, Princess.”

“I am staying quiet so as not to disturb the soldiers. I am not tired.”

“I see.”

With an uninspired reply, Balamy gazed out through the viewing port. Every single one of the countless glittering points of light in the space surrounding Uraniborg was military in nature; not a single civilian vessel was there.

The prohibition of arrivals and departures at the Uraniborg spaceport exerted some influence on the logistics and travel of human society. Although the central functions governing the entire system were lost, the outlying branches continued to operate autonomously. Trade between small, frontier planets proceeded almost without interruption, and there was no disruption to the daily lives of the people.

If anything, it was the economically significant planets, such as Ementhal and Kafir, that gave a sense of being in a state of war. Within these vital hubs of logistics and travel, Tytania’s financial, commercial, and economic development activities were naturally flourishing, and it stood to reason that the impact of Uraniborg’s influence was greater there as well.

The various planets were in an uproar, assessing the impact and revising their policies regarding how long the armed conflict within Tytania might persist. However, as the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain drew perilously close to Uraniborg with almost no damage sustained, the possibility of an unexpected, short-term decisive battle increased, leaving them breathless and questioning themselves.

''“… What exactly is Tytania to us?”''

Even if it was only one in every hundred people, hundreds of millions began to vaguely contemplate this very thought.

By the time they were born, Tytania already existed and dominated the universe. They grew up eating flakes produced by companies under the Tytania umbrella, attended schools established through Tytania’s donations, travelled to other planets on spacecraft belonging to Tytania, worked for Tytania-affiliated corporations to earn their wages, and eventually passed away in hospitals bearing the name of Tytania.

Question marks began to appear regarding its permanence, and people started to wonder what Tytania truly was. It was an incredibly subtle shift in the political climate. Yet, at times, such shifts act as the catalyst for historical upheaval. That very example lay before their eyes.

“By the way, Bal.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“When you are tired, sweets are more effective for the body than alcohol.”

Balamy gave Princess Lydia a formal, solemn bow.

“I shall accompany you. Let us head to the officers’ lounge.”

“Yes. I wonder what we’ll be having today.”

“If I recall correctly, they were supposed to serve raspberry tarts today…”

For the time being, the future of the universe was a matter for after tea.

The private quarters of Duke Ariabert Tytania were located immediately to the left of the Captain’s cabin.

The ''Austra'' possessed two rooms more luxurious than the captain’s cabin. The one to the right was the commander-in-chief’s office, which Jouslain was currently using, The one to the left was a VIP suite, which had been prepared as Ariabert’s quarters. In times of crisis, the ''Austra'' held the potential to become the flagship of the entire Tytania military.

“Do you have any instructions, Your Grace?”

At the sound of the young woman’s voice, Ariabert gave a short, wry smile from within his bed.

“Listening to your manner of speech, Edna, I feel as though I am sleeping next to a career soldier.”

“I… am a career soldier.”

“I have a memory of us exchanging this very same conversation about five years ago.”

Though the universe existed in eternal night, humanity created day and night within structures through the control of lighting. Outside the viewing port, the view was a black canvas upon which countless grains of silver sand had been scattered.

“What would we do if the forces of Uraniborg were to suddenly set out from the harbour right now?”

“There is no need for concern. We would launch a counterattack immediately. Your Grace Ariabert’s teachings have reached even the lowest-ranking soldiers.”

“That is because the field and junior officers have been performing so well.”

It had been a long time since Edna Fredericks had shared a bed with him. He had anticipated being politely refused, with the impending final battle being used as an excuse, but that did not happen. Faced with the unprecedented experience of attacking ‘Uraniborg’, spending the night alone was hard. Jouslain’s night, no doubt, would be spent with Francia.

“Edna.”

“Yes?”

“I have wanted to ask you this for some time… what are your thoughts on Lord Jouslain?”

“Lord Jouslain…?”

Edna chose her words with great care.

“My impression is that Lord Jouslain does not truly love Tytania.”

Ariabert silently adjusted the position of his pillow. Because the lights were dimmed, they could not see the fine details of each other’s expressions. He pulled Edna closer to him once more before asking.

“What is your evidence for that?”

“No evidence to speak of.”

“Without evidence, it is not criticism. It is merely slander.”

“I believe so too. That is why I have not spoken of it until now.”

“Did I ask for something unnecessary?”

“If my words were to create a rift between the two of you, I should, of course, be punished, and I would accept that gladly. However, though it may seem contradictory, I feel there is no room to doubt Lord Jouslain’s trust in Your Grace.”

In the dim light, Ariabert brushed back his light-coloured hair.

“There is no contradiction. After all, Tytania and I are not one and the same. Look at Idris. He loves Tytania, yet he hates Jouslain and me.”

“That much is obvious.”

Ariabert deliberately ignored Edna’s tone, which suggested that her meaning was somewhat different.

“Well, let us leave it at that. We have managed to find ourselves alone, and yet our conversation lacks all sentiment.”

As Ariabert waved a hand through the air, the sensor detected the movement, and the faint light of distant stars began to filter into the room.

=== II ===
Duke Idris Tytania had endured a restless, unpleasant night and awoke to an unpleasant morning, with a heavy feeling at the back of his head. Although it was an artificial day and night, the rhythms of human life were still influenced by the rotation of their ancient home planet.

Peering into the mirror of the luxurious bathroom, he noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, so he summoned a lady-in-waiting to administer eye drops. The lady-in-waiting’s hesitant attitude was equally unpleasant, and he dismissed her before entering the morning room<ref name="ftn31">“Morning room” (朝食室) is pronounced “morning room”.</ref>. Even after taking his seat at the table, he realised that his stomach felt heavy in addition to the dull ache at the back of his head, and he rose from his seat after drinking only two cups of coffee. He knew he could not approach the strategy meeting without first breaking this chain of discomfort.

The unilateral armed invasion of the Kingdom of Elbing, Princess Lydia’s homeland. Had it faltered to the left, it would have served as a violent warning not only to the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance but also to any factions seeking to side with them. Had it faltered to the right, it would have drawn out the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance entrenched in Bargash and dragged the conflict into a war of attrition, so he could then engage them in a decisive battle with forces twice their size.

No matter which way things went, it was supposed to favour Idris. In fact, it had gone well, up until that point.

However, the reaction from the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance was far too swift. The strategy that he himself had set in motion backfired in an instant. The Fan Hyulick faction, which he had intended to overwork and then discard, immediately revealed their true nature as brigands and vanished into some nebula in deep space, leaving Idris unable to even issue orders for their pursuit.

Despite there being plenty of capable commanders available, the loss of Ariabert and Zarlisch had exposed his forces as nothing more than a group waiting for instructions from above.

“Fine. If that is how it is, then I shall deploy all forty thousand vessels.”

Idris made his decision.

On second thought, there was no other choice. Even if he dispatched five thousand or ten thousand ships in succession, they would merely be defeated one by one before Ariabert’s twenty thousand. Furthermore, if the spaceport were damaged, the vessels in reserve would be trapped within the port, unable to depart, rendering them utterly useless.

Having made this resolution, Idris attended the war council, but of the twenty-four seats, neither Zarlisch fierce like a mighty tiger, nor Ariabert swift as a silver wolf, were present. There sat only a pack of grey hounds, staring downcastly at the floor. Rather than a gathering of commanders, they appeared to be nothing more than bureaucrats belonging to the military division of the vast Tytania organisation.

“Use one or two military satellites to attack and distract the enemy. In the meantime, launch all vessels from every spaceport at once. Do not give Ariabert or Jouslain a moment to react.”

There was no rebuttal to the peremptory command. However, the lacklustre faces seemed to read “easier said than done”, which only served to heighten Idris’ growing frustration.

“Then, begin immediately.”

“Your Grace?”

“What is it?”

“Who will be in command of the entire fleet?”

Idris tried to recall the name of the speaker, but he could not. The man was an older general, though Idris could at least vaguely remember his face.

“Besides me, is there someone volunteering for the position?”

He infused his voice with as much cold confidence as he could muster. The elderly general bowed in a gesture of deference.

“Heaven forbid. It was precisely because I wished to hear those very words that I had the presumption to ask.”

“Hmph.”

“In that regard, there is one thing I wish to ask. Where will Your Ducal Grace take supreme command?”

“Where…?”

As Idris furrowed his brow, another officer spoke up, as if summoning his courage:

“Should Your Grace depart from Uraniborg to command the fleet, the battleship ''Black Prince''<ref name="ftn32">“Black Prince” (黒太子) is pronounced “Black Prince”.</ref> has already been prepared to serve as your flagship. How would you wish to proceed?”

The face of this middle-aged officer was familiar, yet he could not recall the man’s name. Idris was forced to realise that it was himself, more than any of the other commanders, who had left the actual combat entirely to Ariabert and Zarlisch. He had operated under the belief that the priority was to secure control over the heart of Tytania’s power and that he could learn later on, as needed, the names and faces of the combat specialists. Now, that knowledge was precisely what he required, yet to ask for their names at this critical moment would only invite the distrust of the entire assembly. He had truly become a victim of his own making.

Standing upon the heights of the reviewing stand, Duke Idris Tytania eventually watched as the lines of the great army’s fleet departed one after another.

He never allowed his true feelings to be seen by others. With his chest held high in an air of arrogance, he performed the Tytania-style salute, pressing his right fist into the hollow of his left shoulder as he gazed out over the endless river of metal—the battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and gunboats that seemed to stretch on forever. The storm swirling within him never manifested externally. To the soldiers looking up from the observation ports and saluting his heroic figure, he even offered a nod of encouragement.

“I had hoped for the day when I would stand here alone. But I never imagined it would come to this.”

Only the Clanner was permitted to stand in this place alone. It was not something allowed for any other. Even Idris himself, along with Ariabert, Jouslain, and even the late Zarlisch, had only been permitted to stand one step behind the Clanner. Even so, such a position was regarded as a supreme honour, envied by all.

Idris fulfilled his duties as Acting Clanner to perfection. For two long hours, he stood upon the reviewing stand like a statue, without the slightest tremor.

What of those watching him depart? The Tytania soldiers gathered before the screens and viewing windows were certainly impressed by the sight of Idris. They spoke amongst themselves, their voices thick with excitement.

“Seeing him like that, he truly is a distinguished figure.”

“It isn’t just Duke Idris. All the Four Dukes… And above all, His Clanner Highness too…”

“Come to think of it, His Clanner Highness…”

“Watch your tongue! Don’t say things you shouldn’t!”

As an NCO bellowed, a veteran soldier snapped back, breaking the momentary silence.

“We don’t even know if he’ll make it back alive. Surely you can overlook a word or two!?”

Such prickly exchanges amongst the soldiers were something no one could have imagined just a year ago. As they watched the flagships of Ariabert and Zarlisch on their monitors, whether out of excitement or tension, there was no room for even a single thought of defeat to take root in their minds, provided they maintained moderation and order.

There was no way to know the exact words of every soldier, but Idris himself felt the fraying of their morale most acutely.

“You looked truly magnificent. The soldiers revered you as the god Mars<ref name="ftn33">“God of war” (軍神) pronounced “Mars”.</ref>.”

As he descended from the reviewing stand, a beautiful yet ethereal voice greeted Idris. Without even needing to check, he knew the owner of that voice was Countess Theodora Tytania.

“What’s with that appearance of yours?”

Idris felt a pang of bitterness. Theodora’s clothing was not some misplaced nightdress. Rather, it was far too appropriate for the setting. It was the military uniform worn by high-ranking Tytania officers at the rank of captain.

“But you aren’t planning on joining the ''sortie'' yourself, are you?”

“After I depart, who will guarantee that you won’t seize Uraniborg from the inside?”

The momentary silence was filled with a soundless thunder, but it was broken by a bright, laughing voice.

“Oh, how ridiculous. How can a man destined to become Clanner of Tytania fear a mere woman?”

“Who said anything about fear? I was merely being sarcastic. More importantly, that uniform—where and how did you get it?”

“No need for concern. I obtained it quite legally.”

“Of course you did. Fine, whatever, but I won’t permit you to follow me. You are not allowed in the combat command room. Go over there and hold your fashion show by yourself.”

As Idris walked away, leaving Theodora behind, he found himself filled with a strange sense of bewilderment. Why did he not simply eliminate this woman, who was so dangerous and so utterly untrustworthy?

Watching the fleet depart in continuous succession from Uraniborg, Jouslain spoke to Ariabert:

“It seems Idris is not leaving Uraniborg.”

“That guy’s quite the slow mover.”

“He’s afraid.”

“Afraid of battle? At this late stage…?”

“No. Afraid of betrayal.”

The two dukes looked at one another.

=== III ===
“Is there anyone in Uraniborg right now with the courage and planning required to commit such a betrayal?”

“A valid question, but the sudden outburst of a small player can sometimes produce unexpected results. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“Someone may have received a secret order from His Clanner Highness…”

Just as Jouslain was about to speak, a report arrived. It stated that vessels had departed from every port, and their total number had already exceeded twenty thousand.

“Damn that Idris… it seems he has finally found some motivation.”

“The enemy is twice our size. It should be a rewarding challenge, Lord Ariabert.”

“Now hold on. You expect me to do all the work while you just stand there and watch, Lord Jouslain?”

“If there was something for me to do, I would of course be happy to assist, but I have no desire to get in your way.”

“Hmm, you certainly have an answer for everything.”

Ariabert gave a sarcastic laugh, but Jouslain accepted it with a serious expression.

“I shall refrain from interfering unless you request it. However, in exchange, would you not allow Viscount Balamy to remain by your side?”

“Hoh? Field training?”

“Might I ask that of you?”

“As long as the man himself is willing, I have no objection… Nevertheless, I do wonder in what state His Clanner Highness is.”

“Any number of states are possible. However, since we have extremely little information, we cannot make any predictions. We cannot act based on mere speculation.”

“So, it is the same as before, then.”

“Precisely. I shall have Idris take full responsibility.”

The two men gazed at the screen. The stream of points of light being emitted from Uraniborg showed no sign of ceasing.

“For the first time in my life, I feel a small amount of pity for Idris.”

“I understand how you feel, Lord Ariabert. But consider how many individuals superior to Idris Tytania have been sacrificed until now… and how many more will be, as long as Tytania exists.”

Ariabert’s gaze pierced sharply through Jouslain’s profile. Jouslain remained silent. Ariabert said nothing to him either. After parting ways with him, he summoned Balamy.

“I have heard the news from Lord Jouslain. There is no formal seat set for you, but please, feel free to make yourself at home.”

“I am most grateful.”

Balamy bowed stiffly and cast his gaze towards the empty seat to Ariabert’s rear left, but he did not sit down. Instead, he stood behind the vacant chair, staring intently. He watched Ariabert’s every move, the main screen, and the three-dimensional simulator. He felt as though he needed half a dozen pairs of eyes. After about five minutes, Ariabert looked back over his shoulder with an expression that fell just short of a wry smile.

“I imagine you want to ask why we are retreating. If we approach a single gate too closely, we lose sight of the enemy’s full extent. It would be disastrous to be flanked by another fleet emerging from a different gate while we are engaged in close combat with the first.”

“I see. I understand.”

As he replied, Balamy thought to himself, “I knew that much,” though it was perhaps merely a matter of courtesy.

Even if the enemy committed their full military strength, did Ariabert have the confidence to defeat them? Balamy wanted to confirm that point, but he could not tell from the man’s attitude.

The reconnaissance officer called out.

“Reporting, Your Grace.”

“Speak.”

“At present, there are no unidentified spacecraft within sixty light-seconds of our rear. No abnormalities in the deployment of jump-interference obstacles.”

“Very well. Continue rear reconnaissance, but reduce by half the number of personnel engaged. The officer in charge shall reorganise the designated sectors as appropriate.”

Captain Edna Fredericks, who was seated to Ariabert’s left, spoke:

“I wish for this vessel to retreat by approximately five thousand kilometres. May I have your permission?”

“I leave it up to you, captain.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

No emotion was present in the words. Before anyone else could notice, their gazes simply met.

Balamy gazed intently at the screen, his thoughts racing.

If Uraniborg were to fall despite possessing Clanner Ajman and commanding the largest fleet in the universe, Idris would leave behind an eternal stain upon his name as the most incompetent commander in history. Balamy could not imagine Idris ever living through such disgrace.

Balamy moved his gaze, searching for Jouslain. The other duke sat in a seat at the rear right of the bridge, his arms crossed in silent contemplation. Beside him stood Francia. Her hand rested on the back of Jouslain’s chair. Then, a small face peeked out from beside her, and a figure gave a light wave toward Balamy. It was Princess Lydia. Since Francia had to remain by Jouslain’s side while simultaneously attending to the Princess, it was only natural that they were all on the bridge; in fact, upon reflection, it was actually safer that way.

Ariabert’s voice rang out:

“Our tactics will depend upon the formation the enemy adopts. Ensure thorough monitoring and analysis, and report your predictions.”

''“Is there no need to take the initiative?”'' wondered Balamy, but he soon realised the truth. If they destroyed the first wave of ships to depart, the remaining enemy forces might be too afraid to emerge, which would make a swift conclusion difficult.

“Does he intend to wipe out the enemy’s entire force all at once when they’ve all emerged? And he’s prepared many responses to the enemy’s tactics?…”

As Balamy contemplated these various possibilities, another report arrived. It came from Ariabert’s original flagship, the ''Golden Sheep''. The face of Captain Chen Ruofan appeared on one of the communication screens.

“Good work, Captain.”

“You honour me. From our current position, the enemy’s movements are within our expectations.”

After a brief exchange of a few words, the communication was cut, and Ariabert looked back at the young viscount.

“Lord Balamy, is there something you wish to say?”

“No, well, nothing in particular.”

“Hmm, perhaps my question was a bit too vague. If it were you, how would you manoeuvre my army?”

Was he being tested? Balamy could not suppress his tension. He looked once more at the screen, then at the three-dimensional simulator. He did not want Ariabert to laugh at him, yet if he were to offer an incorrect answer with misplaced confidence, it would be as if he were reopening his own wound.

“I have not yet gathered enough information to reach a decision.”

Ariabert did not laugh.

“As long as you’re sincere, it’s fine.”

“It is just that… I have never seen such a dense formation before. It’s almost like a box…”

“Correct. Even I have never seen a formation that thick. You are looking at the right things, Viscount.”

Balamy felt relieved. He thought it was for the best that he had answered honestly. In any case, there was no way he could propose a tactic superior to Ariabert’s at this moment. Feeling his tension ease slightly, he plucked up the courage to ask Ariabert.

“What is the meaning of that formation?”

“He intends to force us into a central breakthrough.”

Answering Balamy’s question, Ariabert turned his gaze back to the screen.

“Do you intend to perform this central breakthrough?”

Without looking back at Balamy, Ariabert pointed to the screen.

“Even if we achieve a central breakthrough, there is no space behind them for us to deploy. We would merely be caught in a pincer movement between Uraniborg and the enemy fleet.”

“Yes…”

“Which is likely what the enemy expects.”

There was an irrepressible excitement in Ariabert’s voice, that of a commander. Balamy wanted to read what lay within his heart, but it proved difficult.

“But, as things stand, wouldn’t it be difficult to attack the core?”

“That is true. However, Lord Balamy, what exactly are you referring to as the core?”

Balamy was bewildered.

“If we are speaking of the fleet, wouldn’t it be the flagship? The commander-in-chief would be aboard…”

“In the case of a long-distance expedition, supply ships are added to that.”

“But from what I have heard, the Commander-in-Chief has not even deployed.”

“Yes, precisely. However, as was revealed just now, the supreme commander, Idris, is conducting operations from within Uraniborg. If that is the case, whoever is aboard the flagship must be one of his subordinate generals, but in any event, such a heavy formation is unnecessary. A formation like that is designed to further encircle one’s own troops with even more allies, which, as a result, leaves half of the total force acting as mere outriders.”

For a moment, Balamy forgot his own position. It was the first time he had ever heard Ariabert explain things with such detail and initiative. Had he asked for himself, he would have never been told this much.

It was the result of Jouslain speaking up for him. There was no need to even think; the fact was clear. Should he be grateful? If so, how was he to show his appreciation?

Until the untimely death of his father, Marquis Estrade Tytania, last year, Ariabert and Jouslain had been plain, imaginary enemies to Balamy. He had intended to support his father, overthrow Clanner Ajman and the four dukes, and seize hegemony over Tytania. He had displayed his ambition and vigour so nakedly that even Princess Lydia, upon their first meeting, had remarked that he had “the kind of eyes that are plotting treason”.

At present, he walked in silence, watching the backs of Ariabert and Jouslain. It felt as though the two dukes were advancing two steps for every single step Balamy took.

''“How foolish I was.”''

He could not help but mock himself.

If even the backs of the two dukes were drifting so far out of reach, it would be eternally impossible to even catch the shadow of Clanner Ajman. He had been insolent, but he believed that, aside from a lack of experience, he had been able to match his late father, Marquis Estrade. Therefore, it was only natural that the Clanner throne had fallen into the hands of Ajman, his father’s half-brother. Their abilities were simply not on the same level; there was nothing to be done.

Had Balamy failed to properly account for his position immediately after his father’s death, he undoubtedly would have been purged. He had been spared only because Jouslain had persuaded the Clanner.

From that point on, Balamy was regarded by those around him as Jouslain’s partisan, and he acted as such in practice. However, Balamy did not know whether this would ultimately decide his fate. Regardless of whether he was on equal footing with Princess Lydia, he was not even twenty years old yet.

=== IV ===
Separated from the vortex of war by a dark abyss of some three hundred thousand kilometres, about one hundred unarmed ships drifted. They were the hospital ship fleets of both armies.

The hospital ships generally possessed white hulls, with a large red cross painted on both the port and starboard sides. There were various theories regarding the origin of this “×” symbol. The most prominent suggested that it had originally been a “+” sign, which had rotated forty-five degrees over many years. However, as for the reason it had rotated forty-five degrees, there was not even a strong hypothesis, let alone an established theory.

In any event, the hospital ships operated at full capacity, regardless of whether they belonged to friend or foe. Both sides were funded by Tytania, and as a result, it was impossible not to run into acquaintances among the crew<ref name="ftn34">“Crew” (乗組員) is pronounced “crew”.</ref>, doctors, nurses, and medics at every level.

“We are running low on analgesics. Could you spare a bit?”

“Alright. It is a poor trade, but I will give you enough skin cell culture medium for about five hundred people. No matter how much we have, we can never have enough.”

Such negotiations took place between doctors who were acquaintances, transcending enemy and ally lines. It was not just the doctors; even between adjacent beds, amidst the lingering scent of blood and medicine, the wounded exchanged words with one another.

“What, it’s you? Which ship were you on?”

“The heavy cruiser<ref name="ftn35">“Heavy cruiser” (重巡航艦) is pronounced “heavy cruiser”.</ref> ''Pythagoras''.”

“Ha! Amazing. Weren’t you the one my ship hit with four shots?”

“So, you were on the ''Zarafshon''! Look at what you did to my left arm…”

“Hey, hey, no grudges, alright? I’m covered in bandages myself.”

A mixture of relief and anxiety rose from the wounded soldiers as they raised their voices. One shout, “Shut up! Silence!” rang out particularly loud.

“I wonder what will happen with the prisoner exchange.”

“I never imagined things would end up like this.”

''Never imagined things would end up like this.'' That was the thought shared by the fleet as it moved restlessly around the group of hospital ships. These were media vessels, working desperately to report on and document this historic scene.

“Who could have ever imagined such a sight? Uraniborg, the very centre of the heavens, is being enveloped by the flames of war. Clouds of light in white, red, blue, and gold are swirling, scattering, congregating, expanding, contracting, and pulsating…”

“Stop the idle chatter and move closer to the combat zone!”

“We can’t go any further, Cap!”

“At least zero-point-five light-seconds—no, even half that is fine. Get closer and show them! The public demands authentic footage! Look, the sector to the front-left is clear.”

“That’s the direct route from the battlefield to the hospital fleet. If we interfere with the hospital ships’ operations, we’ll be attacked by both sides!”

“Navigating through that properly is what makes you a professional!”

“Don’t be unreasonable!”

“Do you not wish to leave your name in the annals of journalism!?”

“I want to leave my name and my life alone!”

An unidentified vessel had slipped among the media-affiliated ships.

It moved to the front and sat alongside the others, acting as if it were there to film and report on the battle, but this ship, disguised with decorative antennas, was the ''Honest Old Man Junior''.

“Since we went through the trouble of getting identification marks for both friend and foe from Uraniborg, we might as well make the most of it.”

The man speaking in the crew’s mess was Lee Shanchen, known by his comrades as “Doctor Lee”. He was a man possessed by dangerous ideologies, willing to gladly sacrifice his own life—and the lives of others—if it meant writing a thesis on the “Factors leading to the Fall of Tytania”.

“We’re finished if we’re discovered.”

“Quite likely, Mahdi. But it’s not as if we’re doing anything morally shameful.”

“If you are so intent on pursuing moral righteousness, then I believe those looted identification tags should be returned to Tytania.”

“True enough, but how? I suppose we could send them back anonymously, but even Tytania has far greater concerns at the moment.”

Fan Hyulick responded in place of Doctor Lee.

“We’re pirates. What belongs to others belongs to us.”

Alan Mahdi intoned, almost as if singing. He possessed absolutely no interest in the academic value of what were purported to be historical records, but he possessed more than enough interest in their monetary value.

At present, Mahdi’s greatest concern was Radmoth, the Tytanian scion, who was being held captive in a toilet. The youth was so unlovely that one felt compelled to retort, ‘What scion?’, but that was exactly why Mahdi wanted to sell him for as high a price as possible. Five hundred thousand—no, perhaps as much as one million dakar. Consequently, he hoped for the side that would offer a higher price to emerge victorious.

“Sometimes, unfounded intuition can lead to more accurate predictions than clear thinking and rational reasoning.”

Saying this, Doctor Lee looked towards Fan Hyulick. Hyulick found this particular gaze difficult to endure. He could never tell what was being said to him or what he might be asked to do. In truth, since becoming an acquaintance of Doctor Lee, he had no memory of experiencing anything particularly good, yet he found himself unable to distance himself from the man.

“And what exactly is this rational reasoning you speak of?”

“That’s right. If I were to put it in terms even little Mahdi could understand, it means you should consider who stands to gain the most.”

When Miranda offered her opinion, Doctor Lee shook his head slightly.

“No, it is not limited to Mahdi. It is simply the most logical definition. This time, Tytania has split and even gone so far as to engage in hostilities. It is a situation no one could have predicted a year ago. But who stands to benefit from it?”

“That is obvious. The Anti-Tytania Faction.”

“That is far too vague. Besides, Tytania itself is fractured. There is no such thing as a purely anti-Tytania or pro-Tytania side anymore.”

“You should listen a little more closely, Miranda. Tytania is divided and warring. Regardless of which side wins, Tytania as a whole will naturally be weakened.”

“Hmm, I see. It seems even little Mahdi is actually making sense for once.”

“When profit and loss are involved, the mind begins to work.”

“You’re quite the handful, I say so myself. Besides, if your mind is so sharp, why are you even here right now?”

Before Mahdi could respond, another voice spoke.

“If one considers everything to be coincidence, it is easy to fall into fatalism. If one considers everything to be inevitable, one falls into the trap of conspiracy theories. Now, I wonder which side of the line we stand upon.”

Doctor Lee was voicing his thoughts aloud.

“It is certain that the catalyst was not so much Hyulick’s victory as it was Duke Ariabert’s defeat. This was the beginning. The very foundations of Tytania, which had remained <span style="background-color:transparent;color:#000000;">unshakeable </span>until then, began to tremble…”

Doctor Lee crossed his arms.

“Something has awakened. In truth, no power or regime can endure forever. Today’s victor is destined to be the defeated one a hundred years from now. It is precisely because the succession of hegemony repeats itself that human civilisation has endured to this day. Yet, behind the victor, the seeds of ruin always lie hidden in the shadows, awaiting their moment to awaken…”

“Come on, Doctor, don’t be so dramatic. You’re making me feel like I’m listening to a ghost story.”

“A ghost story, huh?… Perhaps it is. Tytania is a demon. It was true before Tytania, and it will be true after. For a sane person, the best course of action is to stay well away.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’ve never once had any desire to get involved with Tytania,” added Fan Hyulick, his tone thick with dissatisfaction. “If they ever go and do something incomprehensible, we can just blame it on madness.”

“Madness, is it?… Well, even that is difficult to judge. One who indiscriminately fires heat rays and kills dozens of innocent citizens, and one who systematically selects and massacres a specific ethnic group—which of them is truly possessed by madness?”

“Both.”

Having cut the matter down so decisively, Fan Hyulick turned his gaze toward the viewing port. Beyond the abyss, a cloud of light expanded and contracted in all directions. Flashes of red and blue tore through the luminous clouds in rapid succession. A leader who commanded with frenzy or a leader who commanded with calm composure—which of them was more possessed by madness? He had no memory of having thrown himself into battle out of any personal preference, but he knew for certain that he had accepted it.

As Fan Hyulick sighed and ran his hands through his carrot-coloured hair, Princess Miranda also shrugged her shoulders.

“The Idris faction might win. If that were to happen, we’d be relentlessly pursued for the rest of our lives.”

“Idris might win?”

When Doctor Lee posed the question, Mahdi answered in his stead.

“I wonder. Even taking the simplest view, it’s two against one, and when it comes to popularity, the gap is even wider than that.”

It was an entirely accurate assessment of the matter regarding popularity.

=== V ===
As he watched the opera of light and shadow unfolding upon the screen, Doctor Lee lectured:

“You know what a snowman<ref name="ftn36">“Snowman” (雪ダルマ) is pronounced “snowman”.</ref> is, don’t you? As long as you don’t move it, it stays the same size. However, if you roll it along, snow sticks to it, and it gradually grows larger.”

“A snowman, eh…”

Fan Hyulick had never seen anything called a snowman in all his life.

“While Idris stands idly by, Ariabert and Jouslain continue to increase their number of allies. Considering that, a short-term battle might actually work to Idris’ advantage. For the time being he can enter the fray with double the manpower.”

“But I wonder if things will go quite so smoothly. I feel as though there might be a trap somewhere.”

“Well, even I do not yet know which way it will go.”

“Now, now.”

“In any event, it is not my place to take responsibility, so I shall simply observe for a while. Even if I wished to intervene, I would be unable to do so.”

Doctor Lee sipped his coffee with complete composure, but Hyulick could not help but feel a slight sense of unease. He felt that Doctor Lee must also bear at least some responsibility.

In later generations, a search through biographical dictionaries would reveal a great variety of titles attributed to Fan Hyulick. He was variously listed as a “soldier during the era of the eighth Tytanian Clanner Ajman”, a “leader of the anti-Tytania faction”, and a “guerilla tactician” among many others. However, regarding his own state of mind at the time, he likely would have wished to claim he was merely an “unfortunate victim of the Tytanian Era”.

Even while Doctor Lee’s seminar was being held at the Academy of Pirates, the fighting around Uraniborg continued. In fact, it appeared to be growing even more intense.

“As could be expected, the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain hold the advantage.”

Even someone who wasn’t Doctor Lee could see this. Since the initial ratio of forces was two to one, if Idris held the advantage, the numbers of the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces would dwindle, and they would soon be unable to maintain the front. Even using very basic arithmetic, if both armies lost an equal number of troops, then by the time the Ariabert-Jouslain army was annihilated, Idris would still have twenty thousand ships remaining. The fact that this was not the case meant that Idris was in a rather disadvantageous position.

It was then that Pagès entered. Soup was dripping from his head, and though he was usually a cheerful man, he was unusually utterly sullen. He had gone to deliver a meal to Radmoth, who was confined in the toilets, but apparently had the plate thrown at him.

“It seems His Grace the Baron does not find the food of the lowborn commoners to his taste. He barely touched the soup.”

“There is no need to feed an omelette to a fellow like that. Plenty of boiled eggs will do.”

“Do not insult boiled eggs!”

“What was that, Mahdi? Do you have a fondness for boiled eggs?”

“Not really. It’s just that I am a man who upholds fairness.”

“Fairness, is it? Very well then. You had better keep quiet for a while. I slipped enough sleeping pills in his wine to knock out three people. He should be snoring loudly by now.”

The slender figure of Pagès, who had been standing at the entrance of the dining hall, was suddenly shoved aside. Radmoth, his expression ferocious, held something gleaming against Seraphine Coopers’ throat. It was a raygun.

“Don’t move, you vermin!” roared Radmoth.

Fan Hyulick glared at Miranda.

“Hey, wasn’t that guy supposed to be snoring?”

“I should have put the dose for five people.”

“So, the hero surges from the toilets, huh?”

After delivering a dull joke in a dull tone, Doctor Lee wiped his mouth with a napkin. A bolt of light streaked through the air, five centimetres above his head, striking the dining hall wall and sending up plumes of smoke.

Doctor Lee shrugged.

“I shall listen if you have a request. And I will accept it provided it falls within the bounds of reason.”

Radmoth replied without hesitation:

“Continue your advance all the way to Uraniborg.”

Doctor Lee raised both hands slightly and stood up cautiously.

“That isn’t simply beyond the bounds of reason but beyond those of sanity. Do you truly think we can pierce through such a battlefield and reach Uraniborg? We would be blown to smithereens by both armies.”

“Do you think you can deceive me, you vermin? This ship was originally issued identification tags by Tytania to distinguish friend from foe. That is precisely why you can move around so brazenly.”

Doctor Lee, Fan Hyulick, and Miranda exchanged glances. To be honest, none of them had expected Radmoth to remember anything about the identification tags. They had simply regarded him as just another type of boorish, high-born brat.

“Complacency is a dangerous thing, Doctor.”

“I shall be more careful from now on.”

“If you understand, then move it! Get us to Uraniborg, quickly!” shouted Radmoth, his voice ringing with triumph.

The crew members looked at one another, but with no other choice, they returned to their respective stations and began to set the ship in motion.

That was the extent of Radmoth’s brief victory.

In order to keep an eye on everyone, Radmoth had been leaning against the rear wall of the bridge; however, his eyes suddenly grew glazed and vacant, and he began to slide down the wall, eventually collapsing onto the floor.

When Seraphine Coopers cautiously approached and leaned in to look at his face, a loud snore and a breath reeking of alcohol wafted up at her. It seemed the medicine had finally begun to take effect. He was a young lord with extraordinary stamina.

“What shall we do, Doctor? Shall we leave him to soak in the toilet’s bio-purifier this time?”

“Don’t. Having a crisis emerge from the toilet once is enough for a lifetime.”

“Well then, shall we just let him die?”

Pagès toyed with the raygun with both hands.

“It doesn’t leave a good aftertaste. But even if we keep him as a hostage, he’ll probably be abandoned by his side, and keeping him here would only increase our food expenses. Personally, I think throwing him out is the best option.”

A consensus was reached. Baron Radmoth Tytania was placed into an escape pod and prepared to be ejected into space.

With his mouth and both arms bound, Radmoth had been crammed into a tight capsule; it could hardly be said that he was being treated as an honoured guest. Nevertheless, the fact that the distress signal had been left transmitting continuously might have been a sign of the pirates’ humanity. Maybe.

The crew of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' offered their heartfelt farewells to the departing capsule. Even for such scoundrels, a parting this joyous was a first. Even pirates, it seemed, possessed a sense of sincerity.

While his unworthy brother played in a paradise within the capsule, his elder brother, Idris, was trapped in an endless nightmare. Unlike the pirates who had captured his brother, he did not even register his own hunger, devoting his entire soul to judging the battle situation and issuing orders. The fatigue accumulating unconsciously only continued to grow.

“Every last one of them can rot in hell. Useless lot!” cursed Idris, though his voice was beginning to rasp.

The incompetence of his allies, who struggled even while being outnumbered two to one, incensed Idris, but he could not ignore his own mistakes either. By allowing Ariabert and the others to launch an assault directly onto the front of Uraniborg, he had, both strategically and politically, left everyone with the impression that they were “driven to the wall”.

There had been an alternative plan of leaving ten thousand ships to guard Uraniborg and withdrawing thirty thousand to launch a preemptive strike on planet Bargash. Had he done so, at the very least, the fact that he had “struck first” would have remained. In reality, however, Idris had allowed the impression to spread, both domestically and abroad, that he had simply been left at the mercy of Ariabert and Jouslain. Furthermore, what was increasing his exhaustion even further was the growing dissatisfaction with Clanner Ajman, as profound doubts began to take hold of him.

Was Clanner Ajman even sane?

It was the first time in Idris’ life that he had harboured such a doubt. In this regard, he was no different from Jouslain.

In Jouslain’s case, it was a casual remark from Princess Lydia that had brought about his inspiration. As for Idris, he had arrived at that conclusion after dispelling one suspicion after the other. To be fair, one might say that Idris, wallowing in his solitude, had been forced to endure greater mental exhaustion. He had no advisor to consult, either.

In short, Idris’ mind and body were approaching their limits. Even so, the will and effort he exerted to continue commanding the battle would have been worthy of praise.

''“I cannot say for certain, but…”''

Had something happened? Something that might have suggested Ajman’s “madness”?

It had never occurred to Idris. Although he had never once liked Ajman, he had always felt a sense of awe and respect toward him. As a member of Tytania, he had considered this only natural, and he had stridden to earn his favour while being careful not to incur his displeasure. He had almost never felt doubt or resentment regarding the way Ajman’s words and actions governed everything.

But had that been the right thing to do?

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5

2026-10-11T14:42:22Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 4 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 6 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma == === I === Since the combatants were both Tytania, if the victor was Tytania, then the lo..."

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== Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma ==
=== I ===
Since the combatants were both Tytania, if the victor was Tytania, then the loser was also Tytania. The media across the entire universe was faced with the difficult task of deciding how to report the outcome of the battle. Looking at the figures regarding the losses, it was patently clear “which Tytania” had emerged victorious, but fact, perception, and expression were three entirely different things.

The majority of the media in human society fell under the control of Tytania capital. This, too, was a frustrating reality for those involved. If they became too closely entwined with the current rulers, they risked facing purges in the next era; however, if they praised the victor too highly and the outcome was overturned in the next conflict, the consequences would be utterly disastrous.

Thus, the majority of the media chose the path of adhering to “objective reporting”. They presented figures for the losses sustained by both the Uraniborg faction and the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance, reported the official statements issued by each side verbatim, and included star charts and navigational maps, while strictly avoiding commentary. Their aim was to leave the final judgement entirely to the observer.

Consequently, for the general public with no connection to military affairs, the strategic significance of the Battle of the Hasdrubal System remained utterly unfathomable. Based on the casualties reported for both armies, it appeared that the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance had achieved a great victory. Yet, there was a growing consensus that Uraniborg still held immense forces in reserve, making a reversal of fortune highly possible… This general understanding, however, served only to frustrate both those reporting the news and those consuming it. As a result…

“Flukes don’t happen thrice<ref name="ftn27">“Flukes don't happen thrice” (まぐれは三度ない) is a proverb referring to the fact that lucky breaks and unexpected successes that don't rely on real abilities don't repeat themselves.</ref>—the fallen idol, Fan Hyulick.”

The young man selected as the sacrificial goat was a carrot-haired youth who, until very recently, had even been misidentified as the “Commander-in-Chief of the anti-Tytania Allied Forces”. When Hyulick had appeared in the cosmos by defeating the undefeated Ariabert with a brilliant stratagem, the jubilant media moguls had all turned their palms at once. If wind pressure had existed in outer space, it would have surely knocked out of orbit a planet or two.

Now, while avoiding any contact with spacecraft, they headed towards the direction of planet Ementhal for the time being. Inside the fleeing ''Honest Old Man Junior'', the pirates wore gloom-ridden expressions. All the dreams, hopes, and calculations they had been so heavily laden with until just a few days ago had been cast aside somewhere in the depths of space.

Doctor Lee tossed several of the published articles onto the table.

“They say even Hell has a bottom. There is a certain pleasure in breaking through that floor and seeing just how much further one can fall.”

“Only if there is a guarantee that we can ascend again.”

Hyulick replied in a sullen tone, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. It still felt as though a dull ache remained. Ever since regaining consciousness, Hyulick had harboured no ill will toward Walenkov, the one who had carried out the act. It was men like Doctor Lee whom he found far more loathsome.

“It isn’t so bad. Perhaps you feel relieved to be liberated from such a hollow reputation.”

Mahdi pricked Hyulick with a needle of sarcasm. Miranda attempted to soothe the tension.

“Well, try not to be too disheartened. Even if it is a shame.”

“Not really. Nothing good ever came of it, even when people were praising me for whatever it was.”

Hyulick’s response was curt. In truth, over the past year, he had been hunted as an enemy of Tytania, imprisoned, escaped, only to be captured once more; the woman he had loved was killed, and just when he thought he had finally taken his revenge, he himself had been treated as the villain and nearly killed. He had not known a single day of peace, having been tossed about in a whirlpool of politics, warfare, and intrigue, only to end up in this wretched state.

“Babylon, Troy, Rome, Carthage—all were destined to reach their final day…”

“Which planets are you even talking about?”

“They were empires that existed in the distant past. Each reached the height of prosperity, only to fall.”

“So, it is the same for Tytania?”

“Nothing is eternal. Even the universe itself will vanish in some tens of billions of years.”

“That has nothing to do with me. As long as I can eat a decent omelette tonight, I am satisfied.”

Hyulick clasped his hands behind his head.

There were no profound feelings regarding the defeat. While he could not help but feel a sense of guilt toward the fallen soldiers, as for Idris Tytania, he felt like telling him, “It’s your own fault for choosing me.”

Regarding Ariabert Tytania, he felt that losing this time was only natural, so there was no bitterness. If anything, he even felt as though he had settled a debt. It was strange, but he had actually harboured a feeling that he had been unfairly tarnishing Ariabert’s reputation until now.

“Yes, yes, let’s have ham and onion omelettes for dinner tonight, then.”

Seraphine dismissed him lightly.

In the end, humanity did not abandon the flora and fauna of nature in favour of consuming synthetic foods. As they abandoned their ancient, primordial home planet and journeyed one after another into outer space, what were installed within the migration ships were not factories for producing synthetic food but rather hydroponic farms and livestock rearing units.

The flora and fauna of Earth were introduced upon planets habitable or terraformed<ref name="ftn28">“Terraforming” (地球化) is pronounced “terraforming”.</ref>. Naturally, this drew fierce criticism from those advocating for the preservation of celestial environments, but such opposition proved powerless against the human desire to expand their living space. As long as they remained confined to their original home planets, the human population could not exceed ten billion.

As a result of the choices made by ancestors many dozens of generations ago, chickens were being raised even on the surfaces of planets hundreds of light-years away from Earth, and a young man with carrot-coloured hair was eating the eggs they produced.

Whether they won or lost, whether they pursued or fled, they were hungry. The healthy fugitives took their seats at the dining hall table.

“I wonder just what the Tytania Clanner is thinking.”

“Who knows?”

“Heh, so there are things even the Doctor doesn’t understand, then?”

“It might be surprising, but that is indeed the case.”

Answering with such composure to Hyulick, who had become like an unruly toddler, Doctor Lee quietly returned the overly chewy bread to his plate.

“While I was at Uraniborg, I hoped to meet the Clanner somehow… I didn’t care about the formality, whether it was an audience or a mere sighting. I just wanted to look into those eyes directly.”

Doctor Lee shook his head slightly.

“When you think about it, it is quite something. Without even showing himself, the Clanner’s presence weighs upon the entire universe. Billions of people entrust their fates and their very lives to a single word of his.”

“I wonder when he will actually appear before the public.”

As Pagès spoke, twirling pasta around his fork, Miranda responded:

“Perhaps he is simply waiting for the most effective moment?”

“For example?”

“Well, let’s see. How about this: Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain thoroughly defeat Duke Idris, and just as Uraniborg is on the verge of falling, he makes his grand appearance?”

“And then, by delivering a single sharp reprimand to both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain, he strikes such fear into them that they surrender immediately, thereby upholding the Clanner’s authority?”

Mahdi picked up his coffee cup.

“That sounds a bit… no, it sounds very much like a cheap three-cent melodrama. Don’t you think? If even a single step goes wrong, the entire cast and the stage itself will plummet into the orchestra pit.”

“No, it is entirely possible.”

Multiple gazes converged upon Doctor Lee.

“Mahdi aptly referred to it as a piece of theatre, and I, too, certainly shared that impression. If things continue as they are, Tytania will fracture, the universe will fall into chaos, and the people will yearn for order and a powerful leader.”

Hyulick swallowed the last morsel of his omelette.

“Even so, at this late stage, will both dukes kneel before the Clanner? Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain have complete control over their forces, and they are already closing in on Uraniborg. Do you really think they would choose to surrender without a fight now?”

“Uraniborg still commands a massive force.”

“Well, if they scrambled enough resources, they could likely call upon ten or twenty thousand ships from various regions to rush to the aid of Uraniborg. But the question is, who would take overall command?”

Fan Hyulick’s reputation was ruined by this recent defeat. Truth be told, the one most relieved by this was Hyulick himself; it was perhaps a matter of irony, or perhaps a lack of virtue, but aside from his mastery of ambush tactics, the young man possessed nothing more than the shrewdness of a commoner.

“If a military genius were to suddenly appear from out of nowhere and annihilate the armies of Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain just as they were on the verge of a complete victory. That person would be able to make the entire universe bow before them.”

“That’s a pipe dream, Doctor. There’s no way someone like that exists.”

“He might exist.”

“As if such a convenient story could exist in reality.”

“No, he really truly might. It is simply that we have been ignoring him.”

The group looked at one another, and each saw a look of unease reflected on the others’ faces.

“Who are you talking about, Doctor?”

“Clanner Ajman himself.”

=== II ===
“Now hold on, we were just discussing the authority of the Clanner. There is no doubt that his authority is immense. However, I have never heard that the man himself was a master of military affairs. He has always left those matters entirely to Ariabert and Zarlisch, has he not?”

“It may simply be that the opportunity never arose. A situation where the Clanner himself would need to step forward to face a formidable foe. That is why he remained ensconced within Uraniborg. However, now that both Ariabert and Zarlisch are gone…”

Hyulick ran his hands through his hair with great agitation.

“Uh… what, I mean, Doctor, are you actually serious?”

“It is an expected question. Yes… I believe it is, at the very least, a hypothesis worthy of consideration. It is just that the thought only occurred to me very recently.”

Doctor Lee folded his arms in his seat.

“Since his enthronement as Clanner, Ajman has reigned over Tytania without incident, maintaining stability. If that stability were to suddenly collapse into division and instability, and if we were to remain absent during such a moment, even the smallest cracks would expand rapidly…”

Rough footsteps echoed, and Mahdi burst into the room with such momentum that the automatic door could barely keep up. It was said that when Mahdi went to check on Baron Radmoth, who was being held confined in the restroom, the Baron had shouted at him:

“I am a noble of Tytania! I demand treatment befitting my station. Otherwise, you ill-mannered thieves will regret this in due time!”

“Treatment, he says. Honestly, these nobles…”

It seemed as though Mahdi had adjusted his vocal cords so that when he pronounced “treatment”, it sounded more like “mistreatment”.

“Well, I’m technically a noble too, you know.”

Miranda gave a sardonic laugh.

“Good grief, what on earth do you intend to do with that worthless scion? He’s nothing but a walking waste of space, grandly squandering oxygen and food.”

“I believe the plan was to stuff him into a capsule and toss him out once we reached the vicinity of a suitable planet.”

“Without even caching in the cost of his upkeep? There’s always the option of just getting rid of him for good.”

“That might be exactly what Duke Idris has in mind, though.”

“You mean to say we’re meant to trouble ourselves just to rid him of a useless younger brother?”

“Something like that.”

As Doctor Lee replied half-heartedly, Seraphine shrugged her shoulders.

“But he is his own flesh and blood. Would he truly go that far?”

“Similar things have happened many times throughout Tytania’s history. However, once someone is taken prisoner alive, killing them when they are unable to resist is a poor way to start one’s day.”

“Why not just let things go according to Duke Idris’ plans for once? Regardless, while the Duke was a disagreeable fellow, he did feed us quite delicious meals back at Uraniborg.”

“Well, that is true, I suppose.”

“You agree, don’t you, Miranda? In that case…”

“In that case, Mahdi, why don’t you just put Baron Radmoth out of his misery with a single shot?”

“You want me to do it!?”

“Whosoever argues most forcefully shall carry out the deed.”

As Doctor Lee spoke in a light, almost sing-song voice, Mahdi puffed out his cheeks.

“I’ll pass on that.”

“I have no desire to shoot an unarmed man.”

“That is one thing, but… no, let’s skip the sanctimonious talk. I simply do not want that rich kid standing by my bedside every single night!”

A burst of raucous laughter broke the momentary silence. Mahdi was just as terrified of ghosts as he was of losing money.

“Well, there is no need to change the original plan abruptly. If we happen to encounter a Tytania vessel, he should be useful as a hostage.”

One after another, those who agreed with Doctor Lee’s conclusion nodded in unison, and the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' sped through the abyss of space, carrying roughly one individual demanding improved treatment.

Ariabert and Jouslain gave Idris no time.

Regardless of Idris’ qualities as a leader, he possessed the trump card of being a Clanner, which could turn the tide entirely. They could not afford to give him the time required to play it. At a speed that might be described as “reckless haste”, Ariabert advanced the fleet, closing in on Uraniborg.

This took almost everyone, both within and without Tytania, by complete surprise. It had been assumed that after achieving victory in the Hasdrubal System, Ariabert and his allies would temporarily cease hostilities for the sake of rest and negotiations. Those few who had already taken a stance and the majority who were preoccupied with their own calculations while watching the situation unfold could do nothing but stand by, utterly helpless.

Thus, forty-eight hours after the Battle of the Hashtbal System had ended, the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain closed within a mere two and a half light-seconds of Uraniborg, and the sight of artificial celestial bodies shimmering on the screens was projected in great detail.

“Uraniborg.”

“To think we would be returning in such a manner.”

The soldiers whispered amongst themselves.

The artificial celestial bodies floating in the void appeared like massive, iridescent jewels resting upon black silk.

The clusters of stars shimmering in the background appeared as nothing more than grains of silver sand, accentuating its majestic beauty. The soldiers, having departed from these artificial celestial bodies as part of the Bargash expeditionary force, had now returned to lay siege to it. Their emotions were nothing short of complex.

Because they held Ariabert and Jouslain in such high esteem, they had followed the command of the two dukes, returning from their occupied position in Bargash to this place. Uraniborg stood before their eyes. Even upon seeing it, what welled up within their hearts was not hostility but awe.

Ariabert and Jouslain spoke vaguely about the future, their eyes shifting between the screen and the soldiers.

“I am no politician. Lord Jouslain, if we survive this war, I shall leave everything else to you.”

“I don’t think this is right. Lord Ariabert, I am certain you are capable of making just judgements in politics as well.”

“The same could be said of you, Lord Jouslain. Military matters are but a small fraction of politics, surely.”

“I have no desire to stand at the summit. If anyone were to stand there, it would suit you much better, Lord Ariabert.”

The two of them shared a wry smile, realising they were merely praising one another.

“We certainly lack what one might call Tytanian ambition.”

“Only Idris possesses it. And he carries the weight of us both.”

“I do not think him as incompetent, but if he intends to shoulder it all alone, he shall need another arm.”

They both imagined Idris, ensconced within the heart of Uraniborg, being forced into solitary thought and decision.

How might the situation have changed if Ariabert and Jouslain had turned the planet Bargash, which they occupied, into their base for a long-term war? Tytania would have been geographically divided, with each side gathering its own allies; Ariabert and Jouslain might have abandoned their masquerade as “supranational mega-corporations” to establish new, separate states.

That was not what happened. The Bargash military, implicated in the death of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, did not join Ariabert’s forces; instead, they remained within their own territory, merely observing the “domestic strife” within Tytania.

Once it was determined that Tytania’s power had waned, every force in the universe would swarm to tear away its interests. Much like the fierce carnivores that gathered around the dying carcass of a massive herbivorous dinosaur in the ancient past.

The current situation had changed drastically from just one year ago. The two young dukes felt no sense of the fact that it was their own hands that had brought this about.

“Had Zarlisch been alive, things would have been entirely different. If that man had charged head-on with thirty thousand ships, we would have had no choice but to flee.”

They were now using the ''Austra'' as their joint flagship. In preparation for the next tactical deployment, they had reached an agreement to maintain close communication and to employ further stratagems.

Ariabert and Jouslain expressed their condolences to the bereaved families of the soldiers who had died in the previous battle, and visited the beds of the wounded one by one, squeezing their hands to convey their gratitude. To put it somewhat ironically, it was only possible because their numbers were so few, yet it was enough to move the troops; their cheeks flushed and their hands trembled as they swore even greater loyalty.

Furthermore, the presence of Princess Lydia played a significant role. This little princess shed tears for the deceased and, for the wounded, she threw herself into her efforts like an apprentice angel, embracing them with smiles, kissing their cheeks, and stroking their wounds over their bandages.

At the bedside of one soldier, she looked upon the photograph of his family held up by his pillow, asked for the names of each person, and promised that she would pray for his safe return. The soldier was moved to tears, appearing almost ready to swear his allegiance to Princess Lydia rather than to Ariabert or Jouslain.

Francia also assisted the Princess. Following her lead, she spoke to the soldiers and distributed water; when the Princess grew exhausted and fell asleep, Francia carried her to a bed before continuing on her own to move amongst the soldiers to offer them comfort. She did not stop with the wounded in their beds but went around delivering provisions to the soldiers who were resting as well.

Francia’s pure beauty and modest manner encouraged the soldiers, much like Princess Lydia’s enthusiasm. In some cases, it was even more so; there were soldiers who grasped her extended hand with both of their hands, lost in a trance, and one even leaned so far forward to watch her graceful figure depart that he tumbled right out of his bed. He became the casualty in this battle who received the least sympathy from his comrades.

Thus, the morale<ref name="ftn29">“Morale” (士気) is pronounced “morale”.</ref> of the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain showed no signs of waning, appearing ready to engage in the next battle without delay.

=== III ===
An hour after Princess Lydia had drifted into the land of sleep, a frantic report arrived. A fleet of vessels was approaching at ten o’clock.

“How many vessels?”

“They appear to be approximately three thousand to three thousand five hundred.”

“Keep the communication channels open. They may attempt to propose negotiations.”

However, ten seconds later, Ariabert was forced to issue a new order. The appearing fleet had opened their gun ports without any prior warning.

Hundreds of spears of light caused slight fissures in the hulls of the great ships, but they were unable to pierce through or shatter them. Naturally, the forces of Ariabert and Jouslain returned fire simultaneously, and the surrounding space was instantly filled with fireballs and flashes of light.

“Lord Jouslain, do you have any thoughts?”

“As I said, I shall leave everything to you, Lord Ariabert.”

“You insolent man.”

Ariabert gave a wry smile but immediately hardened his expression and cast his gaze toward the tactical screen. He extended one wing of the fleet to the front left, instantly assuming a semi-encirclement formation.

“Their strategy is nothing unusual. In fact, it is so orthodox it could be pulled straight from a tactical textbook.”

“Then what shall we do?”

“We shall respond in kind.”

Ariabert gave a light laugh, but rather than taking his seat at the command station, he remained standing and began issuing orders one after another. Light and shadow drifted alternately across his face.

Jouslain, who had moved to a seat further back to yield the command station to Ariabert, smiled as he noticed a certain sight. He could see a female officer standing close by Ariabert’s left side. It was the captain, Edna Fredericks.

As his gaze drifted, he noticed a white hand resting against the back of his own seat. Jouslain moved his hand, lightly overlapping it with the white back of hers. He did not need to look to know that Francia, the owner of the hand, had flushed crimson.

“Idris is holding back his strength.”

Ariabert tilted his head slightly.

“If forty thousand ships were to set out simultaneously from multiple ports, we would be hard-pressed to respond. However, even if they launched an offensive in units of one thousand from a single location, it should only result in attrition. What do you think, Lord Jouslain?”

Ariabert kept his eyes fixed on the screen. Consequently, Jouslain was able to leave his hand resting upon Francia’s.

“I do not believe Idris is foolish enough to commit his forces in such piecemeal fashion…”

Jouslain’s suspicions grew. Ariabert frowned faintly.

“It is less a matter of Idris’ character and more that the situation necessitates it. Holding an impregnable castle and a force double our size, he cannot afford to lose. Perhaps he intends to sacrifice just enough to the very limit, to observe our tactics and fleet movements for his future benefit.”

The battle continued. Even if they were few in number, more than three thousand vessels were deployed.

It seemed as though the Battle of Hashtbal was being reenacted.

Ariabert opened the gate of his formation, adopting a stance intended to lure the enemy ships inside. In response, the fleet from Uraniborg approached the gate but did not charge through; instead, they rained fire into the formation from the outside. It appeared as though they might fall for the stratagem, but after an exchange of gunfire had lasted for some time, another gate opened, and light cruisers and destroyers surged forward.

From that point on, the battle became a one-sided affair. Under the brunt of the shrewd flanking manoeuvres, the Uraniborg fleet attempted to distance itself from the enemy’s fire, creating numerous fireballs and flashes in the process. It was a natural fleet movement, yet it resulted in exposing their entire flank directly to the open gate. Large-calibre spears of light thrust out from within the gate in quick succession, engulfing two or three ships in flames with a single flash.

In less than ten minutes, the number of Uraniborg vessels had fallen to less than half.

Within the various ships of the Uraniborg fleet, which found themselves in a desperate situation, heated arguments broke out amidst the rising steam of blood.

“To die in a battle like this is ridiculous. We’ll be sent back at the very gates of Hell. Our ship is withdrawing from the battle line immediately!”

While some screamed such things, others, with red-stained bandages wrapped around their heads, offered rebuttals.

“Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain are now public enemies of Tytania. Are you truly intending to surrender to such men!?”

“I did not say surrender. I said withdraw.”

“If you withdraw from the battle line here, what then? You will be charged with mutiny or desertion! You will spend the rest of your life running, and if you are caught, it will be death.”

“And who exactly would such charges?”

“That would be Duke Idris…”

The conversation ceased, and the soldiers exchanged glances. If this had been Clanner Ajman, no one would have even dared to utter the words ‘withdraw from the battlefield’. Idris’ very position relied upon the Clanner’s authority. He had yet to prove just how much he could achieve without the Clanner’s presence.

“Once things have come to this, we should simply surrender to Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain together. They would have no reason to punish us, and our forces would be strengthened. There is no point in swearing loyalty to Duke Idris at a time like this.”

“But if we surrender, will Duke Ariabert’s faction accept us? Besides, if in the end Duke Idris happens to emerge victorious…”

“There is no need to worry about such future possibilities!”

“Calm down. If we do that, it will be considered treason. We will be haunted by the disgrace.”

The fireballs blooming across the screen belonged almost entirely to the forces of Uraniborg.

“Why would it be treason? We are merely subordinates of Tytania. The ones we are surrendering to are the pillars of Tytania, Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain. There is no need to feel inferior!”

At that moment, Idris was watching the course of the battle from the combat command room. Ariabert’s insight had been almost entirely correct. The reason Idris had deployed an awkward number of three thousand ships was to uncover the true nature of Ariabert’s strategy. However, he was now being overcome by a regret that came far too late.

“Damn it, I should have taken hostages from Hyulick’s faction…!”

Looking back, he had been far too generous when the Blaze Flag Army first arrived at Uraniborg. From Idris’ position, he would not have faced any criticism had he treated them not as guests but as surrendering foes.

It was naive of him, to be sure. However, given his upbringing, Idris possessed a certain obsession with following proper form. If he had acted with intent, he could have been both cold and ruthless; yet, perhaps somewhere deep within his consciousness, there remained a single point of himself that could never truly commit to being a conspirator. At the very least, in his dealings with the Blaze Flag Army, Idris had failed magnificently.

“Whether it was the Blaze Flag Army or Fan Hyulick, trusting an outsider was a mistake regardless.”

Idris knew that such whispers were circulating through parts of Uraniborg. Maintaining an air of composure was the only remaining shred of his pride.

Idris was still unable to make a final decision on how to deploy and manoeuvre his more than forty thousand vessels.

“Surely neither Ariabert nor Jouslain would launch a direct assault on Uraniborg. To kill or wound ten million civilians would only leave them with the infamy of being mass murderers.”

If that were the case, deploying a massive fleet in front of Uraniborg, or having the vessels encircle the entirety of the stronghold, seemed like the simplest and most effective course of action. A gargantuan spherical formation with Uraniborg at its core.

This was one proposal put forward during the repeated strategy meetings.

However, this spherical formation possessed a fatal flaw. As long as Uraniborg served as the nucleus, the formation could not move freely. Furthermore, while it was not a purely military concept, depending on one’s perspective, it could be interpreted as Idris holding ten million civilians of Uraniborg hostage.

As Idris stared at the screen with a gaze that was more severe than sharp, the scenes from that day’s strategy meeting flashed through his mind.

“We can also employ the tactic of deliberately refraining from deploying the resident fleet, allowing ourselves to be surrounded by the enemy.”

“And the advantages of such a plan?”

“Sir, it is calculated that approximately sixty thousand vessels would be required to completely encircle Uraniborg from all six directions. The enemy possesses only twenty thousand. Should they attempt a siege, their net will be incredibly thin.”

“So?”

“Our forces possess forty thousand undamaged vessels. We could take advantage of the situation to strike out from various positions, inflict damage upon the enemy, and then withdraw. By repeating this process of steady attrition of their military strength, victory shall surely be ours.”

“And when would that be?”

“Err…”

“A year from now? Ten years?”

To possess mobile forces double that of the enemy, yet to remain entrenched behind thick walls and simply endure… For Idris, it was something he could not bear. He would surely end up being mocked as a coward.

“Whether it be forty thousand or fifty thousand ships, it is a waste of precious resources. Where is the need for these rebels to completely encircle Uraniborg? If we concentrated our forces at each harbour gate and struck them on the nose every time our fleet set out, would we not achieve an easy victory?”

There was no reply. Another officer suggested, looking quite apologetic:

“How about we deploy twenty thousand ships to face the enemy head-on, and in the meantime, send another twenty thousand out through the opposite gate?”

“So, that detachment would bypass Uraniborg, circle around to the enemy’s rear, and catch them in a pincer movement from both sides?”

“Yes sir.”

It was not a bad plan. However, it seemed unlikely that Ariabert had not already anticipated such a thing. Ironically, Idris’ greatest weakness lay in the fact that he possessed a force far superior to that of the enemy. If he were to lose under these circumstances, it was certain he would be judged by posterity as an incompetent commander.

From the very beginning, the participants of the strategy meeting had displeased Idris. No matter whose face he looked upon, he felt no boost in morale. Ranging from their thirties to their sixties, every one of them was older than Idris. Naturally, their combat experience also surpassed his. While Idris ought to have respected their experience and track records, he could not help but find them utterly unreliable.

With Idris’ permission, the twenty-four officers took their seats with mechanical precision. For a moment, an invisible hand of silence held the assembly in its grip.

If it had been Zarlisch, he would have been the first to speak with a voice like thunder. If it had been Ariabert, he would have called upon someone else to speak. Just as Idris could no longer conceal his irritation, an older general hesitantly opened his mouth:

“… With all due respect, Your Grace.”

“Spare me the formalities. State your opinion at once.”

“Understood. Then… if I may, I shall speak humbly.”

The reason he scanned his fellow generals was likely because he had hoped someone else would speak. However, no one met his expectations. Idris felt almost suffocated by his own frustration. To be forced to acknowledge the sheer military excellence of men like Ariabert and Zarlisch!

“The fate of our army rests solely upon the judgement of Your Grace Idris. We all await your orders for tactical action as soon as possible.”

In the end, it was all up to him. Idris ground his teeth in silence. This was the result of seeking the capabilities of a supreme commander only within the Tytania Clan.

“Regarding actions at the tactical level, I expect you all to act as experts. You are all veterans of many battles. I want you to devise the best course of action.”

With a wave of his hand, Idris dismissed the war council…

“Gather the remnants of the defeated forces.”

Issuing an utterly unpleasant command, Idris rose from his seat. He ordered that no one follow him and stepped into the lift. His destination was the Clanner’s sickroom.

=== IV ===
“I wish to have an audience with His Clanner Highness.”

Under Idris’ piercing gaze, the guard’s voice trembled.

“H-His Highness will see no one. I cannot allow you to pass.”

“I am Duke Idris.”

“Of course, I am aware of who you are.”

“And yet, you still refuse me entry?”

“It is not for me to decide. I merely obey His Highness’ orders.”

“A noble sentiment.”

Speaking derisively, Idris took a step forward. With a single sweep of his right arm, he knocked back the soldier who had reflexively braced himself.

From between the lines of soldiers, a man in a white coat appeared. It was an elderly doctor with grey hair. He addressed Idris with a trembling voice:

“Please, stop! You will incur the displeasure of His Clanner Highness!”

The doctor’s admonishment was coldly ignored.

“Your Clanner Highness! It is I, Idris!”

Idris’ voice contained a fierce intensity that went beyond mere dignity, causing the doctors and nurses to instinctively recoil.

“I have come because there is something I most earnestly desire your approval for. I pray that I may be granted the honour of your presence!”

“P-please stop, Your Grace.”

A middle-aged doctor, having summoned all his courage, attempted to lean towards Idris from the side. Without a moment’s delay, and without even addressing him properly, Idris’ hand flashed. A small blossom of blood bloomed in the air, and the doctor fell to the floor, clutching his face.

Without so much as a glance, Idris headed towards the door at the far end. The Clanner waited just behind that single door. At that moment, a large-bodied male nurse moved to block his path.

“Out of my way.”

With a roar of anger, Idris shoved the nurse aside. The nurse stumbled, yet he did not change his position. Behind him, the door opened, but the nurse’s body obscured the sight within. The moment the door closed, a blow from Idris’ fury struck the nurse’s cheek. A moment later, someone grasped his hand.

“Your Grace! Please be mindful of your position!”

It was Count Elman.

“If you commit any further misconduct, it will bring shame upon our name!”

Somewhat taken aback, Idris halted his movement and looked at Count Elman’s face. The middle-aged nobleman wore an expression of desperation. Idris had not thought this man possessed the courage to put himself in harm’s way.

“… Let go. I understand.”

His breathing had not yet fully subsided, and his voice was stiff, but Idris regained his composure rapidly. As Count Elman commanded with a gesture, the soldiers obeyed after a moment’s hesitation. Idris quickly straightened his dishevelled hair and collar, then spoke to the Count.

“Ask Your Clanner Highness to accept my apologies. I shall submit to whatever punishment is deemed appropriate.”

Turning his back on Count Elman, who was about to say something, Idris began to walk away, his chest held high with defiance.

If they could punish him, they should try. Though somewhat childish, a sense of natural rebellion welled up within him. If Idris were to be punished, who then would supervise Uraniborg as the Clanner’s deputy? Or would the Clanner himself crawl out from his sickbed just to watch the spectacle?

The soldiers armed with guns parted to the left and right as Idris walked. He began to descend the wide, ancient marble staircase. No one followed him. However, once he had reached the floor below,

“Lord Idris!”

A young woman’s voice halted his steps.

“Is it you again, Theodora?”

A bitter acidity rose within Idris. Though he harboured resentment and distrust towards this woman, for some reason, he found himself unable to reject her entirely. A trace of self-mockery coloured his voice.

“Have you gone to the trouble of waiting here merely to laugh at me?”

“No, I can only imagine your distress. Even if one says Tytania is invincible, such a claim rests upon having not only incomparable military strength but also exceptional leadership.”

“… What are you trying to say?”

“One has passed away, and the other has become the very enemy in question.”

“Zarlisch and Ariabert?”

Idris’ eyes grew hot with emotion.

“You failed to mention my name.”

He had spoken in a sharp, interrogating tone, but Theodora brushed it off lightly.

“I did not mention Duke Jouslain’s name either.”

“Hmph…”

“Combat command capability is a sufficient condition, but perhaps not a necessary one, is it not? Tytania is not a purely military organisation, after all. Though, if a massive alien army were to invade from the far reaches of space, there would likely be no leader more fitting than Duke Zarlisch.”

“Aliens? An enemy well-suited to him.”

Idris let out a derisive laugh, but his expression quickly tightened. He looked at Theodora with blatant distrust.

“Did you come here merely to tell such a ridiculous joke? I thought you had come to ask that you somehow rescue Radmoth, with whom you are so close.”

He glared at Theodora with layers of biting sarcasm, but all he received in return was a faint, mocking smile. Was someone as insignificant as Radmoth simply not worth her concern?

“Do please be careful, Duke Idris. It is customary for traitors to bring a small gift when surrendering to the enemy. I have come merely to offer you this piece of advice.”

“… Are you suggesting that there is someone within Uraniborg targeting me?”

“I possess no specific information to provide. I was merely reflecting upon historical precedents as a general rule. I would be honoured if you viewed this as a token of my sincerity toward Your Grace.”

As the beautiful woman bowed and turned to depart, Idris spat out,

“Damn vixen!”

It was a common insult, yet one that carried the weight of 6,000 years of history.

Furthermore, the fact that he kicked the nearby ottoman chair was the result of an anger directed more towards himself than towards Theodora. He wanted to remove her so he would no longer have to expend mental energy on her dangerous words and actions. A pity to do without her beauty, but there were plenty of others to take her place. Yet, while standing before the narrow precipice of decision, he found himself unable to take that final, decisive step, because she refused to let him grasp any clue as to how deeply she was embedded with Clanner Ajman or the extent of the influence she wielded.

Lost in thought, Idris continued along the gallery<ref name="ftn30">“Corridor” (回廊) is pronounced “gallery”.</ref> towards his own office. Since those without the Tytania name were forbidden from walking, it was the perfect space for one to wander while contemplating.

What if he pursued a plan to drive a wedge between Ariabert and Jouslain? Idris had long since considered such schemes. He had no need for anyone else to offer him such patronising opinions at this late stage. However, a year ago, when Zarlisch had still been in good health, he had not given the idea much serious thought. But now, their alliance seemed more resilient than steel, and severing it appeared to be a task of utmost difficulty.

If he were to attempt to divide them, to which one should he throw his bait? With the fires of war pressing in upon Uraniborg, Ariabert far surpassed Jouslain in terms of combat command and the capacity to lead troops. Synthesising various pieces of information, it seemed that Jouslain was trailing half a step behind Ariabert.

How would Jouslain act once he had Uraniborg in his grasp? Once the difficult military campaign ended, Ariabert would presumably no longer be of any use to him. The notion that Jouslain was waiting for that very moment was entirely convincing to Idris. Nevertheless, he could not shake the impression that something was amiss. How would the Clanner interpret the relationship between the two men…?

''“Could it be…”''

Idris froze at his own thought. Could it be that Clanner Ajman was orchestrating this conflict and driving Idris into a corner, all in order to install Ariabert and Jouslain as the next generation of Clanners?

If that were indeed the case, the reason he remained confined to his hospital room at this late stage, refusing to even grant Idris an audience or issue any instructions, became clear. It provided an explanation for the current situation.

Idris began to lean towards that thought, but he hesitated. While it certainly provided an explanation for the current situation, it raised another question. If they intended to remove Idris from the succession race, they could simply do so openly. Why did they not?

The moment he entered the office, Idris felt overwhelmed by confusion, and though he sat down to steady himself, he was simultaneously gripped by an even more extreme suspicion.

Had the Clanner already ceased to exist in this world? Was someone concealing that fact?

“Water!”

Idris bellowed to no one in particular, sending the surrounding figures scurrying about in a panic, until he was presented with a glass of sparkling mineral water. He glared at the bubbles rising through the ice, then seized the glass and drained it in a single gulp. When he tossed the glass into the air, someone caught it with desperate haste.

Yet, this suspicion would have brought about the same result as just a moment ago. Did the Clanner truly have a reason to go to such lengths and engineer a situation to corner Idris?

“Lord Idris is hereby stripped of all of his titles, authority, inherited assets, and he shall be exiled from Uraniborg.”

All it took was making such an announcement. While it would be an intolerable ordeal for Idris himself, for the whole of Tytania, it would surely result in far less damage.

Idris had suffered a crushing defeat in the Hashtbal System. Although he had not directly commanded the battle, his proxy, Fan Hyulick, had fled in the wake of the loss. There was more than enough reason for Idris to be disgraced and exiled. Yet, the Clanner responded only with silence, leaving Idris unable to even find a way to take responsibility for his own actions. As one of the last four dukes remaining, he had lost a peer among his advisers.

That was fine by him. Idris exhaled a distorted breath through twisted lips. If the Clanner were already no more, and since Ariabert and Jouslain bore the name of traitors, it stood to reason that Idris would naturally become the master of Uraniborg. His lifelong ambition would be realised.

He simply had not expected it to be fulfilled in such a manner and so half-heartedly.

However, the problem was not power but authority. One could call it prestige or perhaps popularity. The behaviour he had displayed moments ago in the Clanner’s sickroom had undoubtedly caused a great deal of discomfort and anxiety among the witnesses. They would have seen him as a man unable to control his own emotions.

Idris believed it was only natural to erupt, yet his position was such that he was not even permitted to act naturally in the presence of others.

“What a disgrace… I have made a complete spectacle of myself.”

Regret was useless. To dispel this distrust, he had to defeat Ariabert and Jouslain. Merely imagining the triumphant faces of those two sent a searing heat coursing through his veins.

He would never allow them to claim glory.

=== V ===
On this day, there was only one visitor who brought him joy. His youngest brother, Zelpha. Amidst a schedule so hectic that the media would have been fond of calling it a “day of upheaval”, Idris had made time to meet with Zelpha. Knowing that this boy alone harboured a sense of pure, unadulterated devotion towards his eldest brother, Idris moved to a different seat and commanded a servant to bring him some cocoa, allowing for about ten minutes of conversation.

“If only you were ten years older and an adult already.”

Idris’ voice was imbued with true sincerity.

“Someone like Radmoth… it would have been better if he had never been born.”

Had Idris been his father, such words would have never been uttered, but as the elder brother, he felt free to speak his mind.

His affection for Radmoth had originally not amounted to a single shred, but now it had fallen below zero. He had heard tales of Radmoth’s disgraceful behaviour from some of the defeated soldiers who had returned home broken. Idris had resolved that if he had the audacity to show his face, he would subject him to severe punishment.

“When I grow up, I will surely be of use to you, Brother. I will stand by your side no matter what.”

“Yes, you are the only one I trust. I am counting on you.”

Zelpha returned to his room looking disappointed, and Idris watched him go. Had it ended there, it would have been a day upon which he had regained his good humour, but…

“Duchess Theresa requests an audience with Your Grace.”

“I have no business with her. Send her away.”

Idris lacked the confidence that he could maintain his composure if he were to face Duchess Theresa right now. Even without that, he had only just exploded with passion in front of the Clanner’s infirmary.

If Clanner Ajman, Ariabert, and Jouslain were to vanish forever, he wouldn’t mind letting his passions run wild, but for now, self-restraint was essential. He had only just felt the sting of regret moments ago. However, as he lifted his head from his desk, Lady Theresa stood before his very eyes.

“What is the meaning of this? Am I not even allowed to be alone…?”

Idris’ voice trailed off into the air, and his eyes glared unpleasantly at the uninvited guest.

“I… I apologise, but…”

The security officer’s voice was thick with cold sweat. Duchess Theresa Tytania, who had intruded upon them, seemed like an entirely different person from the last time they had met. A strange confidence surged through her entire being; the flaccid softness of her heavy frame had vanished, replaced by a sense of power that seemed to fill every bold contour of her body.

“Enough, you may leave.”

She announced this with an air of absolute authority, as if addressing one of her own subordinates. After glancing at Idris’ expression, the security officer hurriedly vanished.

Idris let out a long, heavy breath.

“I release you from your confinement, and this is how you repay me? What is the meaning of this? I’m afraid I cannot spare more than five minutes.”

“Do not be so cold.”

The Duchess’ voice grew strangely sweet, and even her tone changed, leaving Idris aghast. He did not offer Lady Theresa the sofa as he did his younger brother, leaving the elder woman to remain standing. It was his way of signalling that she should leave at once, but Lady Theresa seemed entirely unconcerned.

“You must be terribly exhausted. I, too, find those brothers Ariabert and Jouslain to be quite disagreeable.”

“Brothers…?”

“Indeed.”

“Wait a minute, they are supposed to be cousins. Their mothers are sisters…”

It was such an unexpected remark that Idris, already mentally exhausted, found himself unintentionally swept up in the Duchess’ pace.

“Yes, their mothers are sisters, but their father is the same man.”

“Then they are half-brothers…” murmured Idris, dazed.

Lady Theresa watched his reaction with an air of satisfaction.

“H-How did it come to that? And how could you possibly know such a thing?”

“How do I know? Well, I shall leave that to your imagination. However, it is a fact that Ariabert and Jouslain are brothers of different mothers. When one belongs to a ducal house of Tytania, things become quite tiresome, with all his talk of lineage, the necessity of male heirs, and how a girl won’t do. You are well aware of this, are you not?”

“…”

“In your family, you were fortunate enough to have three boys, but in Ariabert and Jouslain’s line, things did not go so well. Ariabert’s mother, Wilhelmina, was as the commoners might put it a ‘piece of work’.”

Bullets of hatred and contempt were spat from Lady Theresa’s lips in the form of words.

“Upon realising that her own husband was barren, out of all people, she stole her elder sister’s husband.”

“In other words, Jouslain’s father was…”

“Indeed, and the two boys were born in succession. Almost at the same time—no, Ariabert was born perhaps two weeks earlier. When they were born, they looked so much alike that even the physician was flustered. As they grew, they both took after their mothers, so they ended up looking like cousins. But had they both resembled their father, things might have become quite troublesome.”

Lady Theresa laughed loudly. That voice, which seemed like a mass of pure malice, struck Idris’ eardrums and echoed through his ear canal, refusing to fade for some time.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4

2026-10-11T14:41:48Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 3 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 5 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System == === I === Uraniborg and the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance entered into active comba..."

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== Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System ==
=== I ===
Uraniborg and the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance entered into active combat, facing a common enemy. That enemy was known as “time”.

Avoiding a protracted war of attrition, Ariabert and his forces charged forward to strike at Uraniborg, while Idris held a firm position to repel them. As time passed, it seemed that the Ariabert-Jouslain alliance would either collapse due to a lack of supplies or succeed in capturing Uraniborg by bringing the armies of the various planets to their side. The former appeared more likely. Therefore, Idris decided upon a strategy of siege defence.

“At this distance, why not mobilise the full extent of Uraniborg’s mobile forces and wipe them out in a single stroke with more than twice their strength?”

Such opinions were voiced, but as Idris had anticipated that the final battle would take place around Uraniborg, he could not bring himself to thrust such a massive force of forty thousand ships forward.

Jouslain Tytania had only recently made a public declaration to the entire universe.

“We are not accusing Duke Idris without cause. If he wishes to deny our accusations, there are many ways to do so. Above all, why not present His Clanner Highness in person? Any doubt would vanish in an instant.”

The irony of this logic lay in the fact that Idris, the very person being accused, was in complete agreement with it. He didn’t need someone like Jouslain to point this out. If Clanner Ajman himself had merely stood upon the balcony of the Clanner’s Manor and declared his support for Idris to the entire universe via the communications screen, everything would have been resolved. The battles against Ariabert and Jouslain would have amounted to nothing more than a “hiking trip armed to the teeth”, as Ariabert himself had once remarked.

But that didn’t come to pass.

The 2<sup>nd</sup> of June, SY 447. The combined fleet of Ariabert and Jouslain, consisting of twenty thousand ships passing through the outer edges of the Hashtbal System, discovered a fleet of considerable size across a fifty-light-second expanse of dark space. The screen showed them heading straight towards them.

“Assume Semi-A Class battle formation!”

Ariabert issued the order. He had added the prefix “Semi-” to “Class A” because he was not yet at a stage where he could fully read the enemy’s intentions. It wasn’t certain whether they would launch an attack suddenly without any prior sign.

Ariabert directed a question to the reconnaissance officer:

“How many enemies are there?”

“They have not reached ten thousand. I estimate around eight thousand five hundred vessels.”

“That is tricky.”

If there were fewer than one thousand, it was reconnaissance; fewer than three thousand, a probe; ten thousand or more, an all-out attack. There was no official rule, but such basic inferences could be made. Was this eight thousand five hundred just the first wave of a successive attack? If they fought, twenty thousand ships would win. However, if they pursued them while they retreated, perhaps thirty or forty thousand ships were lying in wait. What could their tactic be?

Ariabert and Jouslain consulted one another, and they reached an immediate consensus. They did not believe that Idris still possessed the resolve to decide the outcome of the conflict in a single stroke with his current forces.

“Goodness, one truly never knows what the world holds. It is ''cliché'' to say so, but a year ago I never imagined things would come to this.”

“I agree.”

Looking back, until the time of the Battle of Cerberus a year ago, Jouslain had not held Ariabert in such high regard. He had thought of him as a more approachable man than Zarlisch or Idris, and someone with whom common sense prevailed, but that was all.

Perhaps Ariabert had changed since tasting the unexpected humiliation of defeat at the hands of the unknown admiral Fan Hyulick. He had, perhaps, changed himself. Not everything had changed, but at the very least, the illusion of the “Forever Invincible Tytania” had vanished. Many people were likely still immersed in that illusion. Those on the inside were always the first to notice. And sometimes, one had to pretend not to notice.

“Is Idris in the battle command room?” asked Ariabert, as if in passing.

“If he is, he would be watching the progress of the battle with perhaps a ten-second time lag<ref name="ftn17">“Delay” (時差) is pronounced “time lag”.</ref>. The battle command room… When I was a child, I wanted to sit in that seat in the centre of that room. It looked quite important.”

“In the future, you can sit there as much as you like.”

Ariabert had intended it as a casual suggestion regarding his own status.

“Childhood dreams, once realised, prove to be quite trivial. Besides, well, the only time one sits in that seat is when being attacked by the enemy.”

“Ah, quite right.”

“In fact, His Clanner Highness has never sat there himself.”

“However, I believe Idris is sitting there.”

“Was he also one who harboured such aspirations?”

At present, both parties still avoided the subject, but the day would surely come when they would speak candidly about their “common father”. There had been no active desire to do so, yet they had already become companions sharing a common fate. Or rather, they had finally grown accustomed to it. It would be only natural that they would eventually speak without taboo.

Jouslain paid almost no mind to the imminent combat. As for the command of the actual fighting, he had entrusted everything to Ariabert. There was an old saying that “one mediocre general can surpass two great ones.” If they won, obviously, it was good; if they lost, it was also fine. This was an expression of his absolute trust in Ariabert’s ability to deploy and command troops, but at the same time, it might have been a form of nihilism<ref name="ftn18">“Nihilism” (虚無主義) is pronounced “nihilism”.</ref>.

Whether it was Ariabert or Idris, neither of them would have ever thought that losing was “fine”. Ariabert, and Idris in his own way, were certainly attempting to do their utmost; and if that quality was the virtue of Tytania, then Jouslain clearly lacked it. He lacked the very qualification required to be the supreme leader of Tytania.

Captain Edna Fredericks’ resolute voice called out to him:

“Your Grace, may I submit an opinion?”

“Of course.”

“Then, if I may… Regarding Princess Lydia and Lady Francia, it is my humble opinion that there is no need for them to leave this ship.”

“Ah, are you talking about that matter we’ve previously discussed? Are you suggesting that rather than evacuating them to some planet, it would be better to keep them aboard?”

“Yes. The reason being is that I believe this ship is the safest possible place.”

At that moment, Francia glanced at Captain Fredericks’ face before shifting her gaze to Jouslain. Since she said nothing aloud, Jouslain failed to notice her movement, instead weighing the female captain’s suggestion. The ''Austra'' occupied a position near the very centre of the fleet, surrounded by twenty thousand allied ships. There could be no place safer than this.

“Very well, Captain Fredericks, I shall follow your advice. The Princess and Francia shall remain as they are.”

“I am grateful. I have overstepped my bounds. Please, forgive my presumptions.”

“That is of no consequence, but you must be a little disappointed, aren’t you, Captain?”

“What do you mean by that, Your Grace?”

“Nothing. I merely wondered if, as a soldier, you found it regrettable that your chances of participating in combat are slim.”

Captain Fredericks responded with utmost gravity:

“I am honoured by your concern. However, a soldier’s duty is to see the requirements of his superiors through to completion. I shall await your further orders, just as Your Grace wills.”

Once the Captain had departed, Jouslain called for Francia in his stead:

“That is the situation, Francia. There is no need to move elsewhere. I ask that you continue to look after Princess Lydia.”

“Very well. Truth be told, I am relieved that I may remain by your side.”

Francia offered a soft smile and bowed. Though this was likely the first time she had faced such circumstances, her daily life at Uraniborg remained entirely unchanged.

“However, Francia, once this battle is over, I shall transfer to another ship. A much smaller one.”

“Yes, very well.”

“Will you not ask why?”

“I am not a soldier, so I cannot say with certainty, but considering the combat strength of the ''Austra'' and Captain Fredericks’ abilities as a soldier, would it not be a loss to our allies to exclude her from the fighting?”

Jouslain stared at Francia in involuntary surprise. He felt a double shock, both at her precise insight into his feelings and her ability to express them so aptly. He felt as though he had previously overlooked the inner strength within this pure and delicate flower. As if having received a kiss from the ''Austra'', a faint flush crept across her pale cheeks.

Meanwhile, on another starship located about five light-seconds away, a thoroughly desolate atmosphere occupied the bridge<ref name="ftn19">“Bridge” (艦橋) is pronounced “bridge”.</ref>. At its centre stood Baron Radmoth Tytania, who, being young, was radiating palpable negative energy in all directions.

“Why have you not attacked?”

Radmoth’s voice overflowed with dissatisfaction and suspicion, and was, needless to say, high-handed. He made no attempt to hide any of it, interrogating them with his pale, glowing eyes. Hyulick merely shrugged his shoulders.

“The timing<ref name="ftn20">“Timing” (時機) is pronounced “timing”.</ref> was not yet right.”

“The timing? The enemy’s hull is exposed right before our eyes. If we do not attack now, when exactly do you intend to?”

“I cannot say for certain. When the moment arrives, we shall open the gun ports then.”

“And what if the enemy attacks us first? I assume, of course, that you will return fire.”

“Not necessarily.”

Hyulick did not voice the fact that there was a high probability they might flee. From the very beginning, Hyulick had taken a dislike to this arrogant young nobleman, but it appeared the feeling was mutual, as Radmoth did not even bother to pretend to observe the minimum level of courtesy.

“I presume you have considered what might become of your position within Tytania should you oppose me.”

“Do not spout such nonsense!”

Hyulick was incensed. Whether Tytania’s existence was large or small, good or evil, as long as they left him alone, he would let them do as they pleased. He would let them be, quite frankly. However, if they intended to interfere with his command on the battlefield after having forced him into combat against an enemy twice his size, it was only natural that his rebellious spirit would be provoked.

=== II ===
The Uraniborg fleet, which had ended up sailing alongside the twenty thousand ships of the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance, was not governed by tension alone.

Some wondered what they were even doing when they were all members of Tytania, while others even dared to hope for a full-scale collision.

Zarlisch’s former subordinates preferred powerful command, simple and clear orders, and aggressive attacks. Rather, they believed that such was the very nature of combat. To lead them and make them fight with their lives on the line, one required a charisma that could rival Zarlisch’s.

Fan Hyulick possessed plenty of charisma; he certainly ought to have. Although the circumstances of the battle had been quite irregular, it was Hyulick who had caused the death of Zarlisch, the man hailed as a “ruthless general”. In that case, he should have been capable of commanding Zarlisch’s former subordinates even more effectively than Zarlisch himself. Yet, it was only natural for the human heart that the greater the devotion felt toward Zarlisch, the stronger the resentment and estrangement felt toward Hyulick became. They felt as though their very lives as warriors they had spent fighting and surviving alongside Zarlisch were being denied.

Because he understood this far too well, Hyulick hesitated to issue orders with a firm hand.

“You are quite unprepared at this late stage, aren’t you?” remarked Doctor Lee with sarcasm.

“I never once said I was prepared, you know. Or that I would become a leader of the anti-Tytania forces.”

“Rest assured, I have never heard you say it.”

“I am just saying that the media loves that sort of thing.”

“Well, that is the nature of the media. They manufacture heroes, only to drag them through the mud. Ever since the era before interplanetary flight, they have repeated this cycle without ever tiring of it.”

Doctor Lee adopted the tone of a lecturer.

“It is terrifying to criticise Tytania, while on the other hand no matter how much one slanders Fan Hyulick, there is no fear of retaliation. In order to survive, the media’s strategy is to choose opponents they can defeat before attacking. Amusingly enough, this is quite similar to military strategy.”

“I don’t find that amusing at all.”

Hyulick had maintained a sullen expression for so long that he could feel a dull, aching fatigue around his cheeks and brows. It was the price he paid for persisting with such an uncharacteristic look.

“There are even those who say Hyulick is an eternal rebel…”

Even Miranda had begun to chime in.

“It seems that’s not quite right. Eternal fugitive suits him much better.”

“Hmph. Run when winning, run when losing? It seems life is nothing more than an act of fleeing.”

A flash of light raced across the screen, silencing everyone.

The massive hull of the Ariabert-Jouslain Allied Fleet’s capital ship showered the defensive screens with dazzling sparks. Ahead of it, an orange fireball swelled, turned white, and burst apart, letting out a scream that tore through the silent world.

“Which side fired first!?”

“We don’t have time to be worrying about that!”

Neither commander had issued an order to fire. It was less an accidental commencement of hostilities than something else entirely.

Fireballs exploded. They did not erupt as single spheres but in sequences of five, ten, and more, glittering brilliantly as if they were a necklace of precious gems; it was a sight that made one forget that each single fireball represented the loss of hundreds or even thousands of lives.

Ariabert’s spindle formation did not waver in the slightest. The outermost edge of the fleet, numbering some twenty thousand vessels of various sizes, appeared to be a mobile and impenetrable wall.

“It is a formation focused on defence.”

Seraphine Coopers overheard Hyulick’s murmur and glanced back and forth between his face and the screen.

“They have lined up heavy ships with high defensive capabilities along the outermost layer of the formation. It is a structure designed to protect the high-mobility, fast-attack ships from incoming fire.”

“Can we not break through that wall with sheer firepower?”

“It would be difficult. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“Even if we did break through, it might lead to even worse consequences.”

An imp named “bad premonition” was clawing at Hyulick’s heart.

There was no way to demand cooperation or an assessment of the battlefield, but Zarlisch’s former subordinates, especially the officers of captain rank, should have been brave and well-versed in actual combat.

Having readily abandoned the tactic of group formation, Fan Hyulick took hold of the microphone.

“All ships, restrain your fire. In the event of an enemy attack…”

Hyulick’s grim face was sharply divided into light and shadow. From the wall of the enemy’s massive vessels, hundreds, even thousands, of spears of light thrust forth, racing through the void to assault the forces of Uraniborg. The storm of energy struck the great ships, erupting in a blinding brilliance; as it enveloped the smaller vessels, they were transformed into fireballs and scattered, utterly unable to resist.

The distant reaches of space remained silent, cloaked in eternal darkness, while the nearby cosmos had become a garden of raging energy, shimmering with iridescent light.

“Hyulick, has my intuition failed me? Over a hundred ships were destroyed all at once just now.”

Seraphine countered Doctor Lee’s cold remark:

“That was just the beginning! Fan defeated Duke Ariabert, and he did it twice!”

“That is a matter of the past. By using the past tense, you’ve confirmed it yourself, Sera.”

“……!”

Averting his gaze from the speechless Seraphine, Doctor Lee looked towards the back of Hyulick’s head. The target of his character analysis was restless. He was frantically scratching his carrot-coloured hair and shrugging his shoulders. He was also probably uncrossing and recrossing his legs too.

Doctor Lee attempted to peer into Hyulick’s mind as if performing a psychological X-ray. He surmised that Hyulick was likely thinking: ''maximum gain for minimum loss.''

Far beyond the screen Hyulick was glaring at, amidst the intensifying gunfire, Jouslain had barely managed to maintain a direct channel with Ariabert.

“Do you think Hyulick will resort to some sort of trickery?”

“No…”

Ariabert shook his head.

“Even if he were to use trickery, timing is everything. If he misses his window, it will either fail to materialise or prove counter-productive. Besides, this time, it is doubtful how seriously that man even intends to fight.”

“I see.”

Jouslain believed Ariabert’s analysis to be correct. In a sense, perhaps no one knew Fan Hyulick as intimately as Ariabert did.

At present, Ariabert held an overwhelmingly advantageous position against his sworn enemy. If he were driven by a desire for vengeance, he would likely attempt to crush them with the full strength of his twenty thousand vessels. Yet, Ariabert refused to yield to that temptation, remaining dedicated to a cold and calculated deployment of his forces. There was no one who did not know the ''Golden Sheep'' as Ariabert’s flagship. Energy waves arriving from Uraniborg forces were beginning to concentrate.

An explosion of light erupted close by, and an ominous glow occupied the screen. It was a magic of light that made the faces of the living appear like the dead, and the faces of the dead appear like ghosts. Seated in his command chair with his arms and legs crossed, Ariabert watched the screen with an unmoving posture. As long as he maintained that appearance, there was no agitation on the bridge of the ''Golden Sheep'', and naturally, such a lack of disturbance could not possibly spread to the rest of the army.

“Is the ''Austra'' safe?”

Ariabert even had the composure to pose such a question to the communications officer. Upon receiving the reply, “Completely undamaged”, he nodded as if it were only to be expected. He then issued a new command.

“Fire a second volley!”

Once again, more than a hundred flashes and fireballs occupied the screen. This time, more than ten spears of light pierced a single large vessel of the Uraniborg fleet, tearing through its thick defences. Amidst the erupting brilliance, dust seemed to swirl, mingled with the fragments of the shattered hull.

On the bridge of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', Radmoth moved.

A crew member of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' who had been at the communications station was suddenly grabbed by the collar and dragged down. After shoving the crewman aside, Radmoth seized the microphone and roared:

“I am Baron Radmoth Tytania. From this moment forth, I shall take command of the entire army!”

His unilateral declaration raced through the communication circuits of every ship.

=== III ===
It had been within the realm of expectation. No one had truly believed that Radmoth would continue to meekly maintain his position as military supervisor. Everyone had assumed that, eventually, he would erupt. However, no one had expected him to resort to such a forceful act the very moment the battle commenced.

Whether it was a lack of patience or a scheme he had been plotting from the start, Radmoth roared once more, pointing his heatgun at the members of the Blaze Flag Army.

“Bring me the heads of Ariabert and Jouslain! I’ll grant you both a peerage and a title of admiral!”

“Does that guy even have that kind of authority?”

Mahdi let out a crooked smirk. To him, peerage and admiralship meant nothing at all.

However, the impact of Radmoth’s roar on the makeshift, mixed fleet of Uraniborg was unexpectedly profound. For Zarlisch’s former subordinates, who made up the majority of the fleet, being under the command of Hyulick—whom they had once derisively called a “rat thief”—was deeply distasteful. They knew that Radmoth was an immature and shallow scion. Nevertheless, he was, above all, a Tytania noble.

“Hail Tytania!”

This cry served to further heighten the excitement and spread it through the group. Ignoring Hyulick, they rushed forward in a competitive frenzy to launch their assault.

On the bridge of the ''Golden Sheep'', Ariabert received a report.

“The enemy’s movements have changed.”

“In what manner?”

“Please see for yourself, Your Grace.”

Ariabert frowned slightly at the operator’s words, but as he stared intently at the screen, he tilted his head after two or three seconds and shifted his posture ever so slightly.

“Well, well… Did Fan Hyulick start wearing cement boots or something? It seems something has happened.”

“Your Grace, we’ve received a transmission from the ''Austra''. Duke Jouslain wishes to speak with you directly.”

Nodding, Ariabert switched to the direct channel. Jouslain had intercepted the communications of the Uraniborg forces. After listening to the gist of the matter,

“I see. So that Radmoth brat has gone and stuck his hand into a pot of self-destruction.”

Ariabert’s expression was a mix of a wry smile and understanding.

“Understanding Fan Hyulick is one thing, but there is no way for me to know Radmoth’s tendencies in tactical matters.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, he should have no experience in commanding an army until now.”

“Whether he could be called a poor copycat of Zarlisch is debatable. But at the very least, Zarlisch was never accused of ‘killing his own allies’.”

Ariabert stroked his well-defined jaw.

“However, carelessness is the worst enemy; this holds as an eternal truth. We shall remain vigilant.”

“I’m counting on you. Even Radmoth is likely too much for me to handle.”

It was not entirely self-deprecating. Jouslain had a tendency to overthink, so he struggled against opponents who lacked any strategic depth. If faced with a monotonous, brute-force assault, he would find himself wondering, “Is there something more to this?” In that regard, Ariabert’s judgement regarding military foes was more sound.

“Damn that Radmoth… he lacks greatness, but he certainly lacks fear too.”

Ariabert reached a decision.

“Open the fourth gate. We shall drag them in from there and strike them with a triangular formation<ref name="ftn21">“Triangular formation” (三角陣形) is pronounced “triangle formation”.</ref>.”

After a brief pause, he added:

“Go all-out.”

The web of intersecting flashes began to shift, orderly and slowly. The fleet of large and small vessels that had formed the gateway of death either slowed their pace or descended towards the nadir, carving out cavernous spaces within the previously seamless line of ships. The return fire against the enemy’s bombardment gradually began to diminish.

It appeared as though the fierce artillery fire was punching holes through the fleet, with the gaps steadily widening. The soldiers who had fought under Zarlisch’s command remained unaware of the trap set by Ariabert’s masterfully precise fleet manoeuvres.

One of Radmoth’s subordinates shouted:

“Part of their formation has collapsed!”

“Good, charge in through there. Force the entrance open and expand it. We can split the enemy!”

“Stop, do not go in!”

Hyulick had realised it. The enemy formation had not collapsed. They were deliberately opening a gap in their lines to lure the Uraniborg forces in. The orderly movements of the enemy vessels made this clear. He was the only one to see it. This was the very reason Doctor Lee had hailed him as a genius.

Zarlisch’s former subordinates believed their fierce assault had breached the ironclad defence, and they rushed headlong towards the gap. The breach seemed to expand further, appearing almost as a gate beckoning them inside.

Towards the gateway of death.

The frenzied soldiers and sailors of Uraniborg plunged into the enemy formation, attempting to shatter the enemy lines from within. Had it been the late Duke Zarlisch, that is exactly what he would have done. However, before they could even realise what was happening, a single one of their vessels was surrounded by three enemy ships. Merciless gunfire descended upon them from three sides.

“Three against one?!” groaned Mahdi.

“If we are cornered, it is all over.”

As Doctor Lee pointed out with calm composure, Mahdi made a gesture as if looking up at the heavens.

“Yeah, it’s all over, both here and there.”

One of the displays showed the number of allied vessels. The figure, which had stood at 8,440 at the start of the battle, continued to decrease as he checked it.

Only the vessels of Uraniborg were scattering into bursts of fire. If two ships flanked a single one from the left and right, their lines of fire would cross, sometimes even resulting in friendly fire. However, if they targeted a single point from three directions—for instance, at two, six, and ten o’clock positions—the lines of fire would not intersect.

Ariabert’s tactics proved immensely effective, thanks to his skilled subordinates. The enemy charged through gates left intentionally open, seeking only to be slaughtered. The triangular formation of fire decimated them with flawless precision. Fireballs. More fireballs. When nearly a thousand ships had vanished from this dimension, the bombardment ceased, if only for a brief moment.

Originally, they had all been regular armed groups of Tytania; they had been allies. Far beyond being mere comrades-in-arms, some might have even shared the same blood. For what purpose were they fighting? Perhaps such thoughts synchronised within the hearts of the soldiers.

However, it lasted, quite literally, only for a moment. To fall behind the enemy meant passing through the gates of death themselves. The shelling resumed almost instantly, and it grew even more ferocious.

Ariabert’s tactics relentlessly whittled away the forces of Uraniborg. One after another, vessels were sucked into the fourth gate as it opened and closed, only to be destroyed by the three-to-one combat.

Staring intently at the screen, Jouslain could not suppress a slight tremor. For the first time, he witnessed the sheer ferocity of Ariabert, a man who was usually so mild and polite. It was only when Francia gently wiped his brow with a handkerchief that Jouslain realised the sweat on the nape of his neck.

Hardly any vessels managed to evade the lines of fire coming from three different directions. Far and wide, fireball after fireball was birthed, and intersecting arrows of light tore across the sea of dark matter. Silent explosions gave rise to short-lived supernovae, only to bury them just as quickly.

Watching Radmoth’s standing figure with cold indifference, Doctor Lee whispered:

“How is the situation on the battlefield, Commander?”

“We’ve been beaten.”

Fan Hyulick ran his hands through his carrot-coloured hair. He had not expected the superiority at a tactical level to be decided so perfectly.

“Duke Ariabert’s strategy was brilliant, but the soldiers and officers who executed it were also remarkable. There should be no difference in our men’s experience or proficiency, but the level of trust they place in their commander is on a completely different level.”

“Isn’t that too self-deprecating? Duke Idris, whom you were expecting so much from, would gnash his teeth if he heard you.”

“Yeah, regarding that point, I have room to shift the blame. Duke Idris should have educated his younger brother more properly.”

“Reflecting upon the history of mankind in the past…”

Suddenly, Doctor Lee’s scope of conversation expanded.

“There are many instances where brutal and forceful individuals seize power amidst the chaos<ref name="ftn22">“Chaos” (混沌) is pronounced “chaos”.</ref> surrounding the collapse of great dynasties. It does not last for a long time, but temporarily and within a limited scope, it can cause significant harm.”

“And right now, that temporary and limited scope is our very ship, right?”

As Miranda gave a wry smile, Mahdi quickly stole a glance at Radmoth’s back. Walenkov and Pagès did the same. They were, of course, looking for an opportunity to eliminate Radmoth, but his subordinates were pointing their guns at Hyulick and the others from various positions across the bridge.

While the flagship was effectively rendered paralysed, the vessels of Uraniborg were being toyed with by Ariabert’s masterful triangular formation. In other words, they were taking blows unilaterally.

Human blood rained down upon the scorching internal equipment, walls, and floors; as it evaporated, a red mist descended over the ship.

It was a phenomenon known as the “Crimson Rose<ref name="ftn23">“Crimson rose” (紅い薔薇) is pronounced “crimson rose”.</ref> Cologne”, and it was said that if any surviving soldiers attempted to wash their clothes, their white shirts would all be stained pink.

Orders that were barely more than screams were relayed throughout the vessel.

“Seal Block G! Seal Block G!”

As the bulkheads within the ship flashed an ominous red, true screams erupted.

“Wait! I’m still alive!”

A soldier who had lost a leg crawled across the floor, blood spraying from his wound like a shower. Before his very eyes, the door closed mercilessly. Some, their arms severed by the door as they desperately tried to reach through, let out fresh, dying screams. These shrieks were drowned out by the roar of an explosion, and the sealed block was transformed into an abyss of raging flames, swallowing both the living and the dead with equal indifference.

“… How terrible.”

On the bridge of the ''Austra'', Princess Lydia uttered a sigh as she gazed intently at the screen.

“About five hundred people must have died in that explosion.”

Princess Lydia gasped at Jouslain’s words. Francia hugged her small shoulders from behind, casting a protesting look towards her master. Jouslain deliberately ignored it, keeping his eyes fixed upon the screen. He wanted Princess Lydia to know as much of the truth as possible.

“Killing people is not our primary objective, but we will not hesitate to kill if it serves our purpose. This is not unique to Tytania, though we have certainly been the most thorough in doing so…”

=== IV ===
On the bridge of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', where Radmoth’s angry shouts occasionally rang out, a faction of the alienated Blaze Flag Army sat sullenly on the floor.

“We’ve lost at the strategic stage.”

As several gazes converged upon him, Doctor Lee spoke in a detached manner.

“The reason both Dukes, Ariabert and Jouslain, chose a decisive, rapid strike was to hit Uraniborg directly. Well, that was not particularly difficult to predict…”

Doctor Lee met one of the staring eyes with his own.

“But the failure lies with our underachiever here…”

The surrounding gazes shifted to the Doctor’s side.

“In short, I am referring to Fan Hyulick…”

“There’s no need to repeat yourself! So, what, are you trying to say this happened because I cheated or something?”

“Shut up!” shouted one of Radmoth’s subordinates.

“The enemy’s strategy was to start and finish the battle before Hyulick could win the trust of the troops at Uraniborg,” continued Doctor Lee, his voice lowered.

Radmoth seemed preoccupied with dealing with the unfavourable battlefield situation. Though, all he did was repeatedly issue orders out of pure aggression.

“If given sufficient time and opportunity, Hyulick might win the hearts of Duke Zarlisch’s former subordinates and demonstrate his talent for military command on the battlefield. The essence of command lies in the soldiers’ obedience to a commander’s operational orders. However, at this moment, Hyulick has ended up in this state.”

“If only that greenhorn Radmoth hadn’t been here, things might have been a little better.”

“Mahdi, you are uncharacteristically sympathetic towards Hyulick. You are right, however; we were outmanoeuvred even at the tactical level. The decision to place small and medium-sized high-speed vessels within the fleet formation was a bold move to conduct mobile warfare within the ranks. Furthermore, the wall of massive ships on the outermost perimeter was not for defence but to ensure that any enemies drawn into the formation could not escape. We were thoroughly outplayed.”

Hyulick remained lost in silent thought.

Tytania and Tytania were slaughtering and destroying one another. Light and shadow raced across the faces of those present as they flickered past.

For Miranda, it was a sight that should have prompted a shout of triumph. At least, it should have been, but her expression gradually grew more severe. The primary reason was, above all else, the fact that she was unable to defeat Tytania using her own strength. To make matters worse, she found Radmoth’s lack of restraint absolutely unforgivable.

“Using Tytania to subdue Tytania.”

Glancing sideways at Miranda, Doctor Lee placed a hand on his chin.

“… If expressed that way, it sounds like a grand and sweeping conspiracy, but the reality is that the anti-Tytania faction, including ourselves, failed to achieve true unity even after two hundred years.”

In the meantime, a strange atmosphere was spreading through the various ships of Uraniborg, which had been forced into a desperate struggle.

“Hyulick was originally Tytania’s public enemy. Why on earth must we engage in a death struggle against Duke Ariabert’s fleet?”

Once such a doubt took root, a desire to avoid war instantly overwhelmed the will to fight. When a single ship, cornered in a situation where neither resistance nor escape was possible, announced, “We surrender,” it served as a catalyst, and more than a hundred ships hoisted white flags almost immediately.

It was not merely a matter of surrendering; some ships even went so far as to bombard Hyulick’s flagship, the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', before making their escape, treating it as a bit of extra loot on their way out. It was an unprecedented display of disgrace.

Because the enemy was so utterly disordered, Ariabert found it all the more difficult to maintain orderly combat command.

“All ships, you are authorised to engage the enemy individually. Do not refuse surrenders. Do not give pursuit. I repeat. Relentless pursuit is strictly forbidden.”

Even as the announcement was being made, the chaos within the Uraniborg fleet continued to spread. There were ships that continued the fight, ships that surrendered, and even ships that were hit while floundering in confusion, blocked from escape by the wall of massive vessels.

“I wonder what kind of battle it would have been if Zarlisch had been our opponent,” muttered Ariabert through the communication system.

Understanding it was a soliloquy, Jouslain did not respond; he simply kept his eyes fixed on the screen, letting his imagination wander.

It was hard to believe that Zarlisch would concern himself with such minute tactical subtleties. He would likely charge straight ahead, with his flagship leading the way. It was a simple tactic, perhaps, but his ferocious onslaught had crushed enemies with sheer brute force, overwhelming them with a sense of defeat and a terror that far exceeded his actual numbers.

“If given the chance, I would have liked to face that man myself.”

As he spoke the words aloud, Ariabert realised that he might be a more bellicose man than he had thought. He had chosen a military career as a matter of course, though he had never been under any obligation to do so.

The thoughts of Viscount Balamy Tytania, stationed within Ariabert’s ranks, were far from simple.

Balamy had remained by Jouslain’s side until now, observing his policies and stratagems. Having been touched by the private grievances and bitter regrets of his late father, the life he had envisioned was one far more compressed than his actual age would suggest.

At present, Balamy was using every fibre of his being to observe Ariabert’s deployment of troops. Balamy had tended to underestimate Ariabert due to him being defeated twice by Hyulick, but he now realised that this had been an arrogant mistake.

He was well aware that the task was nothing short of audacious. Even so, Balamy knew he had to strive to possess the strengths of both great leaders, Jouslain and Ariabert, in their respective areas of expertise. Only by combining the advantages of both men could he truly hope to reign at the pinnacle of Tytania. At that moment, Balamy had even forgotten about Princess Lydia, his eyes staring at the screen as if possessed. Part of the reason was that Francia had stayed by the Princess’ side.

From the very beginning, Jouslain had intended to leave the combat command to Ariabert, with no intention of interfering whatsoever. However, as he observed the confusion and disorder of the enemy, the true nature of the situation began to reveal itself to him. The enemy’s forces had already been halved, and those dying were solely the soldiers of Tytania. Having obtained Ariabert’s permission, he picked up the microphone.

“To the soldiers and officers of Tytania. Cease all futile combat and surrender immediately. No past mistakes shall be held against you.”

He paused for a breath before continuing.

“If you refuse to surrender, withdraw from the battlefield. We shall not give pursuit. We cannot bear to see loyal soldiers of Tytania perish. Once you have returned to Uraniborg, convey this message to Duke Idris.”

While Ariabert’s orders were directed towards his own allies, Jouslain’s proclamation was intended for the enemy. The troops of “Uraniborg” heard it. Even within the heart of single soldiers, the futility of the battle resonated. There were, however, exceptions. Upon the bridge of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', the roar of a young nobleman thundered:

“I won’t permit a retreat! Fight to the very last man!”

“There is no meaning in fighting any further.”

In the presence of the raging Radmoth, one might have been deceived into mistaking the cold, composed figure of Doctor Lee for a symbol of common sense.

“We are unable to inflict any damage upon the enemy, yet our own casualties continue to rise unilaterally, and even so, we persist in this meaningless combat. This is not a hard fight; it’s a folly. Even as we speak, the dead only continue to increase.”

Before Doctor Lee could even finish, Radmoth leapt from his command seat and stood directly before him. Doctor Lee reflexively recoiled, leaning his upper body back sharply, but he was not entirely successful. A growling fist grazed across Doctor Lee’s left cheek and nose.

Doctor Lee stumbled, but rather than trying to steady himself, he threw himself onto the floor, thereby avoiding the second strike. The bridge was already in an uproar. Radmoth lifted his leg and kicked Doctor Lee’s shoulder.

In that instant, Miranda pulled a hard rubber baton from beneath her seat. She delivered a powerful blow to the back of Radmoth’s head. Radmoth let out a groan, and only his left foot moved forward a single step. Before he could react, Walenkov delivered another heavy kick to the back of the young baron’s right knee. Radmoth’s large frame froze for a split second before his knee buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud.

“Don’t move! Drop your weapons!”

Walenkov’s hands were bare, but his thick fingers were wrapped around Radmoth’s throat. An unpleasant sound rang out as five or six heatguns were tossed onto the floor. An expression of resignation was etched upon the faces of Radmoth’s subordinates.

“One problem solved, what a happy ending.”

Mahdi’s voice was unnecessarily cheerful. In that same interval, a psychological collapse was taking hold of the Uraniborg forces.

They fled in disorder.

Exactly as the ancient idiom described<ref name="ftn24">It is lost in translation, but “they fled in disorder” was actually an idiom in the original Japanese (算を乱す which literally means something like “counting sticks scatter”).</ref>. There was no one to command the retreat, no one to guard the rear and support their comrades; they simply fled at full speed. When a heavy cruiser<ref name="ftn25">“Cruiser” (巡航艦) is pronounced “cruiser”.</ref> snagged a light-class gunboat<ref name="ftn26">“Gunboat” (砲艦) is pronounced “gunboat”.</ref> and a fireball of destruction erupted, a small stir went through the officers on the bridge of the ''Golden Sheep''. Rather than sympathising with the unfortunate gunboat, they thought,

''“What an unsightly display for an army claiming to bear the name Tytania!”''

It was only natural that such feelings were so strong.

Princess Lydia rose from her seat. After casting a fleeting glance at the profiles of Jouslain and Balamy, she set off with her lips pressed firmly together, though her stride soon broke into a run. Noticing this, Francia shook her head slightly at Jouslain and hurried after the Princess.

Jouslain silently returned his gaze to the screen.

A different scene unfolded aboard the ''Honest Old Man Junior''.

No matter how irresponsible Fan Hyulick might have been as an individual, he did not entirely lack a sense of duty and pride as a fleet commander. While he felt no sense of loyalty toward Idris, who had unilaterally thrust this heavy responsibility upon him, he possessed enough devotion to at least do what he could. Now that Radmoth had trampled that spirit and Ariabert had exacted his vengeance on a tactical level, he intended to at least ensure that any surviving allies could escape.

However, the other vessels were in a state of extreme confusion, both in judgement and in action. There were ships that continued to fight bravely, maintaining that “whoever the commander is, our vessel shall do its utmost.” Yet, there were others that retreated, thinking, ''“It’s foolish to die in a battle like this.”'' Furthermore, some ships were even more proactive, attempting to withdraw from the battlefield altogether.

The vessels that refused to cease fighting ultimately constrained Fan Hyulick’s actions. He could not simply abandon his allies struggling through the bitter battle and flee alone.

“There are still ships fighting over there. We have to save them.”

“You can’t be serious. They’re fighting because they want to. Let’s just get out of here quickly. If we do, it’ll give them a reason to escape too. That’s the only way to reduce casualties.”

Mahdi proposed what he believed to be the best possible course of action. Miranda agreed, using her own particular way of expressing it:

“Even Mahdi can say something right once in a while. It is far too late to save those people. As befits the subordinates of Duke Zarlisch, they clearly intend to fight until the end. Let them have their way.”

“We can’t do that. Captain, turn sixty degrees—”

Hyulick’s voice cut off. Because Walenkov, wearing an expression of pity, took a glance from Miranda and brought a massive hand-strike down upon Hyulick’s nape. The carrot-top young man let out a heavy gasp, and his feet lifted into the air. Seraphine Coopers whispered into his ear, as if soothing a small child:

“You’re a hopeless man, but you must not die here.”

“Exactly,” agreed firmly Miranda. “If he were to learn later that you died in this battle, Duke Ariabert would surely find it most unpleasant. Right now, you are at two wins and one loss. Live on, and aim for a third victory, alright?”

Fan Hyulick did not respond. Not because he was displeased, but because he had fallen completely unconscious.

“Good… Miranda, let us withdraw from the battlefield at once. We must ensure they do not realise this ship is the flagship.”

“I know, Doctor. If they do, it’ll be the end of us.”

The bridge grew noticeably more frantic. As Pagès, who had disappeared to some unknown place, returned, Miranda asked:

“What about Baron Radmoth?”

“I injected him with enough sedative for three people, placed double-locked magnetic handcuffs behind his back, and bound his legs with leather straps. I’ve locked him up in the toilets.”

“Good work.”

“Don’t mention it. Comparing him to Duke Zarlisch, is like comparing a kitten to a tiger.”

“Should we kill him?”

In response to Walenkov’s question, Pagès shrugged:

“I doubt he’d grow into anything useful even if we kept him alive… What do you think, Doctor?”

“If push comes to shove, I’ll stuff him into an escape pod and send him straight to Uraniborg. I’m sure Idris will take responsibility for his younger brother’s behaviour.”

“Splendid. I look forward to watching the sibling rivalry unfold.”

Miranda laughed heartily.

The ''Honest Old Man Junior'' finally lived up to its reputation at this critical juncture. It was often said that space pirates were the spiritual descendants of ancient nomadic cavalry. They fought only when there was profit and a chance of victory. If neither were present, they would flee to prepare for the next opportunity.

The ''Honest Old Man Junior'' made a magnificent escape.

“Fan Hyulick’s fleet suffered a total defeat by the rebel forces. Heavy losses reported.”

When Idris received this first wave of dire news, he froze like a statue of flesh for a moment. To be honest, he had anticipated that bad news would be more likely than good news, but a total defeat was far beyond what he had expected.

“Hyulick, that useless bastard! He wins when he should lose and loses when he must win! When he returns, there will be hell to pay!”

Idris barely managed to suppress the impulse to slam his fist against the desk. Then, one of his aides spoke up hesitantly:

“Do you think Hyulick will return?”

“What?! What did you say…?

Suddenly, Idris’ composure returned to his master. It brought along an unpleasant companion known as a “bitter realisation of reality.”

There was absolutely no way Hyulick’s faction would return to Uraniborg. Hyulick’s group possessed neither the sense of duty nor the contrition required to crawl back to Uraniborg after such a crushing defeat just to face punishment from Idris.

Given the magnitude of the defeat, any Tytania soldier should have been subject to severe penalties; however, in the case of Fan Hyulick, that point remained ambiguous to begin with.

It was Idris who had ordered Hyulick to march, but he had not obtained the approval or permission of Clanner Ajman. If he were to be criticised for “acting unilaterally and disregarding the Clanner,” he would find it difficult to defend himself. Had they fought well and at least established a clear result, even without a victory, there might have been hope for future strategic developments; however, as it was a complete defeat, it was tantamount to announcing to the entire universe that “Tytania has fallen.”

“Issue an order for Hyulick to return! If he does not comply, place a bounty on him and secure his person. If he has something to say, I shall hear it myself… Oh right, Count Elman? Where is Count Elman?”

“What about Count Elman?”

“It was Count Elman who brought Hyulick’s faction to Uraniborg. Make him the officer in charge of Hyulick’s detention. Tell him to bear full responsibility and produce results!”

After venting his fury upon the eldest of the clan and panting heavily, Idris forced his brain cells to work desperately.

“Order all vessels stationed at Uraniborg to take up Class B battle stations. Furthermore, there ought to be more ships remaining in the various star sectors; move every single one that can be moved and gather them in the space surrounding Uraniborg. I shall take overall command.”

The day had finally arrived. Idris’ heart quickened its beat, thumping against his chest.

One of the communications officers ran to Idris’ side, saluted, and presented a slip of paper. It contained the downloaded results of the recent battle.

The losses for Ariabert, Jouslain, and the “rebel army” were estimated at 36 destroyed vessels and just over 900 dead. In contrast, the Uraniborg side suffered over 4400 destroyed vessels and over 100,000 dead.

Idris took a deep breath and exhaled, glaring at his staff officers, whose faces were etched with grief. It was not merely the defeat itself, but the fact that his officers, pale with shock, appeared utterly unreliable to him. Were Ariabert and Jouslain truly so terrifying?

“Forty thousand vessels still remain. If we include reinforcements and those on standby, the number will easily exceed fifty thousand. Furthermore, Uraniborg is impregnable and inviolable. Above all else, we have His Clanner Highness with us. Let us deliver divine retribution upon those treacherous rebels in His Highness’ very presence. Hail Tytania!”

“Hail Tytania!”

The staff officers responded in unison, but to Idris’ ears, their voices seemed to lack a certain strength.

Thus, the Battle of the Hashtbal System ended in a complete victory for the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance, across strategic, tactical, and even political levels. However, as an inevitable consequence, the situation in which the next battle was drawn forward, with everything to be lost should they fail, had instead been accelerated.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3

2026-10-11T14:40:51Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 2 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 4 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance == === I === It was common knowledge that Fan Hyulick was no saint, and he was..."

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== Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance ==
=== I ===
It was common knowledge that Fan Hyulick was no saint, and he was thoroughly dissatisfied with the situation he found himself in. Neither the flavour of the omelette nor the fates of those involved with Tytania seemed to be going according to his wishes. To make matters worse, Doctor Lee added fuel to the fire while gazing at his disgruntled expression:

“It seems you have become quite popular in Bargash.”

“Stop teasing me.”

Hyulick groaned, yet what Doctor Lee said was true. He felt he was being mocked because the tone of the media on the planet Bargash had become excessively celebratory.

“… If both Reformist dukes emerge victorious, there is a possibility that the highest leadership of the Tytania Clan will relocate to Bargash. As a command centre on the front lines of frontier sector development, they would likely plan a dramatic expansion of the human habitable zone. The future of humanity always lies in the frontier. Bargash, as the ‘Neo Uraniborg<ref name="ftn12">“New Celestial Castle” (新・天の城), pronounced "Neo Uraniborg".</ref>’, holds an extremely bright future…”

Hyulick let out a gloomy laugh.

“I had no idea there were people thinking even that far ahead. Quite a grand vision, isn’t it? Though I felt that, until just a few days ago, we were being treated like a plague that had brought nothing but misfortune to the Tytania.”

Doctor Lee gave a shrug, with a movement that could almost be described as elegant.

“Since Bargash managed to avoid becoming the target of the entire Tytania military, those people there must be dancing with joy. As for the media being irresponsibly running wild, that is a thousand-year-old tradition. One cannot live if they fret over every little thing.”

Doctor Lee was in high spirits. It was because he had discovered a new research theme: “The Evolution of Media Discourse Leading to the Destruction of Tytania”. Nothing in all creation escaped his academic curiosity—or, as Miranda would put it, his cat-like curiosity. Even regarding the recent orders to attack Elbing, Doctor Lee appeared to maintain a thoroughly positive stance:

“I have seen enough of Uraniborg. It holds no use for us. Since they say they will let us leave, I shall depart with my head held high. Otherwise, if a single mistake were made…”

Doctor Lee curled the right corner of his lip into a smirk.

“Detention or imprisonment—such treatments are in the realm of possibilities. The situation changes not just by the day, but by the hour. And accordingly, Duke Idris’ intentions will change as well.”

“So you’re saying we should escape before he changes his mind.”

“Precisely. Once we have left Uraniborg, we can manage the rest.”

“Do you have any specific plans?”

“Tactics and strategies are your responsibility. I shall, of course, provide assistance.”

In this context, “assistance” meant “observation”.

“I can’t just whip up a strategy on a whim like that.”

“Well, you are rather skilled at devising ingenious schemes to exploit an opponent’s openings or carelessness.”

“That makes me sound like nothing more than a petty crook.”

“Petty crooks cannot defeat the likes of Duke Zarlisch or Duke Ariabert. Your emergence is a significant factor in the shifting tides of history, so you may remain confident.”

Even so, he did not feel as though he were being praised. The reason Fan Hyulick cursed what he might call his destiny was due to the bizarre fact that, having been forced into battles he did not even want to fight, the more he won, the more he found himself cornered.

While he possessed a rebellious spirit that refused to let himself be swept away by fate, he was nonetheless gripped by a sense of resignation, for he could not help but think of the hundreds of thousands of people who had met an untimely, unwanted death because of him. Though he had no awareness of having committed a single murder as a crime, Hyulick did not possess the personality of a “hero of chaos” who could simply cast everything aside and enjoy life with complete abandon.

“How half-hearted.”

It was a ''cliché'' expression, but ultimately, Hyulick himself—or perhaps the person who understood him best—was the one who knew this to be true. Even if it was far from perfect.

That day, at breakfast, Hyulick burst into the dining room with a distinctly unheroic air. While he was not quite in his pyjamas, his carrot-coloured hair remained as dishevelled as when he had first woken, and his shirt buttons remained undone.

“What is the matter, Hyulick?”

“D-Doctor, the entire surroundings are covered in Tytania vessels!”

“They are our allies.”

“?… Ah, right. That’s correct.”

Hyulick slumped into one of the chairs and ran a hand vigorously through his hair. From the seat beside him, Seraphine Coopers frowned, yet she poured hot coffee into his cup.

Walenkov and Pagès entered the room together, their shoulders standing about ten centimetres apart in height.

“I must say, it feels wonderful. No matter if I look front, back, left, right, up, or down, all I see are Tytania vessels.”

Hyulick took the cup in his hands.

“If push comes to shove, it will be a storm of heat rays and titanium rounds from six directions.”

“Let us all become stars together in that event, then.”

Walenkov gripped a fork in his large hand and swept two fried eggs and three slices of thick-cut ham from his plate in a single mouthful. Hyulick drank half of his coffee before stabbing and stirring his egg with a fork, displaying a complete lack of appetite. Seraphine watched him, her eyes seemingly saying, “Are those not the same eggs?”

It was not merely the Tytania military that was “besieging” the ''Honest Old Man Junior''. It was also the remnants of Zarlisch’s former fleet.

For Fan Hyulick, it was impossible to remain composed. To the soldiers and officers of the former Zarlisch fleet, Hyulick was the enemy who had taken their late master’s life. It would not have been surprising if they had turned their guns upon him in an act of vengeance. Even if it did not come to that…

“Will they even obey my orders?”

Hyulick’s suspicion was not entirely unfounded. Even before his death, Zarlisch had been a legendary ruthless general, one who had led his subordinates from the very front of the entire army.

“There are two types of soldiers. Those who submit to Duke Ariabert and those who are devoted to Duke Zarlisch.”

Such was their reputation. The type of soldier who was utterly devoted to Zarlisch was typically brave, refused to retreat even when the tide of battle turned against them, and preferred head-on clashes. They were a mirror of the supreme commander’s own character. Would such men simply obey Hyulick’s orders without question?

“Well, it is rare for everything to go exactly according to plan,” remarked Doctor Lee. “Even so, a plan must be drawn. If only to confirm the fact that things are not going as intended.”

While assigning Zarlisch’s former subordinates to Hyulick’s fleet was one thing, it was the presence of Baron Radmoth Tytania that caused his cheeks to puff out even further with indignation. Regarding this appointment, Miranda, Mahdi, and the others were in complete agreement:

“This it is pure harassment.”

By making such a definitive statement, Hyulick felt as though he had been forced to eat the second-worst omelette in the world.

From the looks of him, Radmoth, who appeared to be a miniature reproduction of the late Zarlisch, did not seem at all like an eighteen-year-old. Not only was his physique larger than Hyulick’s, but his manner lacked any trace of youthful innocence. When he boarded the ship, Doctor Lee had asked:

“Military Supervisor, shall we prepare a seat for on the bridge for you?”

“Naturally.”

Radmoth replied curtly and arrogantly, scanning the bridge as if looking at something filthy.

“What a stingy ship.”

Miranda, having had her beloved spacecraft insulted, took a large, indignant step forward, but her left arm was restrained by her husband, Captain Casimir, and her right arm by Doctor Lee. Doctor Lee quickly whispered in a low voice:

“Let it go. It won’t be for long.”

“I wish we could just sail straight past this ship. Even so, Doctor…”

“What is it?”

“Do you intend to use that young master who’s all brawn and no brains as a hostage, should the need arise?”

“Ho, so that was the plan?”

Speaking with feigned indifference, Doctor Lee had arranged a seat unnecessarily luxurious for the “young master who’s all brawn and no brains”.

“Now then, Hyulick, what will you do if our allies, as you fear, fail to move according to plan?”

“We would have no choice but to demand they obey our orders.”

“By the time such an order is issued, it will have already turned into a catastrophe<ref name="ftn13">“Disaster” (破局) is pronounced “catastrophe”.</ref>.”

After handing his “student” a failing grade, Doctor Lee shared his thoughts in a voice low enough so that Radmoth could not overhear:

“I believe it was Duke Jouslain’s scheme, and I suspect he chose haste deliberately. He likely abandoned the idea of making thorough preparations altogether.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

“To sow confusion.”

Doctor Lee explained to everyone present.

“The more time he allows, the more the various parties, both within and outside Tytania, will deliberate and attempt to reach decisions that favour themselves. Duke Jouslain does not intend to let that happen. He intends to conclude this matter before everyone has fallen into disarray and become unable to act.”

Doctor Lee flicked his gaze briefly. Seated in a position of honour beyond his line of sight, Baron Radmoth Tytania sat slumped in his seat.

Ariabert asked Jouslain:

“Lord Jouslain, if you were to offer advice to Idris as a friend, what would you say?”

“Well, I would first suggest dealing with those closest at hand: exiling or imprisoning his brother, Radmoth, and Countess Theodora.”

While such an ironic exchange was being traded in a sea of stars dozens of light-years away, the actual person of interest they were talking about was sitting with his arms folded, looking every bit the pariah; however, he only changed his expression and posture when Seraphine Coopers brought him coffee. To put it romantically, it was as if his primal instincts had been stirred, as he cast a gaze upon Seraphine reminiscent of an ancient slave trader appraising his wares.

When his large hand reached out indiscreetly, Seraphine deftly evaded the predatory touch with a casual movement and promptly stepped back. For the first time since Radmoth’s ship had arrived, Hyulick felt a sense of amusement.

Doctor Lee lightly patted Hyulick on the shoulder and delivered a dull piece of news to his underachieving pupil:

“There is no way to know for certain what the situation is with Clanner Ajman, but it is possible that the Clanner may soon find himself with no part to play.”

=== II ===
Every route monitoring system raised an alarm amongst the controllers.

“Ariabert and Jouslain’s fleets have changed course!”

Having departed from Bargash and appearing to head towards the Tyron Sector, the combined fleets of Ariabert and Jouslain continued their sub-light travel, their trajectory tracing a gentle curve from their original straight line. The aerospace computers were forced into full operation to predict their future course.

“It looks as though we won’t have the luxury of bothering with Elbing after all.”

Hyulick felt, rather, a sense of relief. If Ariabert and Jouslain performed such a sudden course correction that they struck Uraniborg directly, Hyulick would then be obligated to respond by moving to relieve Uraniborg. It provided him with a righteous cause. He would be able to avoid attacking the weak Kingdom of Elbing.

“So, what are we going to do now?” asked Seraphine Coopers.

Hyulick replied, appearing to be in high spirits for the first time in a long while:

“All fleets, halt forward progress. Await new orders from Uraniborg.”

One single mistake, and they might be forced into battle against the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain with their current strength of two thousand ships. While the possibility of such an unreasonable order being issued existed, for Hyulick, that would have been far preferable to attacking Elbing. Though his conscience had worn considerably thin through an accumulation of subjective hardships, he believed that, rather than launching an indiscriminate attack on a poor, weak nation, losing to Ariabert on a third attempt would be the more righteous path to take.

Even so, he wondered what would become of them from here on out.

If Ariabert and Jouslain continued to accumulate victories, there was a high possibility that those weighing the pros and cons would increasingly side with them. Hyulick felt a slight shiver at the decision made by Ariabert and Jouslain to cast that eventuality aside and settle the matter with the shortest and fastest means possible. Few individuals could withstand the psychological pressure of being presented with the choice between “victory or death”. They had absolutely no intention of spending the rest of their lives under the rule of Idris should they suffer defeat.

As for Idris, how was he faring?

Duke Idris Tytania was unaware that Fan Hyulick’s party was currently engaged in sabotage within a sector three days away from Uraniborg. In truth, he had far greater concerns.

When Idris first entered the combat command room, he surveyed the vast, dome-shaped interior and took his seat at the central command station, overworking his brain to the point of a splitting headache.

The total military strength of Tytania was said to be one hundred thousand vessels, with twenty thousand of those under the command of Ariabert and Jouslain. Even so, while eighty thousand should have been counted under Idris, twenty thousand were undergoing maintenance, repairs, or rest, and another twenty thousand were assigned to patrol and guard duties across various sectors of the vast cosmos; thus, the strength Idris could freely deploy at that moment was approximately forty thousand. This was double that of the enemy.

However, for Idris, who desired nothing less than a complete victory, he could not help but feel it was still insufficient. If the military of the lesser nations joined the enemy, or if a portion of his allies defected, the force ratio would quickly dwindle to something like thirty thousand against thirty thousand. Provided they possessed their military satellites and massive arrays of fortress cannons, Uraniborg should still hold the advantage in combat power, and yet…

“If they are able to advance this far, Tytania is already finished.”

That was the general consensus. Therefore, when Idris ordered the operators to activate the three-dimensional simulator, it was with a fleet battle in mind.

“First, try a U-shaped depth formation.”

“Understood!”

The operators’ fingers danced across their consoles, and in response, points of light within the three-dimensional simulator moved and transformed. A group of blue points of light, arranged in a U-shape, partially encircled a thick, arrow-shaped cluster of red light. The red points represented the enemy, while the blue points represented the allies.

The operators’ gazes were subtly directed toward the supreme commander. Realising this, Idris knew he had to say something appropriate.

“If the base of the U-shape is too thin, there is a risk that the centre could be breached, splitting our forces to the left and right.”

“Understood. Even so, it would still be entirely possible to execute a pincer attack from both flanks.”

Idris nodded, crossing his arms lightly.

“Next, the layered deep defence.”

At his command, the operator responded:

“To crudely put it, it’s like ‘peeling an onion<ref name="ftn14">“Peel an onion” (タマネギの皮むき) is pronounced “slice onion”.</ref>’, but I believe this formation would be advantageous for wearing down the enemy.”

“I am aware of that much.”

“Yes, I beg your pardon.

The operator’s voice stiffened. Sensing this, Idris felt a small sense of satisfaction. He could feel the awe the operator held for him.

Within the three-dimensional simulator, the clusters of blue light points transformed more dramatically and extensively than before. The thin, plate-like formations were layered one after another, front to back, with intervals between them. Once the cluster of red enemy light points breached one line, they would face the next. Once that was broken, a third plate-like formation awaited them. With each breakthrough, the red light points would steadily diminish.

Idris’ eyes shone, as if this were a live combat engagement against Ariabert and Jouslain.

“Shall we go with this?…” muttering Idris to himself, bitter look entering his eyes.

He had realised that his tactics were on the verge of becoming passive without even a single blow being struck.

“There is also the strategy of separating and converging, but…”

Of course, it would be ideal if it worked, but if the timing of each fleet’s arrival were even slightly off, it would result in the folly of piecemeal engagement. The arriving fleets could be defeated one after another, potentially leading to the disgrace of total annihilation.

Idris leaned one elbow on the desk and rested his chin on the back of his hand, lost in thought.

The three-dimensional simulator was reproducing the final phase of the battle. In this stage, Idris’ forces consisted of forty thousand undamaged ships. In comparison, Ariabert and Jouslain should have suffered a certain amount of loss. Perhaps around fifteen thousand ships. While the first step towards victory was to assemble more troops than the enemy, at this particular stage, Idris already held the upper hand.

A thought flashed through his mind, and he spun his command seat around to glare at the group of generals stationed behind him.

“What if…”

There was a note of ''schadenfreude'' in Idris’ voice.

“What if Fan Hyulick were to intercept his course with some two thousand ships? I wonder if that bastard Ariabert could remain so composed.”

One of his admirals questioned him:

“And what would the Kingdom of Elbing do in such an event?”

“Ah, I had forgotten.”

It was an honest reaction.

“Leave them be. We shall crush them at a later date. Provided I even remember them, that is.”

Originally, his intent to attack and annihilate the Kingdom of Elbing had been to confound Jouslain and disrupt his strategic deployment. It was an operation involving a mere two thousand ships. Now that such a need had vanished, there was no necessity to strike the Kingdom of Elbing. Furthermore, with the situation having changed so drastically, it would have been a waste to leave even a force of two thousand ships merely as a garrison.

Idris himself would never admit it, but an undeniable truth existed. Compared to Idris, Ariabert possessed far more extensive combat experience. Furthermore, there was the skilled Jouslain. While his experience in field command was not much different from Idris’, one could never predict what kind of schemes he might devise to assist Ariabert. In Idris’ eyes, his tactics were nothing short of “cunning”.

''If only Zarlisch were still around,'' thought Idris for the first time. If only he could have utilised that man’s destructive power and leadership—but Zarlisch had never been a man to follow Idris blindly. Had Idris not been prepared to take a subordinate position, an alliance with Zarlisch would likely never have been possible.

In any case, Zarlisch was already dead, and it was impossible to alter the past. If anything, Idris found his own momentary weakness of thought infuriating. Gazing at the three-dimensional simulator, he posed several questions:

“If the rebels move into this area, won’t the shortest route connecting Kafir and Tyron be blocked?”

“If they were to occupy the area for an extended period, that might be the case; however, if they are merely passing through, we estimated that the impact on logistics and travel would remain within a negligible range.”

“There are armies in both Kafir and Tyron. They aren’t strong or large. But can we at least demand of them that they halt the rebels’ advance?”

“I fear they will only come if they are promised a reward.”

“I’ll give them whatever they want.”

Idris spat the words out with contempt.

=== III ===
“Even so, there is something I cannot comprehend. There should have been some two thousand patrol and guard vessels stationed along the routes the rebels have traversed thus far. Why, then, is there no word of any engagement? Why did they not fight?”

“Two thousand vessels against twenty thousand?”

Since Idris remained silent, one of the officers spoke up hesitantly.

“If we are ordered to fight under such conditions, we shall lose all two thousand vessels and over a hundred thousand men.”

“Are you saying victory is impossible?”

“It… it is difficult to say.”

“Victory is not required.”

“…………?”

“Instead, inflict equivalent losses upon the rebels. Destroy two thousand vessels and kill over a hundred thousand soldiers.”

A wave of agitation swept across the faces of the officers. Idris’ words were nothing short of brutal. He was demanding they fight Ariabert and the others on the premise of their own total annihilation.

“If we can buy even a small amount of time through such a means, we will be able to deploy forty thousand undamaged ships to the front of Uraniborg.”

Idris stood up.

“Uraniborg is an inviolable sanctuary. If we hold out here, with our accumulated supplies, we can maintain our position for five years. If we seize the opportunity to await reinforcements from the various star systems and strike the rebel forces in coordination with both internal and external forces, then victory should be certain. What is it that you all fear?”

Idris’ impassioned speech possessed a certain level of persuasiveness. Certainly, considering the current military strength, it was clear that Idris’ side held the advantage, whether the conflict turned into a short-term decisive battle or a long-term war of attrition.

“However, if we are capable of mobilising at least forty thousand ships, I question the wisdom of entrenching ourselves within Uraniborg without engaging in a single battle.”

“If we possess twice the enemy’s forces yet avoid fleet combat, what will the various national governments think of us?”

Such unspoken voices flew through the air, yet not a single soul possessed the experience of commanding a fleet of forty thousand vessels. Furthermore, with Ariabert as their opponent, no one dared to strongly advocate for a decisive fleet battle.

A single officer’s question broke the silence that lasted for several seconds.

“What shall we do regarding the Emperor of Vardana? He may harbour ill intentions and take advantage of this opportunity.”

“The Emperor?”

Idris, who had only just remembered Harsha VI, gave a derisive snort.

“Leave him be. We have no business with him, and he can do nothing… Still, I wonder, what sort of foolishness is that incompetent ruler even contemplating?”

“I apologise, but we have yet to grasp any specific details.”

“Then, once you have grasped something concrete, report to me again. Until then, there is neither a need nor a worth in responding.”

As he spoke with such chilling detachment, Idris realised that he did not particularly hate Harsha VI. It was Ariabert and Jouslain whom he hated; Harsha VI was not even worth the energy expenditure of his hatred. His heart was so transparently shallow that it was almost pitiable.

The Emperor of Vardana, Harsha VI, was being beset by intermittent fits of euphoria.

The vast majority of his life and mental activity had been consumed by his hatred for Tytania. Now, that very Tytania had splintered and descended into armed conflict.

A sense of passivity, as though his self-control was returning, whispered to Harsha VI’s nerves: ''Do not rejoice so openly in front of others; it is dangerous''. Harsha VI attempted to obey that voice, yet he could not suppress a trembling murmur:

“Tytania… Tytania…”

Duke Zarlisch had already met an untimely end. Harsha VI had secretly raised a toast to that fact, but now it was the turn of the remaining three dukes. He hoped they would not form any alliances. They might as well fight one another to the death. The other two were preferable to Idris, but in the end, Tytania was Tytania.

Thus, when Empress Aisha appeared to check on his mood, the Emperor, while fiddling with a black pearl from planet Igipten, posed a question with haste:

“Regarding the recent events, how about I issue an imperial decree?”

“What do you mean, ‘how about’…?”

“Tytania has split. She has divided into two factions and fallen into internal conflict. I shall issue a decree to one of them, guaranteeing their legitimacy. The other shall be branded a rebel army. I believe this would have a significant political impact.”

The Empress instinctively glanced to her left and right, letting out a silent sigh deep within her chest. It was not that she was passionately in love with her husband, but they had shared a connection for six years, and she felt a sense of responsibility befitting her station.

She whispered, taking care not to wound his feelings:

“What will you do if the one to whom you issue your imperial decree is defeated? I fear that the victor’s wrath will be directed at Your Majesty himself. Should such a thing occur, the imperial lineage of Vardana will be placed in peril. I implore you, Your Majesty, please exercise restraint.”

“M-mmm…”

Harsha VI groaned. Naturally, he had no desire to die, but had she pointed that out more directly, he undoubtedly would have erupted in anger. Empress Aisha understood her husband’s character well and had chosen her words of persuasion with great skill.

“I never wish to lay eyes up at Uraniborg again. To think that a mere subject would look down upon me, their sovereign!”

“However, Your Majesty, should the unthinkable happen and Uraniborg were to drift from its orbit and fall to the surface, the planet Vardana itself would be annihilated.”

A crater nearly one hundred kilometres in diameter would be carved into the earth, and violent storms would whip up trillions of tonnes of dust and debris, obscuring the light of the star. The surface temperature would drop by seven or eight degrees Celsius, and that darkness would persist for twenty years.

“I implore you, do not act in haste. Whether Tytania splits or collapses, Your Majesty’s duty is to ensure that the Imperial Lineage of Vardana continues safely. Prudence should be your first priority.”

At the wise Empress’ counsel, Harsha VI nodded repeatedly, once, twice, and then a third time.

Idris’ anxiety and suspicion regarding the true intentions of Clanner Ajman, who had failed to show himself, had not entirely vanished. However, since Ariabert and Jouslain had departed for planet Bargash, the weight of those concerns had clearly diminished within him. As the moment for a direct confrontation with a formidable foe approached, the necessity of preparing for actual combat had suddenly eclipsed his preoccupation with the Clanner’s true motives. If he were to be caught in the middle of wondering, ''“What are the Clanner’s true intentions?”'' only to be struck by Ariabert’s cannon fire, Idris’ name would surely become a synonym for “fool”.

Furthermore, the evidence that Idris clearly descended from the main line of the Tytania bloodline lay in his very defiance at this critical hour.

“If they refuse to appear no matter how much I request it, then let them do as they please. I shall simply do as I see fit. Since they have issued no instructions and shown no right of veto, they have no right to complain about whatever I may do. On the contrary, I shall achieve great feats in the Clanner’s absence and seize actual power. And once I have it, I shall never let it go.”

Thus, Idris ultimately ended up validating the criticisms levelled against him by Ariabert and Jouslain. Using the Clanner’s “absence” as his justification, he began to wield dictatorial power.

There were no visible changes to the daily routines of life or business within Uraniborg. The lowest-ranking Tytania employees were preoccupied with organising data, whispering slanders about their superiors in cheap taverns. The baker fretted over the mixing ratio of Canarisa wheat and Barta barley. Schoolchildren glared at one another, debating whether to reveal their test scores. It was a life that felt like a 3D rendering of “''Pax Tytaniana''<ref name="ftn15">“Peace of Tytania” (タイタニアの平和) is pronounced “Pax Tytaniana”.</ref>”.

As one ascended the social strata, the superficial calm began to peel away like thin plating. The heads of the countless departments and divisions, while wary of informants and eavesdroppers, could not help but converse with those they deemed trustworthy. They simply could not endure carrying their anxieties alone.

“Could it be that he is truly ill? Or perhaps…”

“What is it? Out with it.”

“Or perhaps… maybe he has already passed away, and Duke Idris is keeping the mourning a secret…”

“You idiot, don’t say such reckless things!”

“You were the one who told me to say it!”

They were on the verge of a scuffle, but at the sight of the Tytania guardsmen’s uniforms, everyone hurriedly sat back down in their chairs, tilting their mugs to hide their faces.

They still enjoyed a carefree status. If every minor offence were met with a purge, society would cease to function. Regardless of who emerged victorious, tax collection and various public services had to be carried out without fail. The people referred to as “petty officials” were, it seemed, indispensable in any era and any nation.

=== IV ===
“Are you saying we shall not attack, even though they are passing right before our eyes!?”

“The enemy has twenty thousand ships. We have only five hundred as well as twelve large-calibre guns in the fortress. If we engage, we will be annihilated in less than thirty minutes.”

The commander froze at his command seat. It took ten seconds before he finally managed to squeeze out a word:

“However, if we simply stand by and watch without lifting a finger, we shall face severe punishment from Uraniborg at a later date.”

“With all due respect, I doubt there will be a later date.”

“You wretch, watch your tongue!”

Countless points of light passed orderly before the arguing superior and subordinate. Such a sight could be seen anywhere within the military outposts that Tytania had established across the countless star sectors. The stationed soldiers were, of course, loyal to the pinnacle of Tytania, Uraniborg, yet they were not so fanatical as to challenge a massive army while knowing they were destined for total annihilation.

This was precisely the meaning behind the concentration of troop numbers.

Even if some nation or armed group attempted to attack Ariabert or Jouslain for the sake of glory, they would find it impossible to lay a finger on them in the face of such a massive force of twenty thousand vessels. In the first place, they were neither united nor coordinated, making any proper military operation impossible. Jouslain could easily imagine the commanders of those various armies gathering around a thousand ships, approaching only to watch in stunned silence as the endless line of vessels drifted past.

It was possible that they might even reach Uraniborg without engaging in a single battle along the way. Whenever such a possibility began to bud in Jouslain’s mind, he reprimanded himself, imagining the sting of a slap to his own cheeks and forehead.

However, he was not the only one considering that possibility.

“Ariabert, Jouslain, the advance speed of both dukes is far greater than anticipated. If we do not execute a full-scale interception manoeuvre somewhere, they will be upon Uraniborg before long.”

“However, if we do that, there is a possibility they might seize control of our rear. With Uraniborg ahead and our assembled fleet of some thirty thousand ships behind us… if we are pincered from both sides, it is the end. Would both dukes really take such a risk?”

That was the state of the officers of Uraniborg, speaking amongst themselves in hushed tones.

“This is more the type of deployment used by the late Duke Zarlisch, but there is a strategy to force a melee within the range of Uraniborg’s bombardment. Would we be able to fire our main guns into the midst of such a chaotic fray, with friend and foe all intermingled?”

“Even under normal circumstances we wouldn’t be able to fire…”

The voices grew even lower.

“If it were Duke Idris, he might just do it.”

“Indeed.”

Perhaps as a result of his outward efforts, Idris was often perceived as a man who would use any means necessary to achieve his goals. Consequently, individuals such as Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana had lost their peace of mind, fearing assassination.

Just as Jouslain’s thoughts began to lean towards a somewhat optimistic direction, there was another who was leaning towards the opposite. This was, of course, Duke Idris Tytania, who had been made acutely aware of the low morale amongst his allies.

In a fit of rage, Idris swept his hand across the command table. Documents danced through the air, the intercom was slammed against the floor, and even coffee cups and saucers went flying. Rising from his command seat, Idris had become a mere embodiment of fury.

“The lack of fighting spirit amongst you gentlemen makes it impossible to avoid my disappointment. I am not asking you to launch certain-defeat attacks with mere squads of a hundred ships. However, what are you thinking by continuously avoiding combat and allowing the enemy to approach?!”

The assembly responded to the young duke with silence. Idris, his eyes smouldering like molten lava, glared down at them.

“Inflict damage upon those rebels, even if only a little, even if only a fraction, to let them know exactly where the will of Uraniborg lies. Such is the spirit that those in the Tytania high command ought naturally to possess! For what purpose have you eaten the wages of Tytania until this day?”

There was no reply.

“Does no one have any objections? Then, I shall take it that there is no disagreement with my orders.”

The officers exchanged glances. Since their youth, they had been conditioned, both mentally and physically, to obey the Clanner and Dukes of Tytania. Yet, they were also professional soldiers, and at least at the tactical level, they possessed more knowledge and experience than Idris.

“If the forces stationed across these fifteen fortresses were to be gathered, how many ships would that be?”

From amongst the officers exchanging glances, one replied with a heavy breath:

“Approximately four thousand six hundred ships.”

“Approximately? Fine, that is enough. Gather those four thousand six hundred ships at a single location immediately. The location is here.”

Idris did not so much press a button as slam his finger down upon it. The Bianville System.

“We shall lie in wait for the rebels here and challenge them to battle.”

Idris’ calculation was to force Ariabert and Jouslain’s forces to bleed. He intended to launch repeated attacks with a fleet of four to five thousand ships, denying them rest and forcing them to waste manpower, food, and ammunition, thereby diminishing their total strength even by a small margin. Naturally, the forces at Uraniborg would also suffer considerable damage, but he was prepared for that.

On the other hand, the forty thousand ships under Idris’ control, both inside and outside Uraniborg, were to be kept intact and preserved. This was for the final battle. He would encircle Ariabert and Jouslain within the sector visible from Uraniborg and annihilate them literally. Idris’ blood boiled, driving away all reason.

“… What should we do of it?”

A voice struck his auditory organs, so jarring that Idris felt an impulse to snap back, and he jolted out of his reverie. Having missed the initial whisper, he seemed to have been addressed loudly this time. If he were to reply with a mere “What?”, his momentary lapse in focus would be discovered, so Idris endeavoured to feign as calm a tone as possible.

“What are your thoughts?”

“Well…”

“You may speak freely.”

“Well, even with a force of nearly five thousand vessels assembled, I believe we must look to Your Grace Idris’ explicit instructions as to whom shall be appointed to the role of supreme commander. After all, as the commanders of each fleet are of equal rank, I would wish for the selection to be made under Your Grace’s authority…”

Idris barely managed to suppress a click of his tongue. Was he truly expected to handpick even the commanders of minor forces numbering a mere hundred or a thousand ships? He wanted to tell them to just do it themselves, but it was Idris’ own ancestors who had instilled such excessive awe of the five Tytania families throughout the entire army.

“If there is no significant difference in ability, let’s go by seniority. Who is the eldest?”

“Commodore J. L. Fokine, but…”

''“I’ve never heard of him.”''

Of course, Idris did not voice those words; at most, he merely gave a haughty nod.

“Then Commodore Fokine shall suffice. Should the need arise for personnel reasons, I shall permit his promotion to Rear-admiral.”

“But… are you certain, your Grace?”

“About what?”

The generals exchanged glances once more before one of them answered with newfound boldness.

“Commodore Fokine was once recognised for his merits by Duke Ariabert who promoted him from captain…”

Idris had suppressed his outburst on several occasions just before it escaped him. It was true that he had heard irresponsible rumours claiming that the <span style="background-color:transparent;color:#000000;">combat-orientated</span> generals of the Tytania army were split into three factions: the Ariabert faction, the Zarlisch faction, and the neutral faction.

For a few moments, Idris remained silent, but then he was struck by a sudden revelation. He brought his hand to his lips with a sardonic smile.

“Very well then. Let us replace Commodore Fokine with another man. I have found a suitable candidate.”

“As Your Grace commands… and who might that person be?”

“Fan Hyulick.”

“……!”

A wave of astonishment surged, filling the vast room. Had the words Idris had spoken previously been nothing more than a flight of fancy? After gauging the reactions of those present, Idris continued.

“I have already granted that individual two thousand ships. Once they ''rendezvous'' with our allies, the fleet will number six thousand six hundred. Furthermore, if I grant them the authority to conscript forces from each star system along the way, it shall reach nearly ten thousand. It promises to be an interesting contest.”

“B-but…”

“Are you questioning why I would choose someone who was Tytania’s public enemy until only a few days ago? Your concerns are reasonable, but if you were going to raise this point now, why did you not say so at the very beginning?”

Mocked in such a manner, the generals could do nothing but stand there in silence.

“The rebels are likely aiming for a decisive battle by committing their entire force at once. If Fan Hyulick’s ten thousand ships were to intercept them, it would significantly disrupt their strategy. It matters not if we suffer losses. Uraniborg can meet the rebels with forty thousand ships entirely unscathed. Whether Fan Hyulick lives or dies is of no consequence, for he is, after all, no loyal subject of the old Tytania.”

As far as ideas went, it was indeed a mere whim. However, the fact that Idris had been able to formulate it into a strategy within such a short time and overwhelm the elder generals was a testament to his extraordinary genius.

“If there are no objections, arrange for this to be carried out immediately.”

The generals pressed their right fists to their left shoulders in a Tytania-style salute, then withdrew, looking utterly dejected.

“Useless lot,” muttered Idris under his breath as he sat back down in his command seat.

Though they were the “rebel army”—formerly the Bargash Expeditionary Force, now commanded by Ariabert and Jouslain—not a single vessel had defected or dropped out from the twenty thousand ships in the fleet. For Idris, this was a significant miscalculation.

The reason was that the trust and devotion the soldiers held for Ariabert and Jouslain far outweighed what they felt for him. It was not something he could assert and leave it at that.

The war was inherently lacking in legitimacy. From the perspective of the Tytania soldiers, it could be said that the three dukes were merely engaged in private warfare during the absence of the Clanner. However, this private war was the largest in the universe, and the outcome would determine the next hegemon. Since maintaining neutrality was nearly impossible, the final victory would depend on which side could garner more allies. The best way to increase one’s allies was to demonstrate victory in actual combat.

“I expect you to make yourself useful, Hyulick.”

Idris’ military career was the polar opposite of Fan Hyulick’s. He had never fought an enemy under disadvantageous circumstances. Ariabert was much the same, but Hyulick had been participating in actual combat since the age of twenty-five, accumulating experience through battles involving tens and then hundreds of ships, honing both the eye for seizing victory and the skill to achieve results efficiently. Why not put him to good use for Idris’ sake? After all, he had been feeding him in exchange for nothing this whole time.

=== V ===
Ariabert’s flagship, the ''Golden Sheep'', and Jouslain’s vessel, the ''Austra'', were sailing alongside each other near the very centre of the massive spindle formation. The cruising speed of the twenty thousand ships was as fast as possible for a force of such scale.

Ariabert and Jouslain had neither the need nor the obligation to wait for Idris’ forces to be fully assembled. It was a viable option to strike a decisive military blow while Idris was still unprepared to respond and the other nations stood by as mere spectators. The victorious side would leave the other nations with no choice but to accept a state of “friendly submission”, and a new order would be established in the blink of an eye.

There was another strategy: to wait and allow their forces to be reinforced over time, but such a course of action risked granting the enemy time to strengthen themselves as well. Furthermore, there was a danger that the scales of victory, which were currently balanced on a precarious equilibrium, might tip unilaterally due to some unforeseen accident; thus, a protracted war was undesirable.

Even if Idris’ forces numbered eighty thousand ships, was there anyone to command them? It could be none other than Lord Idris, or perhaps the Clanner himself. Furthermore, if it were true that the Clanner lay bedridden with illness, it would be impossible for Lord Idris to leave Uraniborg.

If that were the case, someone would be needed to act as commander in his stead, with his full confidence. Jouslain reckoned that, at this moment, Fan Hyulick was the only one capable of achieving such a feat. However, it would not be without conditions.

To what extent would Fan Hyulick truly be an ally to Idris?

The doubts harboured by Ariabert and Jouslain were, in truth, Fan Hyulick’s own doubts as well.

“I wonder if there is any actual benefit for him to siding with Idris.”

“Wasn’t he appointed commander of the Elbing Expeditionary Force by his direct command?”

Naturally, Jouslain and the others had no way of knowing of this conversation with Doctor Lee, but they found it utterly inconceivable that Idris had won the devotion of Fan Hyulick. Depending on Hyulick’s ambition and fortune, he might be able to turn against Idris.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out. The frigate leading the vanguard of the fleet had discovered a cluster of light points that did not belong to their allies. There were approximately one thousand ship silhouettes. Their relative velocity was not high. A transmission was immediately sent from the frigate.

“A message to your fleet. Declare your intentions within five minutes. Surrender? Negotiation? Neutrality? Or shall combat commence?”

In response to this stern inquiry, the reply came extremely quickly.

“If I had to name it, I’d say it’s a surrender.”

“If you had to name it?”

“Ariabert, Jouslain, I wish to side with both Dukes. I am Rear-Admiral Moss Dryden. I would be honoured if His Grace Ariabert still remembers me.”

As he heard this, Ariabert searched his memory. On two previous occasions, he had fought with Rear-Admiral Dryden under his command and had ample opportunity to recognise his considerable competence.

About fifteen minutes later, Dryden’s fleet was leading the entire armada, charging through the sea of stars. Having a defector take the vanguard of the entire army served as a tangible manifestation of their pledge that they would never betray them.

Watching this unexpected turn of events, Jouslain reflected. There was no turning back now. If they fought and lost, there was only death. Alternatively, there was the possibility of being imprisoned for life, but should such a fate befall them, Jouslain had no intention of enduring it.

Whether his opponent was Idris or Clanner Ajman, this battle—which had been unimaginable even a year ago—would demand every ounce of Jouslain’s vitality. As this feeling intensified with each passing day, Jouslain was secretly astonished. What was even more startling, however, was the emergence of an entirely new, deeply personal thought:

“What will become of Francia after I am dead?”

Jouslain believed that Francia had no obligation to follow him into death. He had already deposited enough money into her account to ensure she could live the rest of her life without hardship. All that remained was for her to decide her own path for her later years. He had believed this and thus had not thought further upon it. Yet, this newly born thought was rapidly growing.

“… No, this is no time to be thinking such things.”

As Jouslain shook his head, a bright voice rang out, announcing the arrival of a young guest. Princess Lydia’s favourite hat swayed with vigour.

Because her homeland had escaped its immediate crisis, the princess of the Kingdom of Elbing was overjoyed. She threw her arms around Ariabert and Jouslain in turn to express her gratitude, and once she had calmed down slightly, she swore upon her honour to bestow as much reward as possible upon the two of them as saviours of her nation. In truth, at that moment, while Ariabert found the sight endearing, what came to his mind was a cheap gold-plated medal, while Jouslain pictured a mountain of Elbing potatoes.

“Lord Jouslain, may I interrupt you?”

“Please, Princess. My door is always open for you.”

Jouslain offered the princess a seat on the sofa and stepped away from his desk. He deliberately ignored the sight of Francia, who had followed the princess in.

“So, how may I be of service?”

“Well, there is something that has been weighing on my mind…”

“Ah, please forgive my carelessness.”

He could not allow Princess Lydia or Francia to be taken to the battlefield. They had to be moved to somewhere safe, and the time had come to make a definitive decision.

“No, that is not it.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It is regarding the Clanner’s true intentions. That man has finally driven the dukes into battle. It is not in the best interest of the Tytania as a whole. Why is that?”

“I… I cannot say for certain myself.”

“Even you cannot fathom it, Lord Jouslain?”

“I truly do not know.”

Answering honestly, Jouslain gazed at Princess Lydia. If he did not, his eyes would instinctively wander toward Francia.

“If even you cannot understand it after thinking so hard, Lord Jouslain, then perhaps it is the opponent who is acting strange.”

“… Strange?”

“Yes, I do think it is strange. Lord Jouslain, you are a very intelligent man, but if you rely solely on logic, you surely won’t understand.”

“Is that so? Strange?”

For some reason, Jouslain felt a sense of agitation.

Humans didn’t always think, judge, and act with pure rationality. There were countless examples of proof of the contrary. Jouslain believed he was well aware of this, even without Princess Lydia’s simple observation.

Nevertheless, he was caught completely off guard. He had been lost in thought even as Francia brought the tea, ginger ale<ref name="ftn16">“Ginger water” (生姜水) is pronounced “ginger ale”.</ref>, and chocolate cake to the table and arranged them there.

For the one who possessed the greatest and most absolute power, reigning above all others, to lose his mental equilibrium in deep quiet silence without a single person around him noticing the truth? Could this truly be possible?

It was not until nearly a minute had passed that Jouslain realised Francia had been staring intently at him as he sat lost in thought.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2

2026-10-11T14:16:41Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 1 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 3 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 2 – The Nobel “Rebel” == === I === “Tytania hereby declares full-scale war against the Kingdom of Elbing.” When..."

<noinclude>
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</noinclude>
== Chapter 2 – The Nobel “Rebel” ==
=== I ===
“Tytania hereby declares full-scale war against the Kingdom of Elbing.”

When Idris’ declaration was broadcast to the entire universe, it did not, strictly speaking, cause a wave of upheaval throughout human society. After the initial shock, some people simply accepted it, thinking, ''“Ah, so that is how it is?”'' However, this was only true for a portion of the inhabitants of Uraniborg; everyone else, from the leaders of the planetary governments to the common people, was left speechless.

“What? How could Tytania declare war on the Kingdom of Elbing of all places? It is like an elephant picking a fight with an ant.”

“It must mean that the Kingdom of Elbing was aligned with the Duke Jouslain faction.”

“Yet, surely that would not concern Elbing alone.”

Naturally, something far greater than mere agitation struck the Kingdom of Elbing. They had been breathing a sigh of relief, believing ''“our nation is now secure”'' after receiving favour from Duke Jouslain, a member of the unparalleled Tytania’s highest leadership, only to be struck directly by a political and military bolt of lightning. Screams erupted throughout the panic.

“What on earth was the Ministry of Foreign Affairs doing!? If Princess Lydia became favoured by Duke Jouslain, doesn’t it mean that she draw Duke Idris’ hostility in equal measure? Isn’t the net result just zero? No, now that it has come to this, the result is a negative. Why did they not create more options for us?”

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, of course, offered a rebuttal:

“Why are you complaining only now? When the Princess came under the protection of Duke Jouslain, did the entire government not rejoice? We all said that Elbing was finally secure.”

“Even so, was the failure to prepare alternatives not the negligence of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? We should have established friendly relations with Duke Idris as well.”

“That is easier said than done. Besides, with what budget are we to fund such ventures? Has it even existed!?”

As the conversation turned to matters of finance, both men fell silent, doing nothing more than sighing in concern for Princess Lydia’s grandfather, the King, who lay upon his sickbed.

Neutrality.

At that time, it undoubtedly must have been the most significant proposition within the Milky Way galaxy.

In the fields of politics, military, and economics, human society was divided into two: “Tytania” and “the rest”. Within “the rest” were everything from radical anti-Tytania factions to weak organisations that only engaged based on common sense when necessary, otherwise remaining almost entirely disconnected.

In any case, the one fact that had been clearly recognised was that ''“Tytania stands united, while the rest doesn’t”''. However, now, the glass known as the “order of the universe” had been overturned. Tytania had split apart.

Tytania, which had been inviolable and impregnable.

Now, Tytania had divided into two factions, and the sun they worshipped above their heads had become two. Those of higher rank were so shaken they felt like crying out, “My God!”, but that very God had transformed into “Janus<ref name="ftn7">“Two-faced divinity” (双面神) pronounced “Janus”. Janus was a Roman god notable for being represented with two faces and the month “January” is named after him.</ref>”, leaving them powerless to do anything by human strength.

As for the common folk, some enjoyed irresponsible gossip as mere accompaniment to their drink, taking it all quite lightly, while others clutched their heads, worrying about their future businesses. For the vast majority, whether optimistically or pessimistically, they could not escape the excitement.

Among the scattered remnants of humanity throughout space, there was likely no one whose connection to Tytania was non-existent. There were those directly subordinated to them and those in open rebellion, of course, but the list was far too long to count; it included “people whose acquaintances’ acquaintances belonged to Tytania’s subordinate organisations”, “people dining in restaurants owned by a chain that was a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a subsidiary of Tytania”, “those reshaping deserts under Tytania’s planetary development projects”, and even the “devoted fans of music programmes produced by Tytania”.

Driven by varying degrees of anxiety and curiosity, they could not help but engage in conversation with anyone they knew.

“Either way, isn’t Tytania going to win? We might as well let them carry on as they please.”

“And then, once it’s all over, are we to be condemned as mere opportunists? I wouldn’t be happy about that.”

“Well then, are you in any position to judge who will emerge victorious?”

“Hmph. And I suppose someone like you is capable of making such a judgement?”

“There is no way I could. If I were capable of such a thing, I would have become something like a Tytania merchant fleet captain by now.”

At that moment, the tavern door swung open, and as a soldier clad in a Tytania uniform appeared, the flood of rumours was instantly dammed. The Tytania soldier scanned the interior of the tavern with an unfriendly gaze, occasionally making overbearing remarks such as, “Sounds like an interesting tale; let me hear it too,” but in truth, it was they who were more famished for information. A clever soldier would slip into the tavern in civilian clothes and casually lend an ear to the gossip.

“Regardless of anything else, the difference in military strength between Uraniborg and the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance is vast. Ten to one—no, perhaps even more. Even if they win a fleet battle or two, the AJ Alliance will lose in the end.”

“There is another way to look at it.”

“What is it?”

“Do you wish to hear it?”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“The point is, no matter which side we choose in this next battle, it won’t constitute any real resistance against Tytania. ‘History is written by Tytania<ref name="ftn8">“Winners are loyalists” (勝てば官軍) is the Japanese expression equivalent of “history is written by the winners”. But here, word for “loyalist” is pronounced “Tytania”.</ref>.’ We can decide when the time comes. Don’t you agree?”

“Even if victory becomes apparent…”

“Then you simply side with them. Tytania only cares about maintaining its dominion over the universe; they aren’t looking to destroy everything. They won’t bother paying attention to every little movement made by insignificant small fry like us.”

“I see. However, if that were the case, I wonder why the most insignificant small fry, the Kingdom of Elbing, was targeted.”

The heated conversations of the people drifted through the far reaches of space, showing no sign of dying down.

Why had the Kingdom of Elbing been targeted?

There were those who knew the exact reason, as well as or even more than Idris did. These were kin who resided on planet Bargash, and they were not allies of Idris, but now his sworn enemies.

Duke Ariabert Tytania.

Duke Jouslain Tytania.

Viscount Balamy Tytania.

Though the third of these was not even within Idris’ consideration. He hardly even bothered to remember him, and even if he did, it would only have been in connection to his feud with Radmoth. He believed that the man was of a sort that would perish alongside Jouslain should the latter fall, and even if he managed to escape, he was not worth pursuing in earnest.

Of course, Balamy could not afford to ignore Idris. This had become especially true since Idris had declared war on Elbing.

Balamy grit his teeth. His previous prediction regarding Princess Lydia had proved utterly mistaken. Idris had no intention of letting go the Kingdom of Elbing. No matter how insignificant it might be. Furthermore, now that it had become clear that the kingdom could serve as a powerful weapon against Ariabert and Jouslain, there was no reason for him to hesitate in using it.

“He will surely be loathed.”

Balamy could not help but sigh.

Would Ariabert and Jouslain submit unconditionally to Idris in order to avoid an attack on the Kingdom of Elbing? Such an option was impossible. Regardless of whatever justification they might have, Ariabert and Jouslain will turn their backs on the Kingdom of Elbing. It would mean abandoning the motherland that Princess Lydia loved so dearly. And Balamy would have no choice but to follow the two dukes. It was this sense of helplessness that drove Balamy to make such an emotional and futile outburst.

“Lord Idris is a coward!”

Jouslain’s reaction was calm:

“I do not believe that Idris is a coward.”

“Lord Jouslain…!”

“If I were Idris, I would likely do the same. I would destroy the Kingdom of Elbing as an example while simultaneously advertising our own ruthlessness in failing to save Elbing. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

Ariabert also interjected with composure:

“Lord Balamy, this is not a battle for justice. This is carnivores preying upon one another.”

“Is there… no other way?”

“There might be, but I cannot commit suicide alongside Elbing. More importantly, Lord Balamy, can you truly leave Princess Lydia to her fate?”

This was an instruction to leave, as the two dukes intended to confer privately. Suppressing his anxiety and frustration, Balamy withdrew.

“Lord Ariabert, I shall leave all matters of troop deployment to you.”

“There is a problem we must discuss before that. You’ve already said this to Lord Balamy, but could you bring yourself to cast aside the Kingdom of Elbing?”

Ariabert levelled this blunt, unadorned question at Jouslain.

“That’s…”

Jouslain hesitated. His mind was not merely racing with emotion but with political calculation. He could not yet fully predict how the smaller nations would react if he stood by and watched the pitiful destruction of the Kingdom of Elbing.

“Lord Jouslain, I had hoped to see you rendered speechless by a question once, just once, before your death. I did not expect it to come about in this manner.”

Ariabert laughed. Knowing that there was such composure in that laughter, Jouslain felt a sense of relief. Knowing that an ally more reliable than himself existed was infinitely reassuring before the coming battle.

“Now then, I wonder how long we can keep this hidden from Princess Lydia.”

“It is not something that can be kept hidden indefinitely. I have even considered informing her ourselves, but… no, let us leave her be. I would prefer to let events take their course.”

“If that is what you say, Lord Jouslain, then let us do so. To be honest, I would rather focus on the battle than dwell on such matters.”

Jouslain nodded and lightly tapped the surface of the desk with the back of his hand.

“Then do that. I find even commanding ten ships to be difficult. I shall leave all operational command to you, Lord Ariabert, or rather, I am entrusting it to you.”

“If you entrust it to me, I cannot refuse.”

Ariabert responded earnestly, uncrossing his arms and straightening his posture.

“Then I shall take up the task. We shall move the troops towards the direction of the Kingdom of Elbing as soon as possible.”

“Towards Elbing?”

“That is the crucial part. It is quite dull not to be able to take by surprise a clever opponent. Instead, we shall move our troops towards Elbing, then change course midway to strike the expeditionary fleet of Uraniborg directly from their flank and rear.”

Ariabert’s expression was filled with quiet confidence.

“Furthermore, if we win that battle, the prestige of Uraniborg will suffer a significant blow. We can unsettle the opportunists, and as for Idris, we shall leave him foaming at the mouth.”

He intended to utilise the Uraniborg side’s invasion of Elbing as part of the AJ Alliance’s operational manoeuvres. Ariabert had convinced Jouslain that he was not merely a battlefield commander but an exceptional strategist.

A tactical victory as a political triumph. It was a concept Jouslain had not considered. While he had always recognised Ariabert’s military talent, Jouslain realised that he had grown even further.

Of course, at that time, the two dukes did not yet know who the commander of the Uraniborg expeditionary fleet was.

=== II ===
“So, how much military force do you intend to mobilise?” asked Jouslain.

It was a natural question for someone tasked with supporting Ariabert’s operations from the rear.

“Twenty thousand ships.”

Jouslain momentarily doubted his own ears at Ariabert’s instant reply. Twenty thousand ships represented their entire available force.

“You intend to mobilise all twenty thousand at once?”

“That is correct.”

“Is there no need to keep any reserve forces?”

Ariabert’s brow twitched slightly. Jouslain’s question seemed to have caught him by surprise.

“I do not wish to disperse my forces. Besides, that is quite uncharacteristic of you, Lord Jouslain.”

His tone remained calm, yet his gaze seemed to sharpen slightly.

“We have no reserves. Once we are defeated, those who are currently holding their breath and watching the situation will move all at once to join the side of Uraniborg. We may be left with nothing more than the choice of whether to be evaporated amidst the flash of light under the banner of ‘Suppressing the Rebels’, or to blow our own brains out with our rifles.”

“So, we have no reserves, then?”

“Do you not agree, Lord Jouslain?”

“I suppose I do…”

Jouslain was overwhelmed. Within his mind, he had written and erased, drawn and torn up countless plans, but he had never imagined committing his entire available force to the very first engagement. Both sides had even considered seeking a political resolution through a stalemate, but that thought had vanished before Ariabert’s decision as a warrior.

“It is my duty to begin the battle; it is yours, Lord Jouslain, to end it. I am sorry, but it cannot be the other way around.”

Ruminating on Ariabert’s words, Jouslain returned to his private chambers. From behind a large vase, Francia rose to her feet. It looked as though a modest, cream-coloured rose had straightened its stem.

“Lord Jouslain, would you like some tea?”

Jouslain nodded, then, quite suddenly, asked:

“Francia, what do you think of Lord Idris?”

“I dislike Lord Idris.”

“Why?”

“Because, Lord Jouslain, he is your enemy.”

Francia answered without a moment’s hesitation, gazing directly into the face of the master she served. Jouslain met her gaze head-on. There was no need to flinch, and indeed he did not, yet Jouslain was seized by a strange sensation. The word “daunting” was perhaps the only way to describe the feeling.

Francia was a modest girl, and she had no enemies. At least, none that were visible. If, by some chance, Francia did have an enemy, would Jouslain be able to hate such a person? Should he even hate them?

“Lord Jouslain, how much cream would you like?”

“Plenty.”

“As you wish.”

“Ah, wait a moment.”

As Francia, who had begun to depart, paused and turned back, Jouslain gave a light cough. He himself could not fathom his own intention.

“Francia, how many years has it been since we first met?”

“It has been fifteen years, my lord.”

Jouslain was somewhat surprised. If it had been fifteen years, he must have been twelve at the time, yet even then, he had already begun to feel a sense of weariness toward court ceremonies and various parties. For a member of the Tytania nobility, particularly the heir to a ducal house, socialising was an essential duty. Even so, it was only two or three years ago that he had chosen Francia as his lady-in-waiting. If it truly had been fifteen years, wouldn’t Francia have been just a small child?

“Now, now, Francia, surely you must be mistaken.”

“No, with all due respect, I have not forgotten. It was fifteen years ago that we first met.”

In truth, Jouslain did not clearly remember the first time he met Francia. He only recalled that, from among the several young girls provided to serve as his attendant, he had simply picked the one who appeared to be the quietest. She had been a beautiful girl, but she had not been significantly more outstanding than the other candidates. Even so, she had been carefully selected during the candidacy stage.

''“I suppose I was arrogant,”'' thought Jouslain to himself. He had held absolute power over not only Francia but her family as well. Or rather, he had held them at his very fingertips. If Francia’s presence had ever become burdensome, he could have simply sent her back to her family home. Yet, Francia had never given him cause for dissatisfaction.

“Was there something specific that makes you remember?”

“It was quite an unseemly incident, Lord Jouslain, and I am truly ashamed about it. I was quite clumsy; I had wandered deep into the garden during a party where our families had gathered and was lost and crying when you found me and kindly escorted me back to my parents.”

Unless a major catastrophe occurred, there was no reason to remember the trivial happenings of a party. His life was far too busy for such things.

Yet, for Francia, it must have felt like a monumental event. Looking at Francia’s cheeks, which were now flushed a cherry-blossom pink—having apparently perceived that clumsy childhood mishap as something destined—Jouslain was on the verge of a wry smile, though that smile did not last long. It certainly was not impossible to call it fate. Had Jouslain not chosen Francia as his lady-in-waiting, she would not be here now.

What would become of Francia if Jouslain perished alongside Ariabert? What would happen to her?

The relationship between himself and Francia was not one of equals. Jouslain reflected upon this fact even now. Though he had hardly given it a thought before. It was partly because Jouslain possessed little interest in his own private life, but perhaps it had been allowed because of Francia’s selfless devotion.

Jouslain felt unsettled. It was enough to disconcert him that such sentiments had invaded his thoughts just as the conflict with Idris’ faction was on the verge of breaking into open warfare. As Francia brought the hot tea and cream and set them quietly upon the tea table, Jouslain spoke:

“Francia.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have no need of you for a while. Go and rest in your room.”

“… As you wish. Please call for me should you require anything.”

With a bow, Francia withdrew. Her modest, obedient manner instilled in Jouslain a sense of ''déjà vu''. After a moment of thought, he felt a sudden gloom. It was the back of his mother, just as he had seen it when he was very small.

=== III ===
Some called it “The Longest Week<ref name="ftn9">“Longest week” (もっとも長い一週間) is pronounced “longest week”.</ref>”, while others referred to it as “The Shortest Seven Days”. The days and nights passed, as if each individual were struggling in vain within a flow of time different from all others.

Planet Bargash was gripped by a strange sort of vitality. Although it sat under the occupation of the Tytania forces, which possessed over twenty thousand vessels, the two Tytania nobles who were meant to hold the highest authority were, officially, individuals without rank or office. The Bargash military was also clearly present, yet they showed no signs of defiance against the Tytania forces. While the government remained diplomatically silent, it continued to carry out the minutiae of domestic routine. As for the citizens, they were utterly excited. Unable to focus on their work, they allowed rumours to blossom into full bloom. Tytania did not commit the folly of over-regulating speech.

“Rumours is what is driving the situation.”

It was said that a high-ranking officer of the Blaze Flag Army had made that ironic observation, though it was not certain.

“Soon, a great fleet of fifty thousand ships will descend upon Bargash from Uraniborg.”

“No, it will be one hundred thousand.”

“I reckon it will be one hundred and fifty thousand ships.”

The numbers were being bid up, much like an auction. If the attacking force had been merely twenty or thirty thousand, it would have been a discouraging prospect.

Of course, there were those who were gripped by terror, imagining a day when an unprecedented, massive army would launch an indiscriminate assault. Those people were the rational ones; the more resourceful among them had already devised plans to flee to other planets or to digitise and move their entire fortunes abroad. Yet, such digitised assets would merely be swallowed by the Tytania financial network, and as no place of absolute safety could be found, it could be said that many people, driven by a sort of desperation, had sought refuge in drink, romance, and gossip. After all, the “enemy” was so gargantuan that it was difficult to truly grasp the reality of it.

“But if Tytania were to disappear, I wonder what would become of us.”

Whether they were nobles or commoners, wealthy or poor, not a single living soul had ever experienced a “universe without the rule of Tytania.” An unknown era might be arriving, and regarding that possibility, it was impossible to suppress a sense of profound unease.

“Better the devil you know than the god you don’t.”

It was exactly as the proverb went.

As for Ariabert and Jouslain, who were considered the rulers of Bargash, it could be said that people were bewildered as to how to respond to them. They could not judge whether they were allies, enemies, or merely troublesome guests bringing the enemy along with them.

Ariabert and Jouslain brushed off the declaration issued by Idris with chilling indifference.

“There is no need to go through the trouble of providing a negative response.”

Seeing Ariabert nod, Jouslain gave the order to his subordinates:

“Ignore them.”

And so, as a day passed and then a second, no response came from Bargash. For Idris, the situation was becoming increasingly unpleasant with every passing moment.

Since Jouslain and Ariabert were in agreement, it was futile for Balamy to raise any objection. While he had never imagined they would succumb to Idris’ threats and surrender unconditionally, Balamy could not discern how they intended to handle the matter.

“Total silence, huh?…”

Upon reflection, there was no obligation to respond, whether Idris chose to provoke or threaten. Ignoring or disregarding him was the best way to wound Idris’ pride, and it served as a psychological tactic as well. However, the deadline set by Idris was drawing closer, silent and inexorable.

On the second day, Balamy tried questioning Jouslain.

“Will you not meet with Princess Lydia?”

“… I will not.”

“And why is that?”

“I have no face to show her.”

Having said only that, Jouslain returned his gaze to the three-dimensional star chart he had been studying and sank into a state of deep contemplation. Balamy exited the room in silence.

Internally, Balamy was incensed. He was unsure how things were being handled at Uraniborg, but Jouslain was supposed to be Princess Lydia’s protector. Furthermore, the Kingdom of Elbing itself was Jouslain’s responsibility. Or rather, it had been his responsibility until his position was stripped away. While ignoring Idris’ threats was one thing, if the result was leaving the Kingdom of Elbing in ruins, what kind of impact would that have on future political and military strategies? Balamy desperately wanted to know the thoughts of both dukes, particularly Jouslain’s, but it did not seem as though they would tell him.

Balamy searched for Princess Lydia. He soon spotted her sitting in her favourite window seat within her favourite observation room. She sat perfectly still, wearing her other favourite small, feathered hat.

As he prepared to call out to her, Princess Lydia spoke first, her back still turned to him:

“Is that you, Bal?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Do not come any closer.”

Balamy could not hide his astonishment. Usually, it was Princess Lydia who would cling to him, to the point of exasperation.

“I am making an unpleasant face right now, and I do not want you to see it, Bal.”

So that was the reason?

“I believe that Lord Jouslain and Lord Ariabert will surely save my country. But even though I believe this, a part of my heart thinks it is impossible. That must be why I am making such an unpleasant face.”

“How do you imagine they might save it?”

“I do not know. I am still only a child.”

Though she was but a child, her voice carried a profound gravity.

“I want to become an adult quickly. If I did, I would be able to do something for myself. As I am now, I can only watch.”

Balamy managed to respond:

“That is true. You can watch. Make you not let a single thing escape your sight.”

Balamy thought to himself for a moment. Perhaps it wasn’t that Jouslain and Ariabert had chosen the Kingdom of Elbing, but rather that they had chosen Princess Lydia over the Kingdom of Elbing? If that were the case, it was heartless, yet only natural, for they had chosen that which held the greater value…

Having thought this, Balamy found himself wondering why he had even thought such a thing.

Beyond the transparent wall, countless constellations glittered. Before them, a young girl stood with her back turned. Gazing upon both while bathed in the pale light, Balamy stood frozen in a somewhat indecisive position. He could not decide whether it would be better to leave the place in silence or not.

A streak of meteoric light flowed across one corner of the transparent wall, from the upper right to the lower left. Several cheers erupted within the interior of the observation dome. The people behind those voices were blameless, yet to Balamy, it felt somewhat shameful.

A cold-blooded ambitious man who justified his ends by any means necessary. That was the kind of person Balamy had desired to be, and during his late father’s lifetime, and when purging the high officials of the Vardana Empire, he had demonstrated behaviour close to that. However, what was the case now? He found himself shamelessly subservient to Ariabert and Jouslain, his attention captured by the lamentations of a girl no more than ten years of age.

Balamy was not so foolish as to deny that this was reality, yet facing the unpleasantness of it was still difficult.

At last, Balamy spoke:

“Princess, what if you were to ask Dukes Jouslain and Ariabert to save the Kingdom of Elbing?”

“I cannot ask them.”

The reply came instantly.

“I know how many impossible requests I have already made them accept. Do you truly think that on top of all that I could ask them to save the Kingdom of Elbing?”

She must have thought on it deeply, even with a child’s heart. Her words were clear, but her voice trembled, and in the end, it seemed as though tears began to well up. Balamy stood frozen, flustered and tormented by regret. It was a young, soft female voice that saved him:

“Lord Balamy, I shall attend to the Princess…”

“Lady Francia.”

He had not realised when she had arrived, but that did not matter. Never before had Balamy held Jouslain’s lover in such high regard. Upon spotting Francia, Princess Lydia rushed towards her, embracing her like a younger sister would.

With a bow, Balamy departed from the scene.

Even amidst such circumstances, information was flying wildly across the cosmos, a mixture of truth and falsehood. As Ariabert and Jouslain failed to issue any official response even after several days, an irritated Idris made the following announcement, intending it as a second strike:

“The commander is Rear-Admiral Fan Hyulick.”

When that was announced, Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged glances and gave a bitter smile as if in agreement. So, that was his move? To conquer a mere place like the Kingdom of Elbing, neither elites nor a massive army were required. They had assumed the selection of the commander would be made haphazardly, but upon reflection, it was exactly the kind of thing Idris would do.

“One point for Idris,” commented Ariabert. “Even if the Kingdom of Elbing is destroyed, he avoids staining his own hands. Conversely, Fan Hyulick’s reputation will plummet. The anti-Tytania forces, who had been elevating him as a hero, will surely be disappointed.”

“And at the same time, one point against Idris,” replied Jouslain. “Even if he was chosen as commander, Fan Hyulick will likely lack enthusiasm for operational duties. Furthermore, it is unthinkable that the Tytania troops would willingly follow an outsider, Fan Hyulick of all people.”

“A net-zero then?”

“Well…”

Idris’ gain was political, while his loss was military. Had Idris prioritised political manoeuvring, deciding to turn a blind eye to the military disadvantage?

On the surface, Idris’ intention could be settled with a single word: “cowardly”. But was that all there was to it? In the first place, just how seriously did Idris intend to force the unconditional surrender of Ariabert and Jouslain?

=== IV ===
Some days later, Ariabert took an action that won the favour of the citizens of Bargash. As he was leaving the hotel that served as his headquarters, he encountered a beautiful young woman with whom he was already acquainted.

“Edna.”

“Captain Edna Fredericks, reporting for duty, Your Ducal Grace Ariabert Tytania.”

Her expression and her voice remained entirely unchanged. Ariabert made a face that fell just short of a wry smile.

“I still haven’t figured out what kind of attitude or conversation is appropriate in situations like this.”

“Some people never know until the day they die.”

“I certainly hope I don’t end up like that… May I speak with you for a moment?”

Edna seemed to hesitate. Ariabert sensed it by the slight pause that preceded her reply.

“… Please do.”

“I am glad you are not turning me down.”

“However, my break time is not very long…”

“I understand. Let us find somewhere to sit.”

The two of them made their way to a nearby open-air café. They ordered black coffee and a ''café au lait''.

“Are the preparations for departure complete?”

“At the very least, my ship can depart within the hour. However, the ''Austra'' arrived here strictly as His Grace Jouslain’s flagship. In what capacity will the next departure take place?”

The man thought to himself that this was not a conversation between a man and a woman.

“There are no changes… No, actually there is one. The flagship shall be the ''Golden Sheep''. The ''Austra'' will serve as Jouslain’s vessel.”

Their order was brought to the table. The young waitress’ hands trembled slightly. She likely recognised Ariabert’s face.

“Your duty is to protect Lord Jouslain. That is all.”

After handing the bill and a tip to the waitress with a magnanimous air, Ariabert’s tone grew more forceful.

“The future of Tytania exists only because he is here. Therefore, as a precaution, he and I shall travel on separate ships.”

He picked up his coffee cup and elegantly took a sip.

“Planetarica beans? They are passable. Now then, becoming Tytania’s Clanner was synonymous with establishing a unified rule over the universe… until now.”

“Will it be different from now on?”

“It seems Lord Jouslain believes it will be. That Tytania is sufficient as one of the powerful forces that will form human society in space.”

Ariabert gazed intently at Edna.

“What do you think, Edna?”

“… I am a soldier. Political judgements exceed my authority and station.”

“I am well aware of your ascetic loyalty to the uniform. Although, by the laws of Uraniborg, I am no longer your superior…”

After giving a slight shake of his head, Ariabert picked up his cup once more.

“Thank you for joining me. Perhaps you will meet me next time when I am in civilian clothes.”

“… If time permits.”

“I hope it will be for as long as possible.”

For a mere moment, Edna’s lips seemed to part in a faint smile. After she saluted and departed, Ariabert sat before his coffee for a while.

“The one controlling the situation is none of the three dukes, but Clanner Ajman. Just whose side is he on, anyway? And when exactly does he intend to appear before the public?”

He could hear the voices of the guests at the surrounding tables. That was exactly right, Ariabert murmured to himself. As long as the Clanner remained well, that was certainly true. However, at a time when it appeared that Tytania had undergone a Great Schism, he wondered what significance there was in his deliberate decision to remain out of the public eye.

“Hey, look, this is…”

A panicked voice rose, and the area around the table fell silent. It seemed a group of footmen had spotted Ariabert in his plain clothes. Ariabert turned his gaze towards them and gave a slight raise of his coffee cup.

The Tytania nobles, who lived amongst the clouds, were met with a mixture of bewilderment and admiration at his casual gesture. A middle-aged man, who had raised his own cup towards him, shouted almost half-heartedly, his face flushed with excitement.

“Please, you must win, Your Grace!”

Idris was once again overcome by a sense of unease. It had gone well enough to use the Kingdom of Elbing as bait and drive Ariabert and Jouslain into a corner, but once the waves of temporary victory and satisfaction had receded, doubt had crept in.

“Was that truly the right move? Have I overlooked something critical?”

He slumped back in his chair, legs stretched out across the desk, lost in thought.

The root of Idris’ psychological instability was, quite simply, his lack of absolute confidence in facing both Ariabert and Jouslain at once. While a one-on-one duel was one thing, a two-on-one fight made a complete victory uncertain. It was precisely because Idris was well aware of this that he required the powerful support of Clanner Ajman. Yet, the Clanner remained confined to his hospital room, playing the part of a sphinx<ref name="ftn10">“Silent colossus” (無言の巨像) pronounced “sphinx”.</ref>. Even when Idris pressed the attending physician and the nurses, they merely replied, “By order of His Clanner Highness, we cannot disclose anything,” leaving him with no further recourse. In this one respect, Idris shared the same doubt as his two adversaries.

“Lord Idris, you truly are soft-hearted.”

A woman’s voice spoke suddenly.

“Watch your words, Theodora. I am in no mood for such levity right now.”

However, Idris did not reprimand Countess Theodora Tytania for entering the room without permission. She had only just been released from house arrest a few days prior.

“Well, nevermind, but what exactly do you mean by soft-hearted?”

“You are simply letting slip through your fingers a precious opportunity to eliminate a source of anxiety. It is true that I lost my way with my words. And for that, I offer my deepest apologies. However, I must say that your approach, Lord Idris, is far too soft.”

The heel of Idris’ boot struck the desk. Theodora continued, appearing outwardly composed:

“When those wandering pirates who call themselves the Blaze Flag Army first arrived at Uraniborg, you received them with great courtesy, did you not?”

“Are you suggesting that instead of summoning the Blaze Flag Army, I should have simply slaughtered them?”

In truth, Idris had also considered that very point. To him, the Blaze Flag Army was nothing more than a group of criminals whom he could never truly trust, either in spirit or in mind. However, he had welcomed them after calculating that they possessed certain utility.

“How shortsighted. Doing so might allow you to avoid trouble in the future, perhaps. But if you invite them as guests in name only, only to cause them harm, it will bring disgrace upon the honour of Tytania. If you are unable to grasp even something of that magnitude, then you ought to renounce the honourable name of Tytania.”

Theodora remained perfectly composed.

“It appears that Duchess Theresa does not seem to understand that. Would you say the same to her?”

Regarding Duchess Theresa—that is, the mother of the late Zarlisch and his brother—interfering without the Clanner’s permission was frowned upon, and because of that, Idris became even more displeased, and it provoked unexpected suspicions.

“Theodora.”

“What is it?”

“Was it not you who incited that foolish mother of Zarlisch?”

He did not possess absolute certainty about it. Consequently, Idris’ choice of words was subtle; he did not say, “It must be you,” nor did he say, “It is you,” but rather phrased it as a confirmation rather than an accusation. Theodora noticed this before Idris himself did.

She laughed without making a sound.

“My, how outrageous! Are you suggesting that I was the one who instigated such a foolish act?”

“Hmph. It is exactly the sort of thing you would do.”

Duchess Theresa Tytania had lost her eldest son, Zarlisch, and her second son, Arses, at the hands of the Blaze Flag Army. Therefore, Idris had believed it was only natural that she would seek vengeance for her sons, but…

“I should not have restrained the Duchess back then.”

“Are you suggesting it would have been better to let her kill Fan Hyulick and his group?”

“Yes. Had that happened, Lord Idris, you could have eliminated a public enemy of Tytania without ever staining your own hands. Am I wrong?”

“And then Duchess Theresa would have achieved the glorious feat of avenging her foolish sons.”

“And she would have passed away in satisfaction, I presume.”

“……!”

“The vengeance against Fan Hyulick remains a purely personal matter for Lord Zarlisch’s family. As you stated yourself a moment ago, Lord Idris, if guests were to be murdered, it would bring shame upon the prestige of Tytania. The Duchess would have to bear the responsibility for such an outcome.”

“You mean, kill her?”

“Requesting that she take her own life with dignity. To serve as the true proof of her blue blood<ref name="ftn11">“Noble blood” (高貴な血) is pronounced “blue blood”.</ref>. Surely, the Duchess would not stoop to such unsightly behaviour.”

“I should hope so.”

Responding with a voice laced with sarcasm, Idris gestured for Theodora to leave the room.

=== V ===
''“Let those two meet in Bargash. You can be certain they’ll be plotting something.”''

Once, Idris had cried out exactly such words. His malice-filled prophecy had proven true. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that his malice was what had ultimately forged the bond between Ariabert and Jouslain. Idris did not wish to admit his own blunder, yet he could not shake the bitter feeling that disposing of the two of them one by one might have been the best course of action and that perhaps he should have waited for the opportunity with more patience.

It was then that a new guest arrived.

“Brother Idris.”

“Zelpha? Well, come and sit.”

Idris’ expression softened. It was a rare thing for this young nobleman, who usually kept his features sharp and guarded to ensure no weakness showed in either offence or defence, to show such a gentle impression to another. For Ariabert or Jouslain, such a sight would have been difficult to even imagine.

“Though we both reside in Uraniborg, we have not had an opportunity to meet for some time.”

“That is because you have been so busy, Brother. I have longed to see you, but I have endured my patience. I hope I am not causing you an inconvenience today?”

Idris’ youngest brother gazed upon his eldest brother with heartfelt devotion.

Idris let out a sigh. It appeared to be a sigh that released his true feelings.

“Zelpha, if only you and Radmoth had been born in the reverse order. I would have had a most dependable lieutenant.”

“I am sorry.”

“No, you are blameless.”

Idris gave a wry smile.

“It was my wording that was at fault. Forgive me.”

Inwardly, Idris cursed Radmoth. ''“If only just once he could try saying something as charming as Zelpha.”''

“It is a pity that I cannot be of use to you presently, but Brother Idris, when you become Clanner, I shall serve you with utmost loyalty as your foremost subject. I hope that day comes as soon as possible.”

Idris’ expression, which had begun to soften, changed abruptly. Almost unconsciously beginning to glance around the room, Idris rebuked his adorable younger brother.

“Zelpha! Mind your words. To speak of ascending to the Clanner throne is an act of high treason. Have you forgotten your propriety and your loyalty?!”

Zelpha’s complexion changed instantly, and his body went rigid. A sense of awe toward the Clanner was ingrained in the very spirit of the Tytania nobility. From the time they were children. Furthermore, if anyone were to overhear talk that undermined the Clanner’s prestige or speculated on his life or succession, there was no telling what manner of calamity might descend upon them.

“Brother, I…”

“No, I spoke too harshly as well. There is no need to be afraid. But mark my words: be extremely careful with your language, and ensure you do not invite any unnecessary misunderstandings.”

“Yes, I shall take great care.”

“Very well. You may go now.”

Idris embraced the shoulder of his youngest brother, who looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment, offering him as much kindness as he could muster before seeing him out of the room. At that same moment, a new visitor appeared. It was a communications officer, his expression taut with tension.

“I bring urgent news. According to reports from the Bargash region, both Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain…”

“They are no longer dukes.”

“I… excuse me…”

“They are traitors. Refer to them as such.”

“Very well. Regarding the traitors Ariabert and Jouslain…”

“Have they offered to surrender?”

“No, quite the opposite. They have set out from the planet Bargash, leading a fleet.”

“What?”

Idris’ voice rose involuntarily. The deadline he had set for them had not yet arrived.

“It appears to be their entire force, or at least most of it. The total number of vessels is approximately twenty thousand. There seem to be almost no deserters.”

Idris furrowed his well-shaped brows.

With what intention had Ariabert and Jouslain moved three days ahead of the deadline Idris had provided? And they had done so with their entire strength. Were they mad, mobilising twenty thousand ships merely to save the Kingdom of Elbing? No, wait, assuming they were sane…

The heel of Idris’ boot struck the floor.

“I am going to the Combat Command Centre right away. Prepare the three-dimensional star charts.”

“Understood!”

“And we shall simulate their future course. Gather the necessary personnel and materials.”

As its name suggested, the Combat Command Centre was intended to be the most vital location during the military engagements of Uraniborg. Conversely, as long as Uraniborg was not under direct attack from external enemies, it remained a useless relic. Although it had undergone maintenance for over a century, it had never actually been put to use. Idris had decided to open the doors to that room, which had long been known as the “unopened chamber”. Having received his first reactions from Ariabert and Jouslain, Idris was invigorated to the point of near-exhilaration, for better or worse.

Though he was not particularly favoured by Ariabert or Jouslain, Idris was a possessor of the kind of ambition befitting a duke of Tytania.

Both Ariabert and Jouslain appeared to be posturing as brave dissenters, but that was only possible because they were far removed from Uraniborg. For Idris, who had managed Uraniborg alone while always feeling the Clanner’s gaze upon his back, this was an opportunity to show them what he was truly capable of.

If Clanner Ajman were to appear and declare, “I support Lord Idris,” the chaos and disorder currently tossing the universe about would, in an instant, vanish. If that could not be hoped for, Idris would have no choice but to tilt the situation in his favour through his own strength. Once he had made his decision, even a slight lack of confidence was of no consequence.

Twenty thousand vessels had gathered in orbit around the moon of the planet Bargash. From the night hemisphere, they appeared as a cluster of light that overwhelmed the very stars in the sky, and people watched, breathless, captivated by their dangerous beauty.

“Idris gave us a deadline of one week…”

“You intended to make your move before that from the very beginning, did you not, Lord Ariabert?”

“That is correct. Why should I blindly obey Idris’ orders?”

The conversation between the two took place via the communication screen connecting the ''Golden Sheep'' and the ''Austra''.

“In that case, Lord Ariabert, I shall be serving under your command from this moment forth. I am no great man, but I look forward to working with you.”

“Well then, I shall leave the fleet’s movements and combat to you.”

“By the way, what is our destination? As it stands, there is no longer any necessity to head for the Kingdom of Elbing. Even the Uraniborg fleet, which should have been bound for Elbing, will likely not depart as originally intended at this late stage.”

Ariabert responded to Jouslain’s question with a smile.

“We are heading for Uraniborg.”

“Hum, I see.”

It was a light remark, yet Jouslain caught his breath.

“Lord Jouslain, if we are to strike directly, it will be at Uraniborg rather than the Elbing expeditionary fleet.”

“Was that your intention from the very beginning?”

“Indeed.”

“I could never have imagined it. I clearly lack the qualities required to be a military leader.”

“I am telling you to leave such trivial matters to me. All you need to do, Lord Jouslain, is take your time considering how to make Idris capitulate. Now, I shall take my leave.”

“Understood.”

Jouslain adjusted his seat slightly and turned his gaze to another screen. He could hear the sharp, commanding voice of Captain Edna Fredericks. It appeared that the ''Austra'' was also cautiously changing its position. The entire army, which had been in a spherical formation, was transitioning into a wedge formation.

“Bal, I heard that Lord Jouslain and Lord Ariabert will manage somehow.”

“I’m impressed by your keen insight.”

From a nearby seat, the conversation between Princess Lydia and Balamy drifted over. The girl’s voice bounced with joy, and the young man’s voice seemed almost drawn in by in.

Jouslain looked towards the seat on the opposite side. Wearing pearlescent overalls that seemed to accentuate her elegant curves, Jouslain’s lover returned his gaze with a soft look, without saying a word.

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Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1

2026-10-11T14:15:30Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Main Characters | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 2 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest == === I === In any era and in any region, it seemed that authority and power were..."

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== Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest ==
=== I ===
In any era and in any region, it seemed that authority and power were symbolised by massive structures. There always existed a backlash against such things, and aphorisms were born from them. For instance, during the year SY 447, the following ironical remark was whispered:

''“Let those who hate Tytania live in Uraniborg. There, they shall be spared from seeing the objects that symbolise the might of Tytania.”''

It was not particularly a unique maxim. Some even claimed it had existed since the era of the pyramids. In any event, the stronghold of the Tytania Clan, known as Uraniborg, was currently appearing before the eyes of Fan Hyulick, Doctor Lee, Miranda, and her husband. Though “before their eyes” was a stretch, as it was a thousand kilometres away. Set against the backdrop of a universe resembling silver sand scattered across a dark cloth, the home planet of the Vardana Empire looked down below—if one could call it that through mere sensation—like a jade gemstone.

''“Is that Uraniborg?”''

Everyone thought the same thing, though none spoke it aloud. There was no need for words, nor did anyone seem capable of producing any clever remark.

''“A mere bauble floating in space.”''

That was how the second Landless Clanner, Nuri Tytania, had once disparagingly described his own castle; one wondered how he would have reacted had someone else called it such.

A disc-shaped artificial stratum measuring fifty-two and a half kilometres in diameter. A transparent canopy spanning twelve layers. Fourteen military satellites circled the perimeter of this colossal celestial city. It had been approaching two centuries since its construction, yet its management and maintenance had, of course, never been neglected, and no armed force had ever successfully challenged it.

Hyulick let out a sigh, keeping both hands thrust deep in his pockets, and lightly tapped his forehead against the viewing window. Doctor Lee, who stood to his left, spoke up.

“It is just like the Great Wall<ref name="ftn2">“Ten Thousand Miles Long Wall” (万里の長城) is pronounced “Great Wall”.</ref> of ancient times. It is almost impossible to capture through purely military attacks from the outside. The only option would be to exploit internal corruption and division to slip inside the ring of military satellites.”

“Corruption and division, huh?…”

Hyulick let out an airless mutter. At present, the Tytania Clan appeared to be fractured. There was the Landless Clanner Ajman, the head of the clan, and Idris, acting in his stead. Against them, both Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain had raised their banners in rebellion, expressing their intent to resist through military force.

Thus, the universe lost its axis of fundamental order. Somewhere, something had gone wrong, for the Blaze Flag Army, which until yesterday had been hunted as a public enemy of the Tytania, found itself being invited to Uraniborg, the very heart of the Tytania.

It was Count Elman Tytania who had, to some extent, unravelled this confusion and brought things to the current state of affairs. Until now, he had been regarded as more or less harmless and useless within his clan, but he was beginning to attract attention as the individual capable of establishing diplomatic and manipulative channels between the “Blaze Flag Army Heretic Group” and Tytania.

The spacecraft ''Honest Old Man Junior'', carrying the heretics of the Blaze Flag Army, entered the ring-shaped barrier formed by fourteen military satellites. Communication waves leapt between it and Uraniborg, and the shabby-looking spacecraft travelled halfway around Uraniborg towards the spaceport.

“I wonder how we must look to the people living their daily lives inside Uraniborg,” remarked Miranda. Seraphine Coopers responded, lightly tugging on her own white earlobe. “The people living beneath those lights won’t even notice a ship like this.”

“Hahaha, you might be right.”

“It looks like they’re going to let us in through the main entrance.”

Alan Mahdi stroked his chin and frowned. His palm felt rough. He hadn’t expected to be welcomed by beautiful women clutching bouquets, but he thought to himself that he really should have tidied himself up.

The docking proceeded smoothly and concluded without any issues. As far as the crew<ref name="ftn3">“Crew” (搭乗員) is pronounced “crew”.</ref> of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' could tell, both the facilities and the control systems were perfect.

“Well, I suppose it’s passable.”

As Miranda offered her pretentious assessment, wry smiles flickered around her. Along the way here, they had been repeatedly reminded of just how much of “country bumpkins” they were.

That, without a doubt, was typical Tytania “hospitality”. With that thought, the group stepped off the mobile lift and onto the artificial earth of Uraniborg. A moment later, they realised they were surrounded by dozens of men clad in Tytania military uniforms, weapons at the ready.

The sudden turn of events was blatant. Just as Doctor Lee coldly scanned the cluster of gun barrels and was about to say something, a woman’s scream erupted from among the men.

“I am the mother of Zarlisch and Arses! I am Duchess Theresa Tytania!”

The voice was excessively high-pitched, slicing through the air like a poisoned dagger. It was an unpleasant sound, but for Hyulick and the others, it presented a far greater problem. To her, Hyulick and his companions were the enemies of her sons and the targets of her hatred.

''“That is a death sentence proclamation.”''

Doctor Lee nodded, crossing his arms. It seemed the sarcasm he had been about to utter had vanished into another dimension.

“Do not presume that death will come easily to you.”

Poison oozed through the cracks of her elegant phrasing. Even her opulent dress could not conceal her excess weight or the distorted lines of her body, and her exposed face resembled that of a predator. She took a step towards her sworn enemy, raising a hand with lengthened claws. At that moment, something stood between her and her foe. A holographic image displayed the face of a young Tytania noble.

“Duchess.”

The young noble’s voice carried the weight of an active volcano in the dead of winter. Snow and ice cold-pressed the crater shut, yet should the lava burst forth, the searing heat would surely consume everything.

“What a wretched deed you have committed. Have you no shame? Do you truly wish for it to be said that Tytania ambushed its guests?”

Doctor Lee, who had been waiting for the opportune moment, bowed and addressed the image on the screen, ignoring Lady Theresa as she gasped for breath in vain.

“I presume I am addressing His Grace the Duke Idris Tytania. We of the Blaze Flag Army take the liberty of lodging a formal protest to the legitimate leadership of Tytania.”

Idris directed a sharpened gaze towards Doctor Lee. He had reacted to the adjective “legitimate”.

Receiving Idris’ silent, piercing stare, Doctor Lee continued:

“We have come here to Uraniborg at the request of Count Elman Tytania. We did so of our own free will. We shall not presume to claim that we are guests. However, our safety has been guaranteed by His Lordship the Count…”

The individual whose name had been called spoke up, struggling to suppress their agitation and tension:

“T-that is correct, Duke. Once a guarantee has been made in the name of Tytania, their lives are, upon my honour…”

“Count Elman, there is no need for you to interject. I understand very well.”

Theresa’s voice overlapped with Idris’. It was a voice that seemed to loom over, crush, and shatter, as if to trample the very fragments into the dust.

“Their personal safety!? I shall not permit such a thing, I will not! I will never let this rogue live after he caused the death of my precious, my precious Arses. He shall regret ever being born… even if he wails and begs for mercy…”

Theresa stepped forward, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth.

“Duchess!”

Idris’ voice struck a second time, like a searing, formless spear, piercing the heart of Duchess Theresa Tytania. Beneath her weathered skin, the muscles of the Duchess’ face surged and twitched. Showing no sign of caring, Idris declared:

“Duchess, to move troops at your own whim without even the permission of His Clanner Highness is utterly outrageous. I suggest you consider the possibility that you may be charged with treason.”

The Duchess gasped. Her full bosom heaved deeply. Soon after, her voice erupted, more turbulent and undulating than her chest:

“Treason? M-me? Treason?! To whom do you speak, Idris? I am the mother of Zarlisch. I am Tytania within Tytania!”

“I am well aware.”

“Then observe proper etiquette. Restrain your tongue.”

“I am restraining it. However, even that has its limits. As a noble of the highest rank within Tytania, you must set an example for those of lower station.”

Idris swiftly shifted his gaze to look upon the middle-aged nobleman, who stood there looking disgruntled.

“Count Elman, please escort our guests to their respective guest rooms. And…”

=== II ===
Idris’ voice took on a chilling tone.

“Escort the Duchess back to her original room. Do so with due respect, and ensure there are no oversights.”

Duchess Theresa Tytania had been moved from her original residence to a special suite. It was a room attended by a dozen people, including doctors, nurses, and guards. It was equipped with cameras, microphones, and reinforced double doors. A suite meant for her alone.

How, then, did she manage to leave that room? Furthermore, she had not gone alone but had emerged leading a platoon of armed soldiers. On top of that, how had she possibly learned that Fan Hyulick, the man responsible for the deaths of her two sons, had arrived at Uraniborg?

An unpleasant swirl of suspicion gathered in Idris’ mind. As the representative of Clanner Ajman and one of the former Four Dukes, he held full authority over Uraniborg. At least, that was how he presented himself to others. Yet, out of Idris’ knowledge, an unsightly disturbance had occurred. A flash of fury streaked across Idris’ handsome, youthful face.

What he actually did, however, was merely to gaze at Count Elman Tytania’s face in silence. After taking a single deep breath, Count Elman introduced the officers of the Blaze Flag Army who stood to his left and right. First was Fan Hyulick.

It was this carrot-haired youth before his eyes who had defeated Ariabert on two separate occasions. Even knowing this fact, it was somewhat difficult for Idris to accept.

Tytania placed great importance on dignity. It was said that this had originally arisen from the necessity to intimidate and subdue various nations, including those who harboured resentment. However, as the years passed and its effectiveness grew, it became an inherent trait, so much so that for Idris’ generation, it was almost indistinguishable from instinct.

''“To have been defeated by someone so lacking in dignity… Ariabert truly lacked competence. He possesses the bearing of someone who will, at best, remain a mere field officer.”''

Though he thought this spitefully, Idris, as expected, did not cross the line and went no further in disparaging Hyulick. Had Hyulick possessed a dignified appearance, it would have been just as irritating. The monster known as self-esteem was always a selfish thing.

As for Fan Hyulick, he found himself inadvertently admiring Idris’ youthful beauty.

''“It seems Duke Idris tries to be a fair leader, at least when he has the necessity and the leisure. Though I cannot say for sure what will happen after he becomes Clanner.”''

While Doctor Lee thought this, Hyulick himself mused:

''“Even if he doesn’t become the Lord of Tytania, he could certainly make a living on his face alone. There is no need to overexert himself against the likes of Ariabert and Jouslain. One-on-one might be different, but in a two-on-one, his chances of winning are slim.”''

Those were his thoughts. Since he could not make a living on his looks alone, his thought was roughly eighty percent mere resentment.

Doctor Lee was almost correct, but as he was not a god, he could not be one hundred percent right. While Idris had felt the need to conduct himself as a fair leader, the truth was that he simply had no such luxury. In order to concentrate the power of Tytania solely within himself, he had to subjugate the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain; yet, at the same time, he could not leave Uraniborg if he were to secure the person of the Clanner, Ajman.

Even setting aside the fact that he had forgotten past events and had taken the Blaze Flag Army in as mercenaries, one had to wonder if their loyalties could be fully trusted when the decisive battle finally arrived. If the pirates were to stir up an insurrection within Uraniborg, it would be an unbearable catastrophe.

“… Idris! Idris! Release me at once! Have you no shame? Learn some decency…!”

The screams of Duchess Theresa Tytania as she was being carried away brought Idris back to reality. Beneath his mask of composure, Idris suppressed a wry smile. An unbearable situation had already begun to unfold. If the pirates forgot their place, he decided, he would simply have to punish them.

It was a room of ridiculous luxury. As a commoner by birth, regardless of his lineage, Fan Hyulick could think of no other word than “luxurious” to describe it. In truth, the room consisted of three sections: a living area, a bedroom, and a bathroom, and each was far more spacious than the crew’s mess on the ''Honest Old Man Junior''.

He sat at the marble table, yet he found it impossible to settle himself. Peering into the bedroom, he saw a bed nearly three metres in both width and length, complete with a canopy. It was made of dark purple silk embroidered with gold thread, and its style was apparently Persian. To be fair, Hyulick had no idea whether Persia was the name of a planet or a person. For the time being, he simply sprawled out on the bed.

“A bed this huge doesn’t exactly look like the kind I could sleep in.”

“There are things we can use it for besides sleeping, you know.”

Since she had said it so lightly, Hyulick found himself nodding before hurriedly sitting up. Someone had entered his room without permission.

“Seraphine, how did you…”

The young woman wearing a sun visor replied:

“It means we are officially recognised by mighty Tytania. Quite an honour, isn’t it?”

“… So, you’re saying we’re sharing a room?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll just sleep on the sofa in the living room.”

“T-that’s the wrong way around. I’ll be the one sleeping on the sofa.”

Seraphine seemed to let out a little chuckle.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. Since Tytania went to such trouble to be considerate, why not just be magnanimous? It’s not like they think we’re saints, anyway.”

Seraphine tossed her bag onto the floor and leapt onto the bed with great energy. Her entire body bounced. Her smiling face looked even more childish than expected, and as Hyulick gave a wry smile, a half-length bust of a figure appeared in midair, accompanied by a perfectly businesslike voice.

“Do you have a moment, Fan?”

“There’s no such thing as having or not having a moment. They’re doing whatever they please with interceptions, eavesdropping, and hidden cameras anyway.”

When Hyulick responded with such carelessness, Doctor Lee shook his head without changing his expression.

“My view differs somewhat. In that regard, Tytania possesses a certain magnanimity. They likely have no intention of inciting unnecessary resentment by spying on the privacy of people like us. Firstly, it would be beneath their dignity. Tytania is not so cheap.”

Clutching a massive feathered pillow, Seraphine burst into laughter. Hyulick ran a hand through his hair.

“So, what is this all about, Doctor?”

A minute later, the three of them were actually face-to-face in the living room. Doctor Lee explained that the guards standing in the corridor merely had pistols hanging from their waists, then he crossed his legs on the sofa.

“Well, we owe our lives to Duke Idris.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“In any case, he is our lifesaver.”

“A lifesaver, huh?”

Hyulick cast a quick glance at Seraphine. Seraphine sat with both knees raised, fingers interlaced, and arms wrapped around them.

“So, what you’re saying is, we owe Lord Idris a debt of gratitude.”

“Does that not sit well with you, Fan?”

“I’m grateful, certainly. If that hologram had appeared even three seconds late, there would be no disputing it. We would have been well and truly done for.”

At that, Seraphine interjected:

“I wonder if it was all a piece of theatre from the very beginning.”

“You think Duke Idris was in league with that terrifying woman?”

While the pirates conversed, Duke Idris Tytania was listening to several reports from Count Elman in his office, but his mind was half elsewhere. He had recently received what seemed like a divine revelation, and it had set him thinking.

“There were hostages<ref name="ftn4">Not sure what “hostages” Count Elman is referring to…</ref>, after all. What were they for… surely to be used in a situation such as this? Since I have summoned these pirates, I shall let them do what is fitting for them.”

Idris raised a hand, silencing Count Elman as he attempted to continue speaking.

“You have gone to great trouble, Count. By the way, there was a certain country that Jouslain seemed strangely preoccupied with. Do you remember which one?”

“Are you referring to the Kingdom of Elbing?”

“That is correct.”

“However, the princess of that land, Princess Lydia if I recall correctly, is already in Duke Jouslain’s custody.”

“I have no intention of laying hands on such a young girl. But as long as the Kingdom of Elbing itself remains part of Jouslain’s sphere of influence, I cannot simply leave it be.”

Count Elman cast a bewildered look at Idris. Idris curled the right corner of his mouth into a slight smirk and spoke, his voice laden with much deeper meaning:

“I am looking forward to seeing them demonstrate their loyalty and their ability to command troops.”

After a week of their stay in Uraniborg, which had begun to resemble that of tourists, the executives of the Blaze Flag Army were summoned to Idris’ office.

=== III ===
“I order you to… No, I request of you to depart from Uraniborg immediately at the head of a mobile fleet and attack the Kingdom of Elbing.”

There was no dramatic reaction to Idris’ overbearing words. While Fan Hyulick was certainly taken by surprise, he was not shaken. Being an outsider to Tytania, he had no way of knowing the relationship between Jouslain and Princess Lydia. Consequently, he did not understand what Idris’ “request” meant strategically.

“The Elbing army shall be disbanded, and no maintenance of military force shall be permitted. As for the King of Elbing… well, what was his name again? I had no need to remember, so I do not, but he shall be forced to abdicate immediately. Elbing shall be granted only the freedom to choose between becoming a republic or a full protectorate.”

At that moment, Idris held a psychological advantage over both Fan Hyulick and Doctor Lee. Idris knew things that the Blaze Flag Army did not. Doctor Lee’s cunning and insight were also predicated upon having information.

''“Back then, it displeased me to see that fellow Jouslain siding with the Kingdom of Elbing. However, looking back now, he had exposed an unexpected weakness. There is nothing better to exploit.”''

Idris was able to fully savour the psychological state of self-satisfaction. However, he maintained a cold, detached expression throughout. Meanwhile, Hyulick and his companions were made to understand in an instant that they had reached a point where refusal was no longer an option.

There was, however, a lingering doubt. The Kingdom of Elbing was not a strategic cosmic stronghold like Bargash or Ementhal. Neither Hyulick nor Doctor Lee could fathom why someone would launch an attack against a mere backwater, impoverished planet like Elbing.

“Might we ask the reason for this attack?”

“That is none of your concern,” declared coldly Idris.

His intent was to remind them of their station; there was no need to reveal the true purpose behind the assault on Elbing.

“I shall leave the command of the fleet entirely in your hands. Your merits shall be justly rewarded. That alone should suffice.”

“What if…”

“What if?”

“What if the Kingdom of Elbing offers to surrender without a fight? Should we accept it?”

“No!”

Idris’ voice sounded as though he were almost relishing his own ruthlessness. Fan Hyulick realised that he had underestimated Idris, and he felt a rapid swell of anxiety rising within him. Was this man trying to involve them in some terrible atrocity? But just what kind of atrocity could it be?

“Whether Elbing chooses to surrender or to resist, no consideration is owed to their movements. Whatever they propose, ignore it and attack them.”

Doctor Lee, who had been observing Idris with more composure than Hyulick, spoke up:

“Are you suggesting we turn the entire planet of Elbing into a scorched wasteland?”

“If you are able to do so, yes.”

An eerie light shone in Idris’ eyes. Miranda began to move her large, yet well-proportioned body. Just before she could do anything, Doctor Lee stopped her indirectly with a voice that was far too calm:

“If that is your command, we shall comply.”

Doctor Lee once again rephrased Idris’ choice of the word “request” back into “command”.

“That will suffice. However, there is one more thing.”

Idris’ tone and expression did not change.

“I shall place my brother Radmoth by your side as a military supervisor.”

When Idris made that statement, the executives of the Blaze Flag Army tensed, thinking, ''“Here it comes.”'' The name Radmoth Tytania carried the omen of danger.

“Of course, this is not because I do not trust you as allies.”

Even if he trusted no one listening, Idris felt the need to say so.

“My brother is inexperienced and lacks both prudence and experience.”

That much was a fact.

“Therefore, I wish to have him accompany you on your campaign, to gain experience in actual combat, and to learn the true meaning of battle and command. It is a necessary step for my brother’s future, as well as for Tytania.”

“I understand the intent of your request. However, Your Grace Idris, why entrust this to us rather than doing it yourself?”

“With family, one inevitably becomes too lenient. With the senior officers of the old Tytania, hesitation would always come first. That would not benefit my brother. I want him to, well, undergo his training, so to speak, under your command.”

Idris seemed to be enjoying the mental image of how much Radmoth’s brutish fangs would perplex Hyulick.

“What say you? Will the gentlemen of the Blaze Flag Army accept my proposal?”

His words and actions were polite, yet beneath them lay something that struck terror into the hearts of men. Was this what it meant to be the true nobility among the Tytania aristocracy? Although it was only a superficial sensation, Fan Hyulick felt as though he had brushed against a core of absolute zero.

It was Doctor Lee who responded to Idris:

“I consider it the height of honour to have Your Ducal Grace’s trust.”

“Then, do I have your word?”

“We humbly accept your request.”

“Very well. It appears this has been a mutually beneficial discussion.”

As Idris looked satisfied, Doctor Lee continued:

“However, I do have one small request of my own.”

“And what might that be?”

“Would it be possible for me to be granted an audience with His Highness, the Landless Clanner Ajman?”

Idris knitted his well-shaped brows slightly. He had no intention of allowing Hyulick and the others to meet directly with the Clanner. He simply needed to choose his words carefully:

“His Highness is currently indisposed.”

“When might he be available?”

“That will be at His Highness’ own discretion. For the time being, I, Idris, was asked to handle all matters as His Highness’ proxy.”

“I understand.”

Doctor Lee withdrew quite readily. A glint of suspicion flashed in Idris’ eyes, but he, too, found dragging out the conversation to be a nuisance.

“The fleet’s organisation has already been completed, but I expect you and your men will need to make preparations as well. Set your departure for three days from now, and until then, have your rest.”

Upon leaving Idris’ room, Fan Hyulick and Doctor Lee looked at one another. An argument immediately broke out:

“What does Lord Idris stand to gain by bullying a small, backwater kingdom like Elbing?”

“Most likely nothing.”

“In that case…”

“Rather than a gain for Duke Idris, it is a loss for both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain. This is how you should think of it. If Elbing were to be attacked, it would cause trouble for Duke Ariabert’s group.”

“Why would it cause trouble?”

“There are things even I do not understand.”

Normally, such a remark would be an expression of humility, but for some reason, it sounded boastful, likely due to Doctor Lee’s particular brand of “personal virtue”.

The colour remained flushed in Miranda’s face, and she showed no sign of retreating for a while. It was certain that she was enraged by Idris’ heartless order, but since Doctor Lee had engaged with it, she was now preoccupied with wondering what the tactician was planning.

The tactician exchanged hushed words with Hyulick and Seraphine. Then they continued from where they had left off:

“Even if Duke Idris is allied with Duchess Theresa Tytania, do they truly share such deep interests? To put it another way, what benefit would Duchess Theresa Tytania gain by playing along with Duke Idris’ drama?”

“… I can’t quite think of anything at the moment.”

“For the time being, I am in the same position.”

Doctor Lee shifted his gaze to look at Miranda. Miranda gave a shrug of her sturdy shoulders, let out a silent laugh, and turned back to Hyulick.

“Let’s set that matter aside for now. There is a more pressing and headache-inducing problem facing us immediately.”

“Are you referring to Baron Radmoth?”

“I am,” she curtly replied.

Alan Mahdi lowered his voice:

“It might be tolerable if he were merely monitoring us, but it is obvious he will try to meddle in our operations.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind?”

Hyulick glared at him, but Doctor Lee responded with total composure:

“If we lose, we can always blame the Baron.”

“Do you intend to lose!?”

“Even if I intended to win, there is no guarantee that I will.”

“…”

“Or do you possess enough confidence to claim victory even if the opponent were Duke Ariabert? It is true that you have achieved two consecutive wins, but your good fortune is bound to run out soon enough.”

Hyulick groaned. Even so, this was undoubtedly a mild observation by Doctor Lee’s standards. Hyulick was well aware that both of his victories left room for the accusation that they were “cheap shots”. He repeatedly ran his fingers through his carrot-coloured hair. The guard standing along the corridor wall knitted his brows.

Fan Hyulick possessed a flaw that could prove fatal for a commander. Only two or three people in the entire universe were aware of it.

The flaw, which he himself was finally beginning to realise, was that he “never fought under a position of strength”.

Having defeated Duke Ariabert Tytania on two separate occasions, everyone had been dazzled by his brilliance, leading people to regard him as the greatest tactician in the universe. Rather than feeling full of confidence, Hyulick felt nothing but bewilderment and distress. At a glance, this might have made him appear to be a man of great humility, but that was certainly not the case; he simply loathed the idea of being crushed by the weight of such immense responsibility. He merely wished to live a leisurely, mundane life while enjoying his favourite omelettes. Even as an egoist, he was not a man of particularly great magnanimity.

=== IV ===
It was a situation that only served to highlight the Creator’s irony—or rather, his malice. Although the soldiers and officers of Tytania understood the meaning behind the invasion of the Kingdom of Elbing, those in positions of command, such as Hyulick and his gang, were kept in the dark. The troops of Uraniborg had no obligation to kindly reveal the truth to the Blaze Flag Army. Had they attempted to do so, Idris would undoubtedly have noticed, and they would have been executed for violating military discipline.

''“I wonder if Count Elman might tell us,”'' thought Hyulick, but Count Elman had met with them only once and was not well-versed in the internal affairs of Uraniborg.

“I have no idea whether such military action is permissible or not. If Lord Idris were a slightly more approachable man, I would like to ask him. But as for this matter, I must ask that you do not rely on me. My apologies.”

That final remark seemed to demonstrate Count Elman’s cunning. While Hyulick and the others felt dissatisfied, it was an undeniable fact that Count Elman’s rank was lower than Idris’ and that he held no authority regarding military mobilisation, so there was no benefit in blaming him. Since his promise to “guarantee safety until we reach Uraniborg” was being upheld, they felt they had no right to demand more or to protest loudly.

“If you happen to learn anything, we would be grateful if you could inform us within the bounds of what your position as Count allows.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

Count Elman parted ways with the group with great skill. By avoiding any firm commitments and ensuring no binding words were taken, he was effectively securing his own safety. The members of the Blaze Flag Army were well aware of this, and they saw no need to go out of their way to sever the thread of his life simply because they were dissatisfied.

“It seems we shall need to consider this a little further,” said Doctor Lee. “Lord Idris has made a grand announcement regarding the dispatch of troops to the Kingdom of Elbing. That is the problem.”

His “students” leaned in to listen.

“Since it has been announced so publicly, the matter now falls within the realm of political strategy. Had it been conducted in secret, it would be for the time being a purely military objective, but…”

The Doctor traced the trajectory of his own thoughts.

“Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain will come rushing to the rescue of the Kingdom of Elbing. It is because of that certainty that Duke Idris issued such orders to us. If that happens, well, what shall we do?”

“We could deploy even more troops to pincer the Ariabert-Jouslain army…”

“Now, should we perform a pincer movement, or merely use them as a decoy and discard them?”

As Doctor Lee interlaced his fingers behind his head, one of his “students” leaned forward:

“Let’s run away.”

At Alan Mahdi’s blunt suggestion, Miranda, the former princess, responded coldly:

“Where to?”

“Anywhere! Anywhere beyond the reach of Uraniborg.”

“I ask again. Where to?”

Mahdi could not answer Miranda’s follow-up question. Miranda gave Mahdi’s shoulder a firm pat before turning her gaze towards the Doctor.

“I doubt escaping would be that simple, Doctor, but you don’t intend to just leave things as they are, do you? I’ll tell you this much: I hold no grudge against Elf… no, was it Elbing? I hold no grudge against that nation.”

Even Miranda, who had traversed the fringes of the universe piloting the battle-hardened veteran ship, the ''Honest Old Man'', could not clearly recall the name of the Kingdom of Elbing. It was a fact that everyone struggled to grasp: how such a small nation could possibly serve as leverage for intimidating Duke Jouslain or Duke Ariabert.

“Even the smallest of nations has a million or two million people living in it. To attack them indiscriminately is to become a mass murderer. Hyulick, are you really alright with that?”

As the man obsessed by omelettes remained silent, the graduate of the Demon Academy answered in his stead:

“Miranda, as I have told you before, Fan Hyulick is a genius.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“Well, listen to me, Miranda. He is a genius, but unfortunately, he is not the type to shape the situation. He is, so to speak, the type to react to it. It is quite a problem.”

Doctor Lee scratched behind his left ear with a fingertip, making his lofty remarks in a self-important tone.

“This man cannot manifest his genius unless he is driven into a corner. He has defeated the Tytanian forces on three separate occasions, but that was only because his opponents were Duke Ariabert and Duke Zarlisch. If Hyulick were to suffer a defeat, I suspect it would be at the hands of an unexpectedly mediocre commander.”

When Doctor Lee fell silent, the stillness filled the room like heavy, damp sand. Miranda broke the silence with a hint of anxiety in her voice:

“I wish you would be a little more direct. I think your assessment is accurate, Doctor, but we are already in a desperate situation. Isn’t it about time Hyulick provided us with some wisdom?”

“No, we are not there yet. We are indeed surrounded, but as Mahdi said, the possibility of escape is not yet zero. Hyulick must be driven even further into a corner.”

“Just how much further do I have to be cornered!?” shouted Hyulick.

No matter how tight the security was, there was always a chance for scraps of conversation from the Tytania soldiers to slip into one’s ears. However, at the present moment, there was nothing to make the members of the Blaze Flag Army feel optimistic.

''… What are we fighting for?''

''It’s obvious: we are fighting for Tytania.''

''But our commander is Fan Hyulick!''

''And furthermore, our enemies are both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain.''

''It doesn’t make sense.''

''It’s as if our enemies and allies have been inverted…''

The emotions overflowing within the hearts of the soldiers rained down upon Hyulick and Doctor Lee like silent stones. They had been prepared for this, but that did not make the impact any less painful. It was as though Hyulick and the others could sense even the pain that lay in the future.

“What would happen if Ariabert or Jouslain called for the Tytania soldiers to surrender on the battlefield? Wouldn’t the muzzles of their heatguns<ref name="ftn5">“Heat gun” (熱線銃) is pronounced “heatgun”.</ref> all turn to surround us at once?”

This time, Mahdi’s voice was more than merely gloomy.

Hyulick let out a sigh.

“There is no reason for the Tytania soldiers to risk their lives for us. I feel as though I, too, might die on the battlefield, struck down by artillery from behind.”

“There is no need to be quite so pessimistic.”

Doctor Lee replied coldly, though he fully intended to reassure his comrades.

“There is absolutely no reason for the Tytanian soldiers to stake their lives for us. Not a single milligram. Zero.”

“Thank you ever so much for that.”

“However, they will not hesitate to endure any hardship or difficult battle for the sake of Tytania’s Clanner. That is how they have been trained, and their families’ livelihoods are guaranteed after their deaths. They are not a mere rabble. The only major problem this time is that they are not being led by Lord Zarlisch or Lord Ariabert. Should the right catalyst occur, there is a possibility their muzzles could be turned towards us.”

“If that happens, shall we simply force them into hand-to-hand combat?”

“If these are your orders, Commander…”

“Phew. I’m counting on you, Doctor. I am well aware this is a terrible joke.”

The Doctor cast a pale gaze towards Hyulick.

“Our total strength stands at two hundred and twenty-nine, while the Tytania side has approximately fifty thousand. What does the calculation look like for hand-to-hand combat?”

“I understand, I know, sorry Doctor. I won’t say anything unnecessary again. Please, let me hear your thoughts.”

“That matters little, but I do not understand why this so-called Kingdom of Elbing has been targeted. That is what I find disagreeable.”

The Doctor’s finger moved across the screen of the handheld terminal.

“The Kingdom of Elbing possesses no significant military strength. At least not as far as I am aware. They have neither battleships nor aircraft carriers. They did purchase three medium cruisers from Tytania about ten years ago, but those represent the extent of their arsenal.”

“The latest models?”

“At that point, they are already second-hand. Furthermore, the loan<ref name="ftn6">“Loan” (分割) is pronounced “loan”.</ref> payments were made in instalments.”

“Haaa,” exhaled Hyulick. The universe was vast. There were nations far more dreary than his own.

“And there is one more ‘moreover’.”

“There’s still more?”

“The loan itself went temporarily delinquent.”

“How tragic.”

Mahdi’s voice held a note of genuine sincerity, but his expression suddenly shifted. As if something had suddenly occurred to him, his voice rose.

“Hey, don’t tell me the Kingdom of Elbing was targeted because of those missed loan payments. That would be going too far.”

Doctor Lee gave a slight shrug.

“It is not admirable to think only in terms of yourself. Tytania is not that unscrupulous. In fact, if such a reputation were to be spread, it would affect their prestige.”

“Prestige, eh? That is a concept I have no connection to.”

“Life is easier without it. Regardless, the reason the Kingdom of Elbing is being targeted is something else entirely. It is not as if Duke Idris just pulled a random card.”

“What kind of card?”

“A joker, of course.”

The Doctor’s reply was devoid of even a hint of a smile.

=== V ===
For the four days leading up to the “subjugation” of the Kingdom of Elbing, the members of the Blaze Flag Army spent their days in a state of unrest.

Doctor Lee endeavoured to learn the state of the Kingdom of Elbing’s finances. Had he succeeded, he might have reached the truth in one fell swoop, but whether it was people or machines, the Tytania’s guard was too tight, and the Doctor’s efforts proved fruitless.

Hyulick had been escaping into a slovenly state of alcoholism.

Was this not a massive trap devised by Tytania?

The needles of suspicion repeatedly pricked at Hyulick’s brain cells; no matter what fine vintage he rolled across his tongue, it felt like nothing more than cheap swill.

Was it not a plan to lull the Anti-Tytania Faction into a false sense of security by feigning internal conflict? Yet, he could not fathom any reason for such a move.

Doubt stripped away its mantle of common sense and donned the garish, colourful costume of delusion, flitting erratically around the edges of Hyulick’s mind.

“In such a state, even if I were to make you the finest omelette, I doubt you would even be able to taste it.”

Seraphine Coopers spoke to him with sternness, but Hyulick merely slumped there, rubbing his stomach.

“Stop talking about omelettes and steaks. It makes my stomach acid boil.”

“I’m appalled. At this rate, eggs will start cracking in your dreams and wine will start flowing from your ears. What do you intend to do once the Tytania matter is settled?”

“I’ll open an omelette shop and live a humble life in some corner of the universe.”

“What a small-minded man.”

“Exactly. It’s not as if you didn’t know.”

Perhaps the reason she pushed away the glass, which was not yet empty, was that she felt at least a bit ashamed as she spoke.

The majority of all mankind never leave their home planet from birth until death. Much less would they be granted even a one-in-ten-thousand chance to lay eyes upon Uraniborg. Hyulick, too, was meant to have spent his life merely interacting with Tytania’s branch offices at most.

And yet, look at him now.

Seraphine’s palm began to stroke Hyulick’s back, albeit somewhat awkwardly. As she did, Hyulick found himself recalling the face of a girl he had once met, only to part ways with her against his will. If only he had acted differently back then…

The possibilities were endless. The thought brought on a headache. Before he knew it, his glass was empty. Hyulick rested both arms on the table and buried his face upon them.

Well, let it be. Or rather, it couldn’t be helped. No matter how large the scale became, it was merely an internal conflict within the Tytania Clan. The victor would go on to hold the clan’s true power and continue to dominate most of the universe. It was none of his concern.

Even on the journey to the Kingdom of Elbing, there was no certain way to predict what might happen next.

Idris Tytania had succeeded in mystifying the members of the Blaze Flag Army, but he had no leisure to enjoy it. The administrative tasks that required processing and the issues that required decisions were devouring his time like insects. For instance, they were as the follows:

“A voter turnout of 65.9%, is it?”

“It was approximately 2% higher than my prediction. I believe we may call this a success.”

“A success? It means that thirty-four out of every hundred people find even the simple act of pressing a voting button at home to be a burden. What is the point of granting voting rights to such people?”

Idris thought that it might be more efficient to dispatch talented administrators trained in Tytania and rotate them periodically.

“The political system is a matter of each planet’s autonomous choice. This has been the policy since the time of the first His Highness Neville, and I believe it holds its own significance.”

“Hm?”

“It is about making the inhabitants aware of two points: that they are sovereign in political matters and that they possess the freedom to implement that sovereignty through their own will.”

“Both are nothing more than illusions,” scoffed Idris.

“That is correct. However, whether they be illusions or fantasies, as long as they serve the interests of Tytania, I believe there is value in continuing democratic governance within certain states, however circuitous the path may be.”

“I see.”

Idris nodded and dismissed Donald Farah, but he was not truly convinced. On the contrary, he felt a surge of irritation as he perceived the emptiness within Farah’s highly plausible words. Farah was no statesman; he was nothing more than an election technician. That was precisely why he could serve as a mere cog in the machinery of an institution beneficial to Tytania.

That same Farah was currently stationed on the planet Bargash, where he ought to have been serving as Jouslain’s political aide. It was not that Idris cared about the movements of such a man, but had he been at Uraniborg, Idris could have burdened him with various trivial tasks. There were also those at Uraniborg who served only to increase Idris’ burdens. His younger brother Radmoth was one such person.

“Brother.”

“What is it this time?”

“If that Fan Hyulick ever tries to harm Tytania, I’ll kill him. You don’t mind, do you?”

''“Obviously not,”'' is what Idris did not reply, his cold gaze tinged with a trace of suspicion.

''“This guy intends to kill Hyulick without hesitation and then seize command of the fleet for himself, doesn’t he?”''

Though it was an appointment he had made himself, every time he looked at his brother’s face, he felt the seeds of anxiety beginning to grow.

“Your mission is strictly to monitor and restrain. You are only to watch and ensure that Hyulick and his faction do not act as they please. I will be the one to make the decision. Do not overstep your bounds.”

“Even if Hyulick shows overt signs of rebellion? He is not someone to be underestimated, is he? What will you do if he strikes first?”

Idris’ handsome mouth twisted subtly.

“Even if Hyulick turns his spear against us, every soldier is Tytania’s elite. Who would ever obey his orders?”

“Do you believe the soldiers will not follow Hyulick?”

“That is exactly what I am saying!”

When Idris spoke, his voice rising in intensity, he was met with an unexpected response.

“Then, in that event, whose orders are the soldiers to follow?”

“… What?”

“No need to glare at me, brother. I am merely raising a natural question as a military inspector.”

Instead of changing his expression, Idris shifted his posture, leaning his elbows on the desk to look down at his younger brother.

“Radmoth, you have become strangely pedantic.”

“I am not being pedantic. I am merely asking for the facts. Even if Hyulick does not betray us, he could still fall in battle. In that case, I suppose I would be the one to take command of the entire fleet.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself with such thoughts!”

At last, Idris bellowed. As he stood up from the desk, his gaze tilted slightly upwards. His brother had grown taller than him.

As his anger receded, a sense of helplessness overcame Idris. He wanted Radmoth to be a loyal and capable aide to his brother. Was it too much to ask for such a thing? Could he not, at least occasionally, do something worthy of praise?

“Every single one of them… every single one of them.”

Idris repeated the same words only to himself. To speak them aloud would be nothing more than to sow the seeds of trouble.

“I shall issue orders when necessary. Rather than preparing for contingencies, strive to ensure such situations never arise. Do that, and you shall be rewarded for your merit.”

With those words, Idris dismissed his brother.

Idris was exhausted, but he refused to admit it. Consequently, in the presence of others, he behaved with even greater purpose as the leader of Tytania. He was powerful, severe, and elegant.

That effort only served to exhaust Idris further. He was on the verge of falling into a vicious cycle. Had there been anyone perceptive enough to notice and point it out, Idris would likely have lost his reason.

He sat in a daze for several dozen seconds, but once he regained his senses, he clicked his tongue sharply and struck the desk hard with both hands.

He had to succeed his late father’s will and rule human society as the Clanner of Tytania. It had been his destiny since before he was born, and he had never once questioned his own life or his objectives. In that process, it was only natural that he should eliminate his enemies and rivals.

Zarlisch had already vanished. Only Ariabert and Jouslain remained. If they continued to stay, it would be Idris who would have to disappear. To Idris, the word “coexistence” existed only within the pages of a dictionary.
<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters

2026-10-11T14:14:17Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 1 |- |} </noinclude> == Main characters of the Gale Arc == === ☆ Tytania Faction === * Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clanner..."

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== Main characters of the Gale Arc ==
=== ☆ Tytania Faction ===
* Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clanner”.
* Ariabert Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Jouslain Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Zarlisch Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
* Idris Tytania (25 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Theresa Tytania (51 years old)… Zarlisch’s mother.
* Balamy Tytania (19 years old)… Jouslain’s senior aide-de-camp. Viscount.
* Theodora Tytania… Countess.
* Elman Tytania (43 years old)… Diplomat. Count.
* Radmoth Tytania (18 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baron.
* Zelpha Tytania (13 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baronet.
* Francia… Jouslain’s lady-in-waiting.
* Edna Fredericks… Captain of the ''Austra''. Captain<ref name="ftn1">The repetition of the word “captain” might seem strange, but in Japanese there are multiple words that translate as “captain”. Essentially, Edna is a “captain” (艦長) in the sense that she is in charge of commanding a warship, and also a “captain” (大佐), the actual rank in the Navy.</ref>.
* Lydia (11 years old)… Princess of the Kingdom of Elbing. Jouslain’s ward.
* Harsha VI (36 years old)… Emperor of the Vardana Empire. Official ruler.
* Aisha (32 years old)… Empress of the Vardana Empire.

=== ☆ Anti-Tytania Faction ===
* Fan Hyulick (29 years old)… Former commander of the Euria City Fleet. Tytania’s arch-enemy.
* Lee Shanchen (28 years old)… Commonly known as Doctor Lee. Mastermind of the anti-Tytania faction.
* Lira Florentz… A girl who helped Hyulick during his escape. Deceased.
* Mikhail Walenkov (28 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former aide-de-camp. Sub-Lieutenant.
* Louis Edmond Pagès (27 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former Intelligence Staff Officer. Sub-Lieutenant.
* Miranda (29 years old)… Former Princess of the Principality of Casabianca.
* Compton Casimir… Captain of the ''Honest Old Man''. Miranda’s husband.
* Alan Mahdi (23 years old)… Former lieutenant of the Vardana Imperial Army. Currently on the run.
* Seraphine Coopers… Female soldier of the anti-Tytania faction.
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Tytania

2026-10-06T20:50:51Z

Bob Morane: /* Series Overview */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
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===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
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===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
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===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
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===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
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===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==
First editions (the editor switched from Tokuma Shoten to Kodansha after volume 3 due to the long hiatus).
* 31st December 1988 – Vol 1 「疾風篇」、ISBN 4-19-153817-9
* 30th November 1989 – Vol 2 「暴風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154060-2
* 31st May 1991 – Vol 3 「旋風篇」、ISBN 4-19-154542-6
* 25th September 2013 – Vol 4 「烈風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-182890-2
* 4th February 2015 – Vol 5 「凄風篇」、ISBN 978-4-06-299042-4

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania

2026-10-06T18:02:12Z

Bob Morane: /* Updates */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 6th October 2026 - Volume 3 complete
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha01.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha02.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha03.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha04.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha05.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania:Volume 3

2026-10-06T18:01:48Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc}} {{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War}} {{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds}} {{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War}} {{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal}} {{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue}} {{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 –..."

{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group}}
{{:Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power}}

<noinclude>
==Translator's Notes and References==
<references />

{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania :Volume 2|Volume 2]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 4|Volume 4]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Tytania

2026-10-06T18:00:09Z

Bob Morane: /* Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc */

[[File:TytaniaVol1Cover.png|thumb|Volume 1 Cover (Original Tokuma Shoten Edition)]]

'''''Tytania''''' (タイタニア), is a Japanese space opera light novel series created by [[:Category:Yoshiki Tanaka|Yoshiki Tanaka]] (mainly known for the ''Legend of the Galactic Heroes''). The series is 5 volumes long, and ran between 1988 and 2015 with a 22 year hiatus between volumes 3 and 4.

In 2008, Tytania was adapted to a 26 episode anime, and a 9-volume manga.

''Note:'' Over the years, Tytania was published by various editors (Tokuma Shoten, Kodansha, Square Enix, etc.), with different illustrators (Katsumi Michihara, Akira Kasahara, Haruhiko Mikimoto, etc.) Each edition has very different aesthetics as far as covers and illustrations go. Due to the long 22-year hiatus in this series, only the Kodansha edition comprises all 5 volumes. The covers presented in this page are from the Kodansha editon. They use the graphic style of the 2008 anime adaptation of the series.

This translation was made from the latest electronic edition, which, unfortunately, doesn't contain any illustrations or even any author's afterwords.

==Story Synopsis==
The Tytania Clan holds sway over the universe. A faint crack has appeared in their rule. An unknown admiral by the name of Fan Hyulick has defeated Tytanian forces led by Ariabert, one of the Four Dukes. Triggered by this victory that no one had anticipated nor even desired, history begins to unfold. What is to become of the fate of the universe and the Tytania clan!?

==Updates==
* 2nd October 2026 - Volume 2 complete
* 25th September 2026 - Volume 1 complete
* 22nd September 2026 - Project started

== ''Tytania'' by Yoshiki Tanaka==
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha01.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 1 - The Breeze Arc ([[Tytania :Volume 1|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Breeze Volume]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Prologue|Prologue – The Rise of Tytania]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Hegemons]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – Misfortune and Calamity are Parents of Defiance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Strong and the Weak]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – The Ballad of Uneasy Allies]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The One Catastrophe]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Star of Rebellion]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha02.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 2 - The Storm Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 2|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Storm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Lives and Opinions of Fugitives]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Sparks]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Second Time isn't the Last]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – The Full Course of Ambition]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Conflict]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – War Outbreak]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha03.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 3 - The Whirlwind Arc ([[Tytania:Volume 3|Full Text]])===
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The Phoney War]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Breakup]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The Great Schism]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – The Pirate's Study Group]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9|Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha04.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">

===Volume 4 - The Gale Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Gale Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – An Uncomfortable Guest]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Nobel "Rebel"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – Confusion, Bewilderment, and Annoyance]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – The Battle of the Hashtbal System]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – To Each their own Dilemma]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – A Sketch of the Moment Immediately Before]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – The "Celestial City"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – That which was Last]]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>
{| class="wikitable" width="280" ; style="float:left"
|- valign="top"
|[[Image:TytaniaCoverKodansha05.jpg|border|250px]]
|
<div style="float: left; width:700px;">
<div style="float: left; margin: 5px 20px">
===Volume 5 - The Windstorm Arc===
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Main Characters|Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1|Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 2|Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 3|Chapter 3 – The ''Black Prince'']]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4|Chapter 4 – Overture of the "Slaughter Opera"]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 5|Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 6|Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 7|Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation]]
*[[Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 8|Chapter 8 – Towards ''Zamana Masafent'']]
</div>
</div>
|}
<br style="clear:both"/>

==Translation==
===[[Tytania:Registration_Page|Registration]]===
Those who wish to contribute must first notify a supervisor beforehand.
'''Translators must register which chapters they're working on.'''

===Format Standards===
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guidelines]]
*[[Tytania:Names_and_Terminology_Guidelines|Project-Specific Guidelines: Format, Names, and Terminology]]

==Project Staff==
*Supervisor:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]
*Project Manager:
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Translators===
'''Active'''
:*[[User:Bob_Morane|Bob Morane]]

===Editors===

==Series Overview==

[[Category:Light novel (English)]]
[[Category:Yoshiki Tanaka]]
[[Category:Genre - Sci-Fi]]
[[Category:Genre - Mature]]

Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 9

2026-10-06T17:59:42Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 8 | Return to Main Page |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power == === I === There was no way he could have known the name of a mere rat-thief like Alan Mahdi, yet there was a young man who posed that very same qu..."

<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8|Chapter 8]]
| Return to [[Tytania|Main Page]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>
== Chapter 9 – The Fortress of Power ==
=== I ===
There was no way he could have known the name of a mere rat-thief like Alan Mahdi, yet there was a young man who posed that very same question to himself.

''“How did things come to this?”''

The young man’s name was Duke Idris Tytania. At twenty-five years of age, he served as the acting sovereign of Uraniborg. His equal competitors had either fallen or withdrawn in rapid succession, and his sole superior was currently hospitalised for medical treatment. He should have been a man of immense fortune, someone who had concentrated power upon himself without even having to exert the effort.

However, Idris was not as satisfied with the ''status quo'', as those who slandered him might have believed. He was a monarch walking on thin ice. Should the Clanner rise from his sickbed and issue a single command, Idris would be forced to bow his head and relinquish his seat as the executor of power. Furthermore, if the rebel alliance of Ariabert and Jouslain were to achieve a military victory, Idris risked losing not only his power but also his very life.

Idris summoned the Tytania executives within Uraniborg and compelled them all to swear oaths of loyalty. Moreover, he ordered the executives stationed throughout the cosmos to submit written pledges of allegiance with equal rigour.

“We pledge our absolute loyalty to His Clanner Highness of Tytania and to His Grace Duke Idris, his appointed proxy.”

They spoke such words with reverence. They recorded them in writing. Yet, they were undoubtedly capable of turning against their lords with a sneer the moment Tytania’s rule slackened and the physical force required to punish infidelity waned. After all, it was Tytania itself that had, until this day, mocked such ceremonial loyalties and asserted that might alone was the principle of dominion. It was the pride of Tytania to never rely on the loyalty of the subjugated but to maintain her hegemony through strength alone. A Tytania that depended on the power of others possessed not even a milligram of reason for being.

Idris, for his part, had no desire to become the “first Tytania to rely on the strength of others”. Furthermore, this was a conflict within Tytania itself. He could not help but remain acutely aware of the reactions of Ariabert and Jouslain.

Idris ordered the entire Tytania army to assemble at Uraniborg. Furthermore, utilising his position as the Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire, he summoned their national forces as well. Although he knew he would be unable to deploy them for any major purpose, having them gathered in numbers would at least be useful for rear-guard security and logistics. He had no luxury of leaving them idle.

''“I will not lose to someone like Ariabert. Was he not a man defeated by bandits twice? I shall crush him squarely and with dignity.”''

He possessed that much pride and spirit; however, the problem was that no one else shared his convictions. “I do not believe Lord Idris can defeat Lord Ariabert,” he could hear the whispers. At least, that was how it seemed to Idris.

One might even say that this was Idris’ true enemy. An excessive sense of competition against others sometimes caused him to underestimate his opponents, preventing him from grasping the situation objectively. Subjectivity and emotion preceded observation and analysis.

Idris’ memory was somewhat confused as to what exactly occurred immediately after the battleship ''Austra'', which Jouslain had boarded, departed from Uraniborg. While his impressions of each individual scene were vivid, their chronological order was incomplete. As Idris gazed through the transparent wall at the sight of Jouslain’s small fleet receding in a line of points of light, thinking to himself, ''“I wish he would just not come back,”'' a woman’s piercing scream stabbed at his ears.

“His Clanner Highness has been shot! Catch the criminal! It must be Jouslain!”

Idris acted on reflex. By the time he had turned around through the transparent wall, he was already holding the charged particle pistol from his waist in his right hand. Numerous figures clad in grey military uniforms swayed like a colourless wave, and shouts and screams ricocheted against his eardrums; at that moment, his senses alone could not discern what had occurred.

The screaming voice that had informed him of the situation belonged to Duchess Theresa Tytania. The Duchess, who continued to shout at a high volume, looked like a solitary opera singer. Lying on the floor beside her was Clanner Ajman. And there was the figure of a man, running away in an unnatural posture, while still pointing his gun at the Clanner. He, too, was clad in a grey military uniform…

The guards hesitated to fire. They feared that if they shot, they might inadvertently wound Tytania nobles. Watching their reaction, Idris let out a torrent of abuse:

“You useless wretches! Are you nothing but botched sculptures?!”

The fact that Idris was braver and more capable than the average man, yet lacked the respect of his soldiers, likely stemmed from such outbursts. He frequently lacked the most fundamental understanding of human interaction: that even those of low standing possessed emotions and self-respect. It was an old proverb that “nobles are ungrateful,” and it held true because he believed it was only natural for others to submit to and serve him, allowing him to remain indifferent even when he harmed or betrayed them.

Yet, at that moment, Idris acted more bravely than anyone else. He ran alone, pursuing the fleeing sniper. Several guards rushed forward from the front, striking down at the sniper with their rifle barrels. They had intended to make an arrest while keeping him alive, but instead, they were caught in the sniper’s frantic gunfire, and two men fell to the floor.

Idris caught up to him there and called for his surrender. The sniper’s muzzle began to aim directly at the centre of Idris’ chest. A fraction of a second before that could happen, Idris pulled the trigger, piercing the sniper’s face just below his right eye with a beam. The beam created a one-centimetre exit wound at the back of the sniper’s head, and blood formed a thin bridge through the air.

“Die, die, die!”

Repeated shots and rapid fire made the collapsed sniper’s body convulse. Each time a beam struck, muscles and tendons twitched reflexively, causing the sniper to lurch about. The fabric of the military uniform tore, skin burst, and scattering blood traced geometric patterns upon the floor.

“Your Grace, the terrorist is already dead. More importantly, His Clanner Highness’ wellbeing!…”

Idris finally regained his composure as a middle-aged officer with a black moustache caught him from behind. He cast the gun aside, ordered a doctor to be summoned, and rushed to the Clanner’s side.

Lying supine on the floor, Clanner Ajman was pressing a large, thick-palmed hand against his right abdomen, but he had not lost consciousness. His eyes remained bright and piercing, staring up at the far, high, domed ceiling.

“Your Clanner Highness, stay with us!”

“… Is that you, Lord Idris? What became of the culprit?”

“Do not worry. I shot him dead.”

“You killed him?”

“It was the justice he deserved.”

“I see. That is true enough. However, the dead cannot speak.”

Even the pain of his wound could not strip the irony from the Clanner’s tone. Stunned by the Clanner’s brief words, Idris looked towards where the man he had shot lay fallen. Doctors rushed to the scene, followed by a swarm of nurses and medics.

Leaving the Clanner in their care, Idris walked towards the sniper. The soldiers parted to clear a path. Looking down at the still-young sniper’s face, which was half-soaked in blood, Idris delivered a kick fuelled by rage and hatred. A dull thud brought a memory rushing back to Idris. It was the sound of the words Lady Theresa had screamed.

Glaring across the crowd of officers and soldiers, he roared:

“Do not let Lord Jouslain leave! He must question him regarding the circumstances. Bring him back!”

At that moment, Idris, of course, had not issued the order solely out of a pure judicial necessity for investigation. He was well aware of the political implications of summoning Jouslain to Uraniborg at such a critical juncture. However, in this situation, no matter who stood in Idris’ position, there would have been no other way to issue such an order.

''“I did not go out of my way to set a trap for Jouslain. If anything, he was the one who caused this trouble. If he had nothing to hide, he should have quietly complied with the summons and returned. The fact that he did not mean he is guilty.”''

Even now, he continued to think this way, though Idris was not entirely certain that Jouslain was the primary culprit behind the attempted assassination of the Clanner.

The fact that drugs were found within the body of the dissected sniper proved the existence of a conspiracy behind the scenes. Although it could no longer be confirmed, there was also an extremely high possibility that mind control had been employed.

Regarding the identity of the sniper, Captain Goldwin of the Military Police, acting under Idris’ orders, conducted a swift investigation. The sniper’s name was E. White, a first-class seaman. Since he was single and originally from the Vardana home-world, suspicions arose that he might have been an extremist loyalist to the Vardana Court. However, he had come from a very ordinary family background, and it appeared that the threads of any underlying plot did not, at the very least, lead towards the Vardana Court.

However, Idris committed that single clause to memory, viewing it as a weapon to pressure the Emperor of Vardana, Harsha VI. Idris’ attitude towards Harsha VI had always been consistently disrespectful and unfriendly, but on this occasion, it was even more severe. He forbade the Imperial family from leaving the court and tightened surveillance until the truth of the incident was uncovered and the court’s lack of involvement was proven.

“Damn that Idris, damn that Idris!”

Like a performer in a classical drama, Harsha VI cursed the young duke. For all his power, what else could he have done but curse?

However, amidst his cursing, Ariabert and Jouslain, far away on the planet Bargash, issued a declaration condemning Idris’ tyranny and calling for the unification of anti-Idris forces. Contained within it was a passage criticising Idris, stating that he “lacked etiquette towards the Vardana court and failed to know his place as a subject”. Harsha VI, who always relied on the efforts of others, felt immensely gratified by this.

=== II ===
As for Idris, who had been branded a “conspirator at the side” by both dukes, he could not simply surrender himself to fury. His attempt to first deal with matters within his own clan might have been an action that demonstrated the very essence of his way of thinking.

He summoned Lady Theresa, the mother of the late Zarlisch, to his office. It was, in truth, an interrogation.

“Duchess, I have summoned you because there is something I wish to ask. Though, you may already suspect the nature of this meeting.”

“Well, I wonder what it could be.”

The Duchess’ eyes moved restlessly, unable to settle.

“I ask that you do not play the fool. Duchess, the other day you said that this was Jouslain’s doing. On what grounds did you make such a claim?”

“Oh my, how strange.”

Lady Theresa deliberately caused the heavy flesh of her throat to quiver.

“What do you mean, ‘strange’?”

“It’s just that, Lord Idris, it sounded as though you were defending Jouslain.”

“I merely wish to remain impartial, Duchess.”

“Oh, is that so? And here I thought you would be delighted.”

“Why on earth should I rejoice in His Clanner Highness’ misfortune? Please, do not try to evade the question. Madam, is it not possible that you yourself dispatched the assassins to harm His Clanner Highness, all in an attempt to frame Lord Jouslain?”

Idris intended to shock the Duchess into a state of psychological vulnerability, forcing her to confess everything. However, the effect of such a potent accusation was too powerful. Duchess Theresa let out a piercing shriek and recoiled, falling to the floor along with her chair. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and tiny white bubbles froth at the corners of her mouth.

From that point on, Duchess Theresa Tytania suffered recurrent bouts of hysteria and was confined to a special hospital room. To prepare for the surges of her violent outbursts, all the luxurious furnishings had their corners rounded and smoothed, thick padding was embedded into the walls, and even meals that could only be described as exquisite were served on paper tableware. Two female doctors and six sturdy nurses were stationed in her room.

Once the measures had been completed, Idris felt a sense of mental relief. Although he had failed to extract any vital information, these precautions ensured that Duchess Theresa would be treated as an incompetent, thereby preventing the nightmare for the whole of Tytania that she would hold a seat on the Council of the Five Families. If this was indeed the conclusion, it was such a pathetic end that the late Zarlisch would undoubtedly have let out a roar of fury.

Having taken a moment to catch his breath, Idris set about dealing with a certain matter involving a woman. The subject was Countess Theodora Tytania, as several whispered reports had reached him claiming that she had been instigating Lady Theresa’s political ambitions.

When Theodora entered the office after being summoned, Idris did not even offer her a chair. He directed all the venom in his being towards her through his eyes and his words:

“I am impressed that you did not flee.”

“And why should I have fled, Lord Idris, confidant to His Clanner Highness?”

“Do not play coy, you vixen!”

Idris hurled abuse at her. As if striking them like a drawn blade. Theodora maintained her outward composure, casting a chilling gaze at Idris before settling into the armchair in front of the desk. Idris did not go so far as to ask, ''“Who said you could sit?”'', and proceeded immediately to the judgement.

Although they had been acquainted in the bedchamber prior to the Clanner’s injury, Idris had cast aside even the slightest hint of false sweetness to fulfil his duty as an inquisitor. He presented various reports, decrying Theodora’s crime of visiting Theresa and instigating her to seek a seat at the Council of the Five Families.

“If I may ask, how exactly does that constitute a crime?” replied Theodora, a thin smile gracing her lips. “I was not suggesting that we should oust anyone. I was merely proposing that a single candidate be seated in a vacant position. That the choice happens to be Lady Theresa was simply a political decision, and I do not believe it is something that should be treated as a crime.”

“How dare you speak so brazenly?” asked Idris while grounding his teeth. “Your so-called political decision was nothing more than an attempt to place Lady Theresa in that seat so that you may pull her strings from behind the scenes and seize actual power. You would do well to remember your place.”

Despite Idris’ fierce condemnation, Theodora remained composed, meeting the Acting Clanner’s gaze head-on.

“Even if that were true, that would be a matter between Lady Theresa and myself. Furthermore, once one becomes a member of the Five Dukes, it is only natural to have staff and advisors. What harm is there in me fulfilling that role as a friend to Lady Theresa?”

“A friend would be appalled to hear that. I wonder which dictionary defines one-sidedly exploiting and manipulating someone as friendship?”

“I have no reason to take a sermon on friendship from someone like you. You don’t have a single friend to your name!”

If Theodora’s goal had been to wound Idris, she had certainly achieved it. Though the colour on Idris’ face, which had briefly turned the shade of fluorescent paper, had returned in less than two seconds, his suppressed passion bled into his voice, causing his shout for the guards to fail to quite reach a full yodel. Even the six sturdy soldiers who entered the room at his command could not hide their look of bewilderment.

“Guards! Place this woman under house arrest. Forbid her from leaving, and check every visitor. Censor all telephone calls and mail, and submit a report at the appointed time every day.”

Idris spat those words out as he stared at Theodora’s face, which looked as though it had been coated in white paint.

“Do not be seduced by that vixen. Unless I give the order myself, you are never to release this woman from house arrest.”

“As you wish. And until when shall this arrangement remain in place?”

“Until I say so.”

Idris waved his left hand from low to high, signalling her to depart. Theodora rose with a posture that could have been described as elegant, but her internal mutterings failed to reach Idris.

“Hmph, coward! Go ahead and let the weight of power you cannot even carry crush you all by yourself. I shall look forward to seeing how things stand in a hundred days…”

As Theodora was escorted out by the guards, Idris turned to the closed door and muttered “vixen” once more, giving voice to his bitter resentment.

“Good heavens, I don’t have a single reliable ally. Must I truly do everything alone…?”

The monopoly on power was, at the same time, a confirmation of isolation. It seemed the previous system of governance, maintained by the five families, had possessed certain advantages. Idris absolutely refused to admit that the leadership of both Ariabert in foreign expeditions and Jouslain in domestic affairs had been exceptional.

Now that the figure had dropped from plus two, past zero, to minus two, this change in numerical value translated directly into an increased burden of responsibility weighing upon Idris’ shoulders. While Idris was managing the challenges well enough on his own, that was only because war had not yet broken out between the two Tytania factions; it was clear that once full-scale combat commenced, Idris’ already saturated capacity for handling affairs would collapse.

“I cannot leave this place, even for half a day. If someone were to launch a coup in support of His Clanner Highness during the interval that I am away from Uraniborg, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

No one possessed enough power within Uraniborg to launch a coup. Even though he knew this, he could not sweep his anxieties away. Idris ceased his return to the Vardana court in his capacity as Minister of Military Affairs. While he had not abdicated his position as Minister, he had instead appointed a subordinate to act in his stead, while he himself remained at Uraniborg.

In this manner, His Imperial Majesty Harsha VI of the Vardana Empire came to enjoy an unexpected blessing. Idris had vanished from the court. Although the Undersecretary of Military Affairs acting as his deputy was a subordinate of Idris and undoubtedly served as a watchdog over the Emperor, Idris had been more than merely a symbol of Tytania used to pressure Harsha VI. He was personally hated by the Emperor. Thus, this development filled His Imperial Majesty with sheer delight.

It was not only these veiled examples; Idris was also facing outright condemnation.

“Think of it carefully. Who stands to gain from the Clanner’s injury and period of convalescence? Who is the one who has managed to seize dictatorial power within Uraniborg? It is the consensus of all eyes, the verdict of all people: it is Idris. The mastermind behind this incident, this catastrophe, is none other than Idris. What we seek is to strip Idris of his unjust position and power, and we harbour not a single thought of rebellion against His Clanner Highness. We are the true loyalists of His Clanner Highness, and it is Idris who is the treacherous official. Let all of Tytania unite to strike down the traitor, Idris!”

When Idris was informed that this was part of the declaration made by Ariabert, Jouslain, and the two dukes, he let out a roar of fury.

“They are no longer dukes, but mere criminals! Are the regular forces of Tytania to obey a commander of criminals? Do they have no concept of righteousness?!”

Reports suggested that the soldiers of the Bargash expeditionary force showed no sign of deserting the command of Ariabert and the others. That news unsettled Idris.

An officer named Captain Marshall spoke. He was the middle-aged officer with a black moustache who had caught Idris from behind during the attempted assassination of the Clanner.

“Your Grace the Duke, what is required is simply to convince the world that His Highness Clanner Ajman is safe and well and that His Highness’ full trust remains with you.”

“And exactly how do you propose I do that?”

“It is a highly fearsome suggestion, but I propose that His Clanner Highness stand before the communication screen and express your trust in Your Grace Idris with your own voice. If you do so, the soldiers of the expeditionary force will cast aside their doubts and restore their loyalty to Uraniborg.”

“So you are saying that no matter what I say myself, the troops simply will not believe me?”

“Your Grace, that is…”

“No, I understand. I spoke unnecessarily; forget it. I shall keep your opinion in mind, Captain. Furthermore, I want you to continue to speak your mind whenever you notice something.”

Even Idris occasionally felt grateful for the counsel of his subordinates. However, as long as he could not even draw the Clanner from his sickbed, even the best of strategies remained impossible to implement.

The only saving grace, it seemed, was that the wife and children of Clanner Ajman made no attempt to restrain Idris. They devoted themselves solely to nursing Ajman, and they seldom ever interacted with Idris.

As a tradition of Tytania, the wives and children of the Clanner and the four dukes did not participate in, nor were they permitted to participate in, the core of the administration. In ancient dynasties, there were instances where a Queen Mother was forced to commit suicide upon the birth of a male heir to prevent the Empress and her kin from privatising state power. While Tytania did not go quite that far, it had always strongly excluded the interference of in-laws, as a principle of governance that held lineage as supreme, or perhaps because of that principle.

In any case, Idris had to select those who would assist him in his immediate circle. And he had to do so urgently.

=== III ===
It was on the 10<sup>th</sup> of May that Idris summoned his younger brother, Baron Radmoth, to his office once again. For Idris, there simply was no other blood relation to rely upon besides Radmoth.

Zelpha, the youngest brother, respected his eldest brother, but as he was only thirteen years old, Idris could not yet rely on him as a confidant regardless of his future potential. No matter how much dissatisfaction he felt, Idris had no choice but to continue supporting Radmoth.

Zarlisch, who had once been Idris’ rival, had also been troubled by his brother Arses’ lack of talent; however, in this instance, the fact that Ariabert and Jouslain were not burdened by such unworthy brothers was itself a source of irritation for Idris. He felt that they, too, ought to have someone dragging them down!

Idris had prepared about a dozen positions for Radmoth, but he had carefully removed any posts that might grant him excessive actual power. Instead, he chose positions that were not important but were necessary for ceremonial purposes. Radmoth appeared to have noted his brother’s consideration, though he did not outwardly express his gratitude.

Idris cast a bitter look at his brother, who had rejected every position offered to him.

“Radmoth, who do you think would be satisfied with granting you authority? Firstly, you are far too young. Why can you not wait modestly until you are at least twenty?”

“I became the Imperial Guard Commander of the Vardana Empire at seventeen.”

That insolent remark caused Idris to erupt.

“Was that due to your military achievements?! Was it not I who placed you in that position? All you have done is cause unnecessary strife and bring shame upon my face. Do you understand that?!”

“You seem quite desperate to hold that favour over me, Brother, but was it not also for your own convenience?”

“Convenience?”

“I suppose I am nothing more than a tool for you to expand your influence. I know that you despise me. And promoting me is merely a means for you to eventually become Clanner. Must I be blamed so harshly simply because things did not unfold according to your selfishness?”

Idris saw the torches of fury burning in Radmoth’s eyes. A strange chill raced up and down his spine, leaving him at the mercy of his brother’s long-winded tirade.

“I believe I am doing what is best for you in my own way. The very reason you are able to hold actual power in place of the Clanner now is, fundamentally…”

Radmoth suddenly fell silent. It was as if an unseen hand had been placed over his mouth.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It is better not to ask, Brother. If you do, it will only compromise your position.”

“… What are you saying?”

Idris pierced his brother’s face with a fierce gaze once more, yet he realised that a sudden, unprecedented wave of anxiety was rising within him. What on earth was the boy implying with such suggestive words?

Idris observed his brother’s expression anew. Radmoth’s face was dull. It was reminiscent of some kind of reptile. Yet, that very dullness served as armour, concealing Radmoth’s true thoughts. Just as Idris, unable to endure the ominous silence for even a moment longer, prepared to interrogate his brother again, the intercom emitted a low chime. It was unclear which of the brothers had been saved. A message had come from the Clanner’s physician, stating that an injured noble was requesting the presence of Lord Idris.

Idris sent his brother away without having achieved any results and rushed to the Clanner’s sickroom in a state of dread. After receiving instructions from the physician, he attended to the wounded man privately. Without wasting any time on greetings, the Clanner posed a question while remaining reclined in his bed.

“Lord Idris, what has the situation become since then?”

It was a question he had expected, or rather, one that was entirely natural, yet it was one that Idris found truly difficult to answer. He did not lie, but he found himself compelled to embellish the truth.

“In Uraniborg, loyalty to Your Clanner Highness remains entirely unshaken, regardless of rank. In the face of Ariabert and Jouslain, who seek to exploit Your Highness’ misfortune for their own private gain, the people have renewed their vows to burn with righteous indignation and surely punish them…”

A low voice ruthlessly cut through his hollow eloquence.

“Lord Idris.”

“Y-yes.”

“What is the situation outside Uraniborg?”

He could not deceive the Clanner. Even now, Idris realised that. Looking back, the four dukes had always lived under the heavy pressure and sense of subjugation imposed by Clanner Ajman, even as they held him in awe. Furthermore, what the four had previously shared was now a burden that Idris alone had to bear. This realisation required a grim resolve rather than any sense of exaltation.

“Lords Ariabert and Jouslain show no sign of reflection or remorse. On the contrary, it appears they are inciting their subordinate armies and calling upon rebels in various regions to openly raise their banners against Your Clanner Highness.”

His expressionless eyes gazed up at the ceiling. Clanner Ajman remained motionless, like a statue. Idris endured his own voice and the silence that followed, and just as he was on the verge of being unable to bear it any longer, the Clanner finally spoke, his gaze still fixed upon the ceiling:

“Ariabert and Jouslain. Those two… I had intended to grant them both my expectations and my authority.”

“Those two are rebels, Your Highness!”

Facing the wounded Clanner, Idris raised his tone, even while being aware that he was acting somewhat undignified.

“Those two have falsely accused me of placing Your Clanner Highness under house arrest and exercising tyranny. Such base lies are utterly unforgivable.”

“If only that were the truth.”

“Huh…?”

“If you truly possessed such ambition, that single throne would have surely naturally fallen into your hands.”

The Clanner waved his hand faintly toward Idris, who had lost his voice. It was a signal to depart.

As Idris left the infirmary, he stumbled slightly. The waiting physician’s brow twitched at the sight of him looking as though he were intoxicated, but the man wisely avoided making any comment, silently watching the young duke’s retreating figure.

=== IV ===
Under the laws of the clan, Ariabert and Jouslain were no longer dukes. They had been stripped of all public offices and positions, reduced to mere commoners. However, the soldiers and officers of the Tytania forces deployed on the planet Bargash continued to call them dukes just as they had before, and both men accepted the title without shame.

“Do not worry, Lord Jouslain. While I cannot grant you wealth, the Kingdom of Elbing shall bestow the titles upon you. The same goes for Lord Ariabert.”

Princess Lydia spoke with such certainty that the two dukes offered their thanks with utmost gravity.

By the end of April, Ariabert had completed his hospitalisation and appeared before the troops, where he was met with great cheers. He visited Jouslain’s quarters to offer his greetings upon his discharge.

“Please, Lord Jouslain, take care of your health and safety as well,” he said while shaking hands. “I cannot fight the Clanner with my own authority alone. I shall have to rely on your popularity and political prowess, Lord Jouslain.”

“The opponent we must fight is not the Clanner, but Idris.”

“Fair enough. It would be unwise to let the soldiers overhear that. I shall keep it in mind. However, it seems that very resolve is exactly what is needed against my own person.”

Ariabert had already delivered a sermon to the entire Tytania army stationed in Bargash. He had issued a severe criticism of Idris’ tyranny, stating that Idris was holding the Clanner under house arrest while he was hospitalised, and that they could not condone such lawlessness, thus resolving to take the daring step of admonishing him.

He declared that the enemy was not the Clanner, but rather Lord Idris himself. Only four percent of the entire army had desired to secede from the command of Ariabert and Jouslain. Had there been confirmation that Clanner Ajman was still alive and well, that figure would likely have increased twentyfold. However, in reality, the theory of the Clanner’s survival was only ever spoken of by Idris himself, so ultimately, it all came down to whether or not they chose to trust him.

“Is it not the case that His Clanner Highness has either already passed away or is in critical condition?”

Rumours to that effect were circulating through the army. Furthermore, when comparing the personal popularity of Idris alone with that of Ariabert and Jouslain, the latter were overwhelmingly superior. It could only be attributed to Idris’ lack of virtue, yet the narrative that he had attempted to oust the two dukes because his thirst for becoming the next Clanner throne had made him too ambitious was a concept the soldiers found easy to accept.

While they did not go so far as to actively hate Idris, the vision of a future where Idris ruled Tytania as a despot after the passing of the two dukes was not a pleasant prospect for them. If they were to be subject to Tytania’s rule regardless, weren’t the two dukes far preferable to Lord Idris?!

Amidst such movements among the troops, a few deserters proceeded with preparations to leave Bargash. Although this was done with the official sanction of both dukes, on the 15<sup>th</sup> of May, Count Elman, acting as their representative, visited Jouslain to offer his farewell.

After receiving the formal greetings, Jouslain enquired calmly.

“So, Count Elman, did the negotiations with Fan Hyulick and the others go well?”

“I suspected you might already know.”

A flicker of an expression, something less than a bitter smile, crossed Count Elman’s face, but he immediately veiled his true thoughts behind a veil of etiquette. Maintaining the demeanour of an exemplary middle-aged gentleman, he addressed Jouslain:

“As a nobleman of Tytania, I have nothing to be ashamed of, neither towards myself nor others. However, if you find the existence of these knaves to be so objectionable…”

Count Elman proposed the terrifying suggestion of attacking them after putting them together in a single ship. It was, however, something that Doctor Lee and the others had already pointed out as a possibility.

“I see. So this is the Tytanian way. Nonetheless, I shall decline.”

Jouslain dismissed Count Elman’s proposal with a light laugh.

“I shall ask you to convey my regards to Fan Hyulick and his men. Tell them I pray for their safe entry into Uraniborg.”

Jouslain’s generosity, which was beyond what could be described by a single word like gentlemanly, seemed to have provoked Count Elman’s suspicion. The Count persistently searched Jouslain’s expression with eyes narrowed in a seemingly mild manner, but he gained nothing from the effort.

Balamy escorted Count Elman to the Central Spaceport on Jouslain’s behalf. At that time, he had hoped to catch a glimpse of Fan Hyulick’s party, but as that did not come to pass, he returned to the quarters feeling dissatisfied. He completed his report to Jouslain, who was pacing the courtyard lost in thought. It was an early summer afternoon, and under the light of the stars, the greenery was lush, and the very vitality of the plants seemed to emanate a fragrance.

“I feel hesitant to ask such an unprepared question at this late stage, but…”

Balamy plucked up his courage and asked:

“Do you truly intend to fight His Clanner Highness?”

He regretted it immediately after the words left his mouth. He dreaded being thought of as cowardly or indecisive. To express it as accurately as possible, Balamy had simply wanted to hear words of reassurance from Jouslain.

“Lord Balamy, both you and I were born in Uraniborg. In that place, even the mere thought of such things was terrifying. Perhaps it is only because we are now hundreds of light-years away that we are able to contemplate them.”

Jouslain gave a short laugh as he looked back at Balamy.

“I hold no personal grudge against His Clanner Highness. I believe that is precisely why we are able to fight. Both Lord Ariabert and I.”

Balamy felt a flush of shame, thinking how foolish it had been to question his will to fight at such a late stage.

“Not only Count Elman, but even Fan Hyulick’s entire faction managed to escape this planet safely. I am sure you allowed this for a reason, but if you would be so kind, please tell me why.”

“Indeed. If we were to merely employ the traditional methods of the Tytania, there would be no meaning in fighting, nor in victory. I believe it is better that we present a stance that suggests, at least to those outside of Tytania, that some degree of reform can be expected.”

A draft of air swept through, a sudden gust of wind dishevelling Jouslain’s and Balamy’s hair.

“In truth, this is nothing more than a private conflict within Tytania. Or rather, all wars are nothing more than private conflicts, yet even so, they can sometimes possess a certain historical value. By challenging the traditional methods and values of the Tytania this time, only then will this battle acquire a public significance.”

Even if that, too, may be nothing more than an illusion, it can appeal to the frustration lurking beneath the surface of the minds of the majority of citizens, who, while passive, are content with the ''status quo''.

“If outsiders see it that way, our war could gain a great deal of sympathy. There is no need for them to become active allies. Allies are something that increases in number as long as one wins.”

As Jouslain spoke the final part of that sentence, his expression remained indifferent.

Unlike Idris, who remained sequestered within Uraniborg, Jouslain had travelled to various parts of space to handle matters regarding diplomacy, trade, and security. He knew that the passive supporters of Tytania desired some degree of reform and absolute safety. As long as he did not force them to “fight alongside us at the risk of their lives,” they would refrain from harbouring any ill will towards Jouslain and his companions.

“And what of actual combat?”

“Ariabert will win. In a grand, open field battle, there is no one who can defeat him.”

“Yes, I believe so too, but…”

Balamy reserved his full endorsement.

It was a fact that Ariabert had twice allowed Fan Hyulick to make a name for himself. There was every possibility that the latter might use his irregular troops to drive Ariabert to defeat a third time.

“Even so, he cannot annihilate us in a single battle. And it is rather the aftermath that concerns me. Whether Idris can remain at peace while Fan Hyulick and his men accumulate further military exploits is the real question.”

A harsh light dwelled in Jouslain’s eyes. He was a gentleman, but he was also a Tytania nobleman.

There were perfectly sound political reasons why he had turned a blind eye to the escape of Count Elman and Fan Hyulick from Bargash. Jouslain had foreseen that they would enter Uraniborg and become major sources of instability, both militarily and politically. This was not mere expectation, but a prediction. To increase the accuracy of his predictions, Jouslain intended to employ various means in the future.

“Lord Jouslain, they were outlaws from the very beginning. Is there not a risk that they might plot from within to seize Uraniborg?”

“I could not care less what happens inside Uraniborg!”

It was a fierce tone, and for a moment, Balamy caught his breath. He had glimpsed a fragment of the emotions Jouslain had been harbouring for a long time.

“Having left Uraniborg, I realised it anew. That place is neither a castle nor a palace; it is a prison. When you are inside, you are severed from the universe, and you fall into the illusion that the conflicts and conspiracies of one’s own kin reflect the entirety of the human world. Those involved believe it to be the centre of the universe, but it is not. An isolated place of exile, this is the true nature of Uraniborg.”

Jouslain gazed at the small fountain in the modest garden as if it were Uraniborg itself.

“Idris is but a single prisoner left behind in his place of exile. It is only because he remained that we were able to escape.”

“If that is the case, then it seems you shall end up fighting your benefactor.”

It was likely the difference in their evaluations of Uraniborg that prompted such a remark from Balamy. As he had stated previously, Balamy believed Uraniborg to be the source of all authority and power. Perhaps he had harboured an unconscious desire to drive a wedge between himself and Jouslain’s differing perspective.

“Indeed, in the end, I too am a Tytania. Rather than accepting infamy and being killed only to evoke tears of pity from posterity, I choose to defend my rights in the real world. There is no meaning in becoming the protagonist of an epic poem. I shall fight alongside Ariabert and emerge victorious.”

Balamy stared silently at Jouslain’s profile as he spoke in such a detached manner. For no scientific reason, his breathing felt laboured.

“And so, I shall force the retirement of His Clanner Highness Ajman, exile Idris, dismantle Uraniborg, and serve as an aide to Ariabert, the new Clanner. Then, while he and I are still well, we shall peacefully downsize Tytania. It is my desire that Tytania’s future vision be to prosper modestly, as nothing more than an ordinary noble house.”

It was the first time Jouslain had spoken so clearly about his vision. Balamy felt overwhelmed. Although it differed greatly from his own ambitions and designs, hearing it voiced by Jouslain, it felt as though it had already become something nearly established.

Balamy was suddenly seized by a powerful impulse. He could not help but phrase as a question a secret he had once heard during his father’s lifetime. A few seconds of inner conflict passed. He finally succumbed to the impulse.

“Your Grace, do you intend to entrust the Clanner’s throne to Lord Ariabert because you are brothers of the same blood? Please forgive me for such an insolent question.”

“Did you hear this from your father?”

“Y-yes.”

“That was indeed an insolent question, Lord Balamy.”

There was no noticeable change in Jouslain’s voice or expression, yet Balamy could not help but straighten his posture, both in mind and body. With a detached manner, Jouslain cast the heavy truth upon him:

“Ariabert and I are cousins. But at the same time, we are brothers.”

“…?”

“To sum it up, Ariabert’s mother is my mother’s sister. And Ariabert’s father is also my father. On our mothers’ side, we are cousins, but on our fathers’ side, we are brothers. This is the exact truth, Lord Balamy.”

“Then…”

Balamy was rendered speechless. Jouslain’s father had been intimate with two sisters at the same time. Furthermore, these sisters were married to different men. Balamy knew that Ariabert and Jouslain shared a birth month. This meant they had been conceived at almost the same time.

“This is what Tytania is. For the primary objective of ensuring the continuity of blood, even basic human ethics are ignored. I believe that Uraniborg is the symbol of that distorted value system.”

Jouslain fell silent. Possessing no words to utter, Balamy stood on the verge of being frozen in an unbearable silence. It was the lively voice of a young girl that rescued him from those intangible shackles.

“Lord Jouslain, Bal, come and have lunch with us. You can’t fight or study on an empty stomach.”

Watching Princess Lydia running through the green garden, Jouslain smiled at Balamy.

“That Princess is always right. If you sit there brooding with a serious face while hungry, you’ll never reach a proper conclusion. Shall we, at the very least, follow the advice of a sage?”

Jouslain waved in response to the Princess, and a moment later, Balamy followed suit. It was the day before the deadline that Idris Tytania had given to Ariabert and Jouslain, on 19 May, SY 447.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8

2026-10-06T17:58:48Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 7 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 9 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 8 – The Pirate’s Study Group == === I === “How on earth did it come to this!?” It was Lieutenant Alan Mahdi who sh..."

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== Chapter 8 – The Pirate’s Study Group ==
=== I ===
“How on earth did it come to this!?”

It was Lieutenant Alan Mahdi who shouted on behalf of the entire group. The anti-Tytania rogues, who had begun gathering around the large table in the mess hall, stopped tearing at their breakfast bread and turned to look at him.

“Tytania is splitting apart, and there’s civil war. How did things end up like this? Doctor, surely you can explain something.”

Late April, SY 447. Paulsen, a subordinate of Ariabert, was still leading the diving unit, patrolling the underwater reaches of the planet Bargash.

It was true that the Bargash withdrawal unit was lying in wait beneath the sea, but the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' was operating independently of them. The rogue band of scoundrels had infiltrated Port Samuel, a cluttered, subtropical port city, and rented an entire house. The old building, which had formerly served as a boarding house for sailors, possessed three distinct advantages: it was inconspicuous, it had many rooms, and the rent was cheap. Its disadvantages, however, outnumbered those merits five to one.

“There is far too little information. Documentation and physical evidence are insufficient. To let one’s imagination roam recklessly in such a state is not scholarship; it is mere gambling.”

Doctor Lee, who spoke with such an air of superiority, was a man widely reputed for using scholarship as a tool for gambling in the realms of politics and warfare. Having made the thesis of “How Tytania shall perish” his lifelong research subject, he was, at the very least, ideologically the most dangerous terrorist in the universe.

Doctor Lee knew several ways to destroy not just Tytania but all of humanity, though he lacked the organisational strength to carry them out. This must have been a fortunate thing for mankind.

“Of course, if one were to insist, I would not refuse to lay out my hypotheses. However, to rush into catering to popular gossip without pursuing theoretical perfection is a perversion of the scholarly path…”

“Fan, for the vegetable omelette, do you want it to be mainly potato or mainly onion!?”

This was the voice of a woman named Seraphine Coopers. She was addressing a young man with carrot-coloured hair, who had just taken his seat at the table with a sleepy expression and unbrushed locks.

Since renting this boarding house, Fan Hyulick and Seraphine Coopers had been living in the same room. If the feeling of “I simply cannot leave him be” fell within the bounds of affection, then their cohabitation was, for the time being, based on love.

“You truly are a man who never fails to replenish your supply of women, no matter where you go.”

Louis Edmond Pagès remarked this with genuine admiration, without much hint of sarcasm. Truth be told, Fan Hyulick required the presence of women for his own mental stability. Perhaps “prone to falling in love” was a more accurate description of the reality.

Last year, he had met a young girl named Lira Florentz, who was like a younger sister to Miranda. Although they had been parted by death before their relationship could even become romantic, her presence within him had only grown more immense after her passing. This very feeling had ultimately driven him to assassinate Count Arses, a Tytanian noble. Furthermore, that act had led to a confrontation with Arses’ elder brother, Duke Zarlisch, which resulted in his own death. To simplify the current situation into a legend, everything could be traced back to a single woman.

“I really wish you would use less onion.”

Miranda spoke to him as he ruffled his carrot-coloured hair in response:

“I think you could afford to be a little more cheerful. You did defeat Duke Ariabert, after all. Twice in a row, no less.”

“With cheap tricks.”

Fan Hyulick’s tone was utterly blunt.

The victory on the seabed had, rather, left him frustrated. He had won the battle, wounded Duke Ariabert Tytania—a man recognised by all as a great commander—and had driven him to resign his position as Commander-in-Chief, yet he felt no sense of true triumph. He felt like a bee stinging a great dragon: it only served to make him acutely aware of his own insignificance. What he had desired instead was to win a grand, honourable victory through a decisive clash between great fleets.

Doctor Lee threw cold water on his brand of chivalry.

“Oh, so you are dissatisfied. Tell me, Mr Hyulick, did you intend to fight a grand, frontal battle and emerge victorious with such meagre forces, such a thin sense of alliance, and a practically non-existent strategic plan?”

Doctor Lee was a master of adopting a spiteful and haughty tone without needing even a milligram of effort. Although Fan Hyulick opened his mouth to speak, it was clear that he could not possibly win, whether in terms of wit or sheer force, so he seemed to have no desire to engage in a losing battle.

A noisy debate was unfolding around him. It had been an unresolved argument for several days now. Since Tytania had split how they were to fight in the future and against whom remained the question.

“Whichever faction we destroy, the remaining half of Tytania will only celebrate. Is that not utterly absurd?”

“But even if they rejoice, their strength will have been halved. That is the crucial point, is it not?”

There was a thud against the table. Doctor Lee had struck the surface with his palm to call for the attention of the assembly.

“It is utterly vexing, but if it is what you all so desperately desire, I suppose I have no choice. I shall allow my scholarly conscience to rest for a moment and attempt to organise the situation.”

“Who exactly was it that desired this?” The “students” exchanged glances. Mahdi, finding himself the centre of attention, shook his head in a panic. Ignoring them, Doctor Lee urged everyone to take their seats.

There were those who grumbled, but in the end, the fact that everyone sat down was precisely the strange thing about this band of rogues. There was no charismatic leader, and while everyone acted quite selfishly, they did not disband. After all, since everyone stood isolated from both Tytania and the anti-Tytania factions, they had nowhere else to go.

Doctor Lee proceeded to restate the socially recognised facts to the “students” before developing his own theory from there.

“When a single faction holds the majority and grows immense, we call it a Gulliver<ref name="ftn33">“Giant” (巨人) is pronounced “Gulliver”.</ref>, borrowing from ancient literature. However, if the tendency toward enlargement becomes excessive, they naturally move towards division and dispersal. This is a law of history, so there is no need for undue surprise. If anything, one should rejoice that the temporal distance to the downfall of Tytania has been shortened. The only problem is…”

At this point, Fan Hyulick interjected somewhat hastily.

“Overthrowing Tytania sounds fine. But which Tytania are we overthrowing? Clanner Ajman, or the two dukes of the anti-Clanner faction?”

“They are no longer dukes,” corrected Doctor Lee, with the meticulousness of a graduate researcher. “They are former dukes. Now, the real problem is the risk that short-sighted choices, such as the one seen in Mr Fan Hyulick’s question just now, might cause us to misjudge the course of history. One must not lose sight of the grand design by fixating on immediate interests. Even so, the Clanner’s course of action is somewhat incomprehensible. It cannot be called a passing grade.”

Doctor Lee offered his assessment with an air of arrogance.

“If it were up to me, I would not attempt to strip both A and J simultaneously of their official duties. I would strip one of their rights while going out of my way to favour the other. I believe you can guess the reason…”

As Doctor Lee shifted his gaze, behaving like a first-rate professor at a third-rate university, Salam Amzekar replied:

“To engineer a split between the two, is that it?”

“Correct. As long as A and J remain united, their influence will not wane. Military and political power are working in perfect harmony, leveraging each other’s strengths and compensating for their respective weaknesses. A year ago, I could never have imagined such a magnificent duo would emerge.”

Watching the others nod and exchange glances, Doctor Lee added:

“To evaluate even one’s adversaries objectively, that is what academic conscience demands.”

Because he had a penchant for making unnecessary remarks at unnecessary times, Doctor Lee tended to make unnecessary enemies.

Seraphine Coopers casually picked up the coffee pot and stood up, moving around to pour coffee for the “students”, who all wore sulky expressions. Holding a cup in one hand, Louis Edmond Pagès asked a question:

“So, according to this so-called objective evaluation of yours, whose scheme was this particular affair?”

“I do not know who it is. They may be using plausible pseudonyms like destiny or history. In short, that individual intends to stage a drama with Tytania as the sole protagonist on a grand stage. Everyone else is destined to be nothing more than a supporting player or an antagonist.”

“I wonder if it will ever become an anti-establishment revolutionary drama with us as the protagonists?”

Michael Walenkov caused his chair to creak with his massive, 0.1-ton frame. Doctor Lee replied magnanimously:

“We shall have to wait for a future new production for that. For the time being, the Blaze Flag Army may take the stage. We shall simply accept a performance fee and join whichever side offers it.”

Amzekar knitted his dark eyebrows.

“The Blaze Flag Army must possess some pride. Do you truly believe they would agree to such a thing so easily?”

“It is merely a matter of appearances. I doubt how long such principles can hold up in the face of greed.”

Doctor Lee ruthlessly slashed through his former comrades with the blade of his acerbic tongue.

“Well, in their case, it cannot be helped. Those who lack true scholarly ambition will always prioritise practical benefit over ideals, and they feel no particular burden on their consciences. Looking back, if one faces the relationship between our ideals and reality head-on, we are actually at a quite critical juncture.”

Sceptical gazes, asking, ''“What were our ideals, exactly?”'', converged upon Doctor Lee. Naturally, he did not grant them a second thought.

“There is a possibility that we may receive overtures from both factions of the split Tytania. Furthermore, those overtures could be extremely significant. The question is how we shall choose when that time comes…”

The lamp on the wall flickered suddenly, announcing a visitor. The black-haired rogue, who had failed to become a professor, masked his burgeoning irritation and ordered Pagès to investigate the identity of the guest.

Upon receiving the reply that it was Count Elman Tytania, he flashed a thoroughly wicked smile. To his comrades, the expression on the teacher’s face clearly betrayed his thoughts on whom he might fail next.

=== II ===
“My, my, His Lordship Count Elman Tytania. I am truly honoured that you have deigned to visit such a grubby place.”

Doctor Lee welcomed the guest from Tytania with great ceremony. Ever since the attempted kidnapping last year, the two had served as the vital link between their respective factions. However, while Count Elman’s status was officially recognised by Clanner Ajman, Doctor Lee did not act with the unanimous support of the Anti-Tytania Faction. He invited the Count into the salon and gave instructions to the women.

“Serve His Lordship some tea. Use the most expensive blend we have.”

The latter half of the dialogue spoke eloquently of the financial state of Fan Hyulick’s faction. Count Elman must have thought it was quite vulgar to judge the quality of tea by its price, yet it was the hallmark of a true aristocrat to neither let it show on his face nor mention it with his lips.

Count Elman merely touched the served black tea to his lips for the sake of appearances, and after placing the cheap white porcelain saucer back down, he spoke with careful deliberation.

“It seems these past few days have brought much surprise to you both, in mass and in magnitude.”

“Indeed,” replied Doctor Lee, prompting the Count to mutter:

“It is a pity. Both Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain have personally distanced themselves from the position of the next Clanner of Tytania.”

“And what of Lord Idris?”

“Lord Idris lacks popular support. Normally, I would not consider him incompetent, but at present, nothing but his narrow-mindedness is apparent.”

“It is certainly extremely difficult for Lord Idris to face both A and J alone, without the backing of the Clanner’s authority.”

Count Elman did not respond directly. It was not that he disagreed with Doctor Lee’s opinion, but rather that he took issue with those vulgar abbreviations, A and J. After all, he was a nobleman of Tytania.

“Eventually, Lord Idris will surely desire to be officially recognised as the successor to His Clanner Highness…”

“Do you not possess such ambition yourself, Count?”

“That is preposterous.”

What appeared to be a wave of exhaustion was, in truth, the Count’s strained smile.

“I believe I am aware of my own capabilities. If I am fortunate, I might at least serve as the Chief Butler of Uraniborg—that is to say, the Clanner’s estate. In terms of rank, perhaps I could become Prime Minister of the Vardana Empire. But that is the limit. The position of Landless Clanner of Tytania is far too heavy for someone like me.”

“There are, however, precedents in history of those who went mad from bearing such a burden.”

Doctor Lee appeared to be enjoying himself. It was not that he delighted in tormenting Count Elman, but rather that he was enjoying the interplay between theory and fact in the manner of a scholar; however, it was perhaps his own misfortune that others did not perceive it as such.

“His Highness Ajman is formidable.”

That was Count Elman’s reply. The meaning hidden beneath the surface of his words was both profound and vast. Doctor Lee slightly narrowed his eyes, observing the expression of the Tytanian noble. Eventually, what he spoke of was not a result of his observation but a matter regarding something else entirely.

“Now then, I believe it is about time, Count. Shall we discuss the business that brought your noble self to such a wretched hovel?”

“I have been permitted to return to Uraniborg.”

“I presume I may offer my congratulations on that matter?”

“Regarding that…”

The Count adjusted not only his voice but also his entire posture.

“I wish to welcome your Blaze Flag Army heretic group to Uraniborg. I want to let all past grievances wash away and invite you as specialists in military technology. I promise sufficient compensation.”

Though he should have anticipated this, a silent wave of shock spread far beyond his expectations. Doctor Lee, who had accurately foreseen the turn of events, felt no particular pride in the fact itself.

“Count, you were supposed to be Lord Ariabert’s advisor. Have you fully reconciled yourself to that fact?”

“There is nothing to debate. My loyalty has always resided in Uraniborg with His Clanner Highness.”

“And what of our own safety? It would be the height of tragedy and absurdity if we were to make it to Uraniborg only to be arrested upon arrival and then face death by torture or execution.”

“I am a Tytanian. I would never resort to such despicable acts. I give you my word of honour.”

“Duchess Theresa Tytania is also a member of your important clan. Do you believe you can persuade her?”

Doctor Lee’s quiet question left Count Elman speechless.

“Her words and actions are governed by emotion. We are the ones who killed two of her sons. It is only natural that she hates us, but it would be problematic if that hatred manifested in actual harm.”

Doctor Lee’s argument was incredibly self-serving, yet at the same time, it was correct. Both Miranda and Mahdi nodded deeply in agreement.

They had not exactly agreed to proceed to Uraniborg, but it was only natural that they engage in a struggle over terms at the negotiating table. They could not afford to reduce their own options by rejecting the proposal outright. In Mahdi’s case especially, he harboured a financial grudge against Tytania. Even if the negotiations were to collapse, his true intention was likely to extort a significant sum before that happened.

Furthermore, Doctor Lee proceeded with another essential question.

“Above all else, what are the true intentions of His Clanner Highness Ajman?”

“I do not know.”

The clear-cut reply was simultaneously fraught with bitterness. The Count let out a heavy sigh, then took out a white silk handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead and neck.

“It is not merely that I do not know; no one else can know the will of His Clanner Highness. He is a truly unfathomable man, and the insight of an ordinary person is simply powerless against him.”

“I am in agreement on that point.”

With a solemn air, Doctor Lee expressed his academic agreement.

“I can certainly sense a tremendous energy of will, but its direction remains difficult to discern. It does not appear to be aimed simply at the maintenance of power, nor does he seem like a nihilist with a destructive bent. He is a man who never ceases to pique my academic interest.”

“To me, above all else, he is my liege. So, will you accept my proposal?”

“Personally, I am happy to accept. A scholar ought to be by the side of the finest subject of study. I would be most grateful if I could perform a living dissection of the mental world of Ajman Tytania.”

“Doctor, I do not believe myself to be such a narrow-minded man, but I must ask that you refrain from making remarks that are unnecessarily disrespectful toward His Clanner Highness.”

Count Elman made the request in a tone that made it clear he was suppressing his emotions.

“My apologies. I shall be more careful from now on.”

Doctor Lee’s honest reaction was something that should have been described as a tactical retreat. When subsequently pressed for a clear answer, he feigned deep thought.

“It is far too grave a matter for me to give an immediate response. I must ask for some time.”

After acting with such unnecessary deliberation, that was all Doctor Lee had to say.

=== III ===
Once Count Elman Tytania took his leave, the hideout of those rogues instantly reverted to a place of boisterous debate. At the time, this house bore the overly beautiful name of “Green Wind<ref name="ftn34">“Early summer breeze manor” or more literally “Green Wind Manor” (緑風荘) is pronounced “Green Wind”.</ref>,” though the only remnant of that title was the green paint that had seeped into parts of the walls. Against those walls, the voices of the rogues, enjoying their freedom of speech, echoed in a chaotic scramble.

It was said that the proposal had originated from Count Elman himself, but it would become official once the Clanner granted his sanction. The rogues, who had hitherto been cast out and hunted as enemies of Tytania, would suddenly find the greatest power in the universe on their side. In Mahdi’s words, it was “a remarkably prosperous prospect”, but it was Seraphine who attempted to dismiss it outright as being “out of the question”.

“No matter how good the terms are, it is out of the question. Isn’t Tytania supposed to be our enemy!?”

“Which Tytania do you mean?”

The irony resided more in the fact itself than in the voice or the words. Looking down at the speechless Seraphine, Doctor Lee cleared his throat and resumed his lecture.

“Now that a concrete example has been presented before us, I believe the matter has become easier to understand. However, such situations could occur infinitely many times across the entire universe in the future. It is an unpleasant thought, but there is no denying the fact that the modern era itself is being led by Tytania.”

He took a breath and drank some water, an action that seemed quite characteristic of a professor.

“It is a strange paradox, but by splitting into the Clanner faction and the anti-Clanner faction—if that is how one ought to call them—Tytania’s overall influence has actually increased.”

A loud voice responded:

“In that case, there’s no need to interfere. We should just let the two sides fight to the bitter end while we enjoy the view from a safe distance. If all goes well, we could reap the rewards once both sides are utterly exhausted. It’s not my favourite way of doing things, though.”

Miranda was the one who made that proposal. Although her resentment towards Tytania, the force that had destroyed her husband’s vocal cords, ran deep, she possessed a pragmatic sense of strategy and did not allow herself to run wild with emotion.

“We shall have both sides present their terms. If they are in a position where they must make demands, we can drive the rewards as high as we please. Now is the time to make them pay their absolute maximum.”

Such was the tone of Mahdi’s voice, which was tinged with excitement. The grudge he held against Tytania was the sort that could be settled with a vast sum of money.

It was Amzekar who raised a doubt, casting a sidelong glance at him.

“Why did Count Elman throw such tempting bait before us? While sudden reversals of fortune are common enough, this feels somewhat extreme.”

“It is because the Clanner faction believes their chances of victory in actual combat are slim. They need talent capable of opposing Lord Ariabert. Given that, regardless of past history, there is no one else but Fan Hyulick.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures. That was Miranda’s opinion on the matter. She held Fan Hyulick’s ability to devise and command tactics in high regard. Amzekar shared this sentiment, though he presented a slightly different perspective.

“However, one could also look at it from the opposite side. If we were to occupy a central position within the Clanner army, it would certainly not be pleasant for those of the Tytania hereditary nobility. It might go as far as them attempting to exclude us or losing their will to fight, but there is even the possibility that they might defect to the anti-Clanner faction on the battlefield.”

“Are you suggesting that is Count Elman’s intention? I feel you might be overthinking it slightly.”

Miranda tilted her head slightly, and her husband, Captain Casimir, had a small nod while wearing a pensive expression.

“I wonder, Doctor.”

In response to the question, Doctor Lee took up the conversation:

“It seems necessary to consider why Count Elman came this far in the first place. Or rather, how he was able to do so. I suppose I’ll have to give that some thought.”

“They must have maintained a channel for contact all this time.”

“It is not our conditions but theirs. Ordinarily, it would not be surprising if Count Elman were under house arrest by the likes of Lord Ariabert. There must be a reason why he is able to move about so freely.”

A sense of unease settled over the rogues. The possibility of a surprise attack by Tytania crossed their minds. Once Count Elman had confirmed their presence in this house, perhaps armed soldiers would surround them and burst in.

That was indeed a concern, but Doctor Lee denied the possibility. He claimed it was not even a matter of that level<ref name="ftn35">“Level” (水準) is pronounced “level”.</ref>.

“Both dukes are likely aware of Count Elman’s movements. Because there are too many uncertain variables, they are probably just letting him run free to see how he reacts. If necessary, they could simply turn us into stardust along with him.”

“In that case, why not just side with Lord Ariabert and his lot? It’s worth trying to negotiate. If Count Elman continues down this path, we could just catch him and hand him over to Lord Ariabert as a nice little gift.”

Mahdi made the suggestion, only to be met with a cold glare from Miranda.

“How easily you change your tune. Were you brainwashed during your time in Tytania?”

“I simply refuse to cling to useless things like empty notions of justice. Besides, I only dislike certain methods used by Tytania; I don’t hate Tytania itself.”

“There is no need to make excuses. Everyone is well aware that your conscience is held in a deposit account at a Tytania-affiliated bank.”

“Ah, and it has been accruing interest every single day, so by now, I ought to be a saint good enough to be called Saint Alan.”

“Is that so? I suppose if you wring out all the wicked parts of your soul, only the angelic parts will remain.”

“W-what? Are you looking for a fight?”

With a low growl, Mahdi quickly ducked behind Walenkov’s massive frame. Miranda stepped forward with a fearless smirk.

It was at this moment that Doctor Lee saved Mahdi from his predicament. He did not go so far as to say, ''“Those who want to cause a disturbance can stand in the corridor,”'' but he did restrain the Princess with a pacifying, “Now, now, Miranda,” adopting the air of a true pacifist.

“There is no point in fighting amongst ourselves here. We are, so to speak, the Jokers in the deck. Whoever acquires us might find us simply too much to handle. The real issue is how we are treated.”

Fan Hyulick responded bluntly:

“If it were me, I would burn the Joker. It would be much less trouble. If you possess such a thing, you are constantly anxious about when it might be snatched away, and if it were used against you to cause a defeat, the regret would be unbearable.”

“I only wish that no one would notice.”

Doctor Lee wore an expression akin to a professor who had discovered a mistake in his own grading. It was then that Salam Amzekar sought to speak. He did not go so far as to raise his hand, but through a sort of tacit understanding, it created the impression that he was delivering a research presentation to Doctor Lee.

Amzekar’s opinion was as follows:

In the first place, was this not all a grand theatrical performance staged by the entirety of Tytania? Since Lord Ariabert had suffered defeat in the undersea battle, the Tytania Clanner, Ajman, had abandoned the idea of subjugating Fan Hyulick’s faction through purely military means. Perhaps, disregarding the potential for clan division, he had instead devised a treacherous scheme to summon Fan Hyulick’s faction as mercenaries, lure them into the interior of Uraniborg, and massacre them all.

“Count Elman spoke at length about his honour as a nobleman and such, but the history of Tytania is a continuous series of power shifts. Even if others were to condemn us in unison, Tytania would feel no sting. It would be enough if Count Elman alone bore the infamy. What do you think of this idea?”

“It is certainly something Tytania might well do…”

Miranda crossed her thick, muscular arms and fell into thought. The reason Mahdi shifted uncomfortably, though he had been prepared to argue against her, was likely because he felt an undeniable persuasiveness in Amzekar’s words.

Then, Pagès voiced an even more dangerous possibility.

He suggested that there might be a plan in motion at Uraniborg to appease Lady Theresa, the mother of the late Lord Zarlisch. It was a strategy that sought to kill two birds with one stone: to satisfy her by avenging her sons and thereby persuade her to withdraw her claim to the dukedom.

Rather than answering that, Doctor Lee addressed another student:

“So, what shall we do, Mr Hyulick?”

“Simply standing by with our hands tied, watching the conflict between the Tytania factions, would be far too passive.”

“Then, shall we depart for Uraniborg?”

“Before that, we must figure out how we are going to leave this planet.”

“There is no need to worry about that. Count Elman will escort us. That should be well within the scope of his plan.”

At this juncture, it was the responsibility of the administrative authorities, not the scholars. It was what all the students felt Doctor Lee was implying.

“Even if we decide on that, what about the stance of the Bargash government? If we make a choice different from theirs, they will naturally attempt to obstruct us.”

Mahdi’s voice responded to Walenkov’s:

“As if those people had any right to complain. Not when they can’t even provide proper necessary expenses.”

That was certainly true; under the current dire financial circumstances, it would have been impossible for Mahdi, the treasurer, to line his own pockets.

“There is no need to concern ourselves with Bargash just yet. However, there are indeed far too many concerning matters regarding Tytania itself.”

“For instance, Doctor?”

“For instance, the recent internal conflict and division within the Tytania Clan seems a little too clear-cut in its pattern. Uraniborg, the stronghold of evil, and the two unfortunate dukes driven from it. Good versus evil. It is a sight that feels a bit too dramatic.”

“True enough.”

Fan Hyulick brought the faces of Ariabert and Jouslain to mind. ''“They had faces that appealed to the common people,”'' he thought, with a slight sense of inferiority.

“In that case, Lord Idris would be viewed, in terms of imagery, as an agent of evil.”

“The man himself might be feeling quite innocent excitement. Believing that the Clanner’s throne is finally within his reach.”

In reality, as long as both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain remained alive, Idris was nothing more than the third candidate for the next Clanner. Since both dukes had been exiled at the same time, it was only natural that the flames of his ambition would roar into life. However, whether those flames could endure until the very end remained to be seen.

In the first place, it was Doctor Lee who had committed the crime of spreading malicious rumours of “treasonous intent by Lord Idris” throughout the frontier sectors. It was Balamy who had gathered these reports and presented them to Uraniborg. While the matter appeared to have been settled in a half-hearted manner, Ariabert and Jouslain would, of course, use those rumours to their advantage in both political and military manoeuvres.

“Ensure that everyone is prepared to depart by the time further word arrives from Count Elman.” With those words, Doctor Lee dismissed the group of students for the time being.

=== IV ===
Doctor Lee and Fan Hyulick continued their brainstorming on the second-floor balcony, amidst the humid sea breeze. Seraphine, who had brought over some iced tea, placed the glasses on the slightly tilted surface of the table and spoke with a hint of hesitation:

“Do you really intend to go to Uraniborg, Fan?”

“Well, I suppose so. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to visit a place like Uraniborg in my entire lifetime. There is, of course, the option of going merely for sightseeing.”

“Do you not think you might be killed?”

“That is a difficult question. If I were to be killed, my name would live on in posterity as the ultimate fool. It is possible that the opinions of Admiral Amzekar and Pagès are correct.”

Alternatively, an even more bitter trap might have been waiting in ambush. Lady Theresa, driven mad by revenge, could lead her private militia to raid the brigands, resulting in the total annihilation of both sides after a fierce battle. The incident would then be treated as a mere private feud, allowing Tytania to resolve both internal and external grievances in one fell swoop. Indeed, it would be quite characteristic of Tytania to execute something of that nature.

“Lord Idris’ psychological state is a key factor here,” pointed out Doctor Lee.

If Idris felt confident in defeating Ariabert through a direct confrontation between the fleets, he would have no need for Fan Hyulick. He would simply have him captured and executed immediately. Conversely, if Idris lacked confidence in victory, he might temporarily set aside his pride and agree to delegate command to Fan Hyulick to face Ariabert.

“What do you intend to do if Fan betrays us after being given command?”

Seraphine raised a doubt, but Doctor Lee dismissed it with a light wave of his hand.

“There is no such worry whatsoever. Even if Fan Hyulick were to suddenly turn his blade against us, the Tytania troops would not follow him. They are bound to the authority of Clanner Ajman.”

Fan Hyulick possessed no authority of his own. He merely possessed the capability of a military engineer; his leadership relied one hundred percent upon the authority of the Clanner. That was precisely why Clanner Ajman could remain at ease, even when granting Fan Hyulick military force as a mercenary captain.

In response to Doctor Lee’s explanation, Seraphine raised her objection once more.

“Of course the Tytania troops wouldn’t follow Fan. But the opponents they would be fighting are both Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain. If, on top of an already difficult fighting position, Fan were to instigate them to fight on behalf of both Dukes, the troops might become unsettled.”

“Hmm, I hadn’t considered that.”

Even Doctor Lee fell into thought, looking somewhat caught off guard. Eventually, he nodded, as if praising a bright student.

“Indeed, there are countless theoretical possibilities. Sera, your line of thinking is quite interesting. So, in such a scenario, what would be Fan Hyulick’s motive?”

“His motive?”

“The motive for Fan Hyulick to carry out such instigation. What profit would Hyulick gain from allowing both Dukes to emerge victorious?”

“It would mean the collapse of Clanner Ajman’s dictatorial rule.”

“And then, both dukes would establish a new regime. A reborn, fresh Tytania would take the place of the old Tytania to rule the cosmos. Goodness me…”

Doctor Lee spread his arms wide with deliberate flourish. Hyulick merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Tytania shall endure, indeed. In truth, Doctor, this is no laughing matter,” replied Doctor Lee, noting that he, of course, did not believe this was merely a struggle for power. “Furthermore, there is only one Clanner’s throne. It cannot be asserted that the friendly relations between the two dukes will last forever. If that is the case, will Tytania eventually find itself at war once more over that single seat?”

Doctor Lee and Fan Hyulick locked eyes. No clear conclusion emerged in either of their gazes.

Around this time, it appeared that Lord Idris had established absolute dominion within Uraniborg.

Above all, Clanner Ajman had not shown himself in public at all since the attempted assassination. Only Lord Idris conveyed “His Clanner Highness will” to those outside.

The medical team, consisting of eight doctors, fifteen nurses, six male orderlies, and two pharmacists, stayed within the Clanner’s residential quarters, and the Clanner’s wife and children also remained secluded within the estate, avoiding all public appearances. At the Council of Five Families, four seats remained empty, leaving Idris to sit there entirely alone. No one could fathom what he was thinking or what occupied his mind during the time he spent in that seat.

To the outside world, Idris had become almost the Clanner himself. Although he acted with the authority of Clanner Ajman behind him, his practical administrative ability in managing the massive machinery and vast personnel of Uraniborg showed no signs of collapse, and in that regard, he had earned surprisingly high praise. Consequently, opinions were split: some whispered, “Is His Clanner Highness truly well? Is it possible that Lord Idris is fabricating His Highness’ orders on his own?” while others contended, “Lord Idris is nothing more than a puppet of the Clanner; everything is done according to His Highness’ instructions, which is itself proof that His Highness remains well.” In either case, such voices remained small.

It was on the 1<sup>st</sup> of May in that year that Idris made a broadcast to the entire universe. Clad in a grey military uniform, Idris read aloud the proclamation in the name of the Clanner, maintaining a composed manner even as his youthful cheeks were slightly flushed:

“This is a proclamation to Ariabert and Jouslain, currently on planet Bargash. Both individuals have already been stripped of the Tytania family name, their titles, and all other ranks and public offices. They have lost all rights of citizenship. Their current actions on the planet Bargash—claiming the name of the Tytania clan and exercising arbitrary military command—were unjust and illegal, and were such that His Clanner Highness Clanner Ajman and His Imperial Majesty Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana shall absolutely not grant any pardon. Both must immediately surrender themselves to the Tytania regular army and present themselves at Uraniborg to face trial by His Clanner Highness in person. Their safety shall be guaranteed until a verdict is rendered, and the charges levied against them are finalised. The deadline for their surrender is the 20<sup>th</sup> of May at noon. Should they fail to present themselves by this deadline, they shall be declared guilty of treason, and every means necessary shall be employed to inflict a punishment befitting their crimes. If they possess any conscience or courage, let them surrender at once.”

The pronouncement continued, concluding with the threat that anyone who aided Ariabert and Jouslain would be deemed an enemy of Tytania, be they nation, organisation, or individual.

When the two dukes heard that declaration while in Bargash, they had already prepared their own proclamation.

“To strike down the conspirator at his side.”

That was the declaration of both dukes. The “conspirator at his side” referred specifically to Duke Idris Tytania. For the sake of their own peace of mind, as well as the morale of the Tytania troops, Ariabert and Jouslain narrowed their military target down to Idris alone.

According to the declaration of the two dukes, Idris had taken advantage of Ariabert’s absence to attempt to seize absolute authority over Uraniborg. He had plotted the assassination of Clanner Ajman, and when the attempt failed, he had cast the blame upon Jouslain. Furthermore, he had imprisoned the wounded Clanner and abused his authority to the utmost, acting with unparalleled tyranny, and was ultimately attempting to become a despot by massacring his own kin. The declaration stated that they must decisively strike him down and restore the honour of Tytania.

“Idris must be furious. We’ve painted him as such a villain.”

The content was so bellicose that Ariabert could only manage a wry smile.

“He is just as desperate to cast us as the villains. It is wretched, but such is the nature of war. Without the pretext of striking down evil, men cannot kill one another.”

“A battle between good and evil, then?”

“No, evil against evil, probably.”

With a bitter smile, Jouslain took the manifesto in his hand.

“I should like to be the lesser evil, at the very least, but we’ll have to see how it turns out…”

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 7

2026-10-06T17:58:17Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 6 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 8 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 7 – The Great Schism == === I === On the 15<sup>th</sup> of April at 18:00, the two Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain finally r..."

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</noinclude>
== Chapter 7 – The Great Schism ==
=== I ===
On the 15<sup>th</sup> of April at 18:00, the two Dukes Ariabert and Jouslain finally reunited. While this was intended to be a private affair, it resulted in something of historical significance. Amidst the shocking event known as the “Great Schism” of the Tytania Clan, the two titans of the rebellion against Clanner Ajman ended up holding a meeting.

“Let those two meet in Bargash. You can be certain they’ll be plotting something.”

It was Idris who had shouted those words, but regardless of his true intentions, he ended up seeing his prophecy fulfilled. Although Ariabert and Jouslain had not met specifically to conspire, it was never likely that their meeting would consist of nothing more than idle chatter.

Leaving Princess Lydia and the others on the flagship, Jouslain headed directly from the central spaceport to the hospital where Ariabert lay, accompanied only by Balamy. Jouslain had heard that Ariabert’s recovery was progressing well and that he would be discharged safely within April.

After leaving Balamy to wait in the lobby, Jouslain entered the patient’s room alone. The doctor limited the visiting time to one hour before withdrawing to the adjacent room, allowing the two dukes to exchange greetings after their long absence. One sat propped up halfway in bed, while the other took a seat in an armless chair.

“I was relieved to hear that your recovery is going smoothly. How is the situation in Bargash?”

“It is what one might call a false peace. Fan Hyulick and the others are quiet. I suppose they are simply enjoying their afternoon naps.”

“When they awaken from those peaceful dreams, they will surely be bewildered. The more robust their strategic plans, the more bewildered they shall be.”

Tytania ruled the cosmos. Meanwhile, the modest forces led by Fan Hyulick stood in defiance. The framework that everyone had envisioned collapsed within these few dozen days, and Fan Hyulick’s victory beneath the sea remained buried within the strata of history, unknown to many. Now, hundreds of billions of sensory organs focused their attention on every single movement of the two dukes.

As far as Ariabert was concerned, it was a fact that he had failed to subjugate Fan Hyulick’s faction, and he had to take responsibility in some form. It was also true that he had sustained severe injuries that would take three months to fully heal, and his health was far too poor to wield his dictatorial powers in Bargash. Furthermore, it was certain that Idris would pursue him to demand accountability. Since he was unable to return to Uraniborg to offer lengthy explanations, Ariabert had no choice but to resign.

From that point on, the rapid escalation of events exceeded even Ariabert’s predictions; however, rather than a lack of foresight on his part, it would be more accurate to say that the situation itself had become irrational. Everything was accelerating. Or perhaps Clanner Ajman, himself cornered, had been forced into a sudden decision—provided the Clanner was indeed the true mastermind.

“There is nothing to be done about the defeat. It was my own blunder, for I temporarily lost sight of the bigger picture and grew too impatient to restore my personal honour.”

These were the terms in which Ariabert described his defeat.

“Even if I were to remain in the position of Commander-in-Chief, I would eventually find myself defeated by Fan Hyulick once more. I simply felt the need to take a step back and view the situation from a broader perspective…”

Ariabert cast his gaze toward his bedside. A vase overflowed with carnations in blue, white, and red. In the background, the sky was visible through the window, deepening into twilight with each passing moment, as the light of the fixed stars retreated and the points of light from other stars increased in both number and intensity.

“Tytania is an invisible rope. She binds not only our bodies but our hearts as well. I found myself wondering if it might be possible to break free from her.”

The shackles of Tytania weighed heavily even upon the dukes, who enjoyed privileges by virtue of the veneration they received from others. Though they had been raised under the values that ran through the very history of Tytania and were ostensibly adults, there were times when they were struck with horror by the reflection of themselves in the eyes of others. Once doubt took root, they could no longer remain content in their noble ignorance.

As a result, it might be said that Ariabert had struck first against the Clanner. Yet, whether that was something for Ariabert to rejoice in, Jouslain could not be certain. He did not believe that the Clanner, having been outmanoeuvred, would have accepted such a state of affairs with grace.

“It was perhaps for the best that you were injured, Lord Ariabert. It saved you from being summoned to Uraniborg.”

“In exchange, I was dragged into your troubles, Lord Jouslain. It was quite a nuisance.”

Ariabert uttered a rather clumsy joke<ref name="ftn30">“Joke” (冗談) is pronounced “joke”.</ref>. It was not merely Balamy who was an exception; generally speaking, the Tytania nobility lacked a great talent for wit.

“That is why I wished to hear the truth from you, Lord Jouslain. What on earth happened?”

In response to the natural question, Jouslain readjusted himself in his chair and began to recount the circumstances at Uraniborg following Ariabert’s resignation.

Rebellions of a suppressible scale were beneficial for strengthening a ruling regime. This had been a political law since the era of ancient city-states, and there were numerous instances where powerful figures had even been driven into rebellion for that very purpose. Was the current incident one such example? While harbouring such thoughts, Jouslain nonetheless stated his position to Ariabert:

“Just to be clear, I had absolutely no involvement in this so-called attempted assassination of His Clanner Highness. In fact, I even doubt that the incident ever took place. As far as the actual facts go, all that exists is the official announcement made by Lord Idris.”

Although Jouslain did not explicitly say that he distrusted Idris’ words, his meaning was perfectly understood. Ariabert attempted to summarise the situation.

“So Lord Jouslain, are you saying that Lord Idris set a trap for you?”

“No, I cannot say that for certain. I cannot say whether Lord Idris framed me or if he was merely an accomplice or an accessory.”

“…”

“Personally, I suspect it was the latter. Lord Idris will likely take offence, but no matter how many conspiracies he weaves on his own, I do not believe His Clanner Highness would ever be led astray by them.”

It was a harsh assessment, but few would have disagreed. Ariabert gave a nod of affirmation, picked up a fragment of a note left by the bedside, and read it aloud in a low voice.

“His Clanner Highness was targeted and wounded, though his life is not in danger. The perpetrator was shot dead on the spot, and Lord Jouslain’s name remains associated with the crime as the one who ordered it.”

Ariabert allowed himself a small smile.

“It is a most convenient tale. Should His Clanner Highness pass away, regardless of the truth, the masses would drift away from Idris. At this moment, it is Idris who needs His Clanner Highness the most in the entire universe.”

Jouslain noticed that Ariabert had removed the title of “Lord” from Idris’ name, but he made no mention of it.

As the conversation shifted to the circumstances of his departure from Uraniborg and turned to the female captain of the ''Austra'', Ariabert interjected:

“Edna is a highly skilled captain.”

Under Jouslain’s gaze, Ariabert realised that he had addressed Captain Edna Fredericks by her given name. Ariabert looked back at Jouslain’s face and admitted it dispassionately: he had been involved with Edna romantically.

This was the first instance in which Jouslain had become aware of one of Ariabert’s romantic entanglements. Ariabert was not the type of man to flaunt his many affairs as if they were medals of honour.

“Surely, Lord Ariabert, you were not attracted to her solely for her prowess as a captain?”

“Of course, she wasn’t a captain when we first met. It was ten years ago now.”

Judging by conversations such as this, Ariabert appeared to be a man whose sense of humour was perhaps even more clumsy than Balamy’s.

“Are you currently broken up?”

“We didn’t break up explicitly. She has her military duties and her own life, and we simply drifted apart over time.”

Ariabert shook his head and offered a smile, but a faint shadow crossed his handsome features. When Jouslain remained silent, Ariabert added:

“Besides, she is not the sort of woman who would be swayed by Tytania’s authority. I had no intention of using my position to bind her. That is the gist of it.”

Nodding, Jouslain changed the subject. The appointment of Edna Fredericks as the captain of Jouslain’s flagship. She was one who refused to obey orders she didn’t agree with and resolutely carried out her initial assignment as the one in charge of Jouslain’s flagship. Jouslain could not help but dwell on it. He wondered if someone had calculated this move.

Since their opponent was none other than Clanner Ajman, he could not afford to ignore even the slightest flickering of a shadow. However, for the time being, Jouslain felt he should present the facts to Ariabert rather than his suspicions.

“In any case, much to my regret, I have been accused of the capital crime of attempted assassination of the Clanner. Naturally, as this is a false charge, I have no intention of submitting easily. I intend to fight to protect my own life, honour, and rights. Regardless of who my opponent may be.”

Jouslain made his declaration very quietly, then finished his explanation.

=== II ===
“You intend to fight His Clanner Highness…!?”

Ariabert’s voice trembled with dread. He was not a coward. No one within Tytania could cast such a slur upon him. Conversely, it meant that Clanner Ajman was the only person in the entire universe capable of striking such terror into Ariabert’s heart.

Jouslain gave a slight wave of his hand.

“Though I said ‘fight’, I don’t imply anything particularly heroic. I am no enlightened saint, so I shall simply struggle. That is all. However, since I refused to entrust my life to Lord Idris back then, it seems I have no choice but to keep struggling until my final breath.”

“It might be worth trying to explain yourself. Whether the other party accepts it is their concern. Ordinarily, I should be the one endeavouring to mediate, but given the current state of affairs…”

At that point, the doctor declared the need for examination and rest, and Jouslain left the infirmary for the time being.

Their second meeting took place after both had finished dinner, by which time night had already fully fallen.

“But why would the Clanner choose Idris as his successor? I cannot fathom it.”

Ariabert furrowed his well-shaped brows and muttered, almost as if to himself:

“Lord Jouslain, if you were to become the successor, I would have no objection. And even if it were Idris, I suppose it could not be helped. However, while I might obey, it would be difficult for me to truly accept it.”

“That is only natural.”

If one were to invert Ariabert’s psychology, it would reveal Jouslain’s. Idris was younger than both of them and inferior in both achievement and popularity. The Clanner must have been aware of this. Or perhaps, precisely because he was aware of it, he was attempting to bolster Idris’ power in order to balance the influence of the three dukes.

“Perhaps he has been considering this for decades.”

Jouslain entertained the speculation, yet he sought to avoid delving too deeply into the matter.

“However, it would be best to refrain for now. To pry into His Clanner Highness’ inner thoughts and fight within that labyrinth. We should merely respond to His Highness’ actions in a way that protects our own lives and pride.”

At that moment, Jouslain presented one of the most significant questions.

“Lord Ariabert, your subordinates surely swear their loyalty to you, do they not?”

“If the opponent were Idris, almost all of them would follow. But if the opponent becomes the Clanner, even half of them would be doubtful.”

“… That is precisely the problem,” murmured Jouslain, and Ariabert, in silence, tugged at the hem of his pyjamas.

Idris could not emerge victorious in the struggle for supremacy through his own strength alone. It was only by having the authority of the Clanner at his back that he could possibly oppose Ariabert and Jouslain.

Reflecting on this, Jouslain realised that he had been moving too hastily.

“In any event, Lord Ariabert, even if I were to go to war against the Clanner and Lord Idris, it pains me to involve you. I cannot allow myself to become a prisoner here, so I intend to depart from Bargash within the coming days.”

“A bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Ariabert gave a short laugh. His injuries had healed enough that he could laugh aloud.

“The situation where I could remain neutral is long a thing of the past. Lord Jouslain, I too have no choice but to fight alongside you. Or rather…”

Raising a hand, Ariabert silenced Jouslain’s opening remark.

“Lord Jouslain, it is not your responsibility. I was the one who clashed with Idris. There is no turning back now.”

… A full week before Jouslain had arrived at Bargash, Ariabert had received orders from Uraniborg to place him in detention as soon as Jouslain’s arrival was confirmed.

“I shall inform His Clanner Highness!”

Ariabert raised his voice toward the communication screen that had been brought into the sickroom.

“There are far too many questions regarding this matter from the very beginning. It is impossible that Lord Jouslain would attempt to harm His Clanner Highness. First, I request that you grant him a fair opportunity to defend himself.”

However, the figure that appeared on the grainy display of the communication screen was not the Clanner, but Idris. Ariabert demanded a direct meeting with the Clanner, but Idris brushed him off with disdain.

''“It is impossible for His Clanner Highness to meet with you. His Highness is, unfortunately, confined to his bed after being attacked by a band of lawless rioters. It is only natural that Lord Jouslain, who directed the violent acts of those rioters, should be held accountable.”''

“That is exactly why I am demanding you produce evidence. To defame Lord Jouslain, one of the four dukes, as an instigator of assassination without physical proof, and to plot his arrest, is that not an act that disregards both honour and human rights?”

''“If he has something to say, he would do well to speak it in the presence of the Clanner. Provided he has nothing to hide, that is. To abandon his own opportunity to defend himself and flee is tantamount to an admission of guilt. Lord Ariabert, should he attempt to evade justice by remaining in Bargash, I shall be forced to use force to hold you accountable for harbouring a criminal. I trust you are prepared for that.”''

“I suggest you moderate your braggadocio. Do you truly intend to compete with me, Ariabert, on the matter of military prowess?”

''“How amusing. You are the one boasting. A defeated general, beaten not once but twice by a mere wandering bandit like Fan Hyulick, dares to lecture me on the use of troops?!”''

Idris sneered. The conversation between the two dukes, which had been clashing like blades, ground to a halt. It took a span of time equivalent to light travelling three million kilometres before Ariabert opened his mouth once more.

“… You are not the one I lost to, Idris.”

Ariabert’s voice was low, yet it pierced through Idris with sharp precision.

“If you truly possess a talent for stratagems that surpasses that of Fan Hyulick, then prove it with facts. Bring forth an unprecedented, massive army and march upon me. I shall see you returned to Uraniborg, laid to rest in a gilded coffin, just as it is fitting for you!”

It must have been the most fervent oration of Ariabert’s life. A great volume of blood surged through the vessels in Idris’ face, and the cartilage in his throat bobbed.

Once he finally steadied his breathing, Idris forced a voice that was little more than a groan through the corner of his lips.

''“I shall take that as a declaration of war, then, Lord Ariabert.”''

“How else could you possibly interpret it? Don’t act so high and mighty, you idiot!”

The final words were delivered with an intensely provocative tone, lending a spark of spirited vitality to Ariabert’s face, which had often been described as lacking character. Idris’ eyes grew bloodshot. The capillaries had burst.

''“Just you wait. I’ll kill you!”''

Following that blunt outburst, the transmission was severed, and the screen of the interstellar communication terminal faded to a cloudy white…

“… And that is how it stands. Even if the Clanner were to forgive me, Idris never would. He would undoubtedly set out to kill me in earnest. It means I am left with no other choice.”

Exasperated, Jouslain gazed at his cousin of the same age.

“Lord Ariabert, I had no idea you possessed such a childish temperament. I thought of you as a much more mild-mannered and sensible man.”

“I thought so too. However, it seems I had only deceived myself. Perhaps I merely wished to become that but failed to truly become it.”

Ariabert’s reminiscence reached back into the past. A past shared by them both. Jouslain remained silent. He found himself unable to offer even a verbal response.

“Lord Jouslain, do you hate my mother?”

It was a question he had anticipated, yet he could manage no more than a simple, “No.” Ariabert appeared to have expected that very reaction. For he did not press him with a question like, “Are you certain?”

“It is only natural that I should be hated. But when I was a child, my mother said to me: ‘Never allow yourself to be hated by others, it is enough that you hate yourself’.”

Ariabert cast his gaze toward a corner of the ceiling.

“Then again, even from the perspective of her own son, my mother was a shrewd woman, so that might have been a kind of act as well. Well, regardless, it is in the past now. Since things have reached a breaking point, it would be best to focus on what lies ahead.”

Jouslain nodded in silence. He understood. He understood that when the interstellar communication from Idris was severed, Ariabert had severed a part of the mental wiring that had stretched back from the past.

=== III ===
Jouslain found and rented out an entire mid-sized hotel located a three-minute walk from the hospital where Ariabert was receiving treatment, using it as both his headquarters and quarters.

The hotel, named “Hotel Avion”, stood ten storeys high. The headquarters functions were situated on the first through sixth floors, with a guard post on the seventh, the quarters for the staff officers on the eighth, and Jouslain’s own residence occupying the ninth and tenth floors. Balamy’s private room was located on the ninth floor, while the private rooms for Lydia and Francia were on the tenth. Jouslain’s office was on the sixth floor, his salon on the ninth, and his bedroom on the tenth.

Having been entrusted with them by Jouslain, Balamy had carried out these specific arrangements. Reappointed as senior ''aide-de-camp'' by Jouslain, he was regarded by outsiders as Jouslain’s confidant, and he was proving himself through his actions worthy of that title.

There was one other person who believed Balamy to be a confidant, and he had to fulfil a role for that person as well. Upon seeing that individual, Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Elbing, looking somewhat lost, he spoke to her:

“Do you wish to see your grandfather, Princess?”

Princess Lydia did not answer immediately. She gazed through the window at the landscape on the ground, which she was seeing for the first time in nearly a year, and replied while still looking down at the ordinary courtyard with its fountain.

“It would be difficult to return without some sort of souvenir. One who belongs to royalty must bring benefit to the nation. Since I am not yet capable of that, I cannot return just yet.”

She must have been longing for her homeland. That Balamy had surmised the Princess’ true feelings in such a way might have been an indication that his powers of intuition were maturing.

Princess Lydia turned to face Balamy and asked him another question, her expression tinged with worry:

“Will it come to a point where the Tytania army attacks the Kingdom of Elbing, Bal?”

“No, I believe you need not worry about that.”

Balamy stated it with certainty. He felt for Princess Lydia, but the Kingdom of Elbing was simply not within Tytania’s concerns. Whether they remained neutral or sided with either the Clanner’s faction or the anti-Clanner’s faction, it would be like a weakened mosquito landing on the surface of one’s skin; it would cause no real irritation or pain.

As he pondered upon this, Balamy realised yet one possibility. The matter belonged more to the realm of political manoeuvring than strategy. To show those who sided with the anti-Clanner faction what consequences awaited them, “Uraniborg” might attack the Kingdom of Elbing, potentially destroying entirely this impoverished and powerless stellar nation. That Balamy felt Lord Idris was capable of such an act could not be called a fair assessment; rather, it was a malicious prejudice.

That prejudice had a significant influence on the course Balamy chose to set. With Jouslain departing Uraniborg and Idris set to wield power as the Clanner’s deputy, Balamy found himself in a precarious position. At the very least, staying under Jouslain’s command should have ensured a brighter future for him. Furthermore, he felt needed here, and it allowed him to remain far removed from the sense of alienation and isolation he had experienced during his time on the planet Tyron. In many respects, it should have been the right choice.

''“The next time I return to Uraniborg, I shall do so as one of the victors,”'' he resolved in his heart, yet he was far from possessing perfect confidence.

It struck him with a fresh shiver that, should matters continue to unfold in this manner, he would find himself fighting Clanner Ajman. The Clanner was the very symbol of Tytania’s power and an object of infinite awe. Even with the alliance of Ariabert and Jouslain, he wondered if they could truly hope to defeat him.

Nevertheless, he set aside his inner anxieties for the moment. As a knight, he had to hold his head high in the presence of the princess.

“Princess, let us go to the tea lounge. I hear this hotel has forty different kinds of fruit pie. We shall certainly not lack for treats for the time being.”

He had become quite fond of pastries.

Now, although Jouslain had been suspended from his authority as Commander-in-Chief, he had not been formally dismissed. Had he been dismissed, under whose command would the Tytania forces stationed in Bargash have operated? Would Ariabert return to his post? However, Ariabert had already welcomed Jouslain, ignoring the notification from Uraniborg. If Ariabert were to join Jouslain in refusing to submit to Uraniborg, both would be branded as rebels and sought for destruction by the Tytania heartland.

A civil war between Tytania and Tytania.

It was a situation powerful enough to shock the entire universe. Until then, human history had been recorded in terms of “Tytania versus non-Tytania”. Struggles and conflicts had always been depicted through the framework of “Tytania versus anti-Tytania”. That traditional pattern had now been shattered. Many people found themselves unable to decide or judge how to deal with this new paradigm, which was unfolding beyond the bounds of their imagination.

Planet Bargash remained under the occupation of the Tytanian military. Or should it be said that it had instead passed under the control of the anti-Tytania forces? The people of Bargash were forced into an unexpected state of confusion when trying to describe the situation.

“If Lord Ariabert has indeed defected from the service of the Clanner, then there is no legal basis to continue the garrisoning of Bargash. We ought to demand their withdrawal.”

That was an opinion shared by some, but it lacked sufficient realism and failed to garner widespread support.

“This has become quite a bizarre situation. Which side should our government side with? Or shall we remain neutral?”

“Regardless, if things continue as they are, Bargash may face a full-scale assault from the Tytania forces, effectively turning it into a stronghold for the rebels.”

“Good heavens, how did it ever come to this?”

The councillors and officials of Bargash gathered to deliberate. Though they intended to speak in whispers, their voices grew loud in the heat of excitement.

“Might we take this opportunity to side with the AJ Alliance and strike a blow against the long-standing Tytania regime…?”

While the “AJ Alliance” certainly took its name from the initials of Ariabert and Jouslain, they had also been unilaterally bestowed with other names that were hardly poetic, such as the “Two Dukes’ Compact” or the “Anti-Clanner Faction”. Perhaps the name “Anti-Idris Faction” would have been the most apt, yet strangely, no one ever uttered it.

“Clanner Ajman remains in full health. Even if the AJ Alliance rebels, their chances of victory are slim. Wouldn’t it be better to establish ties with the Clanner and exclude the AJ Alliance, thereby coexisting with a new Tytania administration?”

“Do you truly think it would be that simple? If the AJ Alliance were eliminated, the Clanner’s power would grow even more formidable, and his attitude towards Bargash would become even more overbearing.”

“Indeed, why should we lend our cooperation to the Clanner? Regardless of whether Tytania’s Clanner faction or the AJ Alliance emerges victorious, the best course of action would be to maintain a position of neutral non-interference.”

“Mere observation is too timid. We ought to intervene skilfully and aim to bring about the mutual destruction of both sides. This would be the perfect opportunity to collapse the Tytania ruling system.”

“Preposterous. We must avoid intervening as if this were some mere game. Do not forget that Tytania is, by nature, a clan with strong unity. If we meddle carelessly and cause them to be reminded of their blood ties, it will only lead to trouble. Serious trouble.”

It seemed as though almost every inhabitant of Bargash had become a critic regarding Tytania’s political and military strategies. An unusual excitement had taken hold of them.

The rule of the Tytania Clan had appeared as powerful, stable, and unmoving as a mature star. Now, however, it was trembling violently, and any error might lead to its total collapse. Such turning points in history were more intoxicating to people than any drug.

“After all, Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain possess a great fleet of twenty thousand vessels. They are the strongest armed force in the universe. Does Uraniborg possess the talent capable of countering them?”

“But that is the Tytania military, not Lord Ariabert’s private army. If the Clanner were to clearly declare them public enemies, how many of those twenty thousand ships would actually follow Lord Ariabert?”

“And the rest would turn their spears against him? Yet, Lord Ariabert commands the deep devotion of his officers and men.”

“The awe felt toward the Clanner is likely much deeper.”

“The Clanner, huh? He truly is a monster.”

“What on earth was that man thinking?”

At this point, people fell silent. They were exhausted, and whenever the sculpted features of Clanner Ajman drifted into their minds, they felt an indescribable sense of intimidation.

=== IV ===
On the 16<sup>th</sup> of April the following year, Ariabert and Jouslain met at the hospital once more to discuss their future strategy. One pressing issue was that they had to devise a just cause to justify armed resistance against Clanner Ajman.

Jouslain had a proposal in mind:

''“To strike down the conspirator at the side.”''<ref name="ftn31">Jouslain’s slogan doesn’t translate too well in English, but the expression “conspirer at the side” that he uses (君側の奸) refers to someone who curries a person’s favour while plotting against him in the shadows. Essentially, this slogan accuses Idris of having betrayed the Clanner and ruling in his name.</ref>

Upon hearing Jouslain’s words, Ariabert clapped his hands lightly.

“I see. So our target is Idris. If so, the cause is just. Even regarding your own situation, Lord Jouslain, none of the Clanner’s own words have been relayed to us. It is possible that Idris has been speaking as he pleases.”

“It will likely be deeply regrettable for Lord Idris, however.”

The AJ Alliance declared war with the aim of removing Idris. From that very moment, Idris became a political pawn. Should the AJ Alliance achieve a military victory and corner the Clanner, the Clanner might seek peace negotiations by sacrificing Idris. Conversely, should the Clanner’s forces emerge victorious, Ariabert and Jouslain would be removed from the stage of life itself, leaving only the echoes of Idris’ triumphal song.

“While I may feel pity for Idris being targeted, I also feel pity for us, forced into rebellion against our will. Whether we resist or submit, for the time being, we have no choice but to dance within the Clanner’s enormous palm.”

“In other words, even combined, the three dukes cannot match the Clanner alone.”

“That is precisely why he became the Clanner, bypassing his elder brother.”

Ajman’s elder brother was, in effect, Balamy’s late father, Estrade. Just moments before he could challenge his younger brother’s authority, he met an untimely death, and his surviving child now resided within Jouslain’s camp. It seemed that for two generations, father and son were destined never to find peace under Ajman’s rule.

It was a fact that bore repeating, but both Ariabert and Jouslain were Tytanians. They knew that, at this stage, seeking a peaceful resolution with empty hands would be futile. They had no choice but to defend themselves through force. It was not to say that it was right from a humanitarian point of view. However, that was the grim reality of the universe under Tytania’s dominion.

Ariabert made a proposal.

“How about a plan like this? We send a secret envoy to His Majesty Harsha VI of the Vardana Empire, obtain a secret decree, and have him command us to strike down the Clanner. At the very least, under the laws of the Vardana Empire, we would possess the righteous cause of a government army.”

“His Majesty Harsha VI would certainly rejoice. However, that would be all. The notion that he could punish Tytania exists only in his delusions.”

Furthermore, if they intended to use the receipt of the Emperor’s secret decree for political advantage, they would have to make it public. Once made public, the Clanner would likely pressure Harsha VI to annul the decree. Or, he might even take that opportunity to force his abdication.

Rather than that, they could simply announce that they would respect the Vardana court in general from now on. It would require effectively nothing from them, and it would improve Harsha VI’s impression of Jouslain and the others; furthermore, if they used that to pressure Harsha VI, it would only damage the reputation of the Uraniborg side.

“Furthermore, Count Elman shall return to Uraniborg. He must convey to His Clanner Highness that there is no discord between the two of us.”

This was not Jouslain’s true intention. In the first place, Jouslain did not actually believe that Count Elman would return to Uraniborg and sincerely defend Ariabert and him.

To put it plainly, Jouslain wanted to keep Count Elman away from their immediate circle. In Jouslain’s view, the man was entirely more trouble than he was worth. To use a more cynical expression, he had no utility. When fighting an unparalleled great enemy, one could not afford to have the ground dug out from under one’s feet. It was best to keep him at a distance, even if only out of respect. Fortunately, there was someone suitable to send him to Uraniborg. Commodore Nostitz, who had been taken prisoner by Jouslain.

Commodore Nostitz was extremely displeased in his state as a prisoner. Given his situation, this was only natural. Under normal circumstances, he was not the sort of man to fall for a trick<ref name="ftn32">“Trick” (詭計) is pronounced “trick”.</ref> involving a feigned surrender, but because his opponent was one of the four Dukes of Tytania, he had shown proper courtesy and approached the enemy ship of his own accord. Having had that courtesy betrayed, there was no way he could be anything but incensed.

He was subsequently released, and Jouslain requested that he escort Count Elman Tytania back to Uraniborg. Jouslain offered a polite apology for the previous discourtesy and, extending a hand for a handshake, told Commodore Nostitz that they should meet on the battlefield with honour. It was a piece of political theatre, performed with the full knowledge of Nostitz’s temperament. Nostitz was genuinely moved, and after pledging that he would undoubtedly escort Count Elman safely back to Uraniborg, he withdrew from Jouslain’s presence.

At this time, Jouslain acted with a single purpose, ensuring that he placed no restrictions on Count Elman’s movements until his departure. At the very least, Jouslain was far more unscrupulous than Commodore Nostitz.

While Ariabert was entrusted with military leadership and oversight, Jouslain devoted himself primarily to political and diplomatic manoeuvres. This began, first and foremost, with matters within Tytania itself. He had heard strange rumours regarding Farah, who had accompanied them from Uraniborg. It was Balamy who had gathered the information, reporting that Farah had been summoned by the Clanner and whispered something of great importance.

“Shall I question Farah, Your Grace?”

“It would be in vain. There is no guarantee that His Clanner Highness spoke the truth to Farah. Lord Balamy, His Highness is a man capable of intimidating others with words that do not reflect his true heart. Whatever Farah was told, I believe he was merely chosen unilaterally to throw us into confusion.”

Ultimately, a decision regarding Farah’s fate would have to be made. Of course, he would not be killed. Since they had effectively raised a rebellion against Uraniborg, Jouslain and Ariabert had to present an antithesis to the existing Tytania style of human governance. While ideals alone could never triumph over reality, it was more advantageous to establish a clear stance and direction. Even if they could not increase their allies, they at least wanted to reduce their enemies.

“Do you think we ought to devise some sort of strategy regarding Fan Hyulick?”

When Ariabert consulted him in this manner, Jouslain tilted his head slightly.

“No, let us leave Fan Hyulick alone. I believe he will seek contact with us eventually. As long as we do not close the door on him and remain ready to offer tea at any time, that will suffice.”

“Assuming he does approach us, can you predict when that might be?”

Upon being questioned again by Ariabert, Jouslain found himself reflecting.

“It is difficult to be certain with specific numbers. However, I can answer if I use a different phrasing.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, it will be around the time Lord Idris makes contact with them.”

Ariabert nodded at Jouslain’s response and gave a short laugh. There was no reason for Idris to feel superior to Ariabert regarding pure military talent. Furthermore, Clanner Ajman held immense expectations for Idris’ capabilities.

“The Clanner might even hire them as mercenaries by guaranteeing Fan Hyulick’s faction considerable favour. In fact, I would not be surprised if he were granted supreme command over the active combat units.”

Upon hearing Jouslain’s opinion, Ariabert formed what was, rather, a satisfied smile.

“That is interesting. Even if the banners under which we rally change, it means Fan Hyulick and I must still fight one another. I should like to aim for a single victory after two defeats.”

As he watched his maternal cousin’s smile, which conveyed a sense of both mental fortitude and flexibility, Jouslain was picturing a somewhat different scene in his mind. How would Fan Hyulick and the others choose their future paths?

On this day, the 20<sup>th</sup> of April, a decree was proclaimed in the name of Tytania’s Landless Clanner, Ajman, stripping Ariabert and Jouslain of all public offices and official rights, including their ducal titles. Of the four dukes who had stood together at Uraniborg one year prior, one had died, two had been exiled, and Idris was the only one who remained.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 6

2026-10-06T17:56:13Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 5 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 7 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 6 – Breakup<ref name="ftn21">The word used for the title of the chapter (破局) has the double meaning of “catastrophe..."

<noinclude>
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</noinclude>
== Chapter 6 – Breakup<ref name="ftn21">The word used for the title of the chapter (破局) has the double meaning of “catastrophe” and “breakup” (as a breakup in a relationship).</ref> ==
=== I ===
The history of Tytania was no paragon of humanity or justice. Dark crimson pages of conspiracy, stratagem, murder, and destruction stretched on endlessly, such that anyone with a weak stomach would find it impossible to finish reading. Consequently, it was unlikely that the members of Tytania lacked immunity to intrigue; and yet, in SY 447, almost all of them were bewildered and lacking composure.

To put it another way, the reign of Clanner Ajman had appeared to be almost entirely stable and unshakeable until then. He was a man of advanced years, yet remained robust in both mind and body, and with the four dukes all in their twenties, the ruling structure led by the five current family representatives was generally regarded as something that would remain unchanged for at least the next quarter-century.

That certainty only began to falter upon the death of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, yet the Clanner and the three remaining dukes remained healthy. As long as someone emerged to fill Zarlisch’s seat, the existing structure should have continued without major incident. Rather, the system fell into dysfunction because the subconscious minds of those hoping for change began to surge together in a single direction.

However, that was a perspective that could only be grasped in hindsight; for those caught within the tide, even confirming one’s own footing was not an easy task. When Jouslain Tytania departed to lead a great army on campaign, he was not sent off to the raucous cheers of the masses.

The qualities required of a commander-in-chief leading a great army on a foreign campaign were not those of a combat genius. One had to manage a massive organisation, administer a multitude of people, grasp the individual personalities of mid-level field officers to ensure the right person was placed in the right role, mediate conflicting opinions, and unify the will of the troops toward a single objective. It was these qualities, more akin to those of a statesman, that were vital; and with regard to his broad vision, his sound sense of balance, or his commitment to fair personnel management, Jouslain inspired no anxiety in others.

At this time of year, Jouslain made no active effort to deny the rumours of a rift between himself and Idris. On the contrary, he sought to use them as a means of defence. His reasoning was that if everyone was aware of their political rivalry, even if Idris were to stage an incident and try to frame Jouslain for it, no one would readily believe it. Instead, people would likely assume that Idris had orchestrated some scheme to bring down a political opponent.

The crucial point was to spread the perception that Jouslain was the enemy of Idris alone. While this was a fact, making it common knowledge through propaganda held immense significance.

Naturally, such rumours reached the ears of Idris. Jouslain watched closely for how Idris might react, all while being preoccupied with the various administrative tasks immediately preceding his departure for the campaign; however, Idris showed no notable reaction. At first, Jouslain found this strange, but he would later look back on it with a wry smile:

''“At that time, I couldn’t have grasped Idris’ true intentions. Because, in truth, Idris had no real intentions at all.”''

It was certainly no exaggeration to say that, at that time, Idris had nothing but hesitations. While it appeared quite foolish to a third party from a later perspective, he had been psychologically cornered. As the surrounding situation reached its fruition, he found himself compelled to act.

First, he attempted to expel Jouslain from Uraniborg, and thanks to the personnel decision of Clanner Ajman and Jouslain’s own acceptance of it, it was achieved almost instantly. What, then, was left for Idris to do? While the ultimate goal was clear to Idris, he had not envisioned even a hundred percent of the process nor mastered every essential point; consequently, he found himself quite flustered as doors to hegemony opened before him one after another.

Whether his malice was directed at Jouslain or at the Clanner, it seemed likely he would succeed without much difficulty, but Idris was not so much of an optimist as to charge blindly forward. Rather, he appeared to maintain a defensive stance, as if intending to avoid providing any pretext until Jouslain actually departed for battle. Even so, he could not remain silent toward Jouslain, and he voiced a fierce objection to the announcement that Princess Lydia and Francia would accompany him on his campaign.

Jouslain responded without showing any sign of being unsettled.

“It is precisely because I have nothing to hide that I am allowing them to accompany me. If I had any ulterior motives, I would deliberately leave them behind to conceal them. His Clanner Highness should have already sanctioned this matter. Lord Idris, should we interpret your repeated objections as being directed at His Clanner Highness himself?”

In this regard, Jouslain was well-versed in Tytanian-style sophistry. It no longer mattered what Idris thought, but he felt the need to demonstrate to everyone else that there was sufficient justification for his actions. That was the very essence of politics—even if it could never truly be a high-level pursuit. Once the name of the Clanner was invoked, even Idris would find himself silenced.

How the silenced Idris would react was another matter entirely. Even if he himself did not explode, it seemed wise to keep a close watch on his brother, Radmoth. Jouslain ordered his guards to maintain strict vigilance, and he made no attempt to hide his intentions.

Regarding the finer details, Jouslain instructed both Princess Lydia and Francia to wear practical clothing, specifically requesting they wear trousers instead of skirts. He wanted them to be able to move instantly should anything happen. Jouslain himself, who had previously gone unarmed within Uraniborg, began to carry a handgun at his waist for self-defence. He chose a gunpowder-based pistol rather than a raygun<ref name="ftn22">“Ray gun” (光線銃) is pronounced “raygun”.</ref> or a charged particle gun because he valued the effect of the gunshot summoning in his guards.

Upon seeing Jouslain with a handgun at his side, one of the NCOs shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever could have caused things to come to this? Was the relationship between Duke Jouslain and Duke Idris truly that serious? It feels as though we are on the very brink of battle.”

Francia relayed this remark to Jouslain. As Jouslain lightly tapped the handgun hanging from the waist of his grey military uniform, he soothed his lady-in-waiting:

“What? Both Idris and I are merely amusing ourselves with games of conspiracy. Francia, you need not worry. It is just that playing can sometimes lead to serious accidents, and losing one’s life to an accident would be quite tedious.”

Jouslain spoke with a faint trace of self-derision in his eyes. While it could be considered foolish to contend for power that was still held in the hands of others, he could not remain indifferent when his own life and the lives of those around him were at stake. He never revealed the true extent of his anxieties to the Clanner. He had already realised that doing so would be utterly pointless.

Jouslain was to board the battleship ''Austra''<ref name="ftn23">“Goddess of the Morning Glow” (朝焼けの女神) is pronounced “Austra”.</ref>, accompanied by three cruisers, ten destroyers, three gunboats, one space carrier equipped with high-speed patrol boats, and two lightly armed supply ships. It was a small group, “less than a fleet”.

''“No matter how forceful Idris may be, he can hardly claim that I intend to incite a rebellion with such paltry military strength.”''

Jouslain expressed a rather spiteful opinion that was difficult to describe as noble. The reason they were venturing to Bargash with such a small force was because a massive Tytania presence was already deployed there, because the route to the area was almost entirely under Tytania’s “space control<ref name="ftn24">“Space control” is pronounced “space control”.</ref>”, and because he sought to prove to the world that he held no dissenting intentions.

At least three superficial reasons could be counted, yet there were underlying circumstances as well. Jouslain had laid several pieces in motion, but he did not possess absolute confidence in how many of those opening moves would ultimately bear fruit. Furthermore, he had to remind himself that, in this world, there were such things as going too far.

Under normal circumstances, since Princess Lydia was aboard, any harm brought to this ship would become a diplomatic crisis. It would mean making an enemy of the Kingdom of Elbing. However, even if the Kingdom of Elbing were to burn with nationalistic hostility, it was unlikely that Idris would feel even the slightest pang of concern.

Tytania had once bankrupted numerous nations, driven heads of state into exile and despair, and relegated entire countries to the annals of history. A mere entity like the Kingdom of Elbing should not have been within his sights. At the same time, Jouslain could not rely on physical aid from the Kingdom of Elbing should an emergency arise, nor did he have any intention of doing so.

Jouslain could not imagine under which banners the various forces of the universe would congregate in thirty days’ time, nor in what manner they would clash. It felt as though such things were not subject to intellectual prediction but rather to mystical prophecy. The most absurd possibility, of course, was that after all this heightened tension, it might end with nothing happening at all…

When Jouslain first met the captain of the ''Austra'', he could not hide his slight surprise. She was one of the few female captains remaining in the entire Tytania military, numbering less than one hundred. Her name was Edna Fredericks; she was twenty-seven years of age, held the rank of captain, and was a true elite officer who had completed the special cadet course at the military academy.

Even in a line of men, her height could be described as average, her black hair cut short, and her dark eyes shone with an intensity akin to coal in an old-fashioned furnace. One could have called her a beauty, but aside from the brilliance in her eyes, she was merely a rather ordinary one. Of course, physical appearance was not a prerequisite for a capable and reliable soldier.

“I have received orders to escort Your Grace Jouslain to Bargash, and I consider it the highest honour. Though I lack great talent, I shall strive to fulfil this great responsibility and repay your trust.”

“I am counting on you, Captain.”

Jouslain’s response was brief. He himself, aside from his eyes which bore witness to the presence of a pale and profound intelligence, was hardly a Tytania-like beauty. Their meeting held no particular promise of what the future might hold.

By the 25<sup>th</sup> of March, Jouslain had ensured the safety of Princess Lydia and Francia by having them board the ''Austra''. He did not board the vessel himself until the 27<sup>th</sup>, but this measure satisfied many. “Given Duke Jouslain’s position, it is only natural,” people whispered among themselves. Jouslain himself knew that this was, in truth, a flagrant blurring of the lines between public duty and private interest, but of course, there was no need for him to declare as much.

=== II ===
When Jouslain was appointed to Bargash, the individual ordered to assist him as a civil official was Donald Farah. He was the pre-eminent election specialist in Tytania.

As an expert in election strategy, Donald Farah likely would have wanted to say, ''“I am not suited for such a task. I decline,”'' concerning a duty that did not utilise his specialised skills. He would also have wished to avoid being branded as a member of either Jouslain’s or Idris’ faction.

No matter who became the sovereign of Tytania, Farah could continue to live as a technocrat<ref name="ftn25">“Technocrat” (技術官僚) is pronounced “technocrat”.</ref> possessing specialised skills. He remained loyal to the Clanner of Tytania and to his own duties, and he was under no obligation to be asked for anything more.

However, for Lord Jouslain, Bargash was uncharted territory, and it was only natural that he desired to receive lectures from someone well-versed in local affairs before his arrival. Farah belonged not to Jouslain personally, but to the Commander-in-Chief appointed by the Clanner. Accordingly, his attitude as an exemplary Tytanian official was that someone of his low standing was permitted not even to offer opinions, let alone dissent, but to simply receive orders with utmost humility.

Therefore, having attended the office of Clanner Ajman, he had intended to offer his greetings regarding his appointment to the important task ahead and depart immediately. However, upon receiving his greetings, Ajman did not tell him to leave but instead brought up an entirely unexpected subject.

“As you must have noticed, Farah, things have become somewhat turbulent in Uraniborg lately.”

“To my humble eyes, it appears that Your Clanner Highness’ majesty fills every corner of the realm…”

The Clanner completely ignored Farah’s clumsy flattery.

“That is because there are no mighty enemies outside our borders. It allows us to indulge in our internal strife as much as we please. A storm in a teacup, as they say.”

Farah thought that Tytania was a cup so vast it could swallow the entire universe. But he did not say it aloud, choosing instead to maintain an air of pure trepidation. However, he could not remain entrenched in silence forever. The Clanner had explicitly named Jouslain and Idris, and asked Farah which of them he believed was the most worthy candidate for becoming the next Clanner.

“Y-yes, quite so. If Lord Jouslain and Lord Idris were to contend for the position of Clanner in accordance with the electoral system, I believe that, despite my lack of talent, I might be of service to either of them.”

“That sounds just like you, Farah.”

The Clanner laughed, and Farah felt a wave of relief spread through his entire body. While he held confidence in his own significance within Tytania, there was no way he could afford to displease the Clanner. He thought to himself that his desperate efforts to devise a clever answer had been worth it.

However, Clanner Ajman did not attempt to release the capable technocrat just yet. At that moment, the Clanner had also dismissed his secretaries and attendants to another room, leaving him alone with Farah. This was not a welcome development for Farah. The supreme sovereign of Tytania was a man who imposed considerable mental exhaustion upon anyone in his presence.

“And what of Lord Ariabert?”

It was yet another difficult question. Farah was at a loss.

“I believe him to be an unparalleled commander. His unfortunate injury was a great pity…”

“In the struggle for the Clanner’s throne, do you believe Lord Ariabert might form an alliance with Lord Idris?”

“T-that is something far too complex for a simple man like myself to grasp.”

“Unlikely. Lord Ariabert will ally with Lord Jouslain. If that happens, Lord Idris will have no hope of victory, barring some extraordinary circumstance.”

“…”

When Farah fell silent once more, unable to offer even a formal response, the Clanner closed his mouth as well. In his silence, the Clanner pressed upon Farah with the weight of a colossal statue. It did not last long.

“However, unless he fights, Lord Idris shall never attain the supreme throne. He has to fight.”

The Clanner’s gaze, cold and brimming with power, pierced through Farah.

“Farah, it is not the strife between kin that is to be abhorred. It is a peace born of complacency that must be loathed. Tytania may perish, but she must not rot.”

Farah felt as though an invisible block of ice were sliding down his oesophagus towards his stomach. A dark flash of suspicion crossed his mind that the current, sharply intensified conflict between the two dukes, Jouslain and Idris, might have been incited by this very Clanner.

“Those two shall never reconcile. Since only one can sit upon the supreme throne, a final clash is inevitable.”

The Clanner’s detached tone terrified Farah.

“And the victor shall rebuild Tytania, earning him the title of restorer of the dynasty.”

Farah felt his heart race and sensed his perspiration increasing. Within the perfectly controlled artificial climate, his senses seemed to have lost all ability to distinguish between heat and cold.

“B-but, if the two dukes go to war, our immediate enemies may take advantage of the situation. Groups such as the Blaze Flag Army…”

He managed to force the trembling words from his throat.

“I never expected the likes of Fan Hyulick or the Blaze Flag Army to be a match for us in the first place. Their ''raison d’être'' becomes manifest only when Tytania fractures from within. The universe only begins to move when we see which of the two Tytania factions they choose to support.”

The Clanner laughed again.

“Do you understand, Farah?”

“Y-yes, Your Clanner Highness…”

“Very well. In short, the initiative in history always remains within the grasp of our Tytania. Individual personalities and deliberations are irrelevant. It does not matter who wins, so long as that person bears the name Tytania.”

Even if Jouslain and Idris were to engage in a mutual slaughter involving other powers, it would make no difference. Thus said the Clanner. There was a coldness to his words that felt like frost settling upon one’s very nerves.

“To His Clanner Highness, is everyone merely a piece on a chessboard?…”

Farah shuddered slightly. He himself was not even regarded as a chess piece by the Clanner. It was precisely because of this that the Clanner spoke to Farah regarding matters of a highly confidential nature. While Farah was indeed treated with favour, in essence, he was nothing more than highly accomplished livestock.

Who was that Clanner from several generations ago, who acted the part of an ancient hegemon by declaring, ''“If one is not of Tytania, one is not a human”''? That was the very essence of the Landless Clanner mentality within Tytania. In much the same way that an ordinary citizen might confide a secret to a pet, Clanner Ajman had revealed a fragment of his true intentions to Farah, to a low-standing person like Farah. Naturally, Farah did not find it pleasant. Yet, he was also someone who knew that he would never, under any circumstances, divulge this fact to another.

The 27<sup>th</sup> of March arrived. It was the day of Duke Jouslain Tytania’s departure for campaign. It was only natural that the departure ceremony was a modest affair, lacking the splendour seen during Ariabert’s departure.

Idris stood to the rear left of Clanner Ajman, unable to hide an expression that looked as though he had been chewing on raw herbs as he listened to Jouslain’s address.

“I pray that Your Clanner Highness remains in the utmost health. I shall do my utmost to ensure I do not bring shame to this great mission, and I shall return to you.”

“Indeed. Let us both strive to remain hale and hearty, Lord Jouslain. Bargash is a long way off. Take great care of yourself in all things.”

''The Clanner is the greatest master in the universe'', thought Jouslain. ''He utters insincere words with such absolute dignity.'' Clearing his expression, he bowed reverently and turned on his heel.

As he made his way towards the boarding ramp of his flagship, the ''Austra'', Jouslain could not help but wonder. He wondered which of them was more unfortunate: himself, the one departing, or Idris, the one remaining.

=== III ===
The battleship ''Austra'' was a massive vessel, constructed according to the standard design of a fleet flagship. It contained various facilities, such as VIP suites, which, from a purely military standpoint, served only to hinder functionality; naturally, the existence of such spaces was achieved at the expense of other equipment. Since defensive systems and firepower could not be sacrificed, the burden fell upon the supply departments, making the accompaniment of supply ships an absolute necessity.

In the case of Jouslain Tytania, he was not granted even a moment of respite in the luxurious VIP suite. Scarcely three hours had passed since departing Uraniborg and entering normal space when catastrophe arrived.

A cluster of light points appeared in the space towards Uraniborg, behind Jouslain’s small fleet, and began approaching rapidly. It was a formation of some two hundred vessels of varying sizes. When the distance between the two parties reached one light-second, a communication signal was transmitted from the ''Austra''.

“This is the flagship of Duke Jouslain Tytania, Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force. For what reason are you tailing us?”

“Cease all movement and shut down your engines immediately. This is the order of His Grace Duke Idris.”

“What is the reason for this order to stop?”

Captain Edna Fredericks demanded coldly. The reply from the pursuers was overbearing and lacked any substance whatsoever.

“Top-secret orders. Shut down your engines at once.”

“By whose orders? This vessel is under the command of His Grace the Duke Jouslain Tytania, Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force. I have no reason to take orders from anyone other than His Grace.”

Edna haughtily rejected the unreasonable command. It seemed Jouslain had been blessed with luck that went far beyond mere fortune. Had the Captain been the type to obey Idris’ orders so easily, Jouslain’s future would have been sealed.

From a corner of the bridge, Jouslain watched Edna as she stood in the centre of the floor.

“I have yet to receive His Clanner Highness’ order to relieve Lord Jouslain of his duties as Commander-in-Chief. Nor have I received any official report stating that Lord Idris is to serve as His Clanner Highness’ full proxy. Therefore, it is only natural that my obedience be directed toward Lord Jouslain.”

At that point, the pursuers finally seemed to have abandoned the idea of peaceful negotiations. Two hundred vessels deployed into formation on either side, delivering their final ultimatum.

“Halt your ships immediately! Otherwise, we shall open fire.”

“Oh my, the heights of lawlessness. Tytania striking at Tytania?”

Edna gave a short, derisive laugh.

“Surrendering without resistance is not a Tytanian custom. It is only natural that those unreasoning, lawless interlopers who initiate combat should face the consequences. I understand you have steeled yourselves for this, but are you really fine with this?”

As the level of danger rose rapidly, Jouslain’s interest in Edna Fredericks grew. He wondered whether this black-haired female officer was merely pedantic or simply bellicose.

“The gun ports are opening…!”

It was less of a report from the operator and more of a scream. Above Edna’s sharp, dark eyes, her brows arched steeply.

“Do not open our gun ports yet. It is merely a show of force. If we fire first, we provide them with an excuse.”

Suppressing the rising agitation among the gunnery officers, she turned back to face Jouslain. The coal in her furnace seemed to stare directly at him.

“Your Grace Jouslain, should they attack us, may I have permission to return fire? If your will is that we remain without resistance, I shall proceed accordingly.”

“I authorise you to return fire.”

The response was immediate, for she trusted Edna’s instincts in combat command.

“Thank you. Chief Pilot<ref name="ftn26">“Head pilot” (首席航宙士) is pronounced “chief pilot”.</ref>, turn port, forty degrees!”

Edna’s voice was sharp and tense, yet she remained undaunted.

After granting permission to counterattack, Jouslain sat in silence at the fleet commander’s seat, his arms folded. He understood that in a situation such as this, it would be useless and even harmful for him, someone unversed in actual combat command, to issue orders. What he needed to do was to trust the highly skilled specialists in the field and refrain from interfering with their actions. However, there was just one thing he wished to ask the expert’s opinion on.

“Do you believe they intend to launch a serious attack, Captain?”

“I believe they appear prepared to go all out at any moment.”

That was Edna’s reply.

“However, their objective does not seem to be killing Your Grace Jouslain but rather detaining you. As long as that remains the case, we should hold the advantage.”

“So, you mean if it comes to it, you shall fire without hesitation?”

“Precisely. Since Your Grace Jouslain has given me permission to do so.”

The moment Edna spoke with such certainty that half of the screen glowed pale. The operator’s voice, reporting the firing, grew shrill. A thin band of light shimmered across the screen, and the emerging points of light expanded rapidly, enveloping the entire display in achromatic hues.

The energy beam struck the surface of the armour but failed to penetrate, scattering in an iridescent spray of light. It was clearly being controlled to prevent total destruction. ''This is truly worthy of the name “Phoney Combat''<ref name="ftn27">“Fake battle” (いんちき戦闘) is pronounced “phoney combat”.</ref>”, thought Jouslain to himself.

Edna ordered the return fire, and the exchange of beams continued for forty minutes. Eventually, the pursuers resorted to deploying space mines ahead of Jouslain and his group’s flight path. For the first time, Jouslain issued instructions to Edna. Jouslain’s small fleet, centred around the ''Austra'', sent a transmission to the pursuers. They declared that they would abandon all resistance and accompany them to Uraniborg.

… Three hours passed, and Idris, who had been waiting at Uraniborg with growing anxiety, was struck with shock upon receiving the report that Jouslain had achieved a complete escape. According to the commanders of the fleet dispatched to arrest Jouslain, they had been outmanoeuvred by an extremely unscrupulous stratagem.

A mutiny broke out aboard the ''Austra'', as “Loyalists” detained both Lord Jouslain and the ship’s captain. Upon receiving the news, Commodore Nostitz, who had boarded via shuttle to receive the Duke with all due respect, was captured by Lord Jouslain’s waiting subordinates and taken hostage. Helpless to intervene, the remaining ships could do nothing but watch the ''Austra'' depart.

“Do you think you can simply let them escape, you incompetents!” screamed Idris.

His emotions fluctuated violently, ascending from the heights of ecstasy to the depths of despair like a broken lift.

An extraordinary sight ought to have been awaiting him. A scene where Jouslain was brought to trial as a criminal, to be judged by Idris, something that would have been unimaginable a mere month ago. However, that vision receded into the distance, leaving Idris to face the reality of failure.

Would the Clanner despise Idris as an incompetent? Idris gripped his military cap tightly but barely managed to restrain himself before slamming it against the floor. If he were deemed not only incompetent but also lacking in self-control, there would be no hope of gaining the Clanner’s trust. Clenching the cap in his hand, Idris glared around at the officers.

“Under no circumstances are you to let Lord Jouslain and Lord Ariabert regroup. Deploy troops along the planned route, and ensure that Lord Jouslain is arrested.”

“Yes!” the officers responded with salutes, yet their expressions were far from “satisfied”. They were bewildered by the command to arrest Lord Jouslain, and the instruction to do so without killing him felt half-hearted. Should Lord Jouslain launch a unilateral counterattack, they faced the very real possibility of meeting their deaths with their hands tied.

The Tytanian officers were loyal to authority and orders, yet the sheer strangeness and inconsistency of the command itself were enough to leave them bewildered. That Jouslain, having just been appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force and departed from Uraniborg, was now being denounced as an attempted assassin of the Clanner was not a circumstance that could be easily accepted. This suggested that Jouslain’s prior precautions had been effective. The officers could not help but suspect that some conspiracy lay hidden beneath the surface of these bizarre circumstances.

Idris went to the Clanner’s sickroom and, having no other choice, reported the situation. He and the Clanner were separated by a silk screen, which was studded with flecks of mica.

From beyond that screen, the voice of the Clanner, lying upon his bed, resonated heavily:

“If he escaped, it cannot be helped. Do not trouble yourself more than necessary and simply do as I say. It is your loyalty, Lord Idris, that I hold most dear.”

Idris felt relieved that he had not been met with a blast of criticism or a sharp reprimand. He ought to have scrutinised the Clanner’s words more closely. However, his relief had pushed suspicion aside, and he failed to realise that he had effectively become the Clanner’s mental slave and that the Clanner had stated as much explicitly.

Having managed to evade Idris’ pursuit for the time being, Jouslain moved away from Uraniborg, alternating between normal cruising and warp<ref name="ftn28">“Jump” (跳躍) is pronounced “warp”.</ref> jumps. What should have been a magnificent voyage of conquest had, by now, become a journey of flight.

“I shall reschedule all scheduled warp jumps.”

Edna explained in a rhythmic tone. Every route leading to the planet Bargash was registered with the Tytania Navigation Centre. If they were caught in a concentrated barrage the very moment they warped back into normal space, they would be destroyed without even the opportunity to strike back.

“I leave it to you, Captain.”

Jouslain played his part as the idle superior, the type who simply said, “Do as you see fit.” He was already burdened with a vast array of concepts and plans that required his thought. He had no time to waste on the level of scheming that Idris was likely to initiate.

=== IV ===
Only a year ago, the power of Tytania had seemed absolute and immovable. However, power is, by its very nature, a palace built upon thin ice, possessing the inherent necessity of sinking under the weight of its own existence.

Eternal prosperity and permanent dominion are impossibilities when measured against the laws of the universe, yet humanity yearns for them. Successive rulers, obsessed with their own eternity and the permanence of their bloodline, purge meritorious officials, exile critics to remote outposts, burn books, and invade foreign lands in pursuit of glory. Perhaps it is this very desire for eternity that serves as the source of all political and systemic evil.

Even so, what exactly were the Clanner’s intentions?

Jouslain brooded so deeply that he felt a sharp pain at the very core of his mind. Whatever the Clanner intended, the execution seemed far too clumsy, and yet, even that might have been part of his plan.

“His Clanner Highness Ajman, the Landless Clanner of Tytania, has been wounded in a sniper attack. His life is not in immediate danger. The perpetrator was shot dead, and suspicions have arisen that Lord Jouslain was behind the attack.”

That confidential report, which sent shock-waves through the universe, raced unofficially through the Tytania communications network. Jouslain heard it as well.

“What a brilliantly crafted story.”

Jouslain could not help but give a wry smile. If Clanner Ajman had truly been assassinated, the impact would be too great. Having lost its core, Tytania would be torn into fragments, and dissidents from the outside might rise in unison, potentially causing the collapse of the Tytania administration. However, if it was merely an injury…

''“The culprit is Lord Jouslain. Pursue him at once!”''

Jouslain could easily imagine the expression on Idris’ face as he shouted this. Several of the obstacles standing between Idris and the throne had been removed almost in an instant. Idris must have been leaping with joy. It was certainly better to take this opportunity to oust both Ariabert and Jouslain from the competition at once, rather than pondering the true intentions of the Clanner or the full scope of the incident.

However, Idris should have gone even further than that. Instead of going through the trouble of arrests and interrogations, he should have simply blown up the ship along with everyone on board, without leaving room for argument. He could have made up any number of excuses later. Or perhaps he had intended to avoid the folly of murdering Jouslain only to have the responsibility thrust upon him.

For nearly two weeks, Jouslain’s modest fleet of twenty ships continued its flight, evading pursuit and interference from allies. It was on the tenth of April that the communications officer brought the news: “Reinforcements are coming!”

“Reinforcements!?”

Upon reflection, it was a strange way to put it. Jouslain was not fighting an external enemy. However, as the crew of the ''Austra'', fleeing through space while evading pursuit by its “allies”, it was only natural that they would express it that way. For the people of Tytania, pursuing others was a familiar task, but being pursued and forced to flee imposed a heavy psychological burden. It was no wonder they rejoiced upon receiving the friendly communication.

Cheers erupted on the bridge. The uproar only finally subsided after Edna scolded them, warning, “Do not get carried away. What if this is a deception by enemy forces?” However, further communications were exchanged, confirming that a total of one thousand reinforcements, ranging from large to small vessels, had indeed arrived from Bargash.

Before long, a man in his early thirties appeared on the screen, wearing the grey Tytania uniform adorned with the epaulettes of a high-ranking officer. This officer, of medium height with a muscular build and sharp features, looked directly at Jouslain through the screen and offered a salute.

“I am Rear-admiral Zain Khan, arrived to welcome His Grace, the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, by order of Lord Ariabert.”

The cheers erupted once more. Once they finally subsided, Jouslain expressed his gratitude for the effort taken to meet him. There was an officer beside Rear-admiral Khan who appeared remarkably young, and Jouslain found his attention half-drawn to them.

When that far too young officer boarded the shuttle and arrived at the ''Austra'', it was Princess Lydia who ran towards him with great joy.

“Bal, have you been well?”

“Yes, Princess, thanks to your kindness.”

The officer, Viscount Balamy Tytania, bowed. He had intended to be respectful, but to Princess Lydia’s eyes, he appeared to be putting on airs. The Princess criticised her friend with a disgruntled expression.

“You have always been such a stiff, Bal. Since you have finally managed to meet a friend, you should show your joy more naturally.”

In this instance, “always” referred to about a year ago. As Jouslain began to laugh, Balamy was rescued from his embarrassment and once again celebrated Jouslain’s safety.

Just before leaving Uraniborg, Jouslain had put various plans into motion, and one of them had proven successful. He had sent a secret communication to Balamy, who was on planet Tyron, advising him to travel to planet Bargash.

Rumours had reached Uraniborg that Balamy harboured ill intentions towards Idris. It was certain that Idris would come to hate him, and if Balamy were to be arrested on Tyron, for Jouslain there would be no saving him. Balamy followed those instructions and managed to make his escape in haste. After changing ships several times, he arrived at Bargash to meet Ariabert, eventually boarding that fleet to come and ''rendezvous'' with Jouslain and the others.

“To be honest, I wavered. I wondered whether I should go to save Lord Jouslain or abandon him to side with His Clanner Highness.”

“Were you planning to abandon me as well?”

Princess Lydia asked with a solemn expression. Her question pierced through Balamy’s attempt to hide behind a mask of feigned malice, leaving him with nothing to do but laugh. After all, he was the faithful knight of the young princess.

“No, I could not do that, which is why I rushed here like this. Since I have acted without receiving orders from Uraniborg, I can no longer permit myself to hesitate.”

In truth, three days after Balamy had departed Tyron on the passenger ship, an order had been sent from Uraniborg to Tyron, commanding that Balamy be taken into custody. It had been a matter of a split second.

“It seems His Grace Jouslain’s prophecy regarding future events has come true, then.”

“It was nothing special. I merely considered several possibilities.”

Jouslain shook his head slightly with a wry smile.

“When you stay in Uraniborg, you find yourself thinking about nothing but such things. That place is, after all, the Demon King’s castle.”

“I believe it is the very source of the authority that governs the universe.”

When Balamy voiced his objection with a somewhat naive air, Jouslain merely shrugged his shoulders.

“That authority is not the breath of God but the miasma of the Demon King. It is only because I reside in Uraniborg that I am able to perceive that.”

Balamy fell silent. He could not determine whether Jouslain’s remark was a profound truth or a mere joke, and if it were a joke, he knew he ought to respond with a witty retort of his own. The very fact that he was agonising over such a choice seemed to testify to the truth that Balamy was a young man who had always been far removed from humour or wit.

Regardless, Balamy had, for the time being, chosen to acquiesce to Jouslain. “''But that doesn’t mean I intend to share life and death with Jouslain,”'' he tried to convince himself.

Princess Lydia would have laughed had she heard it, but Balamy harboured ambitions of becoming a villainous hero in an age of chaos<ref name="ftn29">This is a reference to the Chinese warlord Cao Cao, who in his youth met a soothsayer who told him that he was “in times of peace a capable statesman, in times of chaos a villainous hero”.</ref>. And it appeared that such an age was rapidly approaching. He asked Jouslain a question:

“How were you able to foresee today’s events? Would you care to tell me?”

A serious light shone in Balamy’s eyes. He sensed there was something to be learned from Jouslain’s way of thinking.

Jouslain replied, as if imparting a lesson:

“If he were to act while I was at Uraniborg, there was a risk I would thwart it. I had no intentions of letting such a conspiracy succeed without a struggle. The only logical timing would be immediately after my departure from Uraniborg.”

By doing so, Jouslain’s departure could be summarily branded as an escape and dealt with accordingly. It was exactly the sort of calculation Idris would have made. However, one could also say that the half-hearted, incomplete nature of such an “execution” was characteristically Idris.

“So, did Lord Idris not place much weight on Lord Ariabert?”

“Perhaps Idris thought that once I was dead, it would not be difficult to strike down an isolated Ariabert. Though in truth, it would be quite a difficult feat.”

Jouslain laughed sarcastically. Balamy tilted his head slightly.

“Even so, regardless of Lord Idris, it seems His Clanner Highness’ reaction was rather slow.”

“I am most grateful for it.”

Jouslain did not mean those words. Rather, it felt eerie. It seemed as though the Clanner’s delayed responses to each of Jouslain’s actions were all part of a calculated plan. Surely the Clanner must have known that only by uniting Ariabert and Jouslain could Tytania be shaken. If the Clanner had truly intended to move against the annihilation of the various dukes, Jouslain would have been arrested long ago, and Ariabert would have been left isolated on the frontier. Furthermore, the great army under Idris’ command would have already been marching towards Bargash. That was not what happened. The true intentions of the Clanner were truly impossible to fathom.

15<sup>th</sup> of April, SY 447. Amidst the suspicion, anxiety, and unrest that gripped the cosmos, Duke Jouslain Tytania arrived on planet Bargash. Prior to this, his authority as Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force had already been suspended in the name of Clanner Ajman.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 5

2026-10-06T17:54:50Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 4 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 6 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue == === I === From February to March SY 447, Uraniborg, the stronghold of the..."

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</noinclude>
== Chapter 5 – Early Spring, a Season of Intrigue ==
=== I ===
From February to March SY 447, Uraniborg, the stronghold of the Tytania Clan, became the epicentre of rumours that lacked all restraint. Ariabert’s resignation sent ripples far and wide; as time passed from the initial report, mid-level officers drifted through the flood of gossip amongst themselves, and soldiers did the same amongst their own ranks.

''“It felt as though the mere fact that Lord Ariabert had resigned his post as Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force caused all the accumulated rot the Tytania had gathered over centuries to erupt at once. In other words, the ''Pax Tytaniana'' had already reached a breaking point, and Lord Ariabert’s resignation was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.”''

That was a retrospective judgement, but for the time being, countless mouths and ears within Uraniborg were in extremely active motion.

“If Lord Ariabert intends to refuse even attendance at the Council of the Five Families, then there is no point in him holding the title of duke in the first place. Should he not first relinquish his dukedom?”

“That may be so, but if he does, a new issue regarding the succession of a ducal house will arise. Lord Ariabert is unmarried and has no children.”

“Lord Ariabert should be summoned from Bargash so that His Clanner Highness may conduct the inquiry personally. Of course, interstellar flight will be impossible until his injuries have fully healed.”

“Even so, unless a successor commander is decided upon, millions of soldiers and officers will be left abandoned on the frontier.”

“In the first place, now that it has come to this, what purpose is there in maintaining an expeditionary force of three million stationed in Bargash? Would it not be better to withdraw?”

“But the people of Bargash would be the ones clapping their hands in joy. They might well spread propaganda claiming they forced Tytania to retreat…”

And so, in the end, the eyes of everyone, both inside and outside Uraniborg, converged upon a single point. Lowering their voices even further, and wary of the ears of third parties, people posed the question only to those they trusted most intimately.

“What, in truth, is His Clanner Highness himself thinking?”

Clanner Ajman maintained an official silence and through that wordlessness, cast a sense of oppression over all of Uraniborg. People gazed upon the Clanner’s heavy silence through the lenses of their own intuition, reason, and self-interest, enduring a chilling dread.

To an outsider, Tytania appeared to be a solid crystal centred around the Clanner, yet it was also a human collective. Even within political parties or religious organisations, which were supposedly brainwashed by a single ideology or dogma, internal conflicts and struggles arose. These were, perhaps, only as mild as the gossip amongst lower-ranking members.

“Even so, tragedies have been following one after another since around last year. Duke Zarlisch met a violent death, and now Duke Ariabert has resigned due to his injuries.”

“Who will it be this time?”

Some spoke those words instinctively, only to hurriedly cover their mouths. Of the four dukes, only Jouslain and Idris could be considered unscathed. Unlike Zarlisch and Ariabert, they had been stationed relatively within domestic affairs or rear-guard departments rather than on the front lines and thus had few opportunities to sustain injuries.

Between the two of them, Idris maintained a close relationship with Countess Theodora Tytania. Although Idris felt no affection for her, he was unable to sever their ties, driven by both a fear of her approaching the Clanner and his own physical desires.

Idris turned twenty-five that year. He possessed an intense drive to surpass the other dukes, yet he felt no sense of temporal urgency. It would be fine if he secured the Clanner’s throne in the next twenty years. Until now, that is. However, he realised that by that time, different competitors would emerge. The Clanner’s biological children, who were currently young, would have reached adulthood by then.

It was Theodora who had suggested this to him in his bedroom. Having discovered the reasons why Idris could not leave Uraniborg, she had made the following proposal:

“Then there is only one conclusion. His Clanner Highness must decide to dispatch Lord Jouslain to Bargash as the acting commander.”

Theodora’s gaze spoke of her confusion as to why he was hesitating. Naturally, Idris took offence. Theodora was critiquing his lack of decisiveness, but Idris had long since reached the same conclusion herself. He knew that Ariabert and Jouslain must not be allowed to form an alliance. Idris rebuked her, wondering how she could fail to grasp something so simple, yet her reaction remained calm.

“Wouldn’t this be fine?”

“What…?”

“It matters not what Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain might plot in some far-flung corner of the galaxy, far from Uraniborg. To my mind, Lord Idris, your concerns are unnecessary—or rather, they are mere groundless fears.”

Idris was left speechless. He had feared the alliance between Jouslain and Ariabert might become manifest, yet Theodora had dismissed the matter with a light laugh. As Idris cast a suspicious gaze upon her, wondering whether she was being bold or merely foolish, Theodora smiled at him with complete composure.

“Lord Idris, even if Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain were to engage in some unsettling conspiracy, His Clanner Highness and you are both here at Uraniborg. Whether it be a conspiracy or an act of treason, why not simply brush it aside and be done with it?”

“Treason…? What on earth are you thinking?”

Idris’ voice deepened. This time, Theodora did not reply immediately. She merely etched a crescent-shaped smile upon her lips, gazed at her lover’s face, and twirled the stem of her brandy glass between her fingers.

Idris felt a trace of cold sweat on his forehead and under his arms. He understood. He had understood all along. And he had simply hesitated to speak it aloud. This woman was suggesting precisely this to him: send Jouslain to planet Bargash to meet with Ariabert. Once they had met, that meeting would serve as proof of a conspiracy against the Clanner, providing the means to bring them both down.

In this instance, facts held no meaning. What mattered were perception and interpretation. Meaning existed first, and facts were merely the means by which that meaning was given form.

''“Ariabert and Jouslain met on Bargash. Their purpose was to launch a rebellion against Your Clanner Highness.”''

Idris’ thoughts were defensive in nature. If Ariabert and Jouslain were to form an alliance to bring him down, his own strength alone would be insufficient to resist them. He could only resort to invoking the authority of the Clanner, yet he doubted the Clanner would stand by him to face Ariabert and Jouslain. Would it not be Idris himself who was at risk of being abandoned? If that were the case, then to bring the Clanner to his side, he had no choice but to prevent the alliance between Ariabert and Jouslain.

Idris’ thoughts were on the verge of turning into a maze of contradictions. Observing this, Theodora spoke with a thin, sharp smile:

“To allow Lord Jouslain to depart for Bargash while ensuring Lord Idris does not turn against you. There is but a single way.”

“And that is…?”

“How about we keep that little girl as a hostage in Uraniborg? I believe she is called Lydia, that princess from that impoverished nation.”

She was a woman of many little wits. Idris felt a sense of admiration, mingled with displeasure. He poured water from the ewer on the night-stand into a glass.

“That little girl, Lydia, is Jouslain’s pride and joy. There is no way Jouslain would agree to leave her behind as a hostage.”

“Precisely. That is the true purpose.”

Theodora brought a brandy snifter to her lips. A light that could only be described as cunning flickered in her eyes.

“To refuse to leave a hostage behind. Is that not in itself evidence of treasonous intent?”

“…”

“If he has nothing to hide, he will leave a hostage. To refuse would be proof of divided loyalties. Even if this logic is somewhat forceful, it should not be incorrect.”

“What manner of woman are you?…”

Idris could not suppress his tremors. Was he truly as lacking in the qualities of a conspirator as he believed himself to be? Doctor Lee might have remarked, ''“At the end of the day, he is merely a pampered boy from a good family.”'' However, what set him apart from his cousin Balamy was that he was bound by the traditional authority of Tytania more than by his own temperament. The notion of rebellion against the Clanner had never even appeared on his intellectual horizon.

“What guarantee is there that you will not betray me?”

Idris finally found a foothold for his counterattack when Theodora repeatedly urged him to accept her proposal.

“Rather, what guarantee is there that you have not come to test the loyalty of all the dukes, including myself, as an emissary of His Clanner Highness? For the record, there has not been a single second where I have truly believed in you.”

Idris used a tone that was pointedly threatening, yet Theodora showed no sign of being shaken, merely toying with her brandy glass in her hand.

“Duke Idris, you truly are a son of a noble house. You simply voice the very patterns of suspicion that cross your mind. And you tell them directly to the person involved.”

Theodora held the complete psychological advantage. Idris was being overwhelmed. He knew he was being overwhelmed. Furthermore, he was forced to recognise that the conspiracy presented by Theodora possessed an extremely powerful allure.

Layers of realisation besieged Idris, leaving him with an utterly bitter taste in his mouth. Given his usual tolerance, he should have been passed out by now, yet no matter how many cups he drained, no intoxication came. A single thought swirled endlessly through his mind: ''“At this rate, I shall never become the Clanner.”'' Theodora ceased her eloquent persuasion, watching with calm detachment as Idris sank deeper into the mire of ambition and calculation.

Would he accept infamy to become a conqueror? Or would he respect this so-called morality, only to emerge as a political loser, the sole object of pity and mockery from third parties? The latter was something Idris simply could not endure. As the burning fire of alcohol seared his stomach and surged into his brain, Idris continued his internal struggle amidst the flames. He was lagging behind Ariabert and Jouslain, particularly the latter. He wondered if it was possible to recover that lost ground through ordinary means.

And there was another problem. One that could not be ignored. Even if Ariabert and Jouslain were driven into the position of rebels, how would they deal with the fate thrust upon them? First, they would likely plead their innocence. If that were not accepted, would they simply stand together and hang themselves? Ridiculous; that was absolutely impossible. Neither Ariabert nor Jouslain were adherents of non-violent pacifism. Running away would only worsen their position and deplete their forces. If so, there would be only one path left for them to take: to resist with armed force. It would descend into civil war.

Should Ariabert and Jouslain resolve to rise in armed rebellion, Idris would, naturally, have to lead the campaign to suppress them. He did not fear this. Idris believed that he possessed both the courage and the military brilliance required. However, if he considered the matter dispassionately, what were his actual chances of victory?

Ariabert would command the combat forces, while Jouslain would use his political prowess to forge alliances with other factions and secure the rear. Should these two great leaders rise hand in hand, there would undoubtedly be those who rushed to their side to join their cause. Both within Tytania and beyond. But was it truly possible for Idris alone to withstand the fervent wave of rebellion that was surging throughout the entire universe?

''“Fan Hyulick…”''

The moment he uttered that name, the horizons of Idris’ thoughts and options expanded all at once. Fan Hyulick. The public enemy of Tytania, who had driven the brothers Zarlisch and Arses to their deaths. An exiled political prisoner. A terrorist with no place in the universe. And the man who had twice defeated the renowned commander, Duke Ariabert Tytania!

Regarding other matters, Fan Hyulick was nothing more than rubbish, but the final point was truly captivating to Idris. Once the restraints on his thoughts burst, Idris’ brain cells spun with a hint of recklessness, painting visions of the future in the air. He envisioned a plan to summon Fan Hyulick, pardon his crimes, and set him against Ariabert as a mercenary captain.

At least within his fantasies, Idris was not a miser. If that were to come to pass, he intended to grant a mere exile more than enough reward. A county, the title of fleet admiral of the Vardana Empire, an annual salary of five million dakar, and the hand of a daughter of Tytanian nobility. He could provide at least that much. If Fan Hyulick could suppress the “rebellion” of Ariabert and Jouslain, such a price would be a cheap one.

Once the rotation had begun, the increase in output was exponential. He had transgressed the greatest taboo<ref name="ftn18">“Taboo” (禁忌) is pronounced “taboo”.</ref> within Tytania: that the Clanner was sacred and inviolable. And as he descended the slope, his schemes had become an end in themselves.

His thoughts turned this time toward his younger brother, Baron Radmoth.

Radmoth was useful. He was shallow-minded and brutish, but that was precisely why he was useful. He possessed utility. Everyone knew of Radmoth’s brutality. In other words, should anything happen, would it not be possible to shift the blame onto him?

Radmoth was Idris’ younger brother. Although his resentment had grown, he had never harboured active hatred or malice towards his brother. Despite clicking his tongue in frustration, he had always intended to support him. However, the younger brother had shown no sign of meeting his elder brother’s expectations. Perhaps the time had finally come to abandon him…

Idris did not notice that Theodora had left the bedside.

=== II ===
It is said that “conspiracy is the pastime of nobles”. Alternatively, it was described as “the weapon of the weak”. A person who embodied both propositions stood here. That person was His Imperial Majesty Harsha VI, Emperor of the Vardana Empire.

Even before his accession, Harsha VI had been under psychological pressure from Tytania. His late father, Harsha V, had made a very mild compromise with Tytania’s dominance, bequeathing a history of little consequence on both his own life and his nation. While he was not revered by the people, he was well-loved, and even more than ten years after his death, flowers were still laid upon his grave by the populace.

His son, Harsha VI, had not learnt from his father’s way of life. He believed that his father had flattered the treacherous Tytania Clan and had forgotten his honour as an emperor.

“The Tytania Clan was originally nothing more than subjects of the Vardana Empire. One day, I shall make those treacherous ministers learn their lesson, for they neglect their sovereign to play with hollow power.”

Harsha VI could not resign himself to being a powerless bystander. To accept his current circumstances was, to him, nothing less than defeat and humiliation. As far as he was concerned, power was “my house’s property, unjustly plundered by Tytania.”

Historically, for a sovereign disregarded by treacherous ministers, power was something to be reclaimed by one’s own hands; how that power might be utilised once obtained was hardly ever an issue. He never once imagined that, even if he were to reclaim it, such an act might instead bring about social chaos and ruin, ultimately bringing misery to the people.

Many disliked the rule of Tytania, yet none wished for the Vardana Empire to recover its former glory. Except perhaps Harsha VI. This was the fundamental flaw of those who claimed “legitimate kingship”: they failed to realise this. They deluded themselves into believing that what was merely a small measure of justice for their own cause was a universal justice for the entire universe, and they branded anyone who disagreed with them as disloyal subjects.

As for the recent resignation of Duke Ariabert Tytania, it brought no great joy to Harsha VI.

“At the very least, if Lord Idris is dispatched to Bargash as Lord Ariabert’s successor, he will be gone from the court. It is hardly a cause for celebration.”

When Empress Aisha expressed such an opinion, Harsha VI only directed a sombre gaze towards her.

“But even if we Idris leaves for distant Bargash, what happens if his successor turns out to be even worse than him?”

“Like Radmoth, for instance,” groaned Harsha VI. Idris’ younger brother, Radmoth, was eighteen years old this year, and even as a member of the main Tytania Clan line, the position of Minister of Military Affairs would undoubtedly be too heavy a burden for his shoulders. The conversation between the Emperor and Empress had been based on the rumour that Idris, currently holding the seat of Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire, would succeed Ariabert, but it was later revealed that this was not the case.

If Idris were to fail miserably on the battlefield, Harsha VI’s joy would be the greatest of his life. Furthermore, if the Tytania were to perish, his life would surely end in bliss.

However, his modest hopes were crushed within a few days. Another rumour arrived, which claimed that far from remaining at Uraniborg, Idris had become a leading candidate for the next Clanner.

Harsha VI’s optimism deflated like a cheap balloon. Should the day ever come when Idris becomes the Clanner of Tytania, peace would never again visit Harsha VI’s mind. “Someone, please help me. Save me from this purgatory,” he yearned, but in essence, he simply wished for someone to serve him. Empress Aisha, worried by her husband’s fragility, attempted to shut out the flood of irresponsible rumours flowing into the court; however, Harsha VI himself would not allow it, leaving the rumours to fly freely both inside and outside the palace.

In this manner, Ariabert’s resignation stirred great waves both inside and outside the stagnant Uraniborg, provoking countless mental activities ranging from conspiracies, calculations, speculations, and anxieties to philosophical self-questioning and historical contemplation. As a result, people had inadvertently forgotten that there was one individual who carried within her heavy demands and immense dissatisfaction.

It was on the 14<sup>th</sup> of February that this person reappeared, with such force as if she might well kick down the door to Jouslain’s office, scattering shards of metallic fury throughout the room.

“What has become of my succession to the dukedom? I am Zarlisch’s mother. I do not remember ever being treated with such neglect!”

It was Jouslain who was truly the one being inconvenienced; it was not as if he were personally obstructing the demands of the Duchess Theresa Tytania. She should, instead, be lodging her protest with Clanner Ajman. Jouslain could not understand why she placed her expectations upon him, but a sudden thought occurred to him. Perhaps, while setting aside her unrestrained agitation, Theresa was actually coming to probe his true intentions?

Since he could not simply drive her away, Jouslain welcomed the Duchess into the drawing room and attended to her, sacrificing his precious time to do so.

“And so, Duchess, once you have secured your seat at the Council of the Five Families, what sort of political policy do you intend to demonstrate?”

“That is already decided. We shall capture that rogue in exile, a certain Fan I believe, and see him face the judgement of justice for the crime of shedding the noble blood of Tytania.”

“I see. And after that?”

It was a valid, yet spiteful, question. It was common knowledge to everyone, not just Jouslain, that Lady Theresa lacked imagination.

However, at the same time, her desire to exercise power had never been particularly intense; she should have been content with her luxurious private life, the reverence of others, and, in particular, her high expectations for the future of her second son, Arses. Though she had descended into madness upon the loss of her two sons and had never ceased to revile everyone around her, Jouslain had long found the idea that she had suddenly awakened to an ambition for power to be psychologically implausible.

Lady Theresa cried out.

“The rest can wait!”

Jouslain let out a sigh deep within his chest. His suspicions from recent days had been transformed into certainty. Someone had incited Lady Theresa.

Did they intend to send Lady Theresa to the Council of the Five Families to manipulate her as a puppet? Or was the purpose simply to throw the Council into chaos? In either case, there was someone attempting to use Lady Theresa for their own selfish ends. Jouslain felt it necessary to discover who that person was.

''“Lady Theresa, I ask that you tell me: who is it that seeks to whisper sweet words in your ear and manipulate you?”'' is not what Jouslain said.

Asking such a blunt question would have achieved nothing more than effectively bolting Lady Theresa’s lips shut.

Instead, Jouslain guided Lady Theresa with great subtlety. He brought up the name of the late Arses. He mused that because Arses had been a devoted son, he must have been worried about his mother. If his mother were to become one of the Four Dukes, his soul might find peace, but he wondered if there was anyone who could assist Lady Theresa in place of Arses.

When asked, Theresa offered the name of Countess Theodora. Having exhausted every polite pleasantry and used all his skill to soothe her, Jouslain finally saw Lady Theresa on her way out. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his fingertips and muttered to himself:

“Theodora?! In a mere fifty or sixty days, she certainly stirred things up. The stagnant water is now a swirling vortex.”

Jouslain returned to his desk in his office and picked up his pen. His mind began to work feverishly.

''“If Tytania is the sort of entity that could be destroyed by a single woman, then perhaps that is all she amounts to. Nevertheless, I cannot simply fold my arms and remain a bystander. Perhaps I should devise countermeasures.”''

And so, he composed several personal letters.

=== III ===
On the 17<sup>th</sup> of March, Jouslain, after much self-reflection, had finished laying out the initial measures to prepare for the impending situation.

Once he had confirmed that his measures had been carried out without being known to others, he was finally able to catch his breath and enjoy tea with Princess Lydia, who too had found relief from her tutor.

“What are your thoughts on your own country, Princess?”

“It is poor and lacks grandeur, but I think it is a good country.”

“I see. Tytania is quite the opposite. It is wealthy, prosperous, and powerful, but it is not a good country.”

Princess Lydia looked up at her guardian, her fork still piercing a strawberry tart.

“Then does that mean you are not a good person either, Lord Jouslain?”

“Indeed, I am not a good person, Princess.”

“I dislike that kind of thinking. I think it is quite unhealthy. I make it a point to believe that I am the best girl in the entire universe. A pity that my country is poor,” added the Princess, as she finished the strawberry tart and took a sip of honey tea. “If Lord Idris were to become the Clanner, I wonder if he might lend our country some money.”

Jouslain found himself smiling at the look of grave seriousness that had crossed Princess Lydia’s face.

“Shall we try asking Lord Idris, Princess?”

“This is no laughing matter. Even a small sum to Tytania is a fortune to the Kingdom of Elbing. ‘If only we had the funds,’ was my grandfather the King’s constant refrain.”

It was true that the Kingdom of Elbing was a poor and stagnant nation. The state treasury was at the mercy of the whims of Tytania, or more accurately, the whims of Jouslain himself. Jouslain could not help but think that power was indeed the ability to command the destinies of others.

To be a part of Tytania and to remain a part of Tytania. Jouslain contemplated his own state, acutely aware of the weight of that existence as a shackle from which he had yet to break free. In the first place, was departure even possible? Having resigned from his position as Commander-in-Chief, was Ariabert attempting to leave?

''“I wish I could speak with Ariabert,”'' thought Jouslain from his very heart. Until just over a year ago, around the end of the year before last, he had not held Ariabert in particularly high regard. However, as Tytania shifted from a state of unshakeable peace towards confusion and stagnation, Jouslain’s estimation of Ariabert had been steadily rising.

Of course, by the standards of traditional Tytanian values, Ariabert was a defeated remnant who had abandoned his post after losing to the enemy. Yet, one had to wonder just how much meaning those Tytanian values truly held. By freeing oneself from them and distancing oneself from that palace built on thin ice, would the world truly unfold before Jouslain with greater brilliance?

“I wonder if Bal is doing well. Did my last letter reach him?”

Princess Lydia gazed at the empty cake plate with a certain sense of lingering regret.

Balamy must have felt a deep sense of frustration at being unable to be present at Uraniborg during this critical time. However, there was absolutely no need for him to be impatient. On the contrary, it would be better for him to keep his distance from this quagmire of chaos and corruption, and to exercise restraint as he prepared for the future. While thinking this, Jouslain also couldn’t help but feel that, if Balamy had been at Uraniborg right now, he could have entrusted Princess Lydia to his care.

One thing was certain. When this palace of vanity will finally break through the thin ice and sink, Princess Lydia must not be taken down with it. For this spirited and intelligent young girl was the one who deserved to claim a brilliant, unchained world as her own.

''Even so, Tytania is gradually becoming nothing more than a den of monsters'', Jouslain thought to himself.

For instance, was it conceivable that the Clanner himself might devise a plan to assassinate the dukes? As for his motive, it would be to ensure his still-young son inherits the Clanner’s throne. Ajman’s eldest son would reach the age to succeed him in twenty years, at which point Ajman himself would only be in his sixties, not yet declining from old age. It was only human nature to think that if one were to abdicate the supreme seat, it should go to one’s own flesh and blood. Yet, the question remained whether Ajman possessed such human sentiment.

Above all, Tytania existed within a massive inertia that stretched back into the past. By operating the organisation “as it always had” and “in accordance with precedent,” it had maintained its prosperity and power without significant incident. Ajman himself had not engaged in any particularly original actions since ascending to the position of Clanner. His resolute capacity for execution, his acerbic political manoeuvring, his fairness towards the subordinates, his diplomacy that balanced carrot and stick<ref name="ftn19">The expression “strength and favour” (力と恩) has here an unusual pronunciation, ''muchi to ame'', (“whip and candy”) which is the Japanese equivalent of the expression “carrot and stick”.</ref>, and his equidistant stance toward the four dukes—all of these served to uphold the traditions of Tytania’s lineage.

Had time passed without further incident, Ajman would have eventually retired, and the supreme seat would have been abdicated to one of the four dukes. Or at least, that was how it should have been, but…

“Ah,” Princess Lydia exclaimed, leaning her face towards the transparent wall facing the corridor. Beyond that wall lay a vast ''atrium''<ref name="ftn20">“Courtyard” (屋根つき中庭) is pronounced “atrium”.</ref> where Jouslain could see a single noblewoman passing along the beltway, accompanied by a lady-in-waiting. With his own eyes, he confirmed it was Countess Theodora Tytania.

Princess Lydia tilted her head slightly.

“That woman, no, that Lady…”

“Is something the matter with Countess Theodora, Princess?”

“I have seen that lady with a man before.”

At that time, Countess Theodora had been standing in a corner of the corridor, appearing quite wary of the gaze of others, exchanging low-voiced conversation with a man. As for that man…

“The most unpleasant person in all of Uraniborg.”

Princess Lydia effortlessly overturned Jouslain’s momentary assumption that it might be Lord Idris.

“It’s that big, unpleasant fellow. The one who fought with Bal. Errr…”

“Radmoth!?”

“Yes, Radmoth. The two of them were standing side by side, engaged in some conversation. I wasn’t eavesdropping, mind you. I simply happened to see them.”

Jouslain’s shock bypassed the middle ground of bewilderment and transformed directly into utter confusion. Even if Theodora was elegantly running wild in her efforts to gain allies, Radmoth was an unexpected name.

Regardless of what the future might hold, Radmoth possessed no political influence at present. He was immature, boorish, and thoughtless—in short, nothing more than a typical example of a spoiled child of the privileged class. What possible benefit could Theodora gain by making such a young man her ally? Furthermore, the fact that Princess Lydia had seen them together sat ill with Jouslain. Had they not displayed themselves intentionally? Had it been a truly important conversation, they would have conducted it in a bedroom or a drawing room, somewhere absolutely hidden from the eyes of others.

Suddenly, Jouslain felt a sense of loathing for Uraniborg itself. This was a wretched place. The anti-Tytania faction was not at all wrong to liken this to the Demon King’s fortress. And Jouslain himself was a kin of that very Demon King.

“Princess, shall we leave Uraniborg and go somewhere else?”

When Jouslain spoke, Princess Lydia nodded deeply.

“That would be nice. But where exactly would we be going?”

“Well, for the time being, how about somewhere like Bargash?”

“Is it an interesting place?”

“It might become interesting.”

Jouslain thought that it might even be an opportunity to take over the role of Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force in place of Ariabert. Regardless, he simply wanted to leave Uraniborg and breathe some fresh, pure air.

However, leaving Uraniborg would not bring an end to everything. In recommending Jouslain as Ariabert’s successor, Idris’ true intentions could not have been entirely transparent. He had made such a proposal precisely because there were circumstances that would work to his advantage. He wondered what kind of monster lurked behind that surface, breathing out its poisonous breath.

''“Idris did not propose summoning Ariabert back to Uraniborg. Why was that? Was it because Ariabert’s return would mess with his schemes?”''

Zarlisch was already dead, and Ariabert was recovering in the frontier. Thus, if Jouslain were to leave Uraniborg now, only Idris would remain by the Clanner’s side. He wondered if that was his intention, yet surely the Clanner was not a man to be manipulated by someone like Idris. Even if Jouslain were to alert the Clanner to this point, he would likely only be met with derisive laughter.

''“As long as the Clanner remains well. But what if something were to happen to him…?”''

A cold chill swept through Jouslain’s inner universe like a gust of wind. He had arrived at the worst possible conclusion.

Was it not possible that Idris intended to drive all his rivals from Uraniborg, assassinate Clanner Ajman, and ascend to the supreme position himself? Radmoth would be the one to carry out the assassination. And then Radmoth would then be killed on the spot without trial or even an inquiry, and the truth would be buried in darkness. Finally, Idris and Theodora would share power over Tytania. It was a plausible scheme. But…

''“But would Idris really go that far? First, even if Idris were to harm the Clanner and usurp the throne, who would follow him?”''

While Idris received appropriate respect as one of the four dukes, he lacked personal popularity. Furthermore, if he were to commit an act as heinous as regicide or usurpation, who would follow him? Moreover, if Ariabert and Jouslain were alive at that time, the people’s support would gather around them instead. If that were the case, then wherein lay Idris’ true intentions…? Jouslain fell into deep thought, failing to notice Princess Lydia’s gaze and leaving his tart untouched.

=== IV ===
Thus, on the 19<sup>th</sup> of March, during the meeting of the Council of the Five Families, the two Dukes of Tytania, Jouslain and Idris, arrived at their final confrontation. With Zarlisch and Ariabert’s seats vacant, and the remaining two in discord. The ranks of the four Tytanian dukes stood in a state of undeniable desolation compared to a year prior.

On this day, a decision had to be made regarding the appointment of the new Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force to replace Ariabert. It was a matter of great importance, yet the decision took no more than five minutes. This was due to Clanner Ajman seeking Jouslain’s opinion and Jouslain providing him with answers.

The matter should have been settled then, but Idris made an unexpected proposal. He suggested that, for Jouslain to serve as Commander-in-Chief, his ''protégée'' Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Elbing should be left as a hostage to serve as proof that he had no divided loyalty toward His Clanner Highness.

What on earth was Idris thinking?

At that moment, Jouslain failed to grasp his cousin’s true intention. Princess Lydia as a hostage? Did this man seriously doubt Jouslain’s loyalty? Or was this merely an attempt at harassment? But even if it were harassment, what purpose would it serve? What meaning could there be in such an act, especially when it risked incurring Jouslain’s resentment?

Danger breathed a cold breath against the nape of Jouslain’s neck. He realised that a single careless response could prove fatal. Masking his expression, he bowed to the Clanner.

“I am a loyal subject of Tytania. Should Your Clanner Highness issue an order, I shall merely obey your will.”

While uttering words of praise, Jouslain bit into the bitter taste of regret. A man who was not omniscient could not foresee such things. However, if Princess Lydia’s name was to be brought up in a place and at such a moment, he should have simply abided by Clanner Ajman’s ruling at the end of last year. The Clanner had recommended that Princess Lydia be returned to her homeland, as she was the cause of the dispute between Viscount Balamy and Baron Radmoth. Taking advantage of the fact that it had not been a strict command, Jouslain had refused the recommendation and kept Princess Lydia by his side, waiting for the situation to blow over.

The Clanner spoke. His tone was one that no one else could possibly imitate.

“Lord Jouslain’s sincerity is known to all. To demand a hostage of him is a narrow-minded act that would only serve to damage our mutual trust.”

Watching the blood rush to Idris’ cheeks, the Clanner continued:

“Furthermore, if Lord Jouslain harboured any treasonous intentions, he would abandon even parents or children if they were hostages to raise an army. In any case, hostages and oaths are utterly futile.”

It was an incredibly biting remark. While the colour did not return to Idris’ cheeks, his eyes flashed with a fierce light. Out of the corner of his eye, Jouslain quickly expressed his gratitude for the Clanner’s trust and magnanimity.

It was at this moment that Jouslain made his decision. He would use this situation to lead Princess Lydia away from this dark nest of conspiracy. If the Princess were to remain in this space city, there was no telling what treatment she might endure at the hands of Idris.

The Clanner appeared to delight in the hostility and resentment brewing between Jouslain and Idris. Was he contemplating which one of them he would discard? Or was he perhaps wishing for them both to fall? A sensation akin to a toothache throbbed within Jouslain’s mental field.

Unlike Neville, the founder of Tytania, Ajman lacked the habit of roaring with a face full of fury. Being glared at by him made Jouslain feel as though he were undergoing a prosecutor’s interrogation rather than facing the wrath of a despot. It had been that way since his boyhood. While it was true that this had forged Jouslain into a high noble of Tytania, it was only natural that he felt weary at the thought of such a situation persisting for another ten or twenty years.

It might be time for a change. If Ariabert’s easy surrender of military authority was to bring about a fluctuation in the ''status quo'', then Jouslain decided he would ride that wave. Jouslain reached his conclusion. While the manifestation of his resolve might have seemed sudden, he, too, had been longing for a catalyst.

On the 20<sup>th</sup> of March, Duke Jouslain Tytania formally received his official appointment from Clanner Ajman and was set to succeed Ariabert as the Commander-in-Chief of the Bargash Expeditionary Force. The departure from Uraniborg was scheduled for the 27<sup>th</sup> of the same month. No one could have predicted with certainty what would unfold within that single week.

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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4

2026-10-06T17:53:55Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 3 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 5 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal == === I === During the “Phoney War”, it was difficult to judge whether it was Tytania or the..."

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== Chapter 4 – A Double Withdrawal ==
=== I ===
During the “Phoney War”, it was difficult to judge whether it was Tytania or the anti-Tytania faction who committed the most mistakes. In the first place, the anti-Tytania faction shared nothing more than a single commonality: their dissatisfaction with Tytania’s rule.

While the Bargash government hated Tytania, it could not help but harbour resentment towards the meddlesome rogue elements that had brought about the national crisis. Unlike Fan Hyulick or Doctor Lee, Bargash possessed much that was at stake.

The commander of the Bargash Regular Army who was travelling with Fan Hyulick and the others known as the “rejects of the Blaze Flag Army” was the seasoned Rear-Admiral Turbil. His ''aide-de-camp'' was Lieutenant-Commander Irk. Having experienced the tyranny of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, he possessed a strong will to fight against Tytania and a deep sympathy for Hyulick’s group, yet his primary sense of loyalty remained with his homeland, Bargash. The first mission entrusted to them was the preservation of their fleet’s combat strength.

''“The people in the Bargash government care more about tomorrow’s breakfast than today’s dinner,”'' thought Fan Hyulick to himself, but he remained silent, for it would be troublesome if he upset his patron and was told, ''“Fine, then fight Tytania on your own.”'' However, according to the explanation Doctor Lee had provided to Miranda, the methods employed by the Bargash government were even more ruthless than that.

“We have been bundled together onto this single ship. In other words, if this ship were to be sunk in an emergency, the Bargash government would have an excuse to present to Tytania.”

“So that is why they did not have us board in separate groups?”

“Because for the Bargash government, it is a cheap price to pay if it can be settled with just one cruiser.”

“But doing something like that would only weaken their own position. For instance, there is no way Tytania would withdraw their demands to be granted the right to vet locators.”

“Even if they were to accept Tytania’s demands, Bargash would have no need to follow through.”

Doctor Lee stated this with absolute clarity.

“That is an extreme way of putting it, but there are countless ways to delay implementation, and there are even strategies to invalidate the very qualification of being a locator to establish a different system. As far as this particular matter is concerned, Bargash possesses more tradition and authority than Tytania.”

Fan Hyulick blinked and looked back at Doctor Lee.

“If you understood that much, then why…”

''Why had he not shown the Bargash government a way to avoid war?'' Lee laughed at Hyulick’s question.

“It was only natural. If I had told them such a thing, the Bargash government would not have taken arms against Tytania.”

To him, it was a logical and clear-cut fact. They could not oppose Tytania on their own. He had to involve the Bargash government. To do that, he needed to drive the Bargash government into a corner. It was as simple as that.

In short, they were not some “resistance<ref name="ftn14">“Resistance” (抵抗運動) is pronounced “resistance”.</ref> movement bound by beautiful comradeship”. If anything, the label Tytania used in their propaganda—“vicious terrorists who disturb the peace and order of the universe”—might have been more accurate. At the very least, one could certainly not claim they were people of pure character.

Doctor Lee went on to further explain the enemy’s psychology.

“Lord Ariabert has long since achieved victory in terms of war as a political tool. However, being an excellent soldier and a man of uncompromising integrity, that alone is not enough to satisfy him.”

He desired to compete against the enemy head-on, proving his superiority in strategy and tactics to achieve a victory that was clear to all eyes. Yet, while Ariabert hungered for such a feat, his restraint as a prominent figure of Tytania outweighed his personal desires. Even if he could not find emotional satisfaction, as long as he could secure political victories that brought benefits to Tytania, Ariabert would not persist in useless displays of force. At the very least, he should not.

The reason he sought to pursue the fugitives to the very end and desired a complete victory through the use of force this time was that the cowardice of the Bargash government and the way Fan Hyulick’s faction continued to run away were a provocation to Ariabert’s sense of aesthetics. He simply could not allow such a disgraceful group to go unpunished, nor could he offer them a half-hearted pardon. Ariabert believed that for the sake of the honour of the Tytanian military and for the sake of future order, they had to be dealt with thoroughly. It was precisely within that fact that the only remaining path for Hyulick and his men lay.

Alan Mahdi interrogated him, his voice sharpening with tension.

“So, what do we do now?”

“What should we do, you ask?”

“We’re at war! How do you intend to fight against Tytania’s army? You have a plan for victory, don’t you?” shouted Mahdi.

His interference in tactical matters stemmed not from a high fighting spirit but from his lack of desire to perish alongside Hyulick and Doctor Lee.

“I have left everything in the hands of Admiral Hyulick.”

Doctor Lee replied with composure:

“My late uncle used to say that the secret to a healthy life is delegating to others what one is bad at. I ought to heed the advice of my elder.”

“A fitting pair, that uncle and nephew. Did this uncle of yours never teach you that fulfilling one’s responsibilities is the true way of a man?”

Mahdi himself limited his own duties strictly to the group’s financial management. Consequently, regarding combat command, he believed he could simply hold others accountable, having no intention of devising tactics himself. Doctor Lee was being sarcastic regarding that attitude, but of course, Mahdi failed to realise it.

It was Miranda who noticed. This robust woman, who had once been a princess of a nation, let out a hearty laugh, despite her sarcasm.

“Mahdi, just as you pave your path with cheap copper coins, Doctor Lee and Fan pave theirs with gold coins stamped with deep foresight and prudence. How about you be a little more humble and just wait?”

“Gold coins?! How do you know they aren’t just gilded fakes? Trust requires proof.”

It was a valid point, but since Mahdi’s lack of popularity surpassed even that of Doctor Lee, his trivial bickering failed to escalate into an internal conflict.

… At that moment, an event occurred that left the Tytania Fleet headquarters in a state of bewilderment. A transmission had been received from the very enemy they were pursuing. Ariabert failed to immediately grasp the contents of the message, which had been sent under the name “Bargash Regular Army”. He knitted his brows slightly and glared at the intelligence officer.

“What does this mean?”

“It is… exactly as the transmission says. They intend to sink the ship carrying Fan Hyulick and his companions with their own hands, provided that we accept their request for an immediate ceasefire.”

A stir arose among those surrounding Ariabert.

“Have they lost their minds?” groaned Rear-admiral Paulsen.

To Ariabert and his staff officers alike, it was an unbelievable proposal.

Had he been Clanner Ajman, he would have laughed derisively, accepted the filthy offer, and subsequently denied that such an offer had ever existed. But Ariabert was not Ajman.

“We received no such communication. Erase the records. For the sake of everyone’s honour.”

Ariabert’s voice was restrained, but he could not entirely hide his feelings regarding the hideous proposal. It was Rear-Admiral Paulsen who voiced his agreement loudly.

“It would be a pity for Fan Hyulick to die in such a manner. Let us destroy this heroic rebel with our own hands.”

Ariabert felt a faint, strange sense of distaste toward this young, loyal soldier. It was the same sensation he had felt towards the late Zarlisch. Ariabert did not like those who expressed their confidence with exaggeration, content to dwell within a self-made illusion.

Nothing sat well with him. He felt as though he were being lured into some unpredictable, sinister trap. This uncharacteristic suspicion weighed heavily upon Ariabert, leaving him with a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.

Throughout the previous year, he had exerted the full extent of his intellect as a commander, devising the strategies and tactics required to engage the Bargash fleet in a decisive battle in outer space. Instead, all of that effort had come to nothing, and he found himself instead chasing a mere handful of troops fleeing across the seabed of a single planet. This was the height of frustration. Victory was an absolute certainty, yet it was equally clear that even in triumph, he would gain not even a milligram of satisfaction.

He was not fighting for personal gratification. But even though he told himself this repeatedly, he could not dispel the sense of unease. Furthermore, given his position as commander-in-chief, he could not afford to expose his private inner turmoil to the eyes of others.

“Commander Granite, do you have any opinions?”

Ariabert sought input from another person.

“I would ask you to be wary of the seabed. There is a possibility that explosives or missiles have been placed on the ocean floor. Furthermore, enemy vessels may be lurking within the seabed sands. Please remain vigilant.”

As for Commander Granite, he could not help but recall the untimely death of his superior, Duke Zarlisch. Zarlisch had tasted an unexpected bitterness when struck by fire from an enemy ship that had been hiding beneath the sands. Granite’s warning possessed an undeniable persuasiveness, and Ariabert ordered each vessel to conduct depth charge attacks against the seabed. However, since it would be foolish to waste depth charges before the commencement of full-scale combat, he limited the number of uses to ten per ship. Even so, a vast number of depth charges detonated upon the seabed, kicking up tens of millions of tonnes of sand that had accumulated since ancient times.

Ariabert watched with a heavy heart as the image on the screen shifted from a dark clarity to a dark turbidity. It was more than just a half-measure; he felt as though what he was doing was utterly pointless.

=== II ===
The change was sudden. The hull jolted violently. For the Tytania soldiers on board, it was almost like being tossed into the air. More than one person barely managed to avoid falling and let out a cry of alarm. A coffee cup, placed at the edge of the command desk, slid into the air along with its saucer and smashed against the floor with a crash of protest.

Ariabert gazed at the screen. The computer-corrected image showed delicate glimmers dancing wildly within the pitch-black depths of the sea. It was a decoy<ref name="ftn15">“Decoy” (囮) is pronounced “decoy”.</ref> released by the enemy to disrupt the Tytania military’s reconnaissance systems. The Tytania formation had fallen into disarray, and an operator, clinging to the control console, reported the presence of an intense current reaching speeds of sixty kilometres per hour.

Rear-admiral Paulsen cried out:

“Impossible! There’s no way such a strong current could exist in a basin, let alone near the seabed.”

Yet the current was a reality, and it was violently sweeping the Tytania fleet away. Ariabert issued instructions to Captain Chen: “Don’t place too much trust in the data from the Hydrographic Bureau. Calculate backwards from the direction and speed of the current to deduce the seabed topography.” Captain Chen immediately had the operator perform the task, and forty seconds later, the screen began to render the seabed topography as estimated by the computer.

Groans erupted around Ariabert, and the young duke etched a pale smile onto the corner of his lips. They were positioned within a deep-sea corridor where ridges towered high on either side.

“Your Grace, this is…!”

“Did the Hydrographic Bureau deceive us?”

At the cries of his staff officers, Ariabert shook his head.

“No, the people at the Hydrographic Bureau likely know nothing. They probably believe that Tytania simply seized the correct data from them. Otherwise, this stratagem would be unusable.”

Ariabert realised that he had been caught in a ruse.

“Damn it, they got us!” The angry shouts of the subordinates rang out in vain. Navigational assistance from satellite orbit could only reach depths of two thousand metres below sea level, leaving the Tytania fleet with no choice but to act based on the data provided by the Hydrographic Bureau. Furthermore, the enemy had scattered metal and non-metal decoys to confuse Tytania’s search systems. It was not intended to hide the enemy’s location but rather to obscure the seabed topography.

The seawater expanded and exploded. One of the search officers screamed, ripping the headphones from his head. Because the unfortunate man had been engaged in acoustic searching, the intense blast had damaged his eardrums.

It was not a missile that had exploded. The enemy had launched unpropelled explosives, allowing them to surge forward on the ocean currents. The Tytania fleet had been clustered in the centre of the deep-sea corridor formed by these currents. They had been left with no other choice. It was a success for the “vicious terrorists” who had driven the Tytania forces into such a position, rendering Ariabert’s tactical vision and command abilities useless.

A dull vibration and sound were transmitted from outside the hulls, and they continued without interruption. As the pressure from the explosions pressed against the currents, and as each ship began individual manoeuvres to avoid contact with the explosives or the hulls of other vessels, the chaos expanded all at once. Though they were accustomed to piloting within the asteroid belts of outer space, they were caught between the narrowness of the space and a subtle distortion in their sense of time, driven towards catastrophe without the ability to demonstrate their true strength.

“Cruiser ''Bramante III'', communications lost!”

“Battleship ''Beaufort'', heavily damaged! Surfacing to withdraw from the combat zone!”

Digital communications flashed erratically as every ship became shrouded in panic and confusion. Ariabert appeared somewhat pale at his command seat, yet he remained the most composed member of the entire fleet. Staring at the flashes of explosions blinking across the dark screens, he steadied his breathing and issued orders in a voice unchanged from his usual tone.

“All ships, ascend. Break away from the current, and regroup thereafter.”

In this situation, such a conventional command proved effective in curbing the panic. Each captain regained their composure and ordered their ascent. It appeared, for a moment, that the Tytania forces had restored order and were about to resurface to reconstitute the entire fleet. However, even that was merely part of the enemy’s deception.

One of the Tytania ships that had begun its rapid ascent was struck by a thunderous explosion. Fragments of metal and non-metal were ejected in six directions from the fireball, drifting slowly through the dark abyss as they spun, carried away by the intense ocean currents.

Ariabert realised that the enemy’s treachery was double or even triple-layered. The enemy was making the utmost use of the natural environment. They launched explosives towards the far heights, leaving them to sink via gravity. As the Tytania forces ascended sharply, they were effectively charging straight into the explosives themselves.

High-pressure seawater surged into the shattered hull, crushing the crew. Driven by gravity and ocean currents, the vessel careened towards the friendly forces. A vicious cycle of contact, evasion, and re-contact ensued, forcing an unwanted concentration of ships, right at the moment when explosives were hurled into the fray. In the eternal darkness of the deep seabed, orange flashes chained together in spherical bursts.

The successive explosions caused the seawater to boil. The Tytania forces, waiting at low altitude, sensed the anomaly when the sea surface burst and escape pods, resembling large bubbles, began to surface one after another. If they attempted an immediate dive into the ocean, they risked colliding with their surfacing comrades. While working to recover the escape pods, they transmitted communications in search of an accurate report.

An explosion occurred in the immediate vicinity of Ariabert’s flagship, the ''Golden Sheep'', and a torn companion ship collided with the flagship while spinning. This triggered a chain reaction in the engine room, sending flashes of light and vibrations through the entire flagship.

Ariabert’s field of vision changed instantly. He felt his tall frame being flung up the walls towards the ceiling. His flagship was being violently spun by the invisible, massive hands of the ocean currents and the pressure from the explosion. Inside, the crew were tossed about like laundry in a dryer, slammed against the walls, ceiling, and floor. Even those who had remained strapped into their seats were injured by the bodies of flying comrades and loose equipment.

It was not until twenty seconds later that Captain Chen finally managed to stabilise the ship’s orientation.

“Duke…!”

The screams of a staff officer battered his ears, and Ariabert regained consciousness. At first, his sense of up and down was so disrupted that he could not grasp his own orientation. The faces of his staff officers formed a ring around his field of vision. A thin trickle of lukewarm liquid ran past his right ear, and he felt a point of pain at the edge of his forehead.

Once he confirmed he was lying on his back and attempted to sit up, an intense pain exploded in his ribcage. He managed to stifle a scream, but he could not prevent his face from contorting. His ribs were broken.

He had been slammed against the walls and ceiling at least four times. Compared to those who had suffered broken necks or had shards of instruments driven into their eyes, Ariabert’s misfortune could be considered a small one.

Barely able to pull himself upright, and while receiving treatment from the army surgeon, Ariabert ordered his staff officers to announce his injuries to the entire army. Rear-admiral Paulsen, whose face was marred by a dark bruise, voiced his concern.

“But if the enemy intercepts that, it will lead to a disaster.”

“Let it be so. If they give chase, we shall counterattack. If they deem it false intelligence and refrain from pursuit, then we shall return safely. Follow my orders.”

This, too, was a deceptive scheme uncharacteristic of Ariabert. It served as proof of his state of mental instability during this “Phoney War”.

However, Ariabert had sincerely hoped that the enemy would press their advantage and pursue him. He had intended to use his flexible military genius to launch a cunning counteroffensive, thereby clearing the stain of the “Phoney War”. In the end, however, his martial spirit remained unfulfilled. The enemies within the sea had launched no attack. At that time, it was impossible to confirm whether they had intercepted his communications.

… Four hours later, Ariabert entered a private room in a hospital that had been seized by the Tytania forces. The Tytania army had lost sixty vessels, seen twenty-six heavily damaged, and suffered eight thousand battle deaths, only to be driven from the sea, having gained nothing at all.

=== III ===
Ariabert’s injuries were diagnosed with a recovery period of three months. Although his mental acuity and vigour showed no sign of waning, his endurance was closely linked to his physical health. It was difficult for him to maintain the absolute authority over the expeditionary force that he had exercised until the day before.

From his sickbed, Ariabert issued instructions to divide his authority in two, delegating the negotiations and dealings with the Bargash government to Count Elman, while the management and operation of the military organisation were entrusted to Vice-Admiral Baldren. It was unavoidable that the authority of those in charge of the day-to-day operations should diminish in such circumstances. As Ariabert himself devoted himself to convalescence, he expressed his condolences and compensation to the fallen and their bereaved families, and thereafter remained confined to the hospital.

The planet Bargash was thrown into quite an uproar. While most were delighted by Tytania’s defeat, once the initial joy had faded, a sense of foreboding began to quietly knock at the doors of their hearts. People spoke in low voices to one another. For anxiety was something that ought to be passed from mouth-to-mouth, spreading to others rather than being kept to oneself.

“That is why we should have driven those troublesome sorts to the edge of the universe as quickly as possible. At this rate, they will pollute the seas of our planet. Don’t you agree?”

“Are you then planning to indict Lord Ariabert and his ilk for violating environmental protection laws?”

“Stop with this nonsense.”

“It is not as nonsensical as you fear. Duke Ariabert is still very much alive, so how exactly do you propose we drive away the Tytania army?”

While Ariabert himself was not disliked by the people of Bargash, there was, fundamentally, a sense of resentment and hostility towards Tytania. It was only natural that many reacted with “serves them right”, and it was equally understandable that cheers<ref name="ftn16">“Cheer” (声援) is pronounced “hail”.</ref> were sent to the forces that had dealt Tytania a bitter defeat.

The Tytania army’s responsibilities were divided such that Vice-Admiral Baldren was stationed in the capital to manage the headquarters’ functions, Rear-Admiral Paulsen continued sea searches while plagued by fury and self-reproach, and Vice-Admiral Silas commanded and supervised the mobile units in satellite orbit. Barring the occurrence of some urgent crisis, this arrangement should have been perfectly sound.

The dignitaries of the Bargash government who visited the hospital to pay their respects were politely brushed off and sent away. Even those who attempted to meet Ariabert in person to gauge his expression failed to achieve their purpose.

On the fourth day of his hospitalisation, Count Elman, who had taken on responsibilities far beyond anything he could have imagined a year prior, brought news regarding Uraniborg to Ariabert. It was then that Ariabert learned for the first time of the matter in which Duchess Theresa Tytania was causing bewilderment among the Clanner and the dukes by claiming she would succeed her late son.

“It must be quite difficult for Lord Jouslain as well.”

Ariabert’s voice sounded as if he were discussing someone else’s business. Count Elman politely observed the young duke’s expression. Surely, Ariabert himself must be facing greater difficulties than Lord Jouslain. Despite the fact that he could not possibly be unaware of this, Ariabert remained detached. It struck Count Elman that the man’s composure was almost excessive.

Ariabert received several reports from Count Elman regarding the negotiations with Bargash, gave his approval to the Count’s course of action, and then changed his expression.

“Lord Elman.”

Called upon, Count Elman braced his heart and waited for Ariabert’s words.

“I must take responsibility for the numerous failures, blunders, and errors in judgement I committed during this current expedition. I intend to submit my resignation to His Clanner Highness Ajman within the week. When I do, Lord Elman, I would like to ask of you to sign as a witness.”

“You wish to resign?”

Count Elman wasn’t completely feigning denseness through political acting. In truth, he was somewhat bewildered. Until now, Ariabert’s handling of his own failures had been nothing short of perfect. Count Elman had believed that the convalescence in the hospital was merely a way to buy time to devise a strategy to avoid being held accountable by the Clanner. However, Ariabert was now announcing his withdrawal not only from his position as commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force but from all public offices.

“A letter of resignation is merely a written expression of one’s intent to step down.”

Whether consciously or not, Ariabert had given an evasive reply. Count Elman suppressed a click of his tongue.

“But once Your Grace has relinquished your military authority, whom are we to appoint as the supreme commander of the Tytania expeditionary force?”

“That matter rests solely with His Clanner Highness. It would be inappropriate for someone in my position, a remnant of a defeated force, to presume to say otherwise.”

To Count Elman, Ariabert’s response seemed perfect. Or perhaps the man truly desired a life of quiet seclusion. Unable to judge his true intentions, Count Elman attempted to probe Ariabert’s heart.

“However, once Your Grace has relinquished your military authority, it is likely that Lord Idris will succeed you in that position. Even so, will you still step down?”

“I will.”

Ariabert responded dispassionately, and then, for the first time, a sardonic smile flickered across his face.

“I do possess a certain amount of self-confidence. If Lord Idris is capable of doing more than I can, then I should very much like to see him prove it.”

“Lord Idris is young, but because of that, one might expect great potential from him. I suppose that is all we can hope for.”

Count Elman had deliberately taken a risk. Had the person he was speaking to been Zarlisch, such a remark would likely have been met with a thunderous roar of fury and a display of strength pushed to the very limit. Ariabert, however, merely gave a light laugh.

“Then so be it. It would be a joyous occasion for Tytania, and it would simply mean that my loss of position is only natural.”

“But…”

Count Elman met that bland conjunction with silence. Was Lord Ariabert’s attitude that of a defeated man who had lost both tension and spirit? Was he a political strategist, awakened to intrigue, plotting something? Or was it some high-minded philosophy? No, perhaps it was merely the naive observation typical of a young man of high nobility, believing that his time would inevitably come again.

Beneath his gentle expression, Count Elman’s mind worked through a whirlwind of thoughts, yet he could reach no conclusion. Ultimately, Count Elman had never truly understood this noble admiral, who was some fifteen years his junior.

=== IV ===
On the 10<sup>th</sup> of February, Ariabert’s resignation reached Uraniborg.

Idris, who had taken such pleasure in gloating over the failures of others and had never ceased his relentless pursuit of Ariabert’s accountability, curled his lip in a sneer upon hearing that Ariabert was resigning his post as commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force. His brow twitched slightly when he heard that Ariabert intended to relinquish all military authority. Finally, when he learned that Ariabert was also withdrawing from the Council of the Five Families to devote himself entirely to house arrest, Idris could no longer remain silent.

“What on earth is he thinking? Does that bastard Ariabert intend to become a hermit? Does he think he can simply punish himself and call it settled, without even waiting for His Clanner Highness’ verdict!”

Primarily, Idris might have been frustrated at being robbed of the pleasure of berating Ariabert, but that was certainly not the only reason. It could be said that the abrupt and absolute nature of Ariabert’s withdrawal had sent shock-waves through all of Uraniborg.

Lord Ariabert resigned from all public offices, relinquished his military authority, and withdrew from the Council of the Five Families, the supreme decision-making body. This meant that Ariabert was retreating significantly from the race amongst the dukes vying for the next position of Clanner.

The high-ranking officers of the Tytania military exchanged heated opinions in their excitement.

“They say Lord Ariabert failed in his mission, but then who exactly could have succeeded?”

“He did not fail in the first place. He forced the Bargash government into submission without bloodshed through sheer display of military might. It was a magnificent success.”

“It was unfortunate that he was outmanoeuvred by those bandits, Fan Hyulick and his gang, but that is a small matter. His past achievements more than compensate for it.”

“Even so, I wonder what will become of things from here on.”

In the end, this opinion served as the final summary, and the soldiers merely shrugged their shoulders and fell silent. To verbalise and express anything further was dangerous within Tytania. Yet, in truth, who could possibly replace Lord Ariabert?

Under normal circumstances, Idris should have gone to the planet Bargash in Ariabert’s stead to command from the front lines. This was even more pertinent given that Idris himself had explicitly stated his intention to do so in the past. However, Idris had no choice but to avoid such an occurrence.

Of course, it was not that he lacked the courage to go to the battlefield. Rather, it was political calculation that constrained his actions. With Zarlisch permanently removed from the Council of the Five Families, if Ariabert were to withdraw indefinitely, and if Idris himself were to depart for distant Bargash, then only Clanner Ajman and Jouslain would remain in Uraniborg. For Idris, such a move would be tantamount to leaving his own fate in the hands of his political rivals.

“I cannot simply stand by and allow them to decide whatever they please in my absence. I cannot leave Uraniborg.”

Idris had made his decision. However, that left the question of who would succeed Ariabert.

“Perhaps I shall simply nominate Jouslain as Ariabert’s successor. Whether he is truly up to the task or not will be amusing to see.”

It seemed like a good idea. However, Idris found himself forced to hastily reject his own proposal. If Jouslain were to become the acting commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force, he would naturally have to travel to the planet Bargash to meet with the bedridden Ariabert. There is no telling what the two of them might plot at that moment. Idris, being a man possessed of many political machinations himself, had a tendency to view his rivals through such a lens.

As far as he was concerned, he absolutely had to prevent an alliance between Ariabert and Jouslain. Nevertheless, he found himself unable to employ the tactic of siding with one to oust the other. He had shown far too much hostility towards both of them up until this point. Even if he were to propose a joint struggle to either of them now, he would likely only be met with a derisive rejection. Perhaps he should have been more cunning by concealing his competitive spirit more effectively. Idris wanted to click his tongue in frustration.

“Damn that Ariabert, he is far more difficult to deal with than I anticipated. Even though he was thoroughly defeated by Fan Hyulick’s faction and failed his mission, no one even points that fact out.”

On the contrary, sympathy both within and outside Tytania was concentrating on Ariabert, and his reputation was actually rising. Had Ariabert calculated things that far in advance? If so, he was far more than just a mere warrior; he was a considerable strategist. For Idris, who had regarded Ariabert as easy to handle, this was a source of unavoidable anxiety and bewilderment.

It was his younger brother Radmoth who went out of his way to provoke that bewilderment. The younger brother had a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“It simply means that Lord Ariabert lost again and was forced to take the blame. Since your competitor has been removed from the race, shouldn’t you be celebrating, brother?”

“You are the one who should be celebrating.”

Idris spat the words out in the height of displeasure. While Radmoth’s simple optimism irritated him, Idris was, above all else, angry with himself.

In any event, Ariabert had moved one step away from his supreme position. Seizing upon this opportunity, Idris wished to devise a plan to widen the gap between the Clanner’s throne and Ariabert even further. However, the reality was that he could not grasp Ariabert’s true intentions, nor could he predict Jouslain’s response; as a result, he found himself unable to actively employ stratagems to strengthen his own position. Idris was dissatisfied with his own somewhat regressive attitude.

Even so, during the meeting of the Council of the Five Families on the 11<sup>th</sup> of February, Idris interrogated Ariabert with sharp intensity, demanding he take responsibility. He argued that Ariabert had fallen headlong into the bandits’ cunning schemes, resulting in a defeat—albeit a small-scale one—that cost the lives of subordinates and, above all, tarnished the honour of Tytania. Furthermore, Idris claimed that Ariabert’s attempt to abandon the position and authority entrusted to him by His Clanner Highness was utterly preposterous. He asserted that such irresponsibility was unforgivable and that appropriate disciplinary measures should be imposed. That was the argument he put forward.

In such instances, the Clanner usually remained silent and let Jouslain handle the matter. Having listened to the conclusion of Idris’ argument, he slowly opened his mouth:

“At first, you demand that Lord Ariabert take full responsibility. But you also criticise him for resigning from his public office. I wonder, Lord Idris, what manner of actions from Lord Ariabert would earn praise from you?”

Watching the colour drain from Idris’ face, Jouslain self-reflected. His own nature was even more ill-tempered; he knew exactly how to say things that would wound others, yet he made no effort to avoid doing so. That said, it was also an undeniable fact that he could not bring himself to feel any true affection for this cousin who was three years his junior.

After three or four rounds of fruitless exchange, the Clanner declared the morning meeting adjourned, announcing that proceedings would resume at five in the afternoon. Lately, the Clanner had shown a tendency to avoid reaching immediate conclusions.

Idris left the room with a hint of indignation, and as Jouslain prepared to follow, the Clanner called him back. While that steel-like expression had not yet shown any cracks, one might have been able to detect a microscopic trace of bewilderment in the voice that addressed him:

“To submit his resignation before even facing censure; I do not believe such a notion was ever present in Lord Ariabert in the past…”

“It is as you say.”

“Did someone plant ideas in Lord Ariabert’s head?”

“Who can say…”

Jouslain did not state it aloud as a certainty, but he suspected that was not the case. He thought that perhaps it was the utterly unwelcome defeat and the subsequent time spent in his sickbed that had caused Ariabert to undergo a psychological metamorphosis.

Ariabert had fallen victim to the wiles of Fan Hyulick for the second time. Compared to the first defeat, the stage was smaller, and the losses were less significant. However, it must have delivered a fatal blow to the loser’s pride; had the person involved been Zarlisch or Idris, they would surely have been tormented by frenzied rage and humiliation.

Ariabert had managed to weather it. He accepted defeat with composure and took responsibility in a manner that no one could have ever imagined. More precisely, he had managed to convince others of his method of taking responsibility. While Idris’ opinion, “Can this really be called taking responsibility?” was correct in one respect, the fact that anyone hearing it would perceive it as nothing more than Idris’ malice was perhaps a reflection of Idris’ own lack of virtue.

Jouslain returned to his office. He had intended to approve eight documents during the morning, write a letter to Ariabert, and have lunch with Princess Lydia and Francia. However, at 10:50, his modest plans were interrupted. A guest had arrived.

A woman once beautiful, now adorned like a peacock. It was Duchess Theresa Tytania. By protocol, she was Jouslain’s aunt. Upon being formally ushered into the drawing room, the Duchess opened her garishly painted lips:

“It seems Ariabert has finally found the courage to act like a man and take responsibility. He really should have taken responsibility after his first defeat. He truly is a boy devoid of any decisiveness.”

This noblewoman, who enjoyed the greatest freedom of speech in this vast space city, prattled on, the excess flesh of her cheeks and chin trembling as she spoke. Though she had come to seek Jouslain’s assistance in securing formally her duchy, she spoke of the absent Ariabert as if she had forgotten her primary purpose.

“His mother’s upbringing must have been poor. She was a most slovenly woman, after all.”

“Duchess, please, let us not speak of the deceased so lightly.”

“Oh, Jouslain, what a polite boy you are. Though, one could argue that politeness is merely another name for hypocrisy.”

“…”

“Jouslain, I don’t believe you would ever defend that woman, would you? After all, she forced both you and your mother to swallow bitter pills. In the first place…”

“Duchess!”

Jouslain’s voice struck Lady Theresa’s lips like an invisible whip. After a momentary shudder, the Duchess glared at Jouslain with dissatisfaction, but as she sensed the strength of will embedded in his deep eyes, she shuddered once more. She let out an exaggerated cough to shake off her dread.

After a silence of about two seconds, Jouslain restored a polite mildness to his voice.

“More importantly, there is something I wish to ask you, Duchess.”

“And what might that be?”

“You have never before made any political demands, so why are you suddenly seeking power of late? It seems to me quite unnecessary.”

Theresa Tytania did not answer immediately. A cunning light flickered in her eyes, and once it had vanished, she spoke in a voice that sounded performative.

“That is quite unlike you, Jouslain. It is obvious, isn’t it? It is because my dear Zarlisch met such an unhappy end. Had that boy only lived, I could have entrusted him both my house and the Tytania Clan as a whole with peace of mind.”

For the very first time, Jouslain felt he was hearing the words of a mother lacking in sincerity. Nearly everyone in the clan knew that Lady Theresa favoured her second son, Arses, and remained cold towards her eldest, Zarlisch. The expression “dear Zarlisch” carried an immensely grotesque ring to it. That grotesqueness likely ran through the very lineage of the entire Tytania Clan. Rule by blood. The politicisation of selfish genes<ref name="ftn17">“Selfish gene” (利己的遺伝子) is pronounced “selfish gene”.</ref>. The monopoly of power by a single family. That horror stood before Jouslain, expressed through a garish symbol.

Furthermore, she was undoubtedly a broken mirror, reflecting distorted images of Jouslain himself and Ariabert. He allowed the image of Ariabert’s mother—the woman who was, to Jouslain, his mother’s own sister—to flicker through his mind before using his will to cast the vision out of his consciousness.

“So, Duchess, is it that you have awakened to your sense of mission as a member of the Tytania main line?”

“In any case, it is impossible for just the three of you to decide the supreme will of Tytania, Jouslain. If we do not fill the vacancies with the correct individuals, a rebellious opportunist will surely appear. For the time being, why not let me, a member of the legitimate bloodline, sit in that seat, and then we can carry out a proper, permanent appointment later?”

''She has a point'', thought Jouslain. And ironically, it was that very point that aroused his suspicion. Lady Theresa was not lacking in intelligence, but she was a person who could not restrain her emotions and desires with reason.

Unlike Ariabert, there was little possibility that Lady Theresa would achieve a meteoric growth or awakening. The only conceivable explanation, to borrow the phrasing of Clanner Ajman, was that “someone had planted ideas” in her. It was at this moment that Jouslain clearly perceived that there was someone standing behind Lady Theresa.

… At almost the same time, Idris, who viewed Jouslain as an obstacle to his succession to the Clanner throne, sat ensconced on the sofa in his private room, lost in thought as he warmed a brandy glass in his palm.

To form an alliance with Zarlisch’s mother, that noblewoman driven by nothing but obsession and greed. It filled Idris with such dread that the mere thought of it sent a wave of nausea through his stomach, as if he had been forced to swallow cheap alcohol.

What Idris desired was the supreme power of Tytania. It was the throne of the cosmic hegemon, the seat of the ruler of human society. It was a position so magnificent and sublime that it inspired dread, and the struggle to attain it ought to be equally magnificent and sublime. Be that as it may. So how pathetic it was that he had to establish an alliance with someone who could not even grasp the true value of the Clanner’s throne.

Yet, if that was the best way to obtain it…

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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3

2026-10-06T17:53:22Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 2 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 4 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 3 – The Phoney War == === I === It was known as the “Phoney War<ref name="ftn8">“Fake war” (いんちき戦争) is..."

Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2

2026-10-06T17:52:27Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Chapter 1 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 3 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds == === I === Viscount Balamy Tytania was on planet Tyron. He had been appointed as a counse..."

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== Chapter 2 – The Hunter and the Hounds ==
=== I ===
Viscount Balamy Tytania was on planet Tyron. He had been appointed as a counsellor to the Tytania resident mission in this land at the end of the previous year. Prior to this, at the age of eighteen, he had served as the senior ''aide-de-camp'' to Duke Jouslain Tytania, holding a position at the heart of Uraniborg, the ancestral seat of his clan.

His sudden relocation to a frontier sector was the result of a personnel decision that was better described as a temporary exile than a demotion. This was an event not included in his life plans, and the resulting sense of frustration was profound; yet, unless he could achieve psychological recovery, his future would not be a bright one. He had managed to somehow achieve some mental recovery even after the sudden death of his father, Marquis Estrade Tytania. Compared to that, this recent personnel change should be a trifle.

At the resident mission, he had been provided with his own office, a secretary, and a flat<ref name="ftn4">“Apartment” (住居) is pronounced “apartment”.</ref>, yet he had no specifically defined duties. The mission treated this Tytanian youth with great courtesy, but they had no intention of entrusting him with actual operational responsibility or authority. Rather, it was more a matter of subtly monitoring Balamy to ensure that he did not cause any further trouble. Balamy understood the situation perfectly well, but that understanding served only to offend the ambitious youth.

“Have you heard about the state of affairs on Planet Bargash? Lord Ariabert may be a mighty commander, but it is impossible to fight and achieve victory when there is no opponent to fight.”

“So, where on earth is the Blaze Flag Army? They cannot keep running away forever.”

“One way or another, they must be plotting something. Otherwise, those Bargash folk are fools. They’ll only end up provoking Tytania.”

Balamy overheard these kinds of conversations, both inside and outside the resident delegation.

Those who had hoped for a great decisive battle between the main fleets of Tytania and Bargash felt a sense of disappointment. They were military industrialists, engineers, military researchers, solivision reporters, or merely hecklers. In any case, on planet Tyron, it seemed that both Tytania and Bargash were nothing more than subjects for third-party commentary. At least for the time being.

“Well, this state of affairs can’t continue forever. It has merely delayed the inevitable for a while. That said, to have failed to grasp the Blaze Flag Army’s escape… one might assume that Tytania’s intelligence-gathering capabilities have grown a bit rusty.”

To say it was merely “a bit” was an understatement in Balamy’s estimation, and it was likely Ariabert’s perception as well.

It was said that the personnel of the Tytania intelligence division stationed in Bargash and the surrounding star sectors were facing a disgraceful situation, their faces flushing with shame and embarrassment. In the end, they had judged that the matter was concluded by Ariabert’s great offensive, and since their activities were also hindered by the onset of the state of war, they had withdrawn, resulting in this unsightly display. Once they let their target escape their net of reconnaissance and espionage, recapturing them was no easy feat; they were now left lamenting at just how vast the universe truly was.

If he could search for the whereabouts of Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army before anyone else, Balamy’s competence would receive its due recognition, and he might even realise his return to Uraniborg. He might even be recommended by Lord Jouslain and appointed to a position of importance. The young man decided it was a pursuit worth undertaking.

The term councillor referred more to a person’s status than to their actual duties; in a sense, it was a sinecure, but in return, it granted a great degree of freedom in one’s actions and flexibility with one’s time. This allowed for a dedicated focus on important matters and special assignments, and in that regard, Balamy had no concerns.

However, matters of finance did not always bend to Balamy’s will. His salary as a councillor was more than sufficient to cover his personal living expenses; among his colleagues in their forties, there were even men who lived quite comfortably, supporting wives, three children, and elderly parents, all while maintaining multiple mistresses. It exceeded the salaries of the ministers of the Tyron planetary government by some thirty percent. Furthermore, various expenses could be recorded under various headings, and funding was provided by local businesses and influential figures. Without ever having to resort to illegal acts or incur the resentment of others, one’s private wealth could be fattened quite naturally.

Balamy held little interest in or attachment to money itself. His desire for wealth stemmed from the need to possess and maintain a private intelligence network. He required both personnel and the financial resources to support them. Balamy lacked both. On this frontier planet, he was utterly isolated and without aid. He had no confidants nor any advisors. Because Balamy was a Tytania noble, there were many local influential figures who sought to curry favour with him, but he had no affection for most of them. They were nothing but mediocre philistines, and none were worthy of his trust or respect.

That was the realisation he had reached within almost four weeks of his arrival in Tyron. He had never originally been a particularly sociable young man, but since setting foot upon the surface of Tyron, he had become noticeably ill-tempered and difficult. He did not go out of his way to reprimand others or behave violently, but the presence of an invisible wall rejecting those around him was so evident that he was beginning to be shunned within the resident representative office.

Balamy did not care for such things. He was preoccupied with considering the matter of the planet Bargash and held a critical view of Lord Ariabert. In his eyes, the insincerity of the Bargash government was something that could have been entirely predicted.

“Is politics not the art of preventing them from doing exactly that? Is, after all, Lord Ariabert’s mindset only that of a soldier?”

Balamy’s excessive youthful vigour tended to run ahead of him, nearly leading him to underestimate the elders of his clan. The only person he held in high regard, much to his own chagrin, was his superior, Lord Jouslain. While he acknowledged Ariabert’s talent, Balamy could not suppress the thought that he himself would have pursued a different approach.

… Had Ariabert known Balamy’s true thoughts, he would have merely laughed and dismissed them as “full of spirit”. To Ariabert, Balamy’s presence was still insignificant. He concerned himself only with his two cousins, Jouslain and Idris, and his relationship with Jouslain had been friendly in recent years. He believed he only needed to keep a watchful eye on Idris’ excessive ambition. At that moment, having established his position on the planet Bargash with a large army, he had received several conflicting reports regarding the whereabouts of the fleeing Blaze Flag Army.

“Verify the authenticity of this information.”

A predictable order was issued from Ariabert’s command. The Tytania expeditionary force busily gathered intelligence, yielding immense results. Though perhaps “excessive” would have been a more accurate description than “immense”. If all the information they collected were true, Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army would simultaneously exist in fourteen different locations across the galaxy. Furthermore, the distances between these various points in space were separated by as much as six hundred light-years.

Staring at the display on the operation screen, Ariabert gave a short, wry smile. It required no effort at all to see the true nature of the situation. Most, if not all, of the information was false. It appeared that while moving through space, the Blaze Flag Army was scattering multiple layers of decoys and false reports to conceal its whereabouts.

“Fan Hyulick will certainly make a move. He will either raid some supply base or pick a fight with a small fleet. A single defeat is unavoidable. It would be beneficial if such an action revealed their location.”

This statement made it clear that Ariabert Tytania possessed an extraordinary spirit. The staff officer lacked the magnanimity of his supreme commander. It was the young Rear-Admiral Paulsen who voiced his apprehension and anxiety.

“It may take longer than expected. If their objective is merely to stall for time, they may remain low-profile and not engage us.”

In response to that opinion, Ariabert replied nonchalantly:

“That’s fine for now. We shall proceed with establishing the effective control of planet Bargash without being hindered by military interference.”

Ariabert laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, yet one could see the flash of a naked blade beneath it. If the Bargash government viewed Ariabert as an easy target, it merely provided him with more opportunities to take advantage of them. He was Tytania, and Tytania cared not about being insulted.

While he was not as blatant as his cousin Idris, Ariabert also remained steadfast in his pride as a Tytanian and his political values. Those who plotted to toy with the Tytanian nobility deserved to receive a rightful retribution for their arrogance. If Bargash were to perish, it would be by virtue of its own errors and folly. ''“I suppose I shall test their mettle,”'' Ariabert thought to himself.

=== II ===
Balamy’s heart leapt when he was informed that mail had arrived from Uraniborg. He had felt a certain premonition. While he tried to remind himself that it would be miserable if he raised his hopes only to be disappointed, he inserted the 3D video cassette into the projector. Two and a half seconds later, the image of a lively and spirited young girl appeared before him.

''“Bal, are you well? I am doing fine. Indeed. I don’t even have any cavities. Isn’t that commendable of me?”''

Princess Lydia smiled at Balamy from the screen, showing off her healthy, white teeth. Balamy nodded weakly. He could not help but flush with shame at his own naivety, having allowed himself to believe for two and a half seconds that this might be a summons.

''“Are you disappointed, Bal?”''

“No, Princess, not at all.”

Balamy found himself answering the image reflexively, as if his very thoughts were being peered into, and clicked his tongue in irritation once he realised what he had done. It was utterly ridiculous that a young man with such ambitions, who aimed for the highest rank in Tytania and, by extension, dominion over the entire universe, should be moved by the words of a little girl.

''“Uraniborg is lonely without you, Bal. I have no friends here, so it is boring. Let’s see… how is Tyron? Is it fun?”''

“It is not fun,” Balamy replied silently to himself.

''“Bal, you pick fights even when you don’t have to. I like fighting too, but you’re better off avoiding it. Make allies instead of enemies. You only have Lord Jouslain and me on your side, don’t you? Get along with everyone, and come back to Uraniborg soon. Lord Jouslain says the same thing.”''

The letter ended with the image of Princess Lydia waving her hand. Balamy paused, his hand halfway to retrieving the cassette, and sat back down in his chair.

“Get along with everyone, huh?…”

Balamy muttered, his voice thick with deliberate disdain. “How nice it must be to be simple like a child”, he remarked aloud. Suddenly, he realised the age gap between himself and Princess Lydia. Only eight years ago, he had been the same age as her. On the other hand, Lord Jouslain, whom he secretly regarded as his true rival, was nine years his senior. Balamy was closer in age to Princess Lydia than he was to Jouslain. It left him feeling a strange, sudden urge to reflect upon his own immaturity and lack of strength.

After lunch, Balamy visited the office of the resident representative. Balamy had heard that resident representatives in such lands generally fell into one of two types. There were the ambitious young upstarts who viewed the position merely as a starting point. And then there were the elders who accepted the seat as their final destination. The current representative, Mr Christopher Emerson, belonged to the latter type. He was by no means incompetent or regressive, but he was a man who believed that steadfastness and safety were the highest virtues and an apostle of conservatism with a profound loyalty to authority.

Thirty years Balamy’s senior, he treated the young Tytania nobleman exactly as was his custom. He was polite and courteous. But he granted him no actual authority. He did not seek to form any personal friendship, either. To make him do so, Balamy would have had to take the initiative to approach him. Of course, an overbearing attitude would yield nothing, as barren as frozen earth. Thus, Balamy conducted the negotiations by enveloping his noble prestige within an atmosphere of cordiality.

“I shall return to the heart of Tytania in the latter half of this year. It will be at the behest of Lord Jouslain. To that end, and also in accordance with Lord Jouslain’s wishes, I wish to collect and analyse information regarding the anti-Tytania faction. I ask for your cooperation.”

He had not misused Jouslain’s name; he had made good use of it. Regarding that point, Balamy felt no guilt. It went without saying that from the moment he had first arrived on this planet, he must have been perceived as Jouslain’s partisan. Even if Jouslain himself had no intention of forming a faction, to any outsider, it appeared as though a distinct political group had been established. After all, Balamy was Jouslain’s senior ''aide-de-camp'' and his kinsman. It was expected that he held great trust, and that even should he stumble once more, his future remained highly promising.

Even if he had no intention of showing personal favour towards Balamy, he would certainly calculate how to earn a debt of gratitude from Jouslain. Mr Emerson’s thought process was steadfast and rational, making him quite easy for Balamy to read. If an equation formed in his mind where the statistical probability of Lord Jouslain becoming the next Tytania Clanner exceeded fifty-one percent, Mr Emerson would be inclined to cooperate with Balamy.

The equation held true. Mr Emerson allowed his solemn expression to soften, praised Balamy’s enthusiasm and vision with measured words, and declared that he would offer his cooperation, “provided it does not compromise your other duties within the delegation”. It seemed he had required some time for a final verification, but the fact that an answer was obtained within the day suggested that it had not been such a difficult problem to solve.

Balamy pondered on this with a touch of irony, but of course, he expressed his polite gratitude for the representative’s goodwill and understanding aloud. At the same time, he told himself. For the time being, he must act as a partisan of Lord Jouslain and secure his own position, and he must never neglect the effort to make it appear so.

Balamy thought of his late father, the Marquis Estrade. There was a pain in his chest, but the wound had long since dried. Once, Balamy had sought to satisfy his own ambition and vigour by elevating his father to the highest office. It felt as though a vast amount of time had passed since then, yet not even a single year had elapsed. In that time, he had learnt one thing. That the path of ambition and the shortest route are almost never the same.

On that very day, Balamy secured the right to access the delegation’s main computer and installed a terminal in his room; he had considered adding triple encryption but decided against it. If Mr Emerson set his mind to it, there were plenty of ways to bypass such locks, and Balamy felt it would be better to maintain an attitude of complete trust in him for the time being. As Princess Lydia had said, he should “get along with everyone”. It certainly seemed better to maintain that pretence.

Less than twenty minutes after he had begun the collection and analysis, without much expectation, Balamy stumbled upon some bizarre information. Balamy held his breath as he spotted the name of Duke Idris Tytania displayed on the screen.

''“What is this? This is utterly preposterous.”''

That was his first thought. Balamy held no affection for Lord Idris or his brother. If Idris were to meet his ruin in any manner, he would likely feel quite pleased. However, could one truly believe such a “rumour” that “Lord Idris is conspiring with the Blaze Flag Army to orchestrate the downfall of Lord Ariabert and intends to assassinate Clanner Ajman to seize control over all of Tytania in a single stroke”?

As Balamy moved his elbow, he knocked the teacup sitting at the edge of the console<ref name="ftn5">“Console” (操作卓) is pronounced “console”.</ref> onto the floor, leaving him to pick up the shards. A sharp fragment pricked the tip of his left ring finger, creating a tiny red spot. With a childish gesture, Balamy placed his fingertip into his mouth.

''“Yet, information is information.”''

Currents of thought raced through Balamy’s neural circuits. It was not that he was intentionally trying to frame Idris; the information simply existed as a fact. That Idris was conspiring with the anti-Tytania faction, seeking to topple Clanner Ajman and seat himself in the supreme position—that was information. Should he not report this candidly?

However, it was also a well-known fact that a rift existed between Balamy and the Idris siblings in years past. Even if the information were true, others would likely perceive it as Balamy providing false reports in an attempt to entrap Idris out of personal malice. Idris would certainly claim as much, and Clanner Ajman would likely find such an argument convincing.

If that were the case, Balamy would be the one to face charges for falsely accusing the duke. Having already incurred his displeasure and been banished from Uraniborg, any further disciplinary action would likely involve the stripping of his title or being driven away to some even more remote and uncultivated star system. Should that happen, Balamy would find it impossible to ever rise again in life as long as the Tytania Faction existed. He might even find himself with no choice but to defect to the Anti-Tytania Faction.

Balamy might find his true mettle tested by the single question of how to handle this information. He could not afford to act carelessly. However, the greatest folly would be if, while he sat idly holding onto the news, someone else delivered it to Uraniborg, causing the tides of power to shift. At that moment, the information Balamy harboured would turn to bitter regret, leaving him with nothing to do but curse his own indecision and incompetency. He would reproach himself for having possessed the power to alter the speed and direction of history with his own hands, only to let the opportunity slip away through a lack of courage.

Balamy realised something and was struck with dread. While he held an advantage in terms of acquiring information, he did not possess an exceptionally privileged position. The very fact that Balamy had managed to obtain this information meant that the information itself was known within a certain scope. The possibility that someone might send the information to Uraniborg ahead of Balamy was becoming extremely high. Should that happen, Balamy would inevitably be denounced for having failed to relay information that he ought to have disclosed.

There was only one solution. Balamy was powerless, and his only recourse was to pass the information to a powerful ally and entrust the decision to them. In other words, regardless of his emotions or ulterior motives, Balamy had no choice but to rely on Jouslain.

=== III ===
Duke Idris Tytania felt a harsh and intolerant sense of joy at the fact that Duke Ariabert Tytania had failed to achieve any grand military feat against the Bargash army. However, the moment when he, who had intended to merely spectate from the best seat in the house, was suddenly dragged onto the stage and forced into a solemn performance, occurred on the 17<sup>th</sup> of January, SY 447, in the Supreme Council chamber of Uraniborg. On this day, a bizarre report had been delivered by Lord Balamy from planet Tyron.

“That brat Balamy is spreading groundless rumours. To think he was born into the Tytania Clan only to degenerate into a third-rate agitator.”

Idris hurled insults at the inexperienced reporter from afar, but Jouslain, sitting on the judging panel, pointed out a calm—or rather, from Idris’ perspective, a callous—remark. Reports regarding similar rumours had been brought forward not only by Lord Balamy but by other intelligence officers as well. Lord Balamy had merely gathered and reported rumours that could not be overlooked as a member of the Tytania, and that it was their responsibility to analyse and judge that information.

“Even so, it is a rather amusing rumour. Am I to be overthrown by Lord Idris? Not by an external enemy?”

Clanner Ajman let out a heavy laugh, and once he had composed himself, he added, “Though, of course, as a joke, it receives a failing grade.”

Idris’ fine features remained frozen in tension, and he did not even have the composure to laugh back. Showing no signs of interest in his reaction, Jouslain continued:

“According to Lord Balamy’s supplementary opinion, this is likely a scheme by the Blaze Flag Army to instigate internal conflict within the Tytania leadership.”

“A sensible view.”

This time, Ajman gave a thin smile.

“And does Lord Balamy himself believe that sensible view with all his heart? Common sense is often used as a shield to hide one’s true intentions.”

Jouslain should have been the one to answer, but Idris beat him to it.

“I hold a different view, Your Clanner Highness.”

Idris’ voice barely maintained an equilibrium on the verge of eruption. Although he had insulted Balamy, he did not consider him to be his primary enemy. By speaking up, Idris had saved Jouslain, who was being put to the test by the Clanner. Idris’ anxiety and irritation had changed the circumstances.

“It is against my wishes to utter such criticisms regarding a colleague, but…”

With that preamble, Jouslain realised what Idris was intending to say. He knew but could not bring himself to stop him and thus was forced to listen as Idris directed his pointed remarks at an absent party.

“Lord Ariabert has lost track of the Blaze Flag Army, his adversary on the planet Bargash, and has thus failed to achieve his original military and political objectives. This is a disgrace, both to the prestige of Tytania and to the personal reputation of Lord Ariabert himself. Might it not be that he resorted to petty tricks in an attempt to cover that dishonour and divert public attention away from his failure?”

Once he had finished speaking, Idris cast a gaze at Jouslain that could only be described as provocative. Jouslain masked his expression and looked up at the Clanner. Clad in grey, the Clanner sat with a poised, frigid stillness, much like a bronze statue.

Once again, Idris spoke:

“In other words, he intends to deflect the criticism aimed at himself by making me, Idris, the victim of malicious false reports. Otherwise, why would such rumours be spread at a time like this? I have nothing to hide. I ask for a thorough and, above all, impartial investigation.”

It seemed that his emotions had somewhat overwhelmed his reason. As Idris took his seat, the Clanner slowly turned his gaze toward the other duke.

“Let us hear the opinion of Lord Jouslain.”

Jouslain sensed a subtle vibration in that voice. The Clanner was finding the situation amusing. That’s what his instincts told him. From the perspective of divide and rule, it was undoubtedly desirable for dukes of equal rank to glare at one another.

“Regrettably, I cannot agree with the opinion of Lord Idris.”

Jouslain had chosen his words with as much care as possible, yet he could not entirely hide the bitterness in his tone. He felt the intensity of Idris’ glare upon his cheek.

“I find it impossible to believe that Lord Ariabert would devise such a cowardly scheme to entrap Lord Idris.”

He did not say aloud that the reverse might be true, but his tone alone might have conveyed the meaning. The Clanner’s expression darkened further, while Idris concentrated his dissatisfaction and fury into his eyes, making his gaze even more piercing.

“That possibility is just as low as the likelihood of Lord Idris harbouring disloyal thoughts toward Your Clanner Highness. For my part, I can believe neither.”

It seemed he was merely being a mere ''provocateur'', Jouslain realised with a touch of irony. His manner of cleverly stifling an opponent’s rebuttal while maintaining a veneer of politeness suggested a rather malicious nature. Furthermore, Jouslain felt no sense of guilt regarding Idris.

Idris let out a low growl.

“My point is that I cannot endure being slandered without evidence. That is what I am saying!”

“The same applies to Lord Ariabert: there is no evidence there, either. To designate a colleague as the source of a conspiracy requires clear proof. Otherwise, one would merely be falling prey to the machinations of an unseen enemy and playing into their hands. I must ask you to exercise restraint, Lord Idris.”

“What a long-winded patronising speech!”

Finally, Idris flared up, his restraint snapping completely. He rose from his chair and cast a terrifying glare at Jouslain.

“Lord Jouslain, by what right, I ask, do you presume to lecture me, Idris? If anyone is the victim of these malicious rumours, it is I, and no one else.”

“I am obviously well aware of that. However, that does not mean you are permitted to obstruct the actions of Lord Ariabert, who is currently on the battlefield. Should he be forced to withdraw his army, the Bargash government would surely applaud the news.”

“In that case, as unworthy as I am, allow me to replace Lord Ariabert as the commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force and strike down both the Bargash government and the Blaze Flag Army. Your Clanner Highness, I await your judgement!”

''He went too far'', though Jouslain once again. It was impossible for the Clanner to revoke a personnel appointment once it had been decided and put into effect. Idris had performed his part, knowing this full well. Of course, while Idris likely took great pride in his own military talent, even the Clanner would have found his acting far too transparent, leaving him feeling thoroughly disillusioned.

Ajman did not appear particularly impressed, merely nodding his head in a formal gesture. He stated that he understood the sincerity of Duke Idris’ passion and instructed him to leave. For the time being, the matter was concluded.

But Jouslain understood that nothing had been resolved. Idris might well be an undesirable, destabilising factor for Tytania. If seeds of internal strife and mutual suspicion were to be sown within the heart of Tytania, it would not be unusual for rumours to spread, like, for instance, that Ariabert might move the armies under his command to launch a coup. Idris should have considered why it was he himself who had been chosen as the subject of such rumours.

The tangible and intangible enemies of Tytania were watching Idris, seeing him as a crack into which they might drive a wedge against the impregnable fortress’ walls. Idris was being targeted. If he knew this, he ought to be careful with his words and actions, striving to avoid provoking resentment or suspicion from within Tytania. If Jouslain had been Idris’ ''aide-de-camp'', this is the counsel he would have offered. But of course, as reality was otherwise, Jouslain ought to have no obligation to advise him.

Clanner Ajman rose to his feet and addressed Jouslain. He stated that they would convene a meeting on a different agenda within the week.

“Even though the New Year has passed, Duke Zarlisch’s seat remains vacant. While I do not advocate for rushing things, I would like to see this vacancy filled by the middle of this year, if possible.”

“And how fares Duke Zarlisch’s mother?”

As Jouslain lowered his voice slightly, Ajman shook his head in silence. For a moment, it seemed as though even the resolute and pitiless Clanner flashed a look of exasperation. Zarlisch’s mother, Duchess Theresa Tytania, had been staying at Uraniborg for some time now, causing great bewilderment among the people.

Those of Tytania nobility who held the title of duke were required to participate in the administration of the central core of this vast, formless empire. If the sole purpose had been the preservation of lineage, an infant might have been permitted to become the head of a ducal house, but such a thing was not permitted in Tytania. One had to have reached adulthood and possess both exceptional talent and the physical health to support it. Even in the case of Idris, who was often considered problematic, his talents and achievements in both politics and the military were sufficiently extraordinary, especially considering he was only twenty-five years of age. It was precisely because of this that he had been permitted to inherit his ducal house at such a young age.

Jouslain had not held Zarlisch in particularly high regard during his lifetime, but once his seat became vacant, there were few who were capable of immediately filling the void. Anticipating the hardships that lay ahead, Jouslain saluted the Clanner and departed.

=== V<ref name="ftn6">This seems to be an error in the paragraph numbering.</ref> ===
Once that unpleasant drama had finally reached its conclusion, Duke Idris Tytania grew even more ill-tempered. He found no one to his liking: not the insolent and immature Balamy, nor Jouslain who had rushed to his defence; nor Ariabert who was far away; nor the nearby Clanner Ajman; nor even the deceased Zarlisch. Most displeasing of all, however, was the anxiety lurking in the very depths of his own heart. The primary component of that anxiety was likely a sense of isolation. Having berated Ariabert and Balamy, Idris realised with a sudden pang that he had no allies left to his own side.

If Idris could fill the vacancy left by Zarlisch’s death with one of his own partisans, his position would be dramatically strengthened. Naturally, he wished to exert his influence to make that happen, yet he could not simply appoint anyone, provided they were a partisan.

Immediately after the meeting, Idris’ younger brother, Baron Radmoth, requested an audience. He wished to hear how the meeting had gone, but Idris dismissed him without hesitation.

“You have no need to know. It is not as if you would have a seat at such a meeting anyway.”

“Are you saying, then, that you have no expectations of me, brother?”

“Why do you sound so dissatisfied? Who was it that betrayed these expectations and disappointed me? Who was it that wasted the opportunity for advancement that I had so graciously provided, all through sheer short-sightedness!”

Idris lashed out with his words like a whip, yet Radmoth remained undaunted. Standing there with a physique even more robust than his brother’s, he gazed at Idris with a dull, heavy light in his eyes.

Seeing that sight, Idris’ displeasure deepened further. Because his thoughtless brother, who was all brawn and no brains, had engaged in a trivial quarrel with Viscount Balamy just last year, the military appointments Idris had decided upon were rescinded, the threads he had been weaving were severed, and, to top it all, his conflict with Jouslain had intensified. While a confrontation with Jouslain was unavoidable regardless, having his options reduced so early made everything far more difficult to manage. Having driven his brother away, Idris had no one with whom to discuss his plans in earnest and was left to brood over his frustration alone.

Francia, the lady-in-waiting, arrived carrying coffee after having tidied her attire. Holding a fine white porcelain cup, which was thinner than paper and more precious than silver, Jouslain gazed at the profile of his quiet lover. The white, oval face was beautiful, yet lacked a striking presence, hinting at a trace of Tytania blood shared with Ariabert. Jouslain took pleasure in precisely that quality of Francia, though he felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction as well.

He was aware that this was perhaps less a contradiction and more a matter of masculine selfishness. Any woman who might noisily intrude upon his thoughts or his life would without doubt quickly become a nuisance to him. It was precisely because Francia was so modest and reserved that their relationship was able to endure.

Through the windows of the salon, the light of unblinking stars flowed in, tinted with blue. Francia stood amidst that light, addressing her master with a hint of hesitation.

“Are you aware of the rumours, Lord Jouslain?”

“There are rumours I know, and rumours I do not. If there is something you wish to tell me, Francia, then I shall listen.”

As Jouslain urged her further with his gaze, Francia cast aside her hesitation and began to speak. She said it concerned the Countess Theodora Tytania.

The woman’s name caused Jouslain to furrow his brows slightly. She was a young woman who, only last year, had seized the inheritance rights of a county with an almost aggressive assertiveness. Her level of ambition was likely a million times greater than Francia’s. While the talent supporting that ambition had yet to result in any failure, there was no telling what the future might hold. It seemed that as her status and power grew, more people would inevitably be dragged down in her sinking.

It was said that the words and actions of Countess Theodora Tytania had caught the attention of the women residing in Uraniborg. Rumours fluttered and drifted into Francia’s ears as well. While she was not a woman who took much interest in gossip, she found it impossible to ignore once she heard the name of Lord Idris. It was whispered that Theodora was having an affair with Lord Idris, and that within her ''boudoir'' they were weaving various political intrigues. Furthermore, it was even rumoured that she had recently established a relationship<ref name="ftn7">The word for “relationship” here is ambiguous, and can imply a sexual relationship.</ref> with Clanner Ajman and other influential figures.

“I see. It appears the Countess is a libertine. Whether one is a libertine or merely sentimental, such things are a matter of personal temperament and nothing to be condemned.”

The problem lay in the depraved union between lust and the thirst for power. Since ancient times, there had never been a good outcome when women, driven by a desire for power, attended the bedside of the ruler. Clanner Ajman had favoured many women since his late teens, adorning them with expensive jewels and precious metals, yet he had never granted them power and treated them as mere playthings. To him, these women were nothing more than ornaments; they were not his allies nor his comrades, and certainly never his masters. Until now, that is.

The future is something no man can truly predict. While it seemed impossible that Theodora, who had failed to capture Jouslain’s heart, could ever hope to melt the heart of Clanner Ajman, she had already secured her position as a countess. It would be no surprise if she sought even higher heights. One might think that the mere existence of such rumours suggested their insignificance, yet the opposite view was also possible. It might even be that someone was spreading such rumours to flaunt their own political influence. If one was known to be closely associated with the Clanner or the Dukes, those harbouring resentment would find their malice blunted.

If Tytania were to fall, it would not be at the hands of a powerful and capable foreign enemy but rather through self-destruction brought about by internal strife and conflict. This prediction had crossed Jouslain’s mind several times before and was flickering through his mind once more.

“I hear that Lord Idris has been somewhat hostile towards you, Lord Jouslain. I could not help but gather the rumours. You look quite exhausted; did I offend you by bringing up such a topic?”

Jouslain gave a short laugh to Francia’s worries.

“The mere fact that I am of Tytania is a source of exhaustion in itself. It has exhausted me perhaps since my childhood.”

Jouslain fell silent. He felt he should say no more. There was nothing to be gained by speaking of it. In his childhood, he watched his mother and Ariabert’s mother pierce one another with glares of hatred, even though they were sisters sharing the same blood. Jouslain had no way of expressing the feelings he had at that time. Rather, he found himself lost in thought over Francia’s kindness.

Even those far removed from political manoeuvring, like Francia, could not remain indifferent to the Idris’ name. It appeared to all onlookers that Idris and Jouslain were irreconcilable foes. While it was almost always the case that Idris took the initiative and Jouslain merely responded, Jouslain had continued to fight back, so it could by no means be said that he lacked the will to battle. It seemed likely that he would continue to oppose Idris in the future as well.

In truth, Duchess Theresa Tytania was a woman who should have been able to command her family’s sympathy to its very last drop. Last year, she had lost two of her sons: Duke Zarlisch Tytania and Count Arses Tytania. The death of Arses, whom she had doted upon, had driven her to a frenzy. And while Zarlisch had not been as precious to her as Arses, there was no way she could have found any pleasure in his passing.

Duchess Theresa cursed the villains who had snatched “Arses and the other one” away and insulted the incompetence of the Tytania Clan for failing to prevent such an atrocity. She stormed from her lands to Uraniborg, pressuring Clanner Ajman to carry out vengeance against her sons as swiftly as possible.

The Clanner met only once with the formerly beautiful Duchess as a pure formality, but he did nothing more than repeat his vow to avenge Zarlisch and his brother; to the Duchess, his attitude remained entirely insincere. Furthermore, the Clanner subsequently sought excuses to avoid further meetings, eventually reaching a point where he merely sent a message warning her: ''“Do not act rashly and bring shame upon the honour of the Tytania and her sons.”''

“The honour of the Tytania!”

In the salon of her assigned guest house, Duchess Theresa Tytania spat a torrent of venom into the air that far outweighed the volume of her voice. Her ladies-in-waiting recoiled to avoid being sprayed by their mistress’ spit. The Duchess had arrived accompanied by sixty ladies-in-waiting.

“Is there even any honour left in Tytania? If I were to reveal what I know to the world, those envious, low-born wretches would surely rejoice. They find their only pleasure in mocking noble houses. Ajman, Ariabert, Jouslain, and Idris! Every one of them is nothing more than the progeny of rotten, poisonous vermin. With nothing but murky blood flowing through their veins, what honour could they possibly have?!”

Duchess Theresa did not mention her own blood, nor that of her sons. With eyes so red that the capillaries had burst, the Duchess glared around her surroundings.

Her roving gaze fixed upon a single point. A woman stood motionless at the entrance to the salon. Even in her agitated state, the Duchess could tell from the woman’s attire and bearing that she was no lady-in-waiting. However, Duchess Theresa felt not the need to show deference, not even to the Clanner’s wife. She raised her voice to call her out:

“Who are you? No—regardless of whomever you may be, I have no memory of summoning you. By whose permission do you presume to enter my chambers?!”

“It is an honour to meet you, Duchess Theresa Tytania.”

The visitor ignored the mistress’ interrogation with profound politeness. As Duchess Theresa looked the guest over, feeling somewhat taken aback, the woman introduced herself with continued courtesy.

“I am known as the Countess Theodora Tytania. Merely a few days ago, I was granted the title of Countess by His Clanner Highness and was formally invested by imperial decree from His Imperial Majesty of Vardana. Notification was sent to your Grace, but mayhap it failed to reach your attention?”

“Dear me, did such a thing happen? I have little interest in such trivialities, so I was unaware of it.”

Dismissing the matter of the county’s inheritance as a mere triviality was perhaps the Duchess’ way of saving face. Even if she felt slighted, Theodora did not allow it to show on her face. Instead, she offered an even more respectful bow, thereby satisfying the Duchess’ vanity.

“And so, for what purpose have you come?”

The Duchess’ tone softened ever so slightly. Theodora requested that other people present be dismissed. She was a hunter pursuing the prey of power, and she did not hesitate to utilise not only men but also women to achieve her goals.

Thus, on the 18<sup>th</sup> of January, Clanner Ajman raised an eyebrow at the proposal from Duchess Theresa Tytania. It was a staggering request: that the vacancy left by her late son, Zarlisch, be filled by Theresa herself.

<noinclude>
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Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1

2026-10-06T17:51:28Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Back to Main Characters | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 2 |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War == === I === Duke Ariabert Tytania greeted the first day of SY 447 in..."

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== Chapter 1 – Following the Outbreak of War ==
=== I ===
Duke Ariabert Tytania greeted the first day of SY 447 in a frontier star system. It was the eternal darkness of outer space, separated from planet Bargash by a vacuum of 5.56 billion kilometres.

Two weeks prior, Emperor Harsha VI of the Interstellar Vardana Empire had declared war on the Bargash government. By imperial decree, Ariabert had set out on his campaign, commanding a fleet of 19,700 vessels large and small, and over three million soldiers. The pretext for the war was retaliation for the killing by the Bargash military of Zarlisch, one of the four dukes of Tytania alongside Ariabert.

While that pretext was not entirely false, their primary objective was to strip the Bargash government of the privileged position it had maintained within the frontier star systems. Although the Tytania Clan was, in name, subordinate to the Emperor of Vardana, in every aspect beyond mere formality, the vassal held superiority over its liege.

Ariabert’s face, which was said to be handsome yet lacking in character, had once been subject to the cold critique of being “the ideal beauty for a second-rate painter.” Even with the immense power of the Tytania, it had been impossible to silence every mouth. Ariabert’s mother had already passed away, but she was the younger sister of Duke Jouslain Tytania’s mother and was said to have been a beauty of such perfection that she evoked images of a “model for a successful plastic surgery”.

For some reason, beauty lacking individuality gave the impression of failing to convey any depth of spirit, so Ariabert’s true abilities were frequently underestimated. He reached the age of twenty-eight this year, yet with only one single exception in the past, he had always been favoured by the goddess of victory. It was only through this that he finally arrived at the level of recognition he deserved. This served as an example of the harsh reality that even among the Tytania nobility, respect was not accorded without proven ability and tangible achievements.

On this day, Count Elman Tytania, Ariabert’s diplomatic advisor, visited the enemy nation of Bargash aboard a cruiser.

It required no insight to see that Count Elman was not only a diplomatic advisor but also an observer dispatched by Clanner Ajman. Ariabert did not seek to be overly familiar with Count Elman, yet he did not shun him either. Since he had nothing to hide, his conduct remained entirely upright. It was perhaps that very lack of ambiguity that made his personality seem somewhat uninteresting. In any event, he had accepted the matter of the final negotiations that Count Elman had proposed the previous day.

“I realise this may be against your wishes, Lord Ariabert, but I would be most grateful if you would allow us to continue exploring the possibility of peace.”

“Count, it is not against my wishes. I would appreciate it if you would conduct as much negotiation as possible from your position. However, you do not have unlimited time.”

“May I ask for ten days?”

“One week.”

Once Count Elman accepted the conditions regarding the deadline, Ariabert lent him a cruiser and sent him on his way.

Vice-admiral Baldren and Rear-admiral Paulsen had already roamed the battlefields together with Ariabert as his staff officers for eight years. As Ariabert watched the point of light on the screen grow smaller, he spoke:

“Do you think the Bargash army will entrust full command of their forces to that Fan Hyulick?”

In response to the young duke’s question, Vice-admiral Baldren was the first to offer a negative view.

“I do not believe the Bargash army has lost so much confidence that they would hand command of their entire army to a band of exiled mercenaries.”

“Though they shall surely fall into such a state very soon.”

Rear-admiral Paulsen had a bellicose light shining in his eyes. At only twenty-seven years of age, his hair was cropped short, and his physique was robust. He gave the impression of being brimming with vigour. In contrast, Vice-admiral Baldren was thirty-eight. His thin cheeks and brown moustache gave him the air of a lawyer rather than a soldier.

“And if that clown Fan Hyulick decides to show his face without being invited, we shall teach him that flukes don’t happen twice.”

Rear-admiral Paulsen’s boast seemed to leave Ariabert feeling somewhat cynical.

“Losing is unavoidable, but do not lose with disgrace. Were you not told that as a child?”

“I was told that if you lose, all logic is blown out the window, so you should win first.”

Rear-admiral Paulsen puffed out his thick chest and glanced askance at him, while Vice-admiral Baldren gave a shrug of his shoulders in silence.

“Victory justifies itself. No need for loud propaganda. But for the loser to cry out that they haven’t lost is nothing short of a disgrace.”

Ariabert muttered. Although he had nearly achieved psychological reconstruction following his defeat, he could not bring himself to forget it.

The Tytania Army. Legally, it was the Strategic Mobile Force of the Vardana Empire’s military, and Ariabert Tytania served as its commander-in-chief. Naturally, his position and authority far exceeded the limits prescribed by national law.

In the extreme, the laws, institutions, and state apparatus of the Vardana Empire existed merely to ratify and justify the actions and interests of Tytania. Even the courtiers who were supposed to assist the Emperor moved mostly under the direction of Tytania. As for the Minister of Military Affairs, the position was held by none other than Lord Idris, one of the three Dukes of Tytania.

Tytania was not stingy. It never begrudged rewards to its collaborators, and many who had achieved even a modest, once-in-a-lifetime feat were treated with great generosity well into the generation of their grandchildren. There was once an unnamed medical student who saved the fourth Clanner through a blood transfusion. His life was adorned with such wealth and honour that he eventually committed suicide, unable to bear the weight of the gold leaf pressed upon his very being. Even though there were such a few tragic examples, Tytania nonetheless strove to materialise praise and gratitude in a physical dimension, and had succeeded in doing so effectively.

While Count Elman departed for planet Bargash, Ariabert reduced the relative distance to the target of invasion by 330 light-seconds, which was just under one hundred million kilometres. This military manoeuvre was something that could, in and of itself, constitute a political action. Behind Count Elman, as he negotiated with the Bargash government, the points of light upon the dark disc grew in size and intensity, poised to exert psychological pressure upon the high-ranking officials of the Bargash government.

As long as he remained awake, reports from communications officers were brought to Ariabert every fifteen minutes, informing him of the confusion and unrest within the Bargash government. They were reaching out in every direction, through alliances with other stars or peace efforts via mediation, yet they had not yet been able to reap any rewards.

Ariabert had observed this series of Bargash movements in silence. It was not an act of passivity, but rather the drawing of a bowstring to its absolute limit. As soon as the negotiation deadline expired, the Tytania forces under Ariabert’s command would launch an all-out offensive, intended to annihilate the main strength of the Bargash army within ten hours. Even though victory was already certain, there was no one left who would deign to listen to any peace proposals at this late stage.

Ariabert was a soldier of Tytania. He did not hesitate to subdue his opponents through force, even if doing so earned him the resentment of third parties. As the Clanner and supreme commander of Tytania, Ajman had once said:

“Tytania is not so brazen as to demand affection while exercising dominion. To be feared is more than enough.”

If there was any truth to the notion that the Tytania Clan lacked charm as far as their rulers go, it lay in that very perception. In Tytania’s philosophy, the idea of a “ruler beloved by the ruled” was nothing more than a joke. One could say that Tytania’s methods of governance were a quite classical application of the carrot and the stick. They provided practical benefits to collaborators and supporters while intimidating opponents with military force and authority. It was a simple equation: as long as the majority of those enjoying the benefits remained intact, the foundation of Tytania’s rule would remain unshakeable.

Those whose prosperity and stability were guaranteed by Tytania’s rule accepted the clan through the law of self-preservation, seeking to maintain the ''status quo'', albeit with varying degrees of passivity or activity. “May this happiness last forever,” they would pray.

Thus, Tytania was poised to become the representative of the majority, the voice of the public and the common good, the ally of the people, and the embodiment of justice. Tytania, the patron saint protecting the peace, stability, and order of human society as a whole. If that were the case, then anyone who sought to overthrow Tytania would be an enemy of all mankind. This somewhat perverted conservatism, aimed at maintaining the ''status quo'', was the greatest ally to Tytania’s permanence.

Ariabert had likely not been as sceptical as his cousin Jouslain, who was the same age as him. His very existence represented a positive aspect of Tytania’s rule, and no matter how acerbic a critic might be, they could not deny his bravery and integrity. He continued to wait for seven days. The very act of waiting until the deadline was what would grant legitimacy to his future actions.

And then came the eighth of January. The day the battle began. Not a single one of Bargash’s schemes had borne fruit.

=== II ===
Acting on the orders of Duke Ariabert Tytania, the mobile units of the Vardana Empire’s army commenced a full-scale invasion at the exact moment the peace negotiations expired. It was a lightning strike that lacked both mercy and compromise, as described by those who noted there was “not a single second of hesitation”; yet, from Ariabert’s perspective, he had already granted a reprieve of one hundred and sixty-eight hours. Since there had been no progress in diplomatic negotiations during that time, he seemed to be aware that it was, in fact, the very fact that he had refrained from using force for one hundred and sixty-eight hours that demonstrated a lack of resolve.

Although he had obtained the consent of Clanner Ajman, Ariabert’s decision could not be deemed wrong. However, even if an action is suitable for both political and military strategy, it does not mean that an individual’s psychological circumstances simply vanish. Like a massive arrow released from an invisible bowstring, the Tytanian army surged forward, meeting no resistance at all even after an hour had passed.

“Surely, they do not intend to refrain from fighting.”

Ariabert avoided giving an oral response to Rear-admiral Paulsen’s doubt. No information had ever reached the Tytania high command suggesting that the Bargash government were adherents of non-resistance pacifism. There were countless instances where they had used force to pursue their national interests whenever necessary.

While the current unfriendly situation had arisen from the untimely death of Duke Zarlisch Tytania, it appeared that Bargash had ultimately lacked the time required to complete an anti-Tytania grand alliance. The concept of an encirclement of Tytania by the various international organisations was certainly an attractive one, yet everyone sought to avoid the role of standing at the forefront. Since each party wished to toast to their survival whilst shedding tears for the sacrifices of others, an anti-Tytania grand alliance could only ever exist as a subject for a vivid painting, unless their individual egos could be sublimated in some manner.

The Tytania forces pressed further forward. As the sun of Bargash cast an orange glow on the port side of their course, just under twenty thousand silver points of light raced through the dark interstellar space. The formation was an orthodox spindle formation, with Ariabert’s flagship, the ''Golden Sheep''<ref name="ftn1">“Gold sheep” (金羊) is pronounced “golden sheep”.</ref>, positioned near the very front. With only twenty-four cruisers and six battleships deployed ahead of it, it could be said that Ariabert was, quite literally, leading the vanguard.

On the 8<sup>th</sup> of January, at 03:30, the first flashes of combat erupted. An unmanned Bargash patrol satellite had been destroyed by the main cannon of the cruiser ''Snow Panther 6''<ref name="ftn2">“Snow panther” (雪豹) is pronounced “snow panther”.</ref>.

As he watched the white glare of the fusion reactor explosion on the bridge screens, Ariabert did not appear particularly uplifted. His focus was concentrated entirely on the impending decisive battle between the main fleets, so the destruction of a mere patrol satellite was not enough to unsettle him. Under the command of such a composed commander-in-chief, the Tytania forces charged towards planet Bargash, literally venturing into uncharted territory.

On the 8<sup>th</sup> of January, at 22:09, a cruiser approaching from the direction of the planet Bargash was detected. The cruiser, which had opened its communication circuits and flashed signals to ensure its discovery as it drew closer, was the vessel carrying Count Elman Tytania. Upon welcoming him to the flagship, Ariabert celebrated his safe return. Neither man spoke of the fact that Ariabert had commenced the full-scale invasion before Count Elman had returned. Both bore their respective responsibilities. That was all there was to it. Count Elman spoke:

“The Bargash government has stated they will make the utmost concessions for the sake of peace. They intend to enter negotiations with the aim of accepting all the peace terms presented by His Clanner Highness at the end of last year.”

“Including the right to vet the qualifications for the locators?”

“It is a difficult pill for them to swallow, but they are considering it.”

“Considering?!”

Ariabert gave a short laugh. To anyone’s eyes, he was by no means an “unpleasant man”, yet he was still capable of producing a laugh that was thoroughly Tytanian.

“I see no need for considering it any further.”

Ariabert did not particularly raise his voice, but the effect it had on Count Elman was as if a whip had lashed through the air and passed before his very eyes.

“Under normal circumstances, we should have entered into combat a week ago. The reason we waited until today was that I did not wish to abandon the possibility of a diplomatic resolution until the very end. It was precisely for that reason that I asked you to take such a risk, Count Elman.”

With a silent, expressionless face, Count Elman nodded.

“The entire responsibility for being forced into combat lies with the Bargash government. At such a late stage, what benefit is there in proposing a peace plan that consists of nothing but empty words? If there is any benefit at all, it is merely the one-sided advantage of the Bargash government buying time with dishonest intentions.”

“I wonder what profit the Bargash government stands to gain by merely buying time.”

Count Elman had posed the question with great courtesy, yet he was at least in part asking it to himself. This was true for Ariabert as well. Those who held authority within Tytania always needed to be prepared to prove their own competence. Should the Bargash government eventually succumb to the military might of Tytania, Count Elman would be the one to lead the practical operations of the peace conference, a role that any other person could just as easily fulfil. Having been granted a seat in a corner of the bridge, Count Elman declined the coffee offered to him and requested herbal tea instead. He then began to speak of the Bargash government’s response, as if merely engaging in casual conversation.

“They said that it was appalling to commence an attack before the peace negotiations had concluded. I can certainly understand how they might feel.”

“I shall listen to your grievances in due course. It is a pity, but diplomats must always clean up after boorish soldiers. I am glad I became a soldier instead.”

Ariabert’s joke was not even one ten-thousandth as clever as his military strategy. He changed the subject.

It concerned Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army. Though they were originally exiles, they were supposed to have been incorporated into the Bargash Regular Army. While they were not a significant military force, Count Elman believed he knew the reason Ariabert could not simply ignore them.

“Does it concern you, Lord Ariabert?”

“It does.”

With his malicious question answered so easily, Count Elman found himself exerting a minute effort to control his expression. The man who had inflicted Ariabert’s only defeat in his entire life was the exile Fan Hyulick. By the singular fact of having defeated Ariabert, the name Fan Hyulick had been etched into the memories of his contemporaries. It was a proper noun that should have been unpleasant to Ariabert many times over.

''“I see, Lord Ariabert. It appears that the breadth of your mind might be greater than that of Lord Idris. Lord Idris’ pride has always outweighed the virtue of straightforwardness…”''

Count Elman did not voice his inner thoughts. There was no guarantee that the time to revise those thoughts would never come. For the future was not merely a simple extension of the present, and the possibility for change was infinite.

“It is likely that Fan Hyulick’s faction is lying low somewhere on the planet, waiting for the storm to pass. I do not know anything more. At least, not for now.”

“If they are merely hiding, we need not fear. A famed sword is only useful if it is wielded. If left buried in the earth, it does nothing but rust.”

Ariabert gazed at the screen. Count Elman cleared his throat.

“This is merely my personal opinion, but the Bargash government may be intending to detain them, only to hand them over to us at the final moment to establish a peace built upon their sacrifice.”

“They are free to think what they wish, but we have no need to comply.”

An unpleasant tremor tainted Ariabert’s voice. His fastidiousness as a warrior made it impossible for him not to loathe such a solution. If he placed the highest value solely on the reduction of bloodshed, he would have chosen the path of a diplomat. There were plenty of things in this world that could not be resolved through military force. The duty imposed upon Ariabert’s office should have been to efficiently resolve matters that fell within the scope of what could be settled by arms.

As Count Elman took a sip of his second cup of herbal tea, a report from a reconnaissance officer reached Ariabert. A fleet numbering in the thousands was cruising at a ten o’clock position relative to the allied fleet. “Should we divert forces to engage them?” asked the officer.

“Unnecessary! It’s a diversion.”

Ariabert’s response was clear. Given the total strength of the Bargash army, a strategy designed to pincer the Tytania forces was simply impossible. It would have achieved nothing more than the dispersal of their already limited numbers, which ran contrary to the fundamental principles of troop deployment. He did not believe the Bargash leadership was so incompetent as to commit such a foolish error. If they were to act in such a manner, it would have been more likely that they were preserving their strength to await a better opportunity another day.

Another day? A bitter smile flickered at the corner of Ariabert’s lips. Did the Tytania central leadership truly believe that such a day would be granted to Bargash? Nothing but a fate of absolute subjugation awaited them. Or were they perhaps weaving some scheme that far exceeded the predictions of Ariabert and his men? It was a well-known fact that the military might of Bargash could not be considered an equal to that of Tytania. From Tytania’s perspective, the true essence of a lion lay in using its full strength even to hunt a mere rabbit; yet, to the rabbit, the match must have seemed unfair from the very beginning. It was only natural that they would attempt to trip the lion with cunning. Conversely, the lion must ensure that the rabbit would never be granted the opportunity to employ such guile.

Thus, on the 9<sup>th</sup> of January, at 16:40, the Tytania forces reached the orbital path of planet Bargash and secured complete air superiority. Not a single drop of blood was shed. Up to that point, at least.

=== III ===
On the 10<sup>th</sup> of January, from 00:00, the surface of planet Bargash was subjected to fierce bombardment by the Tytania forces for a duration of four hours. Targets were carefully selected, ensuring that civilian facilities, residences, and infrastructure were excluded. The Tytania forces could not afford to incite hostility among the citizens of Bargash, nor could they allow production facilities to be destroyed, for they intended to collect enormous reparations.

For Tytania, war was a political act as much as it was an economic one. The military facilities of the enemy camp were literally annihilated, allowing the group of companies under Tytania’s umbrella to monopolise the reconstruction of the facilities and the supply of military goods after the fact. There had been similar examples among the great powers of the past, but Tytania linked the destruction caused by war with post-war reconstruction into a single system, ensuring that they secured interests throughout every stage and outcome of the process. In this regard, even if Tytania claimed it was a “just war”, it was by no means a falsehood. This was because, for Tytania, the pursuit of profit was justice itself.

The attack targets—eight military spaceports, anti-aircraft fire control centres, military satellite remote control centres, four military spacecraft construction factories, and sixty other locations in total—were completely destroyed, in the most literal sense of the word. After launching three thousand Uranium-238 missiles, and while flames and black smoke still smouldered, the Tytania forces carried out their landing, eventually forcing the Bargash government to capitulate. On the surface, it was a total victory.

However, it soon became known that it was a lie. Bargash’s space forces were nowhere to be found on the surface; only the facilities had been destroyed, and furthermore, Fan Hyulick and his faction were nowhere to be seen. To their conquerors, the Bargash government gave a shameless explanation: that Fan Hyulick and his men had seized the Bargash fleet and fled, and they denied having anything to do with them.

“How cunning…” muttered Ariabert under his breath.

At the same moment, a sense of unease, which could only be described as strange, stirred in a corner of his usually stable mind. He wondered whose plan the Bargash government’s stratagem, which was undoubtedly cunning, had followed. The first names to come to mind were those of Fan Hyulick or the high command of the Blaze Flag Army.

Leading the ground forces and accompanied by Count Elman, Ariabert entered the Bargash Central Administration and presented his demands to Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the representative for the negotiations.

“In that case, I shall request that you disclose the whereabouts of Fan Hyulick and the Blaze Flag Army.”

“To be honest, therein lies the problem…”

The attitude of Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, was one of deep subservience. Just as when he had visited Uraniborg the other day as an envoy for peace negotiations, his mannerism was one of servility and incompetence wrapped in a bureaucratic shell. But although it appeared he might die of shame from a single reprimand from Tytania, Count Elman sensed an unexpected tenacity in him.

The negotiations continued for over an hour without a single concrete concession being made. They did nothing but politely repeat apologies and excuses, which, when their claims were distilled, amounted to nothing more than, “We know nothing of it, we are victims ourselves.” Had it been the late Duke Zarlisch Tytania, he would have slammed his fist onto the desk and erupted in fury, but such a thing was impossible for Ariabert. Concealing his contempt and anger beneath a veil of etiquette, he declared the futility of the negotiations and confirmed one matter before rising from his seat.

“If they are apprehended, they shall be dealt with severely under the laws of the Vardana Empire. I trust your government has no objections to this?”

“Of course not. Their foolishness also tarnishes the dignity of Bargash. While it is painful to endure, there is no better way to express that we have no choice if we are to maintain peace and order throughout the entire universe. This matter deeply shames us…”

The response from the Bargash government was the very pinnacle of both courtesy and vacuity. The faces of Corvin and the rest of the delegation were marked with countless signs of insincerity, and the young staff officers, led by Rear-Admiral Paulsen, were forced to exert considerable effort to restrain their desire for violent retaliation. They pleaded incessantly with their commander-in-chief, Lord Ariabert, for punishment against the Bargash government’s duplicity, but Ariabert did not respond.

Though gripped by bitter resentment, Ariabert was a man far removed from outbursts or explosions of temper. He sought to uphold diplomatic etiquette toward the Bargash government to the greatest extent possible. However, what made him a Tytanian was his understanding that the “greatest extent” and the “infinite” were not synonymous, and his awareness that even should he erupt, it must be done with careful consideration of timing and effect.

“If that is what they wish, then so be it. We shall proceed in the Tytanian manner,” murmured Ariabert to himself.

It was on the 1<sup>st</sup> of January that Clanner Ajman received the report from Ariabert at Uraniborg, the seat of the Tytania Clan. The Clanner was at a breakfast gathering, accompanied by two dukes, Lord Jouslain and Lord Idris.

The silk tablecloth, the finest porcelain and silverware, the eggs, bread, butter, and bacon—every item had been selected with an almost obsessive consideration for both flavour and nutrition. It should have been an ideal breakfast, yet Duke Jouslain Tytania found his appetite entirely uninspired. The most essential seasoning—a sense of camaraderie and light-hearted conversation—was sorely lacking from this elegant table. The Clanner brought up the report from Bargash that had arrived that morning.

“Lord Ariabert is an orthodox military strategist and a man of sincere character. The Bargash government would likely deem it foolish to engage him in a head-on battle.”

“It is an unusual stratagem rather than an ingenious one. That is precisely why Lord Ariabert was caught off guard. I believe he had no other choice.”

If Idris’ remarks sounded tolerant, it was only because they were filtered through a sense of superiority. He was the Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire at a young age, and with Zarlisch now deceased, he stood in a position to share leadership of Tytania’s military operations with Ariabert. While Ariabert’s failure or stagnation did not directly grant Idris an advantage, they did serve as a source of minimal psychological amusement.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had accompanied Ariabert on the expedition to Bargash. Jouslain felt a slight sense of anxiety and regret. Since he was of equal rank to Ariabert, he had feared being in a position to unduly influence his cousin’s military authority; yet, perhaps it would have been better if he had handled the Bargash government himself, allowing Ariabert to focus solely on military matters.

“If things were to proceed as bloodlessly as this, I might as well have taken command… though, in that case, the Bargash army would likely have simply challenged us to a head-on naval battle.”

For the past several years, Jouslain had lacked experience in commanding large armies in decisive, direct confrontations with the enemy. The division of labour “Lord Ariabert for military matters, Lord Jouslain for politics” had been a natural arrangement for them. Rather, men like Idris possessed practical experience in both spheres. While the division of roles between Ariabert and Jouslain appeared to have been rewarded by a solid track record of success so far, it remained a seed of anxiety that felt almost like a needless worry.

When Tytania’s vast and complex networks split into civil and military factions, might the two men not be propelled by their respective parties into a confrontation? Such whispers existed both within and without Uraniborg, and even with all the power of Tytania, it was impossible to eradicate such microscopic rumours.

Idris cast a venomous glance towards Jouslain while feigning complete indifference. Jouslain, for his part, had to pretend to have ignored it. He turned his gaze toward the Clanner and made his proposal.

“Your Clanner Highness, if you would grant me permission, I, Jouslain, shall travel to Bargash to assist Lord Ariabert.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Lord Ariabert might feel his authority is being encroached upon.”

“I have no concerns regarding that matter.”

''Ariabert isn’t Idris.'' Jouslain wisely refrained from voicing this thought aloud. Idris increased the amount of venom contained within his gaze. Clanner Ajman casually picked up his coffee cup, the colour of the liquid, blacker than the abyss of night, reflected in his eyes.

“I wonder what Lord Ariabert’s aides might think. Would they not feel that their superior’s competence is being questioned? It would not be fitting for a man like you, Lord Jouslain, to fail to consider such a point.”

There was a note of cold mockery in the Clanner’s voice. Idris’ lips curled into a biting crescent, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue. It seemed that, quite unintentionally, Jouslain had contributed to his cousin’s enjoyment of the morning.

“I was thoughtless. Please forgive my lack of maturity.”

“No need to apologise. Besides, Lord Jouslain, the fact that you failed to consider this is surely because you truly empathise with Lord Ariabert’s position. Political considerations are always impure.”

The aroma of coffee rose from the cup held by the Clanner. And from Idris’ cup as well. Although they could not have been in accord, the reason it felt as though they shared the same miasma lay in Jouslain’s own psyche. This morning’s coffee tasted bitter across his entire nervous system.

Was it really so unpleasant to have been slighted by the Clanner, even if only temporarily? Was he satisfied merely by being held in high regard by the Clanner? In the end, was his way of life really any different from that of a low-ranking official, who spent his time gauging his superior’s mood and oscillating between joy and despair at every change in expression? Jouslain’s introspection led directly to a mild sense of self-loathing. This could not be described as a healthy state of mind for him.

=== IV ===
Having finished the breakfast meeting, Jouslain would normally have headed straight to his office, but instead, he altered his course and made his way towards his psychotherapy room. The owner of that room was a young girl who would celebrate her eleventh birthday within the year, known to the public as Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Elbing. Although legally she was Jouslain’s ward, mentally, they appeared to be equals.

Princess Lydia, who had also just finished her breakfast, greeted her guardian with great vigour. Whether by someone’s design or not, everything from her small ribbons to her socks had been unified in shades of green, making her look like a young witch frolicking through a forest of fresh greenery. The two of them travelled together to the Second Spaceport. The observation deck there served as the favourite debating ground for this peculiar pair.

“If one must resort to trickery in order to defeat Lord Ariabert, then even I would do so. The disparity in strength would be simply too great to fight square and fair.”

Jouslain acknowledged Princess Lydia’s opinion regarding the situation facing Lord Ariabert. For Tytania to demand that their enemies fight fairly and honourably could be seen as an arrogant imposition by the powerful. It was a scene akin to a giant being expected to duel an infant. Flicking her finger against the surface of the transparent wall, Princess Lydia fell into thought for several seconds before finally withdrawing her hand and asking:

“Would Lord Ariabert be capable of killing an opponent who offers no resistance?”

“He would not, I expect.”

“Could he kill women or children?”

“I don’t suppose he could.”

“Could he attack hospitals or schools?”

“No,” repeated Jouslain. Princess Lydia moved her fingers once more. It appeared she was drawing something upon the surface of the transparent wall.

“Lord Ariabert is a good man, but it will be to his detriment if it becomes known. Do you not agree, Lord Jouslain?”

“A keen insight; I am impressed.”

Jouslain bowed respectfully. Though he had spoken in jest, he was inwardly impressed. Princess Lydia’s political insight was far beyond the reach of an ordinary adult. When Tytania stood preeminent and powerful across the entire universe, possessing the luxury to display tolerance and moderation, Ariabert’s chivalrous integrity would be an ideal quality for a leader. However, if an opponent had discarded their white gloves to don soiled ones right from the start, he might find himself caught off guard.

Princess Lydia gazed solemnly at her fingertips, which she had withdrawn from the transparent wall.

“There is but one thing that concerns me.”

“What is it, Princess?”

As Jouslain cast an interested gaze upon her, Princess Lydia tilted her head slightly. It seemed she was choosing her words with great care.

“If the Clan, uhh, if the Clanner were to order Lord Ariabert to kill women and children, would Lord Ariabert obey that command?”

Jouslain looked back at the Princess as he replied, though his tone might have been somewhat professorial.

“Princess, Lord Ariabert is a noble of Tytania. And for Tytania, the orders of the Clanner are absolute.”

“Absolute, is it?”

“If they were not, it would not be Tytania.”

Jouslain could not bring himself to offer Princess Lydia a false reply. He felt that doing so would be dishonest to the intelligent young girl. Tytania was not an organisation that placed humanity as its highest value and pursued it above all else. They would uphold humanitarian principles only when they judged it to be to their advantage. Jouslain’s decision to protect Princess Lydia, despite there being no profit in it, was at present due solely to his own personal sentiments.

“And what of you, Lord Jouslain? If the Clanner gave you an order, would you obey it?”

He had fully expected that question. Nevertheless, Jouslain found himself unable to answer immediately. He had yet to find a final answer regarding the possibility of the coexistence of sitting upon a tower of power and upholding the dignity of a common human being. It was a question he had continued to ponder since his boyhood, and yet he had failed to reach a conclusion.

“I do not know.”

After a period of deep contemplation, he answered:

“I may refuse to accept being of Tytania, but perhaps I will be unable to do so. It is regrettable that I cannot answer with full confidence, but I intend to do everything in my power to ensure the Clanner is not compelled to issue such an order.”

Tytania had been harsh, utilitarian, and ruthless up until now, but they had never been unnecessarily cruel to the common citizenry. They had never been driven to such an extremity. Until now, that is.

“So even you, Lord Jouslain, do not know yourself.”

“Regrettably not.”

“And yet, you claim to understand Lord Ariabert?”

Princess Lydia’s question left Jouslain speechless. It was an unexpected psychological blow. In other words, was Jouslain unconsciously looking down upon his maternal cousin of the same age? Was the belief that he could insightfully perceive Ariabert’s psyche, even while his own remained unreadable to him, nothing more than groundless arrogance?

Of course, this applied not only to Ariabert but to Idris as well. Jouslain believed that if the responsibility for humanitarian matters could be placed upon the Clanner, then Idris would not hesitate to engage in destruction or slaughter. However, no such precedent existed. Perhaps it was merely Jouslain’s own prejudice.

“Did I offend you, Lord Jouslain?”

A somewhat worried voice drifted into Jouslain’s consciousness, and the young Tytania high noble returned to the real world. He met the gaze of the young girl, which seemed to be scrutinising his face.

“No, quite the opposite. You have given me a wonderful hint. I shall keep it in mind from now on.”

“Hmm. You truly do treat a child as a fully-fledged adult, Lord Jouslain.”

Princess Lydia let her expression break.

“There are many mysterious things about you, Lord Jouslain. That is what I like about you. Oh, and by mysterious, I do not mean strange or odd.”

“I understand.”

Jouslain smiled as well, and a certain thought came to mind. He made a request to the Princess. He had considered this the other night, but he felt it would be beneficial if Princess Lydia could send a mail<ref name="ftn3">“Letter” (手紙) is pronounced “mail”.</ref> to Viscount Balamy Tytania, who had been driven away from Uraniborg due to a trivial incident. It would aid in his mental stability.

“Could I ask this of you, Princess?”

“I do not mind. I have been wanting to write to Bal anyway. But do you think it will be effective?”

“It certainly will.”

After making that calm assertion, Jouslain added jokingly:

“Lord Balamy is an individual who will carry the future of Tytania on his shoulders. If you place him in your debt, it will be of great benefit to your homeland.”

“I wonder if Bal will even perceive it as a favour.”

Princess Lydia laughed, as if mocking the logic of an adult, and turned her gaze towards the regular vessels docked at the Second Spaceport. Beside her, Jouslain also gazed at the ships that traversed the galaxy.

“It appears that as long as even a single person remembers them, humans can endure both idleness and isolation. I am certain he will be pleased.”

He stopped his sentence there, wishing to keep the topic on the level of generalities. The sharp-witted Princess Lydia held a flicker of interest and suspicion in her eyes, but what she said of was something else entirely.

“In that case, I shall write to ask how Bal is faring. I hope he is well.”

“If you get some news about him, please let me know as well.”

Princess Lydia looked up at Jouslain, then skipped forward about three steps along the polished, wide corridor.

“My fees are quite high.”

“Tytania is not known for being stingy, Princess.”

“That is true. As long as it remains generous, Tytania shall continue to enjoy the support of many.”

Had an adult spoken in a sombre tone, such a remark might have been perceived as nothing more than an expression of malice. However, when Princess Lydia uttered those words with such a spirited tone, it sounded like a clear and precise observation regarding the very nature of Tytania. Jouslain could not help but nod in sincere agreement, along with a wry smile. Truly, who could ever desire or find joy in a stingy Tytania?…

<noinclude>
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| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2|Chapter 2]]
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Tytania:Volume 3 Main Characters

2026-10-06T17:50:22Z

Bob Morane: Created page with "<noinclude> {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;" |- | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 1 |- |} </noinclude> == Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc == === ☆ Tytania Faction === * Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clan..."

<noinclude>
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</noinclude>
== Main Characters of the Whirlwind Arc ==
=== ☆ Tytania Faction ===
* Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clanner”.
* Ariabert Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Jouslain Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Zarlisch Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
* Idris Tytania (25 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
* Theresa Tytania (51 years old)… Zarlisch’s mother.
* Balamy Tytania (19 years old)… Jouslain’s senior ''aide-de-camp''. Viscount.
* Francia… Jouslain’s lady-in-waiting.
* Lydia (11 years old)… Princess of the Kingdom of Elbing.
* Donald Farah… Counsellor to Tytania’s Clanner. Election technician.
* Theodora Tytania… Countess.
* Radmoth Tytania (18 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baron.
* Harsha VI (36 years old)… Emperor of the Vardana Empire. Official ruler.
* Aisha (32 years old)… Empress of the Vardana Empire.
* Leonid Granite (34 years old)… Zarlisch’s senior ''aide-de-camp''. Commander.
* Elman Tytania (43 years old)… Ariabert’s diplomacy advisor.
* Baldren (39 years old)…… Ariabert’s staff officer. Vice-admiral.
* Paulsen (28 years old)…… Ariabert’s staff officer. Rear-admiral.

=== ☆ Anti-Tytania Faction ===
* Fan Hyulick (29 years old)… Former commander of the Euria City Fleet. Became a hero after defeating Tytania, but was subsequently exiled from Euria City. Currently on the run.
* Lira Florentz… A girl who helped Hyulick during his escape. Deceased.
* Mikhail Walenkov (28 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former ''aide-de-camp''. Sub-Lieutenant.
* Louis Edmond Pagès (27 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former Intelligence Staff Officer. Sub-Lieutenant.
* Miranda (29 years old)… Former Princess of the Principality of Casabianca.
* Compton Casimir… Captain of the ''Honest Old Man''. Miranda’s husband.
* Lee Shanchen (28 years old)… Commonly known as Doctor Lee. Holds a PhD from planet Bargash. Currently the captain of the “Blaze Flag” army.
* Alan Mahdi (23 years old)… Former lieutenant of the Vardana Imperial Army. Currently on the run.
* Salam Amzekar (31 years old)… Former admiral of the Vardana Imperial Army. Defeated by Tytania during the Battle of the Syracusa System, currently living in exile on planet Bargash.
* Ibn Kasim… Physician. Leader of the anti-Tytania faction.
* Turbil… Commander of the Bargash Regular Army (Government Forces). Rear-admiral.
* Irk… Turbil’s ''aide-de-camp''. Lieutenant-commander.
* Corvin… Bargash’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.
* Seraphine Coopers… Female soldier of the anti-Tytania faction.
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| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 1|Chapter 1]]
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</noinclude>

Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 1

2026-10-05T08:25:08Z

Bob Morane: /* II */

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</noinclude>
==Chapter 1 – The Five Chairs==
===I===
When a high-pitched and ear-piercing female shriek echoed, the servants of Duke Zarlisch Tytania exchanged glances in silence.

The voice had come from beyond a thick door, but the servants knew who it belonged to, as well as the reason for that scream. They had even anticipated it. In any case, knowledge and expectation only intensified their dread.

It was the 10<sup>th</sup> of August, SY 446.

In the mid-latitude forested part of Ryutehi, the capital planet of the Vardana Interstellar Empire, was a lake region by the name of Calvinia where stood the estates of the Tytania clan, the rulers of the Universe. Over 30 km², forests, hills, and lakes stretched, and several magnificent mansions could maintain some privacy through an invisible wall of distance. In a corner of a mansion, Duke Zarlisch Tytania was being berated by his mother.

“Mother, please calm down. The servants can hear you.”

The son’s voice and expression were filled with bitterness. Zarlisch, one of the Four Dukes and a magnificent man with a beautiful beard, was no match for his mother. Theresa stood some 30 centimetres closer to the ground than her son, and yet, she was spitting forcefully at him.

Duke Zarlisch Tytania exhaled a vast amount of air from his lungs that befitted his muscular and imposing physique. With a slight movement of his hand, Theresa could be sent soaring in the sky. Of course, such a scene would not come to pass. Theresa continued to accuse her son in a high and metallic voice. She denounced the sins of the elder brother regarding the death of the younger brother, Arses.

“Zarlisch, you were jealous of Arses. You were jealous because he was gorgeous and talented, and you let him die. Ah, he was such a fine lad, worthy of becoming a duke!”

''Have I ever deserved such unwarranted criticism?'' asked Zarlisch to himself deep in his thick chest. Had the person in front of him been anyone else, he would have probably yelled that question aloud. But it was impossible for him to do so.

Theresa was once a beauty. Rather, if the excess fat and sagging skin caused by her unhealthy lifestyle were to be removed, even now at the age of 50, she could pass as a mature and beautiful lady. But the current sight of her sagging flesh and rippling skin that she pressed with passion on her bewildered son was all but beautiful. There was no merit to her assertions. She was merely lashing out at her son, her emotions that were erupting like a volcano.

Zarlisch was pelted with blows and couldn’t stand it. Indeed, Theresa didn’t simply lash out verbally but also grabbed him by the collar and struck him with her fat fists as she berated him. Finally, Zarlisch answered. He had no choice but to do so.

“Very well, Mother. I swear I’ll bring the despicable criminal before you. You shall punish him to your heart’s content.”

Upon hearing the word “swear”, Theresa regained some composure. Panting heavily, she glared at her eldest son with oily eyes and finally managed to say:

“You will. If you break that promise, I’ll curse you.”

… Upon later learning about this secret drama, the mid-rank Tytanian officers were stunned.

“Why, they say that Duke Zarlisch is a literal ‘ruthless general’, but it appears that the strongest person in the Universe might actually be the Duke’s mother,” they whispered to each other as they shrugged.

They weren’t necessarily looking down on Zarlisch, but they were somewhat disappointed. The late Count Arses had been extremely unpopular among Tytanian’s subordinates and soldiers. They were also aware of Zarlisch’s strained relationship with his brother.

To put it crudely, Tytania could confidently say that Count Arses’ death was “good riddance”. Surely, a man as dashing as Zarlisch would ignore his mother’s madness and act as a public figure that befitted his ability and rank?

“That Fan Hyulick should be declared a public enemy of all of Tytania. It makes no sense to turn it into Lord Zarlisch and his mother’s personal vendetta.”

In spite of these objections, no one directly condemned Zarlisch. He was a warrior who liked to surround himself with front-line warriors and had a staff of officers who were often described as “valiant soldiers” or “seasoned captains”. While they did have high standards of courage and loyalty, these virtues came with drawbacks that hindered the broadness of their perspective and the flexibility of their strategy.

They sought to accommodate Zarlisch rather than rebuke him. The sight of a group united towards a single purpose could intoxicate people like a sweet illusion. That was particularly the case for soldiers, revolutionaries, and religious zealots.

Even before Tytania’s latest policy had been decided, Zarlisch and his men had already begun operations. To hunt down a man who went by the name Fan Hyulick and his accomplices.

“I wish to be appointed as commander in subduing these insolent rebels who have risen against Tytania.” When Zarlisch made that request, Duke Jouslain Tytania perfectly understood the situation. What could compel Zarlisch to make such a demand? There must have been some personal conflict between him and his mother.

It was common knowledge in the Tytania clan that Zarlisch’s mother, Theresa, shunned her eldest son and favoured her second son, Arses. The latter had been murdered by Fan Hyulick, an insignificant figure in the eyes of Tytania. While the anger of a mother was natural, Theresa had lost her mind, and her son was manipulated in her fury.

“It appears that even after his death, Count Arses is still causing trouble for his brother.”

Half of it was pity, half of it was absurdity. Fan Hyulick and his men had harmed Tytania twice, but they were but ants before a giant elephant, and their defeat wouldn’t do much to increase Zarlisch’s prestige. At least not now. How powerful they may become in the future was unknown. According to Tytania’s traditional Machiavellianism<ref name="ftn1">“Scheme dynamics” (権謀力学) is pronounced “machiavelism”.</ref>, they had to be nipped in the bud before they grew too large, but…

Jouslain wondered what stance they should adopt at the Tytanian Supreme Council meeting that was shortly due to enter in session. His senior ''aide-de-camp'', Viscount Balamy Tytania, watched him in silence as he pondered at his desk in his office.

For Balamy, Jouslain was both a relative and his commanding officer, which already made it a considerable bother. To make matters worse, Jouslain virtually held a power of life and death over him.

Balamy’s late father, the former Minister of Military Affairs, Marquis Estrade, was the half-brother of Tytania’s supreme commander, Ajman. He had been dissatisfied with his inability to become the supreme commander and had harboured rebellious intentions, but he unexpectedly died before he could act upon them. It was his son, Balamy, who had instigated this rebellion, and Jouslain apparently knew about it. If Jouslain ever so desired, he could have Balamy punished for treason.

But on the other hand, there was probably no superior as ideal as Jouslain. Simply being “Duke Jouslain’s senior ''aide-de-camp''” earned him respect, reverence, and generous treatment. Balamy himself, as a viscount bearing the surname Tytania, was already in an envious position, and the Clanner and the Four Dukes were yet on another level.

Balamy’s delicate position had also been offset by his status as Duke Jouslain’s senior ''aide-de-camp''. By placing Balamy in such a crucial position, Jouslain had publicly shown his trust in him. Anyone who dared to harm Balamy would need to be prepared to make an enemy of his protector, Jouslain. Just the appointment as senior ''aide-de-camp'' itself involved multiple layers of political considerations and dynamics that were characteristic of the heart of Tytania.

Balamy had recently purged the anti-Tytania faction that infested the Vardana Empire’s court and government. He had executed 26 people, who held high ranks such as minister, general, clerk, councillor, senator, or knight, sent 40 others to penal colonies, and exiled 114 along with their families. The order had come through Jouslain from Clanner Ajman. Failure to carry out this slaughter would have meant that he was unworthy of being treated as a member of the Tytania clan.

Balamy understood this perfectly. He stormed the Vardana court, wielding his invisible mighty purging scythe, and beheaded key figures of the Emperor Harsha VI, including the Minister of Justice, Herawa, and the Minister of Civil Affairs, Nunes. After that, he washed the blood from the court’s political floor, appointed replacements, amended several rules of the court, and completed the matter in a remarkably short time. For a youth of 18 years old, his skills were truly impressive.

“Viscount Balamy appears to be a useful man.”

With that declaration from Clanner Ajman, Balamy’s achievements had been officially recognised. He had been responsible for his father’s accidental death, but Ajman’s words washed him from that responsibility. In the organisation of Tytania, decisions regarding personnel were often made on the basis that past sins could be atoned for with merit, and this was an example of it. In other words, Balamy had passed his personnel assessment.

The ministers who were the subject of that test certainly ended up being the butt of the joke, but it was nevertheless true that they had been plotting against Tytania. But they didn’t necessarily do it with resolve. It could be said that they had played with power and schemes as if they were toys and were now receiving their just deserts.

“I am certainly a subordinate of Duke Jouslain. But it doesn’t mean that I’ll be subservient to him.”

Balamy lifted his shoulders. Jouslain was well aware of his state of mind, and while he found it amusing, he also held some admiration for his spirit.

===II===
Duke Jouslain Tytania was the guardian of the princess of the small and remote kingdom of Elbing. Her name was Lydia, and she was 10 years old. She was staying at Uraniborg, Tytania’s stronghold, as collateral for a debt, as well as a political hostage, but was a cheerful and carefree girl nevertheless. She could come and go freely and often visited Jouslain’s office.

“Lord Jouslain, if you have some time, let’s play.”

While a woman inviting a man to play usually implied something romantic, since the inviting party was only 10 years old, it was a genuine and literal invitation to play. She would often tour the vast interior of Uraniborg along with Jouslain, but he was sometimes too busy to accompany her. Princess Lydia would then say:

“In that case, Lord Jouslain, may I observe you working? I promise not to disturb you and to behave properly.”

“Do as you please. Let me have a chair prepared for you.”

Thus, anyone visiting Duke Jouslain would be met with the intriguing gaze of the young girl seated in a corner of the room. There were some who would lose their composure under her gaze. Someone commented, “I felt like I was being dissected.” Princess Lydia, a princess with a mighty spirit within a small frame, seemed to be discerning those who might be useful to the kingdom of Elbing and those who might be harmful. In any case, the task of looking after Princess Lydia fell upon Viscount Balamy, the senior ''aide-de-camp''.

For Balamy, being treated on the same level as a child like Princess Lydia was unacceptable. He was a member of the Tytania clan and the nephew of the current Clanner, Ajman. His late father was a marquis, and he himself a viscount. Inwardly, he didn’t care about some small kingdom that couldn’t even repay its debt to Tytania. But according to social etiquette, he had to address Lydia as “Her Highness”, and since Jouslain himself addressed her with respect, so Balamy had no choice but to follow such rules.

While “Her Highness” initially addressed Balamy as “Viscount”, she eventually came to see him as a friend and equal, calling him “Balamy” and eventually shortening it to “Bal”. Balamy was extremely dissatisfied with this, but he couldn’t object or correct her every time and could do nothing but accept it. Whenever he was called “Bal”, he would reply, “Yes, Princess,” and continue to attend on her.

In spite of hoping to be a schemer, Balamy may have lacked the necessary temperament to be one.

Jouslain’s attitude towards Balamy and Princess Lydia clearly demonstrated his qualities as an educator. Whenever he found outstanding qualities in someone’s individuality and talent, he treated them as extremely valuable and wanted to nurture them.

It was a honed Tytanian tradition to seek out and generously treat talented individuals. But in Jouslain’s case, it seemed he had a strong inclination towards the individuality and talent of others rather than their ideals and policies. He went beyond practical matters such as politics, administration, military affairs, finance, and economics to the realm of academics and supported many scholars, writers, artists, and musicians. He established a fund and entrusted its management to experts, and a certain Mr Politt, a poet of the transcendentalist school who had benefited from it, once paid him a visit to express his gratitude. Jouslain did not meet with him.

''“Artists and scholars need not bow to those with power and wealth. Let them be proud of their deserved lavish treatment. For Mr Politt to go out of his way to express his gratitude for something like this, I guess he must be a materialist<ref name="ftn2">The term used here (俗物) has a large meaning, as it can mean materialistic, uncultured, philistine, etc.</ref>'' after all.”''

It is reported that when Mr Politt heard this, he blushed deeply and withdrew. The fact that Jouslain spoke in a way where he could be overheard might have been a sign of his immaturity. For one, considering his position, he didn’t want to increase the number of guests he had to receive any further.

That being said, while he treated artists with great generosity, Jouslain did not possess any particular passion or discerning eye for works of art themselves. His office and residence were adorned with works by renowned painters, sculptors, potters and furniture makers. Although the majority were gifts or offerings, their management was entrusted to one of his butlers who specialised in art and antiques, and Jouslain himself had little involvement in the process. Rather than the works themselves, it was the talent that produced these works that he favoured.

In practical terms, he used these works as gifts for dignitaries from various countries. This was why Jouslain was known as a “person who wasn’t stingy”, though that reputation was somewhat at odds with his true nature.

To Jouslain, Fan Hyulick as a rebel against the Tytania was also a great artist of his era. More precisely, he possessed the potential to become a figure worthy of being called great. Would such a person allow himself to be killed so wantonly by Zarlisch and his mother? Jouslain wouldn’t help but lean towards the negative. That said, it was a fact that Fan Hyulick was a public enemy who had repeatedly inflicted damage on Tytania, and if left unchecked, Tytania’s prestige would be tarnished.

Jouslain was well aware of the folly of such a thing as prestige, yet at the same time he recognised the reality that it was precisely through prestige that a certain degree of order and peace was maintained. Furthermore, what made Jouslain unique was his wry realisation that it was Tytania herself who derived the greatest benefit from this reality.

''“Peace, order and stability are not the ends of power, but their means.”''

This is how Jouslain once characterised the reality of “''Pax Tytaniana''”. That said, he didn’t believe this to be an entirely accurate assessment. He was merely shedding light from a different angle on Tytania’s own assertion that “peace exists only because of Tytania”.

On the 15<sup>th</sup> of August, Tytania’s Supreme Council convened at Uraniborg. Those in attendance were Clanner Ajman and the Four Dukes. Jouslain took his seat beside Ariabert.

Ariabert was generally regarded as the leading figure amongst the Four Dukes of Tytania and did not possess a mind as richly nuanced as Jouslain’s. Of course, Ariabert was by no means incompetent nor of limited intellect, and few in the universe could handle matters with his composure, whether as the commander of a great army or as an administrator of an organisation.

While he may lack a certain degree of originality, once he acknowledged another’s idea, he could flexibly accept it and adapt it in the best possible way. At the very least, he has never failed twice in a row, and he has proven to possess the calibre to make amends for his failures and grow as a result.

''“Zarlisch would not have handled it this fashion. Compared to Ariabert’s talents, Zarlisch is merely a ruthless general.”''

This was Jouslain’s assessment, although in Zarlisch’s case, even when considered as a mere brave general, he was still far from ordinary. Had Zarlisch been supported by a staff officer with outstanding strategic thinking, he might literally have conquered the entire universe through sheer force of ability and even established a unified dynasty. But Zarlisch’s likes and dislikes towards others were all too evident: he favoured simple, unassuming soldiers and detested those who possessed a more nuanced way of thinking without necessarily being schemers.

Consequently, Zarlisch’s ranks consisted solely of brave commanders and soldiers who, in a sense, were miniature versions of himself. This tendency to gather only a single type of person might be acceptable for a military commander, but it was unsuitable for Tytania’s supreme commander.

As for Jouslain himself, he was probably even less suited to the role of Tytania’s supreme commander than Zarlisch. Not because of a lack of talent or ability, but because of his temperament.

He saw too much, even things he needed not to see. Since it was impossible for a human to perceive the entirety of all things, this meant that there were things he ought to see that he was failing to see. This was how Jouslain interpreted it. And that very tendency to engage in such thinking was likely to render him unfit to be Tytania’s supreme commander.

Had he been incompetent in practical affairs, Jouslain could surely have stepped back from the mainstream of Tytania and taken up the role of a critic. However, Jouslain possessed extraordinary ability as a politician. Having been involved in the governance of more than ten nations, he had reformed administration and public finances, placed the right people in the right positions, and either appeased or neutralised opposition forces, thereby increasing and stabilising Tytania’s alliance network. In particular, his skill in intervening in countries in a state of civil strife to restore order and establish new systems was considered unrivalled.

Jouslain did not regard his own talents as particularly remarkable, nor did he place great importance on the existence of Tytania itself. He recognised that they were merely passing through history and that eternal glory was impossible.

''“It is like a dinosaur. So mighty it cannot escape extinction,”'' he thought as he gazed into the distance, anticipating the day when that realisation would come to pass.

It was likely the ambitious mid-level executives who regarded Tytania as an absolute authority. To them, Tytania was not merely an organisation or a group but a community bound by a shared destiny. Of course, Tytania was not a single entity, but rather a collective term encompassing the Landless Clanner’s domain, the retinues of the various dukes, the corporations and organisations they owned, and their private military forces. As personnel were exchanged between these entities, it was not uncommon for an unknown young man, once he set foot on the ladder of advancement, to become a key figure at the level of a stellar system state by middle age.

Those who prided themselves on their talent, those harbouring ambitions of advancement, and those who wished to make their mark on the world, would all flock to gather under the Tytanian coat of arms. The abundance and quality of talent maintained there far surpassed that of groups of nations possessing only nominal sovereignty. This wealth of human resources was also one of the pillars underpinning Tytania’s might.

Tytania cherished talent and ambition. Provided they did not undermine her rule. Although a clear boundary existed, for the vast majority of people it lay beyond the horizon. At least in relative terms, Tytania was generous and remained a destination that held a certain allure for the talented.

Of course, there were differing views. Ultimately, Jouslain could not help but feel that it was merely a gathering of people who were simply seeking the shelter of a great tree. He was not generally regarded as a particularly difficult person, but he simply could not bring himself to feel any favour towards the sort of people who fawned over those in power. Given that he was close to the pinnacle of power, this sentiment was clearly a contradiction in terms and at odds with the “virtue” of tolerance expected of those in authority.

For the time being, Jouslain had not yet been driven by the need to desperately reconcile that contradiction. He did not yet know what stance he would adopt should he ever be faced with such a necessity.

“Lord Jouslain , someone as overly fastidious as you will never be able to build a circle of advisors.”

Ariabert was the one who made that observation. Ariabert had his own perspective on the matter. In this world, there were many who possessed knowledge and talent yet were unable to put them to use. Was it not the duty of those in power and position to provide them with a platform on which to demonstrate their talents?

“We shouldn’t take issue with their character. It is up to us to provide them with a place to exercise their talents and provide them financial security. In turn, they use their talents for the sake of Tytania. I do not think that anything else matters more.”

“But Lord Ariabert, is it not character that ultimately governs over one’s talents?”

This was the counter-argument Jouslain had offered, though he was not seriously raising an objection. He simply fancied debating with Ariabert. In truth, until very recently, Jouslain had not held his relative Ariabert in particularly high regard. While he possessed well-organised and orderly talents in both the arts and martial arts, he had considered him nothing more than a model student lacking in individuality.

His view changed after witnessing how, following his defeat at the hands of Fan Hyulick, Ariabert had demonstrated extraordinary flexibility and resilience to regain the ground he had lost. He thought of it as Ariabert’s true worth finally coming to light.

However, they were given no time to continue their discussion. They fell silent, rose to their feet, and placed their right fists against their left shoulders, performing the Tytanian salute. Ajman, the Landless Clanner and head of the Tytania clan, had entered the room.

Ajman’s appearance was such that it could easily have been carved into a sculpture. The title of that sculpture would undoubtedly be “Dominion and Authority”. Both his gaze and the line of his mouth possessed a combination of sharpness and strength, while his demeanour embodied, so to speak, a dignified severity. It was the bearing of a supreme commander whom all of Tytania could not help but greet in solemn silence. Although he could still be described as young in terms of age, the ''gravitas'' of his bearing had the effect of adding years to his appearance, making him seem older than he actually was. He was forty years of age, yet possessed a certain air of solemnity.

The Landless Clanner Ajman was the uncrowned overlord of the universe; his power, strength and prestige stood above those of all other kings. While he led a family life as a working adult, he also maintained relationships with various mistresses.

If there were to be a prevailing cultural norm regarding romantic relationships in Tytania, it could hardly be described as progressive and would inevitably be criticised as patriarchal. Since ascending as Clanner, Ajman had all but ceased sexual relations with his main wife, instead having beautiful women presented to him from the nobility and elite of various nations, filling his bedchamber with a profusion of blossoms. He already sired children out of wedlock.

''“I wonder what sort of expression that stern and caustic supreme commander of Tytania wears when he embraces a woman.”''

Such rumours abounded both within and outside Tytania, but they never grew beyond mere whispers. Whatever Ajman might be like in his bedchamber, the fact that he was a stern and caustic ruler the moment he stepped out of it was beyond dispute.

Originally, the qualities required of a ruler of Tytania were leadership, foresight and decisiveness, not sexual morality. Whether one was lustful or the opposite, such matters were entirely unrelated to one’s competence as a ruler. However, if debauchery were to be taken to extremes, it would constitute grounds for disqualification from rulership. Someone who would use his position of power to take a subordinate’s wife would naturally incur hatred and resentment and be deemed to lack the personal qualities required for leadership. Furthermore, to display nothing but a lecherous disposition while lacking any real ability would merely invite ridicule.

In any case, Ajman indulged in his amorous pursuits within the bounds acceptable to a man of power and, as things stood, had not caused any disruption whatsoever.

===III===
After some ten agenda items and matters had been dealt with at the conference table, and following a short break, the most important motion of the day was tabled. It concerned Fan Hyulick, who had now become a major public enemy of Tytania.

For those who harboured hostility or antipathy towards Tytania, the name Fan Hyulick had come to carry considerable weight. Regardless of one’s personal feelings, this fact could not be ignored. It appeared that once a person has achieved great renown, they must bear that burden and tread a path somewhat different from their original intentions.

From Jouslain’s perspective, Fan Hyulick seemed less like a brazen rebel and more like a bewildered novice actor. The reality might be different, but looking at his career, this is what came to mind, and Jouslain couldn’t help but have a wry smile as he felt some faint sympathy. Of course, this was not an opinion he would voice aloud.

Ironically, under these circumstances, Tytania was also suffering the consequences. Whatever the sequence of events, it remained a fact that Fan Hyulick murdered a member of the Tytania clan, and for the sake of its prestige and honour Tytania had no choice but to arrest and execute him. If one would dare put it this way, all for the sake of one mere person, Count Arses Tytania.

Although Arses himself had voiced his discontent while alive, his character was not recognised as having any value whatsoever within the Tytania clan. Even an incompetent could be liked by others, and there were capable individuals who were disliked. Arses happened to be neither, and the only person who mourned his untimely demise was his mother.

For the supporters of Tytania, Arses’ death in itself was of no consequence. What mattered was the fact that his death had been imposed upon him by others. Those bearing the Tytania surname must have their lives and deaths determined solely by others bearing the same surname. It was that very pride that proved that Tytania was the sovereign ruler of the entire universe. This pride was to be strictly upheld. No matter the cost.

Zarlisch, having been granted the floor, leaned his massive frame halfway across the conference table as he petitioned the Clanner. He requested to be appointed the person in charge of executing Fan Hyulick, the man who had killed his younger brother.

“Lord Zarlisch, your wish is perfectly reasonable. You have a good reason to take this matter more seriously than anyone else.”

Hearing Clanner Ajman’s response, Zarlisch’s eyes sparkled.

“Then, may I be entrusted with the life or death of that lawless scoundrel, Fan Hyulick?”

“Well, it is most gratifying when hope leads to enthusiasm, but that does not necessarily guarantee success. Unfortunately, excessive zeal tends to render one’s abilities ineffective.”

Although Clanner Ajman’s voice was not exactly venomous, it lacked warmth. His almost inorganic coldness was by no means the product of personal malice, yet Zarlisch could not help but break out in a cold sweat. The vast expanse of skin covering the burly man’s body had hardened with tension.

“Your Clanner Highness’ concerns are entirely justified, but I, though unworthy, pride myself on being more suited to this task than any of the other lords. The sin of allowing that unscrupulous traitor Fan Hyulick to act as he pleased lies with my brother’s inaction and incompetence. I therefore humbly request that you allow me, as his elder brother, to atone for his sin.”

“It is indeed a misfortune for this Fan Hyulick to be regarded as a direct enemy of the peerlessly valiant Lord Zarlisch.”

The Clanner’s voice flowed gently through the sea of silence in which the dukes sat. Even when disguised as a mere jest, his remarks often carried grave implications, so they could not react carelessly.

“It is inevitable that Fan Hyulick and his followers will be wiped out. Lord Zarlisch, there is nothing wrong with you taking on that task, but…”

“Is there truly no possibility whatsoever of welcoming him into the ranks of Tytania, Your Highness?”

It was Ariabert who voiced this opinion, but he was immediately met with opposition.

“It is too late to bring this up now. He has already rejected the hand of friendship extended by Tytania and has even gone so far as to murder a man bearing the Tytania surname and title. If we were to seek reconciliation at this late stage, the authority of Tytania would be called into question.”

Idris’ tone had grown fierce, as if scorched by fire.

“Fan Hyulick must be made to atone for his crimes. There is no other option. Talents of the calibre of Fan Hyulick can surely be found in abundance as long as we look for them. There is no reason to put his talents to use if at the expense of Tytania’s authority.”

Rather, on this occasion, in order to further strengthen Tytania’s unity and to demonstrate Tytania’s resolve to the outside world, Fan Hyulick’s faction should be thoroughly hunted down and subjected to severe punishment. That was the gist of Idris’ argument. He excelled in passionate oratory, even more than Ariabert or Zarlisch, and although he was the youngest, he appeared to be leading the proceedings.

Jouslain silently watched this scene unfold.

''“He is even stiffer than Balamy.”''

Just as Princess Lydia had remarked, Idris’ sharp edges were all too evident. If he could channel that fiery spirit and ambition and embrace them with a mature character, might Idris not naturally become a figure of such calibre as to rule all of Tytania? Such were Jouslain’s thoughts, though there was no guarantee that his judgement of character was completely accurate.

''“Mayhap Idris would have been happier had he not been born into Tytania’s ruling class,”'' sometimes thought Jouslain.

It was neither a paradox nor irony. Whenever he encountered Idris’ intense drive for self-improvement and competitive spirit, he couldn’t help but feel this way.

Had Idris been born into an obscure family, he would have thrown himself into Tytania’s affairs as his ambition dictated, achieved remarkable feats, raced up the ladder of success, and felt a deep sense of fulfilment in the process. With every step he climbed, he would undoubtedly have set his sights even higher, fuelling his vitality.

However, Idris was born into the main line of the Tytania clan, a house of great prestige, and was already one of the Four Dukes. Above him only stood the throne of the Landless Clanner, the supreme leader of the Tytania clan. Naturally, Idris had to think, act, plot and strive with that as his goal. It was probably Idris’ karma<ref name="ftn3">“Fate” (業) is pronounced “karma”.</ref> that he could not find fulfilment in the approach taken by Ariabert of calmly and steadily fulfilling one’s duties and doing one’s utmost within the current circumstances.

Jouslain didn’t believe that Idris possessed the talent and calibre he boasted of. But of course, Idris was not incompetent, and he possessed sufficient ability to have risen from nothing and become the sovereign of a star-spanning nation. A few days ago, he failed in his mission to use Count Arses Tytania as a decoy to wipe out Fan Hyulick’s faction. However, this had been a mere tactical blunder at the regional level, and there would be plenty of opportunities to make up for that lost ground in the future. The scale of the underlying power he has accumulated is simply on a different level to that of Fan Hyulick, who would be plunged to the brink of ruin were he to suffer a single defeat.

It would be no surprise if Idris were to become Tytania’s next Clanner. However, should that happen, the atmosphere in Tytania would become stifling, and it would become a truly difficult place for someone like Jouslain to live in.

The Clanner’s gaze turned towards Jouslain. Glancing at the young duke who was tapping the tabletop silently with the back of his hand as he pondered, the Clanner addressed him in a voice laced with a hint of sarcasm:

“What are your thoughts, Lord Jouslain?”

Idris’ pride was stung by those words. Jouslain had been silent for some time now. One should simply leave those who wished to remain silent to their own devices. Yet, the Clanner was specifically seeking his opinion; was it because he held Jouslain in high regard? Idris could not help but wonder. The Clanner’s gaze flitted towards Idris’ expression for just a fraction of a second.

In that brief moment, Jouslain brought his thoughts back to the reality of the situation, withdrew his hands from the table and sat up straight. In this instance, there was no need to say much, nor did Jouslain have any intention of doing so. He understood the Clanner’s intentions and saw no reason to object to them. And, while feeling a touch of shame at his own insight, he replied:

“I concur with Lord Zarlisch’s proposal. I believe that amongst all of us, Lord Zarlisch is the most suitable for this task.”

With this, Jouslain had provided the desired response to Zarlisch’s prior proposal. It would, as the saying goes, mean that he had “gained a favour”. Yet, that was but a trivial matter.

For Jouslain, it was the true intent behind the Clanner’s expressionless nod that was truly frightening. By entrusting the matter of Fan Hyulick to Zarlisch, the Clanner had reduced it to the Zarlisch family’s private affair. This meant that, should the situation change in the future, he could set aside Zarlisch and form an alliance with Fan Hyulick. Of course, should Zarlisch succeed in eliminating Fan Hyulick, this would remove a future formidable enemy and would not result in a negative outcome for Tytania.

With the matter of Fan Hyulick settled, the discussion moved on to the next agenda item. Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana, whose ministers had been purged, was, naturally, deeply shaken and spending his days in anxiety. The question was what to do, since the situation could not simply be left unaddressed. When once more asked for his opinion, Jouslain replied:

“I believe it would be best to present a gift and appease His Majesty Harsha VI to some extent. After all, it was the rebellious ministers who were purged. We ought to demonstrate that Tytania harbours no ill will towards the Emperor.”

“You want to curry favour with the Emperor?” immediately interjected Idris with a blunt expression of doubt.

Jouslain countered once more:

“No need to put it in such terms. We are simply reassuring Harsha VI. If His Imperial Majesty’s position and state of mind are stable, there will be less scope for ambitious individuals to act recklessly. If the Vardana Imperial House is of even the slightest use to Tytania, I believe it is only natural to treat it accordingly.”

Tytania had never disregarded formality and had always observed the proper etiquette towards the Vardana Imperial House. Legally speaking, Tytania submitted herself to being a vassal of the Emperor of Vardana, and since she had accepted this position, it was only proper to observe the courtesies that came with it. If others regarded this as hypocrisy, if was their prerogative. Indeed, it was undoubtedly hypocrisy.

“I endorse Lord Jouslain’s proposal. As far as Tytania is concerned, we have no intention of seeking a confrontation with the Vardana Imperial House.”

Clanner Ajman delivered his verdict, his voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm as he continued:

“There are many who criticise Tytania, but stinginess has never once been cited as a reason. We shall present His Majesty Harsha VI with a generous gift. When the opportunity arises.”

“Will money and gifts truly console the Emperor’s heart?”

Ariabert voiced his common-sense opinion, but Clanner Ajman laughed heartily and dismissed his concern.

“That is a matter for the Emperor’s own mind. Even if he finds no solace, that is a matter for him to resolve. It is none of our concern.”

===IV===
Many tribute gifts were delivered from Tytania to Emperor Harsha VI, the nominal sovereign of the Vardana Empire. This took place on the 20<sup>th</sup> of August, which coincided with the anniversary of Harsha VI’s coronation. The Landless Clanner Ajman visited the court in person and delivered a brief congratulatory address, though this in itself was of no particular significance.

After the Clanner’s departure, a vast array of gifts remained at the court. Jewels, precious metalworks, paintings, sculptures, furs, a pleasure yacht, and two thoroughbred horses. A five million dakar donation was also made to the Imperial Museum. Truly, no one could accuse Tytania of being stingy. Yet the Emperor was not impressed.

“Hah, trying to win my favour with money and gifts? The usual Tytanian approach. Judging the hearts of others by their own values.”

Harsha VI attempted to infuse his voice with contempt but failed, his lips twitching insensitively. Tytania was simply too immense a presence to be treated with contempt.

If one could merely resign oneself to the status of a puppet of Tytania, the position of Emperor of the Vardana Empire might well become the object of others’ envy. Although merely formal, courtesy and respect were paid in full, and one could indulge in every luxury in one’s private life. Should any major national crisis arise, Tytania would handle it with her authority and military might. All the Emperor needed to do was to attend ceremonies and affix his seal and signature to imperial edicts.

Harsha VI’s father, Harsha V, who bore the same name, made no attempt to wrest real political power from Tytania’s grasp. He issued edicts as Tytania saw fit, appointed and dismissed ministers, and remained, from start to finish, a figure whose sole purpose was to legitimise Tytania’s interests and actions. Having renounced his desire for and attachment to earthly power, he found happiness in other pursuits. Tytania provided him with several beautiful women, and he devoted himself to the scholarly study of classical theatre, authoring eight scholarly works during his lifetime. All of these were regarded as masterpieces, underpinned by rigorous scholarship, extensive knowledge and keen analytical skills. While there was no doubt that he was gifted with intellect, he never applied it to the realm of state affairs. Was this something to be regretted?

However, during Harsha V’s thirty-year reign, the Vardana Empire enjoyed stability across all political, military, economic and social spheres under Tytania’s leadership. During his reign, not a single minister was murdered or executed, and the only punishments meted out were imprisonment and exile. There were only three military campaigns, large and small, all of which took place in outer space on the empire’s periphery, and they resulted in no civilian casualties. Apart from this, there were numerous instances in which Tytania’s private militias engaged in combat for Tytanian interests, but these need not be included in the count.

Thus, during the reign of Harsha V, peace was largely maintained, and there was no disruption to the lives of the people. Repression of the anti-Tytania movements was also eased, and, to use a conventional expression, “the people enjoyed an era of peace”. Harsha V once spoke indirectly about his position, which had been that of a puppet of Tytania from start to finish:

''“The authority of the Vardana Imperial House is of no concern to the people.”''

He never uttered any further words to justify himself.

His son, Harsha VI, was unable to adopt the same mindset as his father. The cracks in his resolve were reflected within the palace. Anti-Tytania movements were frequently instigated, and each time they were suppressed with bloodshed.

''“That man, Fan Hyulick, perhaps he could free me from Tytania’s shackles. Might it be possible to win him over to our side?”''

Harsha VI shuddered at his own thoughts. His resentment towards Tytania had been building up over a long period, and it now seemed as though the nebulous resentment within him had taken on a definite direction. The only person who knew what was in the Emperor’s heart was Empress Aisha, but she did not agree with her husband.

“Your Majesty, I understand your distress, but such thoughts are nothing but an illusion. Please cast aside these doubts.”

Empress Aisha was three years younger than her husband and was now thirty-one. During their six years of marriage, they had produced one son and one daughter. She was the daughter of a lower-ranking noble of the Empire, neither particularly striking in appearance nor exceptionally gifted. Recently, she had even begun to show signs of becoming overweight. However, it seemed that her depth of thought surpassed that of her husband.

“Let us speak hypothetically. Let us imagine that this man named Fan Hyulick were to succeed in overthrowing Tytania. What guarantee is there that he would not become a second Tytania? He may well hate Tytania, but he has no reason to feel any loyalty to our Vardana Empire.”

Inviting a wild beast in to drive a thief out. Such folly must not be committed. Empress Aisha offered this counsel, and Harsha VI was forced to acknowledge its validity.

However, as is the case with many humans, a rational conclusion failed to satisfy his emotions. Deep within the Emperor’s heart, a vague, formless discontent lingered, gradually intensifying and beginning to grow. It would not take long before this led to the rationalisation of his impulse: ''“If I am going to regret it anyway, better to regret doing it than not doing it…”''

According to the sarcastic observation of Duke Jouslain Tytania, Tytania was a hotbed of second-rate talent. Among this gathering of talent was a man in his mid-forties named Donald Farah. He was a figure of the utmost ordinariness, with no distinguishing features other than appearing slightly younger than his actual age.

This man had become an indispensable figure in Tytania by virtue of specialising in a single skill. This skill was not diplomacy, administration, finance or military affairs, nor, of course, scholarship or the arts. His skill was elections.

His schedule detailed, down to the day, month and year, on which planets elections for heads of state or parliaments were to be held, extending as far as twenty years into the future. He gathered and analysed every last detail of information regarding the electoral landscape and the movements of candidates and made predictions about the results. If his predictions favoured Tytania, that was sufficient; if they did not, he took action to turn the tide in her favour. He manipulated information, distributed money, offered inducements, and even resorted to intimidation and violence. He spent most of the year travelling between star systems where elections are being held, and Clanner Ajman even lent him a dedicated spaceship for this purpose.

Although Farah’s official title was merely that of a Counsellor of the Clanner’s Court, it was said that the number of politicians who had gained or lost their positions as a result of his interference in elections was enough to fill an entire biographical encyclopaedia.

Interfering in elections required vast sums of money. Farah was provided with an almost limitless supply of funds for his activities. A pipe was connected directly to Tytania’s vaults, and simply turning the tap would cause vast quantities of gold coins and banknotes to pour out. In the process of doling out those funds, there were countless opportunities to slip a certain amount into his own pocket. If he were to embezzle even just 0.1% of the campaign funds, Farah could live a life fit for a prince. Even then, the obstinate Ajman man would hardly take offence.

Yet, to this day, Farah had never slipped even a single copper coin into his own pocket. While it was true that, as Counsellor of the Clanner’s Court, he earned a handsome salary, he must nonetheless be described as incorruptible. This served to heighten the trust placed in him by Tytania’s central authorities. There were plenty of petty, despicable scoundrels who exploit elections to line their own pockets and revel in the delusion that they are influencing the political landscape. Farah drew a clear line between himself and such scum. While he would utilise them to achieve his ends, he held them in contempt and never sought to become too familiar with them.

''“Farah is the greatest democrat in the entire universe. There is surely no other man who loves the electoral system quite as much as he does.”''

Clanner Ajman had once made this remark with a wry smile.

Farah’s passion and interest in elections were so pure that even the stern and dignified Ajman could not help but smile wryly. If the electoral system were to vanish from human society and the world were to descend into despotism, Farah would have no choice but to either take his own life out of despair or become a radical revolutionary to overthrow such tyranny.

It was this very Donald Farah who had discovered Fan Hyulick, Tytania’s public enemy, on planet Bargash.

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Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 9

2026-10-03T12:28:52Z

Bob Morane: /* Chapter 9 – War Outbreak */

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==Chapter 9 – War Outbreak==
===I===
From November to December SY 446, the political sphere of planet Bargash was gripped by a level of bewilderment and confusion rarely seen before. It was facing the threat of all-out war with Tytania.

The root cause lay in the fact that Duke Zarlisch Tytania had disregarded Bargash’s sovereignty and laws and forcibly carried out military operations. However, there was no prospect of Tytania admitting its wrongdoing or offering an apology. The Bargash government was thus forced to face a dreadfully grave dilemma: either plunge into all-out war with Tytania or exhaust every diplomatic resource in pursuit of peace. It was clear that even if they sought peace, they would be presented with extremely harsh terms. Terms that would likely threaten the very survival of their nation.

Entrusted to Admiral Turbil and placed under house arrest in one of the military barracks, the comrades of the ''Honest Old Man'' exchanged the following conversation:

“If we’d let Zarlisch Tytania live back then, was there a way out for us?”

“No, probably not. It might even have led to a worse outcome.”

Let us suppose that Fan Hyulick and his men had taken Zarlisch prisoner and spared his life. Even if they had then made some demand of Tytania, there was no way he would have meekly accepted it. The Bargash government, suddenly thrown into disarray by the turn of events, would have been blackmailed into returning Zarlisch. Or they might have had Hyulick and his men arrested or even killed. Zarlisch himself would have devised various means of escape, and the Tytania branch would undoubtedly launch a rescue operation.

To begin with, had they not shot Zarlisch dead in that underground cavern, it would have been Hyulick who would have had to accept his fate of being strangled.

“Well, in any case, what’s done is done.”

Walenkov summed it up matter-of-factly.

“The question is what we do from here on. What are your thoughts, Admiral Hyulick?”

“For the time being, we’ll buy some time,” replied Hyulick nonchalantly, crossing his legs leisurely.

“If Tytania invades with a large army, Bargash will have no choice but to steel themselves. And if they want to increase his chances of victory, they won’t kill us off that easily. No need to be pessimistic.”

In truth, Fan Hyulick was not quite as detached as his expression and tone might suggest. He wondered whether his judgement might be flawed. While he weighed the pros and cons, might a disgraceful end, be it arrest or assassination, be creeping ever closer to him and his comrades? That anxiety lurked in his shadow, constantly accompanying him. Even so, he had no choice but to stake his own and his comrades’ fates on a single possibility.

“If Tytania mobilises a large army for a head-on clash with Bargash, the commander would be no one else but Duke Ariabert. I am the only person in the universe who has ever defeated Duke Ariabert, even if it was a fluke. The Bargash government knows this. Unless they are 100% certain of peace, they won’t harm me.”

He had calculated this and double-checked it time and again. That said, in terms of lacking 100% certainty, Hyulick was no different from the Bargash government.

At times, Hyulick could see things too clearly. If he were to speculate on the inner thoughts of the Bargash government’s high-ranking officials, he realised that their lack of certainty regarding victory was even greater than their lack of certainty regarding peace. After agonising in a cold sweat, they might end up short-circuiting their thought processes and throwing themselves into the easiest option.

He tried to imagine such an ominous scene, but for the time being, Fan Hyulick was under house arrest and was not even permitted to meet with senior officials of the Bargash government. Given that, there was only one way to avoid being consumed by boredom and unnecessary anxiety: to try his luck with a woman.

“You could tell me your name by now, right?”

One day, in the great dining hall, he tried asking a certain woman.

“Well, yes, but I must be careful. If any evil spirits are listening in, my whole life will end up in a dark tunnel.”

The woman who laughed was a female soldier from the anti-Tytania faction who had been stationed in the underground caverns of the desert. Here, she was not wearing her sun visor, but she was still clad in her camouflaged field uniform.

Setting aside her laughter, Hyulick asked:

“Your name?”

“Seraphine Coopers. My friends call me Sera.”

Just as Mr Fan Hyulick had finally succeeded in learning the name that interested him, the Bargash government found itself at the very opposite extreme of peace of mind. Ajman, the Landless Clanner of Tytania, had presented them with terms of peace. The document comprised no fewer than forty clauses, which were not merely stringent but utterly draconian.

Leaving aside the handover of those responsible for the war, the clause that nearly drove the Bargash government into collective cardiac arrest was the following:

“Permanently transfer to Tytania authority to conduct qualification assessments for locators."

It was impossible for Bargash to accept this condition. Locators were a professional body responsible for planetary development and administration in the frontier star systems. To cede the authority to assess qualifications would mean relinquishing the status of “Capital of the Frontier” for all eternity. Compared to this condition, matters of territory and reparations seemed as light as a spring breeze.

“Tytania has no genuine intention of making peace. From the very start, they’ve been imposing unreasonable conditions. They want to force us into war.”

“The untimely death of Duke Zarlisch is no cause for sorrow to them. It is nothing but a stroke of good fortune.”

“Isn’t that typical of Tytania? They would even exploit the death of a relative for their own gain. It is in their very nature to gnaw on the very bones of the dead.”

“We cannot coexist with the likes of them. The only reason we have managed to maintain peace until now is because Bargash has upheld common sense and decency. But we have learnt that decency is only something to be upheld towards human beings. It is powerless against beasts. The only way to discipline them is the whip!”

Voices of fierce indignation surged both within and outside the Bargash government.

“There is still room for negotiation. If we act rashly, we’ll fall right into Tytania’s trap. We must remain calm and seek the best course of action.”

The peace faction desperately tried to appease their fellow citizens, but their numbers and influence were rapidly dwindling. Tytania had fired a bullet straight into the Bargash people’s patience. Their forbearance had evaporated, and they were on the verge of exploding.

However, the Bargash government could not simply cry out, “This is war!” so easily. They tried to find a way out of the impasse, but there was no such thing as a miraculous solution. They held repeated discussions, postponed reaching a conclusion, and in the end were criticised by the hawks for being “indecisive”; it was nothing short of a thankless task.

Admiral Turbil, however, was full of vigour, oblivious to the confusion and anguish of the senior government officials. Such was the advantage of being the one who had already crossed the river.

“If it comes to a humiliating peace, there’s no doubt I’ll be killed by Tytania, but I shall not die alone. I’ll take a hundred of those self-important politicians in Parliament down with me.”

“Why not blow up the whole Parliament building to smithereens with cannons? Once we’ve gnawed through the tables, all that’s left is to smash up the canteen.”

Lieutenant-Commander Irk took off his cap and fanned his face. He and Rear-Admiral Turville had once been regarded as the cautious, level-headed faction within the Bargash military establishment, but as a result of Lady Fortune’s negligence, they now found themselves forming the most hard-line wing of the anti-Tytania faction.

As the Bargash government had become mired in endless debate and was unable to reach a resolution, it decided to summon anti-Tytania figures, both civil and military, who had been placed under house arrest, such as Admiral Turbil and Fan Hyulick, to the Supreme Council’s Security Committee to hear their views. Naturally, they were all unarmed, with four soldiers assigned to monitor each of them. They ought to count themselves lucky not to have been handcuffed.

After about 500 seconds of perfunctory questioning, the Chairman of the Supreme Council, leaning back in his chair, addressed Hyulick, who remained standing:

“Do you have the confidence to fight Tytania and win?”

It was a question that was crude rather than frank. Fan Hyulick felt under no obligation to satisfy the kind of person who’d hurl such a question at him.

“It depends on the conditions.”

“Conditions… you mean the reward, right?”

Hyulick was dumbfounded by this reaction. It was the sort of remark that would have delighted Mahdi, or maybe it was simply the result of watching crude space-pioneering dramas on 3D Solivision<ref name="ftn20">“3D TV” or “solid TV” (立体ＴＶ) is pronounced “solivision”.</ref> day in day out. Within the sixty-minute slot, complete with adverts, the hero of justice would invariably vanquish the evil aliens. All one had to do was sip a beer and enjoy the action from another world. No harm ever befell those who watch 3D Solivision.

“You are the man who defeated Duke Ariabert Tytania. You must have some sure-win tactic even if the enemy outnumbers you ten to one, right?”

“No such thing exists in this world.”

Hyulick replied with an icy detachment verging on indifference. Even if the Bargash government were dismantled by Tytania and wiped from the cosmos, it might not be all that lamentable in the grand scheme of history. He was even beginning to feel that way.

“So you’re saying you’re going up against Tytania without any prospect of victory?”

Ignoring the Chairman’s exaggeratedly wide-eyed expression, Hyulick replied:

“Duke Ariabert Tytania is a famous general. I won the Battle of Cerberus because I caught him off guard, but I don’t think such a tactic will work a second time.”

This was his true feeling, though it was sprinkled with a few crumbs of acting. He couldn’t afford to have people think he could easily defeat Duke Ariabert in military strategy and tactics by making an enemy of him.

Doctor Lee, his gaze lingering on Hyulick’s profile, interjected casually:

“There is no need for Fan Hyulick to defeat Ariabert Tytania in person. The point is simply that the anti-Tytania faction must defeat Tytania. Am I wrong?”

The fact that he referred to them as the anti-Tytania faction rather than planet Bargash was a sign of Doctor Lee’s cunning, or perhaps his craftiness. Doctor Lee had no intention of promising to secure victory or save Bargash alone.

One of the councillors, who had been casting disapproving glances at Hyulick and the other “irresponsible outsiders”, clenched his fist and slammed it down on the desk, presumably in an attempt to intimidate them.

“This matter is crystal clear. These men should be chained up and taken to Tytania’s headquarters. They are the ones who must bear the responsibility for the war against Tytania. If we simply hand them over, Tytania will not dare to resort to force.”

“The first part of your argument is entirely correct. However, the second part is nothing more than a fool’s fantasy.”

Doctor Lee gave him a failing mark. His expression was that of a sarcastic and merciless interviewer.

“Compromise and concession depend on the other party. Having lost Duke Zarlisch, Tytania cannot restore her prestige unless she completely subjugates your Bargash government. If you take a step back, they will take two steps forward. You can’t possibly fail to understand that. You are merely pretending not to.”

When the councillors fell silent, Doctor Lee also fell quiet, and Amzekar took up the argument in his stead.

===II===
“I am Amzekar, a former soldier of the Vardana Empire. I was defeated by Duke Ariabert.”

Having introduced himself thus without a hint of shame, Amzekar glared at the councillors with a fierce gaze.

“Is there anyone in Bargash who can defeat Ariabert Tytania in battle? None, am I wrong? The only one who can is a foreigner. You must entrust command of your entire army to Fan Hyulick. That is Bargash’s only path to survival.”

With a sneer, one of the councillors countered:

“It is not simply a matter of going to war. The Tytania clan is not a Demon King clan. Even if we were to yield to them, they won’t annihilate us.”

“What have you lot learnt from history? The Vardana Empire was once a great power on a par with the Interstellar City League. But now, it is a colony of the Tytania clan!”

"…"

Surveying the high-ranking officials of the Bargash government as they sank into a silence as dark and heavy as a deep-sea fish, Amzekar sharpened his tongue even further:

“If you surrender to Tytania, you will likely be granted a nominal independence. Tytania does not care about such formalities; they are satisfied as long as there is tangible benefit. The real problem lies with you. The question is whether you can wag your tails while wearing Tytania’s collar and still have the face not to be ashamed of it.”

This scathing metaphor robbed the peace faction of any rebuttal.

“Then let me ask you this: do you stand any chance of winning against Tytania!?” finally shouted the peace faction, cornered.

“What’s the point of fighting without a chance of winning? These exiles are simply trying to drag Bargash into a private feud between themselves and Tytania!”

“That’s quite right,” muttered Doctor Lee in a very low voice, yet with utter brazenness.

It was true that they were attempting to drag Bargash into a war against Tytania for their own sake; they had no defence against being accused of selfishness.

However, from the outset, Fan Hyulick, Doctor Lee and the others had never been apostles of absolute peace, nor heroes of justice; they were merely “liberationists” in the sense that they continued to refuse to be ruled by Tytania. Fully aware that they were in the minority, they knew that in order to continue resisting Tytanian rule, it would certainly be better to have at least a few allies on their side. And so, as a result of a strange puzzle game of chance and necessity, they had set their sights on Bargash.

Bargash, the one they had set their sights on, was a blessing in disguise. But as for Fan Hyulick, he felt like saying, ''“Don’t start whinging at this stage. If you don’t want to grovel before Tytania and beg for mercy, you’ll just have to fight!”'' That said, more than half of that was him talking to himself.

The peace faction shouted once more:

“Do you really think you can face tomorrow without regret, having entrusted the nation’s fate to such a rabble of vagabonds!”

“It is far better to face a tomorrow filled with regret than to die today with a sense of satisfaction,” retorted Admiral Turbil, standing tall with his chest thrust out.

Knowing there was no other recourse, the old military man had completely resigned himself to his fate. At one point, he had even been prepared to take responsibility and take his own life, but even if he had done so, there was no way Tytania would have accepted it and laid down her arms. In that case, there was nothing left but to fight. After all, if Zarlisch Tytania had withdrawn her forces in accordance with Admiral Turbil’s gentlemanly advice, no one would have had to die.

It was also true that there were criticisms levelled at Rear-Admiral Turbil along the lines of, “At his age, he really ought to show a little more restraint.” Political judgement, unlike a sixty-minute space exploration drama packed with adverts, involved various factions engaged in a bitter struggle, each clinging to their own subjective sense of righteousness and possessing reasons to reject the claims of the other side. In this instance, both the pro-peace and pro-war factions in Bargash regarding Tytania believed themselves to be historically in the right and were convinced they must prevent the opposing camp from leading their homeland in the wrong direction.

However, the reason their footing occasionally wavered was, ultimately, because they feared Tytania’s power. It was precisely because of this fear that one side sought peace, while the other yearned for liberation from oppressive rule, and so the conflict had continued.

Amidst this unresolved conflict, chilling news arrived from Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who was still staying at Uraniborg.

“It is said that the Tytanian Army, under the overall command of Duke Ariabert, is planning to mobilise at least twenty thousand vessels.”

“T-twenty thousand!?”

The Chairman turned pale and lost his voice.

Although Tytania’s total naval strength was said to be 100,000 vessels, there had been no instance in the past quarter-century of a force exceeding 10,000 ships being mobilised. If they were now mobilising 20,000 vessels, one had to recognise the intensity of Tytania’s resolve.

“I-it’s just a bluff. Mobilising a large army doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Isn’t it like the old saying, just ‘a big murder of crows<ref name="ftn21">烏合の衆 is an expression that literally means “a numerous murder of crows” and refers to a large group of people that is uncontrollable, disorganised, and makes a lot of noise… like a big murder of crows.</ref>’?”

“Hoh? Are you calling the elite forces of Tytania, commanded by Duke Ariabert, a big murder of crows?”

With considerable malice, Doctor Lee used sharp words to pierce through his opponent’s bluster.

“That is reassuring. In that case, it would be utterly presumptuous of us to even consider cooperating with the Bargash army. Please do repel Tytania with your own strength alone. We shall pray for your victory.”

Having thoroughly tormented the Chairman’s nerves, lungs, stomach and heart, the group took their leave.

They believed they had made good use of the time allotted to them, but no sooner had they returned to their lodgings than they were confronted with an unexpected danger. One can never tell what a cornered herbivore might do when it flies into a rage; on this day, it was a faction of the peace camp that had lost all rationality upon learning of Tytania’s plan to mobilise twenty thousand vessels. Deeming Fan Hyulick and his faction to be the root of all evil, they organised a demonstration, and some fifty of them, armed with firearms, stormed the quarters.

They filled the ground-floor hall to capacity; with so few of them and no weapons, it seemed Hyulick and his companions had no means of defending themselves. However…

“You fools! Do you not understand the way of the world?” bellowed Fan Hyulick, looking down at the hall from the atrium on the first floor.

Channelling all his energy into his voice and his gaze, he glared at the storming mob. The mob were intimidated and halted their advance.

“Do you really think Tytania fears Bargash’s military might? I am the one she fears. The only man to have ever defeated Duke Ariabert.”

He thumped his chest. He was well aware it was a cheap act, but he was certainly risking his life. The rioters flinched and exchanged glances. Seizing the moment, Hyulick pressed his advantage.

“If you so much as lay a finger on me, Tytania will immediately invade Bargash with a massive army. Since Bargash will be destroying its own protective walls with its own hands, there could be nothing more welcome to Tytania. What you are about to do is playing right into Tytania’s hands!”

The rioters let out groans. Ninety-nine per cent of those who commit such acts of violence are convinced they are ardent and sincere patriots. Accused of aiding the enemy, they were thrown into a state of agitation and confusion.

“You there! How much did Tytania pay you to sell out your homeland!?”

It was Mahdi who suddenly shouted this, jabbing his finger at one of the rioters. On the spur of the moment, he too had joined in with Hyulick’s act. The man he pointed at was a young man of medium height; his face remained contorted, and he could not bring himself to utter a word of protest. This was, of course, not because the facts had been pointed out, but because he had been falsely accused of an outrageous crime.

“W-we’re not like that. We have our country’s best interests at heart…”

While he struggled to defend himself, Lieutenant-Commander Irk arrived with his men and scattered the mob. Had they opened fire the moment they spotted Hyulick and his companions, they might well have achieved their original objective; it was a pitiful affair that they had been driven off by mere words. Doctor Lee thanked Lieutenant-Commander Irk and clapped ostentatiously for Fan Hyulick and Mahdi.

“Well, that was quite the performance. The two of you could make a living as a comedy duo.”

“Say whatever you want.”

A sudden torrent of sweat broke out on his skin, and Fan Hyulick slumped back into his chair. Mahdi slumped into the chair beside him and shrugged his shoulders.

“It wasn’t even a single dakar’s worth of acting, yet I got carried away. We’ve got through today, but what are we going to do from tomorrow?”

“I suppose the Bargash government will decide that for us.”

Doctor Lee’s prediction had proved accurate. The Bargash government had finally made its decision. It had been forced to do so.

“Now that it has come to this, there is no other course of action. We should grant Fan Hyulick and his men a certain degree of military authority and allow them to participate in the fighting, while also forming an alliance with the various nations and factions that harbour animosity towards Tytania to tackle this crisis.”

A Grand Alliance against Tytania! It was a plan that countless strategists and diplomats had yearned for and dreamt of ceaselessly over the past two centuries.

The reason it had been conceived only to falter midway through implementation was due to Tytania’s cunning political and military manoeuvres, and also because the Grand Alliance itself could not avoid the fragility inherent in a coalition of disparate interests. If A sought to seize the initiative, B would push back; if C asserted its own interests within the Grand Alliance, D would obstruct it. Should Tytania prick that vulnerability with a needle, the sandcastle would collapse in an instant.

Yet, fully aware of the difficulties, or rather, left with no other choice, Bargash had no option but to pursue the Grand Alliance. Thus, once Bargash’s political and military strategy had finally been established, Hyulick, Lee, Amzekar, Mr and Mrs Casimir, Mahdi, Pagès, and Walenkov were incorporated into Rear-Admiral Turbil’s forces as temporary staff officers.

===III===
Although not quite as boisterous as in Bargash, rumours were rife even at Uraniborg, the headquarters of Tytania.

“Duke Jouslain is well-regarded for his political acumen, but how does he fare as a commander in actual combat? He’s unlikely to measure up to Duke Ariabert or the late Duke Zarlisch.”

“However, since Duke Zarlisch’s passing, Duke Ariabert has been the crown jewel of the Tytanian Army. Before he sets out on campaign, might Tytania not dispatch some other commander instead?”

“What about Duke Idris?”

“…About him. For the time being, rather than commanding a large army, that gentleman’s more pressing task is probably keeping his younger brother in check.”

The remark ended in a quiet chuckle. Idris had never been a figure of immense trust and respect to begin with, but his standing had diminished further because of his unworthy younger brother, Radmoth. Public opinion clearly blamed Radmoth and sympathised with Balamy, who had been exiled to the planet Tyron.

Radmoth, having finally had his house arrest lifted, went to visit his elder brother.

“Brother, I intend to do my utmost in everything so as not to bring shame upon you as your younger brother.”

“How very commendable. Work hard and do your very best.”

There was no trace of brotherly affection in Idris’ voice. Even if Radmoth were banished to a frontier even more remote than that of Balamy, it would not cause Idris the slightest pang of conscience. Whether he was aware of his brother’s true feelings or not, Radmoth spoke in an earnest tone, saying:

“I have a request. When Lord Ariabert sets out on campaign, I would like to be allowed to serve as a staff officer.”

Facing Idris, who raised his eyebrows without a word, Radmoth continued:

“I’m not asking for anything extravagant. Being a senior ''aide-de-camp'' or a chief of staff would do. In any case, I want the chance to earn military honours on this campaign.”

Idris’ reaction was one of utter insincerity: “A senior ''aide-de-camp'' or a chief of staff would do?” The nerve to spout such nonsense! It struck Idris that Radmoth seemed to be under the impression that these two posts were particularly easy roles. He lowered his raised eyebrows and turned the conversation back to him:

“Radmoth, I believe I granted you the position of Commander of the Vardana Guard the other day. It is a prestigious post that any Imperial soldier would covet. What on earth have you done with that position?”

Faced with his elder brother’s stern words, it was Radmoth who fell silent this time. Neither his features nor his build suggested he was a seventeen-year-old boy; he was brimming with a kind of ferocious vigour, to the extent that Idris himself appeared frail by comparison. His sullen silence gave the impression not so much of fear as of petulance.

“If you were not of the Tytania clan, there would have been no way you could have attained such a prominent post at the age of seventeen. You ought to be fully aware of this, conduct yourself with due respect, fulfil your duties properly, and ensure you do not invite the censure of others. Yet to get into a brawl with the likes of Balamy and incur the displeasure of His Clanner Highness. What utter folly!”

As he spoke, Idris’ anger grew. As his younger brother, Radmoth ought to understand his elder brother’s ambitions and cooperate to help achieve them; yet, instead, he was trying to hold Idris back.

One of the reasons Idris had looked down upon Zarlisch during his lifetime was that he had been unable to keep even his own younger brother, Arses, under control. Yet, upon reflection, Idris himself was at a loss as to how to deal with his unworthy younger brother. The more he recognised this fact, the more he found himself unable to suppress a bitter rage.

Had Radmoth’s calibre and ability surpassed Idris’, the ducal title would have fallen into Radmoth’s hands. The standard of judgement for the Clanner of Tytania was to prioritise talent over seniority. In that sense, Idris ought to be grateful that Radmoth lacked talent, but it would be even more troublesome if his utter incompetence and lack of judgement were to hold his brother back.

“When I was seventeen, I had far more resolve and a greater sense of responsibility. I strove to prove myself worthy of being a member of one of the Five Families of Tytania.”

As Idris paused briefly, Radmoth looked back at his elder brother with a strangely intense gaze.

“If I were to become head of the ducal house, I’d make at least that much of an effort.”

“What? Such impertinence!”

As his brother shouted angrily, Radmoth fell silent once more, his eyes alone gleaming.

Suddenly, Idris felt a chill run down his spine. His younger brother, Radmoth, seemed to him like some unidentifiable monster. Though he was his own brother, this was a man capable of running amok, disregarding common sense and restraint. The other day, it had merely been a fistfight with Viscount Balamy, but there was a possibility he might eventually cause trouble on a much larger scale.

If that were the case, maybe losing his position as Commander of the Royal Guard was actually a stroke of good fortune? Not for Radmoth, but for Idris. Perhaps it would be for the best to send Radmoth to serve on Ariabert’s campaign, as he himself wished, and shift the responsibility for supervising him onto Ariabert.

Below Radmoth, Idris has one younger brother and two younger sisters. His youngest brother, Zelpha, respected his eldest brother and was of good character, but at merely twelve years old, he was still too young to assist his elder brother. It seemed that for the next five years or so, Idris would have no choice but to shoulder the responsibilities of the family alone.

Idris’ pride would not allow him to bow his head to Ariabert and ask for his younger brother’s appointment. In that case, there was only one course of action.

Idris sought an audience with Clanner Ajman and implored him to grant Radmoth an opportunity to clear his name. Ajman fixed Idris with a piercing gaze but nodded silently and promised to convey the matter to Ariabert. The following day, Idris heard that Ariabert had said the following:

“I hear that Baron Radmoth is a valiant young man, if not the most courteous. Should he distinguish himself in battle, he might well achieve a reputation that surpasses even that of Lord Idris, his elder brother. I hope he will do his best.”

These words spurred Idris in a negative direction. He brooded sullenly, though not for long, and in the end withdrew his petition to have Radmoth join the expedition. Ariabert feigned disappointment, though this was nothing more than a superficial pretence.

“It seems to have turned out well. I am glad I sought Lord Jouslain’s counsel.”

Ariabert thanked his adviser, and Jouslain nodded with a wry smile.

Ariabert was about to command his first large army and embark on an all-out war against Bargash. Just as he was preparing to devote all his wisdom and power to planning and executing the campaign, he could not bear to have the front lines disrupted by a member of his own clan, someone like Radmoth who lacked both foresight and a spirit of cooperation.

He could have flatly refused Radmoth’s request to join the war, but that would have subtly undermined morale before the outbreak of hostilities. Ariabert consulted Jouslain and, following Jouslain’s advice, managed to appeal to Idris’ complex feelings towards Radmoth.

“It must be quite a burden for Lord Idris, too, having to deal with a good-for-nothing brother. Well, I wonder if Lord Radmoth will be satisfied with this?”

Jouslain could not help but reflect on the weight and taint of the blood they bore.

===IV===
On their father’s side, Ariabert and Jouslain were first cousins of the same age. This was recorded as such in the official genealogy. No other facts were acknowledged. Yet there existed a bloodline that would never be officially recognised.

Tytania was, in essence, a system of power dominated by blood ties; should the bloodline die out, the system would collapse. Consequently, alongside customs such as marriage between blood relatives and adoption, there were also many unofficial instances of childless couples resorting to extreme measures to achieve conception. It was not uncommon for the legitimate son of House A to be, in fact, the genetic son of the head of House B within the span of eight generations of the Clanner. When the rule of the bloodline elevated the single principle of “not letting the bloodline die out” to an absolute justice, it bred a murky folly that left ordinary citizens speechless.

Ariabert was even more averse than Jouslain to discussing his private life with others. As he was no saint, it was certain that he had one or more mistresses, but even Jouslain knew nothing beyond the rumours.

Jouslain himself had no interest in the amorous affairs of others; if he took any notice of the relationship between Idris and Theodora, it was purely in a political context. Even so, Jouslain sarcastically observed that Idris had his hands full of his younger brother Radmoth and his mistress, Theodora, who were both rather turbulent characters.

When Ariabert visited Jouslain’s flat to thank him for his assistance with the matter of Baron Radmoth, he brought along some peach ''bavarois'' and ''éclairs'' for Princess Lydia.

“I don’t really understand women’s tastes, but I wonder if the princess will be pleased with these?”

The young Tytanian commander handed the box of sweets to Francia and clinked glasses of whisky with Jouslain. Naturally, the conversation turned to the upcoming campaign. As far as military tactics were concerned, Ariabert’s prediction was clear:

“Bargash will likely entrust Van Hyulick’s faction with a certain degree of authority as mercenaries. However, unless he assumes overall command of the Bargash army, Tytania will not be defeated. Even if we concede ground in local skirmishes, we will undoubtedly prevail in the grand scheme of things.”

After pausing for a moment, Ariabert added quietly,

“Overwhelmingly so.”

Jouslain did not regard those words as exaggerated. Ariabert was not the sort of man to indulge in empty boasts; the gap between his track record and his confidence was remarkably narrow. Although he had once been defeated by Fan Hyulick, Clanner Ajman’s trust in his consistent military prowess had never wavered.

After about an hour, Ariabert took his leave. In the few hours before he went to bed, he would no doubt continue to refine his tactics, racking his brains to the limit to work out how best to manoeuvre his troops.

“Duke Ariabert is a fine man.”

It was not merely because she had been given some sweets, but Princess Lydia spoke with genuine admiration. Jouslain naturally agreed with the Princess’ assessment, but what pleased him most was that his personal judgement of the man coincided with hers. However intelligent he might be, the fact that he placed himself on the same level as a ten-year-old child was undoubtedly a peculiar aspect of Jouslain’s character.

While the practical responsibility for the large-scale mobilisation rests on Ajman’s shoulders, Clanner Ajman, as the ruler of all Tytania, also had to approve various matters. Amidst a wide range of duties, including personnel matters, organisational structure, supplies, and court intrigues in Vardana, Ajman, accompanied by Count Elman, inspected the facilities at the military spaceport. Count Elman had come to report on the matter of repatriating Corvin, Bargash’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.

Gazing down at the vessels in the spaceport over the high railing, Ajman addressed his escort:

“Count Elman, having visited Uraniborg for the first time in a while, I trust you have gained some valuable insights.”

“May I speak my mind?”

“By all means, do so.”

“Then, with all due respect, it is my humble opinion that the future of Tytania will be guided by the cooperative relationship between Duke Ariabert and Duke Jouslain.”

“So Duke Ariabert will conquer the outside world, while Duke Jouslain governs the realm from within?”

“Precisely.”

Count Elman’s reply, which seemed to put on an air of insight, appeared to put the Clanner in a sarcastic mood.

“But as the saying goes, two heroes cannot stand side by side. If the two share the people’s trust, a faction will form. And once a faction forms, petty men will seek to exploit its power to stir up conflict.”

“That would indeed be unfortunate for Tytania. Therefore, undermining the cooperative relationship between the two of them would surely become a matter of urgency for ambitious people with anti-Tytania sentiments.”

“Ambitious people? Surely such men do not exist solely outside Tytania?”

A smile like a blade played at the corners of the Clanner’s mouth. A blade that was both cold and thick.

“What of Lord Idris? As far as I can see, his ambition and obsession with the Clanner’s throne surpass even that of the other two dukes.”

There was a slight pause before he replied.

“With all due respect, Your Clanner Highness, I must say I agree with your observation.”

He said no more. He did not voice his own opinion.

Ajman cast a glance at the face of Count Elman, who sat below him. The smile he now displayed resembled the thin blade of a rusty razor. Count Elman even felt a physical pang of pain.

“Never mind. It concerns matters after my death, after all.”

Had anyone else uttered such words, they would surely have been regarded as the height of ill omen and disrespect. This was freedom of speech permitted only to Ajman.

“The great river of time contains many waterfalls. In the space of just a year or two, the situation may change dramatically, ushering in a new era beyond imagination. Those who cannot keep up will have no choice but to drown.”

The Clanner walked across the well-polished floor. His gait was full of power and authority, yet accompanied by an elegance reminiscent of a feline predator. Keeping a distance of about seven paces behind the Clanner, Count Elman wore a blank expression. The Clanner knew that this was proof that the Count was deep in thought. He knew it with such precision as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Count Elman.”

“Yes, what is the matter, Your Clanner Highness?”

“Accompany Lord Ariabert. When he accepts the enemy’s terms of peace, assist him in his capacity as a diplomatic adviser.”

“As you wish.”

The count bowed respectfully, and the sound of the Clanner’s footsteps faded away beyond his head.

===V===
Mid-December. Viscount Balamy Tytania found himself on the surface of planet Tyron. While there were variations in temperature depending on latitude and altitude, it was, on the whole, a planet with high humidity, and a chill dampness pressed against the young man’s cheek like a wet palm.

Walking out of the spaceport gate, on his ninth step, Balamy came face to face with a fellow counsellor who had come to greet him.

“You must be Viscount Balamy Tytania, who has taken up the post as counsellor.”

“That is correct. Have you come to welcome me?”

By the time he replied, he had steeled himself. The person who had addressed him was a woman, though she lacked both youth and beauty. A thin, pale woman in her forties, she lacked physical beauty, yet her small grey eyes seemed to brim with intelligence. To the young Balamy, she would hardly be the object of romantic affection, but she might well be someone worthy of trust. At the very least, Tytania should not be the sort of organisation where an incompetent woman with no public support could hold such a key post as counsellor.

But that would only be the case for someone who did not bear the surname Tytania. As he climbed into the ground vehicle, Balamy thought this with bitterness. There was the fact that a foolish and brutish young man like Baron Radmoth Tytania had risen to become Commander of the Vardana Imperial Guard simply because of his family name. Was this not the first step towards decadence and corruption?

“If it had been Duke Idris, that might have been one thing, but to be lumped together with the likes of Baron Radmoth? Was that all the Clanner thought of me?”

A sense of humiliation seared through his nervous system like hot grease. His cheeks flushed, and the female councillor seated beside him cast a discreet sidelong glance his way.

The ground vehicle was driven by a non-commissioned officer in a grey uniform. Power did not lie in mechanisation or automation, but in the deployment of greater manpower. Tytania wielded the greatest power in the cosmos and was, consequently, the cosmos’ largest employer.

The ground vehicle wound its way gently through the city streets, heading towards Tytania’s Tyron Representative Office.

“That is the Interstellar City League’s kontor.”

The female counsellor pointed with her bony finger at a majestic edifice featuring a high wall of Tyron sandstone and a massive iron gate. The gate faced a square paved with permeable ceramic tiles, while the building at the front displayed a string of lights from its windows, glistening like jewels. There were so many of these jewels that it was impossible to count them at a glance; they stretched to the left and right, continuing into the depths of the building, all framed by the outlines of several other structures. Amidst the rapidly deepening twilight, its grandeur made a powerful impression on Balamy’s vision.

“It’s a city in its own right,” he marvelled, though deep down, Balamy harboured a different impression.

This magnificent urban structure spoke not so much of the Interstellar City League’s authority as of its vulnerability on this planet.

Looking back at the history of humankind on Earth in ancient times, one finds examples where it was often the rulers of fallen nations, rather than those of powerful states, who built sturdy fortresses. They could not ensure their safety unless they barricaded themselves within high, thick walls. Traditionally, the inhabitants of planet Tyron were said to be unfriendly towards the Interstellar City League. Consequently, the fundamental stance of the Tyron government and its people towards Tytania had been one of benevolent neutrality.

“Viscount Balamy, you are sure to become the darling of Tyron’s high society in no time. I expect that, before the year is out, dozens of local dignitaries will be vying to offer their daughters to you.”

“I look forward to it,” replied Balamy in a voice devoid of both enthusiasm and sincerity.

For a Tytanian noble, it was one way of life. To marry the daughter of a local dignitary, attain wealth and influence on that planet, and live out one’s days in leisure.

But that did not sit well with Balamy’s values. To burn slowly and gently over time, turning from warm ashes into cold ones. If that were another’s way of life, he would have no intention of interfering, but if it were to be forced upon Balamy himself, he would resist it even at the cost of his life, choosing instead a way of life that burns with such intensity it eventually explodes.

''“I shall ensure you return to Uraniborg as soon as possible,” ''had said Duke Jouslain. Could he really be trusted? Ever since being banished from Uraniborg, the sense of loneliness, his sole companion, sounded a faint whistle of suspicion. Could it be that, to Duke Jouslain, Balamy was nothing more than a nuisance?

Seated in the gently rolling ground carriage, Balamy remained silent, and the female councillor sitting beside him, perhaps sensing something too, made no move to speak.

“War has broken out! War has broken out!”

But suddenly, a shrill voice staggered into his ears.

“Tytania and Bargash have plunged into all-out war! The Emperor of Vardana has declared war on Bargash!”

A man was shouting on a street corner, his fingertip pointing at the screen of a street-side news TV. Citizens exchanged glances and quickened their pace, flocking towards the TV.

Balamy tapped the back of the driver’s seat to bring the ground vehicle to a halt. He stepped out. He had taken two or three steps towards the crowd when the female councillor called out to him. She explained that if he went to the Tytania delegation, he would be able to obtain far more comprehensive and accurate information than from the street TVs. After a moment’s hesitation, Balamy nodded and began to turn on his heel.

Suddenly, an extraordinary sense of breathlessness seized Balamy. He took several deep, ragged breaths and closed his eyes. His sense of balance faltered slightly, and Balamy found himself on one knee on the ground. A non-commissioned officer cried out and tried to help his young superior to his feet, but Balamy brushed his hand aside and remained in that position for a while. The non-commissioned officer seemed to think it might be anaemia, but it was not.

He knew the reason. Or, at least, he felt he knew it. It was the opposite of anaemia. It was an excess of blood. The blood of Tytania, swirling and coursing through Balamy’s veins, yearned to leave the planet’s surface and soar into space, surging like the tide. At this very moment when Tytania and Bargash were on the brink of all-out war, what a bitter disappointment it must be to be chained to a remote planet far from the heart of the cosmos.

''“The Universe exists along with Tytania.”''

So boasted the founder, Neville. The phrasing was of little consequence. It was only within the vast ocean of stars that the blood of Tytania could find fulfilment. Just as birds are not creatures of the earth, so too is the Tytania clan not a race of the earth. Balamy felt this truth with every fibre of his being.

At last, Balamy sat up and gazed at the night sky, a thin trickle of sweat glistening on his brow. The Milky Way, like white sand, cast a bewitching band across the heavens. He had to return to the depths of that night sky as soon as possible. With every passing moment, the blood within his body would grow thinner. He was a Tytanian, and to remain so, he required the very existence of the cosmos.

SY 446 was drawing to a close amidst turmoil and chaos. It seemed likely that the fleets of both the Tytania clan and the Republic of Bargash would clash head-on as the New Year’s bells rang out.

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Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8

2026-10-03T12:28:17Z

Bob Morane: /* Chapter 8 – The Three Remaining Cards */

Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7

2026-10-03T12:27:50Z

Bob Morane: /* Chapter 7 – Conflict */

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</noinclude>
==Chapter 7 – Conflict==
===I===
There was just one person who had foreseen this turn of events. No, that person was the very one who had orchestrated it. Before reaching this location, Doctor Lee sent a communication to the military headquarters on planet Bargash, informing them that the Tytania was about to engage in combat within Bargash territory. Of course, there must also have been reports from patrol vessels; as a result, over a hundred points of light appeared in the sky as the last glimmer of the setting sun faded.

“The Bargash Regular Army!”

The watch officer’s<ref name="ftn14">“Reconnaissance officer” (索敵士官) is pronounced “watcher”.</ref> cry filled the bridge, and a low murmur rose amongst the crew of Zarlisch’s flagship, the ''Typhoon''. It was neither fear nor even tension. With very few exceptions, Zarlisch’s men had absolute faith in their lord’s valour and their own military might.

“Well, I’m surprised. It seems the Bargash government is serious about taking us on.”

“Good grief, they really ought to be more honest with themselves. They shouldn’t go out of their way to provoke a tiger just for the sake of their petty pride.”

While the staff officers vied with one another in their derision, only two remained silent: Zarlisch himself and Commander Granite.

Before the wave of mockery had subsided, the communications officer spoke up. A message had come in from the Bargash military requesting negotiations.

“I am Rear-Admiral Turbil of the Bargash Regular Army. If His Grace Duke Zarlisch Tytania happens to be present, I request to speak with him.”

The Bargash commander who appeared on the communications screen stated this solemnly. He was a man in his sixties with streaks of white hair on either side of his head and gave the impression of an elderly university professor rather than a military officer. Although Zarlisch’s expression blatantly conveyed his distaste for such roundabout discussions, he did not refuse and agreed to the request.

Admiral Turbil, in a polite manner, asked the Tytanians to withdraw.

“Bargash is an independent nation, however small it may be. We have always endeavoured to maintain goodwill and courtesy towards Tytania; I wonder if that has failed to be understood?”

“It is you whom I would ask to show understanding. We have no intention of any hostilities against Bargash. Our sole aim is to apprehend a public enemy who disrupts the order of the cosmos. We are not forcing you to cooperate. We merely ask that you stand by and watch. Can you not even grant us that much?”

“If disrupting the cosmic order is a crime, then what Tytania is currently doing here must also be a crime. You are disrupting the legal order of our nation. Do you not agree, Duke Zarlisch?”

“It appears that there is no room for discussion.”

Spitting out these words with displeasure, Zarlisch signalled to the artillery officer. It was an order to fire a warning shot, and it was carried out immediately.

Over fifty gun barrels roared in unison. The decision to use projectiles rather than energy beams had been made specifically to maximise the intimidating effect of the noise. Hundreds of projectiles were fired into the ground directly beneath the stationary Bargash fleet, exploding and sending up a torrent of flame, smoke, debris and deafening roar.

The night, which should have been silent, was invaded by a deluge of light and sound, torn to countless fragments. The atmosphere, now a riot of primary colours, swirled as a heatwave, causing the Bargash fleet’s vessels to sway. Yet this did not prompt a retreat, nor did their formation break.

“The Bargash fleet shows no sign of retreat.”

“Very well, that’s enough. I must say, we’ve shown remarkable patience.”

Baring his strong, white teeth, Zarlisch laughed and rose from his command seat. A command, brimming with power, was issued.

“Ignore the Bargash army and the like. They are nothing but cowards who merely hurl accusations from afar. Pay them no mind and carry out your original orders.”

This bellicose order further galvanised almost all of his subordinates. There were even shouts of jubilation.

As about ten ships from the Tytania Fleet, carrying ground combat personnel, began to descend, the other vessels also lowered their altitude slightly and trained their guns on the Bargash Fleet. They intended to provide operational support for their sister ships. Naturally, this manoeuvre was clearly visible to the Bargash side as well.

“It appears that Tytania has removed the term ‘peaceful resolution’ from its dictionary,” muttered Admiral Turbil, looking disheartened.

“Those who consider themselves strong seem to take pride in breaking the laws through the use of force. It cannot be helped.”

The elderly admiral shook his head, then composed himself and addressed his subordinates.

“You must resign yourselves to the misfortune of having served under my command. As a military officer of Bargash, I cannot stand idly by while Bargash’s laws are broken by force of arms. We shall engage Tytania!”

A current of tension ran through the staff. Unlike the men under Zarlisch Tytania, they did not place unconditional faith in their own strength.

“But Admiral, Tytania has not yet opened fire on our forces. If we launch a preemptive strike, Bargash itself will be held responsible for starting the war in the following days.”

A young staff officer in his early thirties raised that objection, his face pale. Meeting the old admiral’s gaze, he pressed his argument further.

“Moreover, this man named Fan Hyulick, who is being pursued by Tytania, is not even a citizen of Bargash. To plunge the nation into civil strife for the sake of a mere foreigner is, with all due respect, the height of overstepping one’s authority; I would ask you to exercise restraint.”

“Well said, Lieutenant-Commander Irk.”

Rear-Admiral Turbil did not grow angry; on the contrary, he praised his subordinate. The old admiral believed that the existence of those who opposed the decision to go to war was a sign of the organisation’s soundness. This might suggest that Turbil’s way of thinking was not that of a typical military man.

Be that as it may, neither Turbil nor Irk had the leisure to expound on their views any further. The screen emitted a white light, and a shockwave of unprecedented magnitude shook the fleet. A Bargash destroyer, which had approached in an attempt to disrupt Tytania’s descent operation, had collided with a Tytania destroyer that had moved out into its path; upon witnessing this, another Tytania vessel had finally opened fire.

Thus, hostilities finally broke out between the Tytania clan and the Bargash government. This occurred in October SY 446, and it marked the first instance of armed conflict between these two sides in history.

It cannot be said that sparks of regret did not flicker deep within Zarlisch Tytania’s thick chest. Yet that flame burnt out in less than a half-instant, replaced by a seething explosion of defiant victory and a thirst for destruction. For him, the Bargash government forces were no longer mere obstructions but full-fledged enemies.

“Let our ground forces slaughter those vermin and capture Fan Hyulick. Command is entrusted to Captain Atlasov. As for the fleet…”

Zarlisch’s figure seemed as though his fierce spirit were rising like a heat haze. Even if the enemy were a hare, to strike it with all one’s might is surely the mark of a lion.

“The fleet will annihilate those presumptuous fools from Bargash head-on. Commodore Salamanca’s group is to climb to cut off their escape route upwards. Commodore Veichter’s group is to advance clockwise and launch a flanking attack. Thereafter, upon receiving your orders, you shall proceed to engage each enemy vessel individually.”

The fact that he was able to issue such a complex set of operational orders in such a short space of time meant that, as a combat commander, Zarlisch was far from mediocre. Commander Granite could not help but acknowledge this.

Following Zarlisch’s orders, the Tytanian fleet began to act as if it were a single organism with a unified nervous system. To be precise, the Tytanian fleet numbered 220 vessels, vastly outnumbering the Bargash fleet’s 160. For Zarlisch, accustomed to commanding large armies, this was a force so small that counting them would have been a trivial task; nevertheless, it was a numerical advantage over the enemy, allowing him to direct the operation with ease.

Meanwhile, the Bargash fleet had no choice but to engage the enemy, gripped by dread. The Tytania fleet’s main force held the Bargash fleet’s front while extending one flank upwards and the other to the left in an attempt to encircle them.

The countermeasure Admiral Turbil devised on the spot was to retreat while fighting. This was his only option, and an extremely dangerous one at that. There were countless examples where a tactical retreat had led directly to a full-blown rout. However, Admiral Turbil appeared to have complete control over his forces; he skilfully countered the Tytanian manoeuvres to maintain the distance between the two sides, demonstrating exquisite timing in his retreat and return fire, thereby preventing the encirclement from being completed.

The tactical manoeuvring between the two sides continued for about half an hour, but it was enough to test Zarlisch’s patience. He ordered his direct command units to advance rapidly. The plan was to descend and rain fire upon the enemy fleet from a low angle of fire, then coordinate with Commodore Salamanca’s forces, who were moving upwards, to pincer the enemy from above and below. While not necessarily a flawed tactic, this order led to fateful consequences.

Zarlisch Tytania paid no heed to the past of the adversary he was pursuing. He took no interest in such trivialities as what Fan Hyulick had been doing before he became Tytania’s public enemy. Consequently, he overlooked the following entry in Fan’s service record: ''“Former artillery officer”''.

It was because this artillery specialist had devised and executed artillery tactics that defied conventional wisdom that Duke Ariabert Tytania, who was neither a mediocre nor a foolish commander, was defeated by Fan Hyulick. Zarlisch had forgotten the lesson taught just a few months earlier. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that he had never taken it seriously in the first place.

Just as Zarlisch, leading a fleet of forty escort vessels, was gliding at low altitude to launch an attack from directly beneath the Bargash fleet, a violent shock rocked his flagship. Desert sand and debris spewed upwards, and a massive fork of flame pierced the ship’s hull.

“…In the sand!”

As fragments of a scream pierced his ears, Zarlisch realised the truth. The pirates’ vessels had been lurking in the sand and had opened fire from below just as the Tytania fleet was passing at low altitude. One of the pirates’ ships had been abandoned on the sand, and Zarlisch had ordered it destroyed as a show of force. This, in short, was the end of the ''Honest Old Man'', but from Tytania’s perspective, they should have been suspicious that there was only a single ship of theirs. No, there were those who did harbour suspicions, but the Bargash Fleet arrived at that very moment, and they were forced to prioritise dealing with them.

A number of factors had intertwined like fine threads to weave the current situation; had either Fan Hyulick or Doctor Lee been present alone, such an ingenious stratagem would never have come to fruition.

“Engine room damaged!”

The voice over the comms was drowned out by the roar of explosions, while alarms warning of danger assaulted their ears with a shrill, hysterical wail.

A barrage of fire from the Bargash forces rained down upon Zarlisch’s flagship, the ''Typhoon''. Concentrating fire on the enemy flagship was a natural tactical move. Fireballs of varying sizes exploded in several places on the hull, and the metal and ceramic armour peeled away like a thin film.

“What a disgrace!”

Zarlisch gritted his teeth. The bridge’s floor and walls trembled as if in a fever, while the alarms rang out, tearing at his nerves. It was a dramatic turn of events that he could not have imagined even a minute ago.

The walls were bursting and spewing out tongues of bluish-white sparks as the power circuits triggered a chain reaction of explosions. The Tytania Fleet held its breath as it watched the flagship, reeling in the dark sky, descend while emitting an ominous red and blue glow.

“The flagship! Lord Zarlisch!”

As a scream rippled through the Tytanian communications network, the flame-spewing flagship ''Typhoon'' lost its ability to levitate; deprived of control over its speed and balance, it had been reduced to a metal drunkard.

“Land it!” roared Zarlisch. There could be no other order. Since the atmosphere of the planet Bargash could not support the ship’s hull, it had to be supported by the crust itself.

More akin to a sinking than a descent, the flagship ''Typhoon'' approached the surface helplessly, its surroundings filled with bursts of energy. The Bargash Fleet targeted the flagship, while the Tytania Fleet attempted to hinder the descent, concentrating their fire on the confined airspace. The atmosphere had turned into a hot, murky soup of energy, on the verge of boiling over. Amidst the sandstorm and scorching winds, the ''Typhoon'' descended, its hull writhing in agony as it was tossed about until it finally came to rest.

Scattering vast quantities of sand and a wisp of smoke into the heart of the night, Zarlisch’s flagship crashed to the ground. Had the shock-absorption system not been activated, the majority of the crew would have perished at that very moment. Yet survival came at the price of agony. Amidst the screams and groans of pain that assaulted their ears, Zarlisch’s command, still brimming with authority, thundered out, overwhelming those around him.

“Evacuate urgently! It’s going to explode!”

A gash across his forehead had torn through the thin skin, and the flow of blood stained half the giant’s face. The suffocating smoke overwhelmed the ventilation system’s capacity, assaulting the crew’s lungs and airways. The sound of violent coughing mingled with the screams, becoming part of the frenzied cacophony of chaos. From the three emergency exits in the hull, figures in grey military uniforms poured out one after another.

Zarlisch surely deserved the admiration of all. Despite being wounded himself, he had rescued two of his men. Carrying one on his left shoulder and gripping the other by the belt, the imposing man with the magnificent beard strode purposefully towards the exit. That sight instilled in his men a courage filled with almost religious elation. Indeed, just before the evacuation, the signals officer relayed the following message to the entire force:

“Lord Zarlisch is alive and well. Therefore, Tytania stands firm. To my comrades, I say: Do not lose heart.”

As emotion overpowered reason, an unexpected reaction ensued. While the Tytanian forces sought to rescue Zarlisch, the Bargash forces, upon learning that their enemy commander was still alive, moved towards the surface in an attempt to eliminate him.

The Tytanian fleet had brought this disadvantage upon itself. As they attempted to descend, enemy fire concentrated on them from above. Explosions and smoke spread overhead as Zarlisch and his men began to run across the ground, and a rain of fire and shrapnel rained down upon them.

The Bargash forces capitalised on their momentum. It had been a battle with little hope of victory. However, the fact that Zarlisch had been rendered incapable of commanding sent them into a state of utter frenzy. They had now cast their tactical retreat far into the past; showering the enemy with fierce artillery and gunfire to heighten their confusion, they sent one ship after another up in flames.

“Your Grace! Admiral! If it appears that we have colluded with the anti-Tytania faction, it will put us at a disadvantage later on. Please hold off on the attack,” advised Lieutenant-Commander Irk.

In response, the elderly admiral, who resembled a university professor, did not say, ''“Oh, well said.”'' Glancing over his shoulder at the staff officer who was about to leave, he bellowed:

“Enough, you little coward! Preaching caution at a time like this is of no use whatsoever. We must launch a resolute, all-out attack. Charge! Charge!”

It was as though the university professor had suddenly transformed into a pirate chieftain. Ignoring Lieutenant-Commander Irk, who stood rooted to the spot, speechless, Rear-Admiral Turbil slammed his cap onto the floor and let out a frenzied cry.

“Come on, take out the cruiser at two o’clock! Can’t you see how flustered they are? I’m telling you to concentrate your fire on the main turret!”

“…Goodness, so this is his true nature? I always thought of him as a dignified old gentleman, but it seems he’s actually a hot-blooded war veteran.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Lieutenant-Commander Irk uncrossed his arms and, with an expression that suggested he had cast all reason to the wind, roared:

“In that case, in for a penny, in for a pound. Kill them! Don’t let a single one of those Tytania dogs return alive!”

Now that the most cautious among them had changed his stance, there was no one left to rein in the Bargash Army’s frenzy. They charged at the enemy with the ferocity of enraged herbivores.

Zarlisch was indeed the god of war and victory. The moment his flagship withdrew from the battlefield, the Tytanian fleet lost all confidence in victory. Should they continue the battle and settle the outcome with the Bargash army? Or should they rescue their lord, who had lost his flagship? For better or worse, the entire army had relied entirely on Zarlisch’s personal character and ability; their morale was shattered, and they found it difficult even to stand.

Zarlisch was an absolute dictator within his army who recognised no second-in-command, either in terms of ability or within the institutional structure. There was no one to take overall command in Zarlisch’s stead, and the fact that the Tytanian military’s chain of command was extremely archaic was laid bare at this moment of crisis.

“What a bunch of good-for-nothings. Is this not precisely the moment when you should demonstrate your true worth as soldiers?”

Just as Zarlisch let out a cry of fury, Captain Atlasov’s ground forces, who had already completed their descent, joined him. They attempted to protect Zarlisch by laying down a barrage of fire to counter the aerial strafing, but there was only so much they could do.

“Your Grace, please take cover in the cave. If you remain on the ground, you will be swept by fire from the Bargash Army!” shouted Commander Granite.

Zarlisch nodded, his fine beard swaying. It was clear that Fan Hyulick and his band were hiding inside the cave, but there was no way to avoid being swept by fire from the air other than to enter the cave.

Even if it came to a fight, Zarlisch could not imagine himself being defeated. The rebels were few in number to begin with, and the ground combat personnel surrounding him alone should have been enough to subdue them.

===II===
Never in the history of Bargash had such an obscure underground cavern welcomed so many people. Unfortunately, these were guests who were entirely devoid of friendship or courtesy.

The army that had invaded the underground cavern under the command of Duke Zarlisch Tytania numbered eight hundred men, two and a half times the size of the defending force. Moreover, the defenders included a man in his nineties; they stood no chance of resisting a head-on assault. Amid sporadic gunfire, they were forced to retreat every minute.

For their part, the Tytanians refrained from using heavy weapons or explosives, mindful of the risk of cave-ins; however, it appeared they would be able to corner and subdue the enemy deep within the underground cavern using only light weapons. After having a medic administer first aid to a wound on his forehead, Zarlisch, in true form, took his place at the head of his troops and advanced deeper into the cavern.

The advance of one side and the retreat of the other continued for some thirty minutes, punctuated by gunfire. However, a strange turn of events occurred after the retreating enemy had climbed to higher ground within our underground cavern and withdrawn their makeshift plastic bridge. Tytania’s troops were now forced to advance through a low-lying hollow within the cavern and climb the cliff face, but their pace suddenly slowed. Worse still, their formation began to break down, and even to Hyulick’s eyes, it was clear that their previously unified order was falling apart.

“What on earth is going on with them?”

“Hypoxia<ref name="ftn15">“Hypoxia” (低酸素症) is pronounced “hypoxia”.</ref>,” replied the voice of the woman wearing a sun visor.

“A large amount of highly concentrated carbon dioxide has accumulated at the bottom of that cave. It’s not uncommon in enclosed caves. Although we have made various artificial alterations to it ourselves, of course.”

“So it’s the giant dragon’s appendix, then.”

The woman let out a short chuckle, seemingly amused by Fan Hyulick’s turn of phrase.

“It was our last stronghold. The fact that the one who fell into our trap is Zarlisch Tytania is a stroke of luck beyond our wildest dreams. I suppose this means we’re in for a desperate counterattack now, aren't we?”

The woman’s hand gripped her heat<ref name="ftn16">“Heat” (熱線) is pronounced "heat".</ref> rifle. Hyulick also seized the rifle assigned to him; just as they were about to exchange a few whispered instructions and press forward, he realised something.

“I’ve forgotten something important. There’s one thing I’d like to ask you while we’re at it.”

“What?”

“I haven’t heard your name yet.”

In the dim darkness of the cave, the woman blinked.

“If you were a first-class womaniser, you’d make a more clever pass.”

“Well, I’m not first-class. I don’t even have the sense to choose the right time and place. You can see that for yourself, can’t you?”

“I’d rather not.”

Suppressing her laughter, the woman raised her voice.

“So I won’t tell you now. Once we’ve left this underground cave and can walk proudly beneath the open sky, I’ll let you call me by my name.”

Leaving those words behind, the woman began to move forward, almost crawling. Without a word, Hyulick followed suit. About ten paces away, a voice rang out.

“Capture Lord Zarlisch! He’s a valuable hostage. Don’t kill him.”

What a hideous battle this had turned into. There must surely be a direct passage to purgatory beneath this planet. As he thought this, Fan Hyulick, as a direct participant in the events, had clearly lost his grip on reality. It wasn’t that he was experiencing symptoms of claustrophobia, but while underground, his powers of thought and emotion felt as though they were veiled by a membrane, leaving him unsteady.

“I see. It seems I really am a man of the cosmos after all.”

It was rather foolish to only realise this now, but perhaps it was better than not realising it at all. He realised he should leave the underground as soon as possible and throw himself into outer space. But that would have to wait until he had dealt with Tytania’s underground forces.

The firefight had resumed. The Tytania forces were at a geographical disadvantage, and their ability to resist was severely diminished by acute hypoxia. They were little more than sitting ducks, mowed down as they huddled at the bottom of the hollow.

After about ten minutes of fierce fire, gunfire and a raging storm, the return fire from the bottom of the carbon dioxide well had all but ceased. Zarlisch was still alive. Aiming for him, anti-Tytania soldiers, driven by a thirst for glory, scaled the cliff and surged forward.

“You thieving rats!”

The lion in human form roared, unleashing a burst of fury and brute strength. Three of Doctor Lee’s men were sent flying as if swept up by an explosion. One was slapped across the cheek, another kicked in the stomach, and a third struck in the collarbone with an elbow; all three fell in different directions.

It seemed that not even hypoxia could dampen this man’s vigour and fighting spirit. The fourth man to lunge at him ducked to avoid the blow and, in the same motion, swept Zarlisch’s knee with the butt of his heat-ray rifle. But the colossal figure merely wavered slightly before kicking Lieutenant Pagès to the ground. Without so much as a glance at Pagès, Zarlisch turned his attention to the fifth man.

The fifth man, that is, the colossal figure of Walenkov, proved to be the perfect target for Zarlisch. An onlooker might have thought he would do well to make a swift escape, but Zarlisch’s pride would not allow it; moreover, his judgement was likely impaired by hypoxia.

“Show a bit of appreciation. A Duke of Tytania is deigning to grapple with a lowly rat-thief such as yourself. Consider it a once-in-a-lifetime honour.”

“I wasn’t particularly looking forward to grappling anyone,” muttered Walenkov, looking annoyed.

He forcefully fended off Zarlisch’s grasping arm. He managed to fend him off twice, but on the third attempt, he was seized.

Zarlisch clamped his hands around Walenkov’s collar, crossing his wrists to apply a powerful stranglehold. Walenkov’s face flushed rapidly, and he clenched his fists, pounding Zarlisch’s stomach repeatedly. After half a dozen heavy blows landed on the same spot, Zarlisch’s grip finally loosened; perhaps he’d had enough, and Walenkov was able to catch his breath. However, as the air he inhaled was predominantly carbon dioxide, he felt dizzy and staggered.

Gasping for breath, Zarlisch crouched down, hoisted a stone the size of a child’s head, and attempted to smash it into Walenkov’s face. Walenkov swam through a pool of heavy, stagnant air and fell to his knees. The fighters’ movements lacked speed, lending the scene a touch of the comic, yet both were fighting for their lives.

It was a foolish dilemma. Either Duke Zarlisch Tytania or Lieutenant Walenkov would have to meet a senseless death. In that case, as a man far from saintly, Hyulick had no choice but to prioritise his friend’s life and fate.

“Don’t move, Lord Zarlisch! Put down the rock and raise your hands!”

Standing on the cliff top, looking straight down into the hollow below, Hyulick raised his thermal rifle. In the very next instant, something unbelievable happened. Just as Zarlisch’s eyes seemed to emit an eerie glow, a rock flew through the air and struck Hyulick at his feet. Hyulick was thrown into a state of utter panic, both mentally and physically; he lost his balance and tumbled down the steep slope of the cliff, swept along by a cascade of gravel. He struck every part of his body and found himself gasping for breath.

Just as he was finally managing to get to his feet, Zarlisch’s massive form loomed before him, his enormous hand gripping his collar. A growl filled with terrifying intensity delivered its verdict.

“You were, after all, destined to be killed by me. I shall now allow you to fulfil that destiny.”

“You clever boy, won’t your mummy tell you off if you don’t bring the big baddie back alive?”

It was impossible to have imagined beforehand just how much fury this single remark would unleash within Zarlisch’s colossal frame. In the blink of an eye, the Tytanian nobleman was transformed into a savage. Explosions of light shot from his eyes, and without a moment’s delay, his massive arm flashed into action.

A hard fist drove itself directly beneath Hyulick’s solar plexus. The young man with carrot-coloured hair was forced to endure excruciating pain in the name of defending freedom of speech.

He feared his stomach lining might have ruptured, but it had not come to that. However, the pain was mingled with a wave of nausea, and Fan Hyulick doubled over, coughing violently. With eyes literally bloodshot, no doubt from burst capillaries, Zarlisch watched his prisoner’s agony, laughed like a beast, and hurled him to the ground. With a sense of triumph, he shouted defiantly:

“Get up! I’ll keep beating you until you’re on the brink of death.”

Even at this stage, Zarlisch hadn’t given up on the idea of taking the prisoner back to his mother alive. This was not merely a matter of obsession; it was also accompanied by a practical calculation. His calculation was that, should a gun be pointed at him, he could use the prisoner as a human shield. It was this combination of brutality and strategic acumen that had made Zarlisch one of the most formidable ruthless generals of his time.

Not wanting to die while crouched on the ground, Hyulick struggled to get to his feet. Having fought in the thick carbon dioxide, a severe headache began to torment him.

Just as Hyulick finally managed to stand, Zarlisch was about to deliver another heavy blow when his entire body froze. A heat-ray rifle had appeared in Hyulick’s hand. It seemed like magic, but it was not. The woman in the sun visor had thrown the rifle from the top of the cliff into Hyulick’s hands with astonishing precision.

===III===
“Impossible…”

Fan Hyulick thought he heard Zarlisch groan. But was it actually a voice? It might have been a hallucination caused by a tiny sprite darting into his auditory field.

With his mouth half-open, Zarlisch’s expression frozen, he glared at Hyulick. No, to be precise, he was staring at the muzzle of the rifle in his enemy’s hand, which was now threatening him.

“Surrender, Duke Zarlisch!”

Hyulick issued his demand in a tone devoid of any personal flair. The moment he spoke the words, he realised his demand would not be accepted. Zarlisch, his eyes bloodshot as he continued to glare at Hyulick, stretched out his massive arm, intent on squeezing his throat, this time until he was dead.

Fan Hyulick pulled the trigger of his old-fashioned thermal rifle. The proud grey military uniform burst apart against the thick chest of Duke Zarlisch Tytania. Not confined to a single spot, five holes were pierced through the Tytanian nobleman’s massive torso in the blink of an eye.

It was not a deliberate act, but as the heat ray had been set to a low temperature, the wounds did not char; instead, they gushed forth as fountains of blood, staining the grey military uniform a crimson-black. The spatter also splattered onto the assailant’s own clothes, where the ruler’s noble blood painted bizarre patterns upon the rebel’s fabric. The sense of unreality intensified further when the blood-soaked giant stretched his powerful arm out almost horizontally and seized Hyulick by the collar.

Any ordinary person would long since have collapsed and ceased breathing. Yet in reality, thick fingers reeking of blood closed around Hyulick’s throat and began to squeeze. Hyulick’s finger remained on the trigger, and the muzzle pressed tightly against Zarlisch’s torso, continuing to fire deadly heat rays into his body.

His field of vision dimmed, and when it returned, Hyulick coughed softly and rubbed his sore throat. At his feet lay the corpse of the giant man who, mere seconds earlier, had been one of Tytania’s great nobles.

Dragging Walenkov and Pagès to their feet, and with the help of the others, Hyulick finally climbed out of the dangerous well of carbon dioxide. The woman in the sun visor handed him a water flask. As Hyulick, finally feeling human again, thanked her, she murmured:

“I never thought you’d kill Duke Zarlisch with your own hands…”

“I didn’t believe he was the sort of man who’d survive being captured. I’m not judging whether that’s right or wrong; it’s just that there are people like that, and I don’t have the capacity to change the way they live or think.”

Hyulick fell silent. He felt he had spoken too much in the presence of the dead. The woman stared at his face as she put the lid back on the water bottle.

“So Zarlisch Tytania is dead, huh?…”

Doctor Lee’s voice, as he confirmed the fact, reached Hyulick’s auditory nerves with a sound that was incredibly distant and impersonal.

Zarlisch could never have imagined he would meet such an end in a place like this. He must surely have believed that a more spectacular and heroic death awaited him, one more befitting him. One of the Four Dukes of Tytania, a man who prided himself on being the mightiest commander in the cosmos, had ended up lying dead on a remote planet, no less, beneath the barren wilderness. It was hard to imagine a more unwelcome way to die.

“If he’d been killed by an opponent weaker than himself, he’d surely want to come back as a ghost one day.”

Hyulick replied to Doctor Lee and stood up. He still felt tired and drained, but his headache had gone.

In one corner of the cave, a group of captured Tytanian soldiers in uniform stood huddled together. From among the two hundred or so men, Hyulick and Doctor Lee selected a figure who appeared to be an officer and asked his name.

“I’m Commander Granite. I served as Lord Zarlisch’s ''aide-de-camp''.”

As he spoke in the past tense, a shadow of anguish silently swept across the officer’s face. Hyulick and Doctor Lee exchanged glances and conferred briefly.

Doctor Lee addressed the late lord’s ''aide-de-camp''.

“We shall hand over your master’s remains. It would be fitting for them to be transported to your headquarters and given a proper burial.”

“Are you asking me to bring shame upon myself and live?”

“To live is, in itself, to heap shame upon oneself. If you believe it is less shameful to leave your master’s remains abandoned in a place like this, then do as you please. Flee or take your own life.”

Having dismissed him, Doctor Lee ordered the prisoners to stand up. They simply did not have the financial means to support them. Having escorted the prisoners who were crushed by a sense of defeat and now disarmed to the entrance of the underground cavern, Doctor Lee asked Hyulick:

“Do you think the Bargash government is now fully on our side?”

“If we go by the logic that the enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

Before he could finish, Fan Hyulick realised a new danger was looming. If the Bargash government were to attempt to make up for its military failure through diplomacy, there would be only one option: to crush Hyulick and his men with their own hands. There was no other way to appease Tytania’s wrath.

Hyulick and his men had dragged the Bargash government into the conflict with Tytania, but this might well result in them gaining more enemies rather than allies. That said, having already made Tytania their enemy, even if their number of foes increased, they had long since exceeded their capacity to cope. Worrying about it was nothing but a waste of mental energy.

By this time, the outcome of the aerial battle had also been decided. The Tytanian fleet had begun a disgraceful rout. Having exposed the weakness of a private militia that relied on individual prowess, and having been reduced to half their numbers, the Tytanians had fled. The night air was thick with the stench of death, and on the ground, the wreckage of downed vessels still blazed with orange flames.

Floating in the night as the enemy vanished, Rear-Admiral Turbil and Lieutenant-Commander Irk exchanged stunned glances.

“We’ve done it.”

“Yeah, we’ve gone and done it.”

The two looked at one another and let out a deep sigh in unison. With that, the rationality that had been banished from their minds returned, and Lieutenant-Commander Irk, acting on his commander’s instructions, ordered all ships to land and begin assessing the damage.

“Does this mean we’re heading for all-out war with Tytania?”

“Probably. If so, I’ll be a shining example of an A-class war criminal. I suppose I’d better write my will while I still can.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.”

Lieutenant-Commander Irk vigorously brushed back the fringe that was clinging to his sweat-drenched forehead.

“At this point, we have no choice but to rally not only the Bargash government but all anti-Tytania factions across the universe to face Tytania in a decisive battle. Otherwise, all that awaits us is execution or a flight that will end in death. Shall we take a gamble on whether we can overthrow Tytania?”

“You’re quite the radical yourself, aren’t you?” remarked the exasperated old admiral.

Having cast his own concerns aside, the ''aide-de-camp'' shrugged with a wry smile.

“I’ve already eaten the plate. At this rate, I’ll have no choice but to gnaw on the table next<ref name="ftn17">This is a variation on the Japanese expression “if one is eating poison, one might as well eat the plate with it” (毒食わば皿まで), which is roughly the equivalent of “in for a penny, in for a pound”.</ref>.”

He made no attempt to comment on the taste or nutritional value of the table.

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| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 8|Chapter 8]]
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Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6

2026-10-03T12:27:13Z

Bob Morane:

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| Forward to [[Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 7|Chapter 7]]
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</noinclude>
==Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert==
===I===
Planet Bargash lay at the heart of the Frontier Sector. While this may not strictly be true from a physical geographical perspective, it was an entirely accurate assessment from a sociocultural standpoint; communications, passenger transport, the distribution of goods, finance, information, the training and employment of personnel—in short, the vast majority of socio-economic activities within the Frontier Sector were conducted with this planet as their hub.

Although the sophistication and elegance of the planet Ementhal were absent here, a wild vitality permeated the very fabric of the planet, right down to the molecular level. The diplomacy and strategic manoeuvres centred on this planet are also rather crude, the sort that the people of Ementhal derided as “a club in the right hand, a wad of banknotes in the left”. That said, whether it be diplomacy by intimidation or diplomacy through financial influence, a certain degree of formality and protocol was still required, and the sovereignty of planet Bargash had been respected by others. Duke Zarlisch Tytania’s approach to ignore this and run roughshod over the planet by force could hardly be commended.

“Bargash is not Duke Zarlisch Tytania’s fief. We must insist that at the very least he shows respect for the flag of Bargash.”

It was Donald Farah who received this request from the Bargash Government Office.

Donald Farah had long since resigned himself to the fact that the Tytania faction<ref name="ftn8">There’s probably a character missing here, since “anti-Tytania faction” makes a lot more sense “Tytania faction” in this sentence.</ref> would prevail in the Bargash delegate elections. Every political and social factor were pushing his efforts in an unfavourable direction.

Although the inhabitants of Bargash generally accepted Tytania’s rule, they did not revere her as an omnipotent deity; consequently, if she were to flaunt her power too openly, they would inevitably feel compelled to resist. Fully aware of this, Farah initially devised various strategies in an attempt to temper Zarlisch’s belligerent fervour, but he was forced to realise that it was an impossible task. With tears of regret, he abandoned his battlefield, drowned his sorrows in drink, and, after beating Zarlisch half to death in his imagination, left planet Bargash.

As for Zarlisch, he did not give a second thought to the troubles or resentment of someone as insignificant as Farah. His mind was occupied solely with saving face before Clanner Ajman and appeasing his mother’s fury. He was convinced that the wrath of a mere provincial planetary government could be quelled by Tytania’s authority and financial might.

He spurred his subordinates on to search for the fugitive, Fan Hyulick. And finally, they succeeded in locating him. It happened on the 7<sup>th</sup> of October.

“A special operations vessel in satellite orbit has taken some 400,000 photographs of the surface, and among them was this one.”

Glancing at the stereoscopic photograph presented by his ''aide-de-camp'', Commander Granite, Duke Zarlisch Tytania exhaled deeply. The surface of the planet Bargash could not be said to have been fully colonised; a barren expanse of 40 million square kilometres, comprising cold regions, arid lands and high-altitude zones, stretched out before him. As a result of photographing every 10-kilometre square and analysing the images by computer, signs of life had been detected in that region which was supposed to be uninhabited. This was said to be a corner of the desert called Tarhari, where small armed groups opposed to Tytania had been known to operate for some time.

“That special operations vessel is capable of operating within the atmosphere, right?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Then dispatch it to that location immediately. Track down and capture Fan Hyulick. Should it prove too much to handle, even by a thin hair, send reinforcements.”

Although he spoke in hypothetical terms, “even by a thin hair”, Zarlisch’s eyes had already become a smelting furnace of passion, revealing his intention to command the fleet himself. Commander Granite, while concerned that the Bargash government’s anger and resentment would intensify, had no choice but to prioritise the wishes of his lord, Zarlisch.

Immediately stepping in front of the videophone<ref name="ftn9">“TV telephone” (ＴＶ電話) is pronounced “vision”.</ref> and issuing orders to five or six locations, Duke Zarlisch gripped his grey military cap in his enormous palm and strode out of his room at the Hotel Alhambra with strides nearly twice as long as those of an ordinary man.

Doctor Lee had been in a foul mood for the past few days. Although he was no match for Duke Zarlisch Tytania, the plan to rescue Hyulick that he had painstakingly devised had evaporated at the very last moment because of a third party whose motives were unclear. Who on earth, and from where, had gone and spoilt Doctor Lee’s brilliant blueprint with such a crude stroke of the pen? It would be reasonable to assume it was a small independent faction opposed to Tytania, but it might be dangerous to jump to that conclusion.

In any case, Doctor Lee had no intention of leaving the identity of the individual or group that had outmanoeuvred him a mystery. Having finally heard from Pagès, who had returned, about the direction in which the person who had taken Fan Hyulick had fled, he was keeping a close watch on Tytania’s movements while conducting his own analysis. As long as he kept an eye on Tytania’s movements, Hyulick’s whereabouts should become clear. It was then, and this time for certain, that Doctor Lee intended to slip past Tytania’s ferocious snout and rescue Hyulick.

Mr Fan Hyulick, pursued by both friend and foe, was nowhere to be found on the surface of planet Bargash. The skies above Bargash were under almost complete air superiority by Zarlisch Tytania’s forces, and it was virtually impossible to escape this strict surveillance and encirclement. So where was he? He was, quite literally, in hiding, underground.

Beneath the Tarhari Desert lay a cavern formed by volcanic activity in the planet’s distant past. A million years ago, lava had flowed through the area, leaving behind a winding cavern that resembled the intestines of a giant dragon. It was into this cavern, near the surface, in the region corresponding to the giant dragon’s oesophagus, that Hyulick’s rescuers had carried him. The small group of about twenty men gave no particular introduction, and Hyulick, after offering a brief word of gratitude, found himself compelled to ask:

“I still haven’t heard the reason why you saved me.”

“It’s fine to ask, but why not try to work it out for yourself first?”

“Is there a reward for that?”

Having replied this, Fan Hyulick was seized by an ominous suspicion. Could it be that this man had rescued him merely to claim the bounty placed on his head? Yet, even if that were the case, he had risked his life and fate to carry out the mission; his resolve and ability to act were extraordinary. For the time being, Fan Hyulick put forward a highly probable explanation.

“Someone who bears a grudge against Tytania.”

That suggested answer was met with a mixture of wry smiles and derisive sniggers.

“It’s like striking the ground with a hammer. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“So, in other words, it’s the correct answer?”

“You can’t say that. It’s an insult to the very meaning of the expression ‘correct answer’.”

The doctor<ref name="ftn10">The word for “doctor” refers here specifically to a medical doctor, unlike Lee who is a “doctor” because he holds a PhD.</ref>, having removed his mask, appeared to be in his late thirties. He sported a black moustache beneath his nose, which resembled the bristles of a small brush. Hyulick still did not even know his benefactor’s name, and just as he was about to ask, hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance to the cavern, the area of molten lava forming the dragon’s front teeth. A man clutching an old-fashioned heat-ray rifle and clad in a nondescript field uniform burst in, his face etched with tension.

“It’s a Tytania special operation vessel!”

The doctor and Hyulick stepped out to the dragon’s front teeth and looked up at the sky. The setting sun bathed their view, transforming the sky into a vast crimson silk cloth. A black shadow, resembling a monstrous bird, descended while slicing through the waves of the fiery atmosphere with its bow.

Although special-purpose ships were neither enormous nor heavily armed, this one was nonetheless over one hundred metres in length and equipped with no fewer than twenty guns. In this place and at this moment, it was a symbol of military might without equal. Turbulence caused by frictional heat enveloped the ship in faint crimson ripples, but as these faded with deceleration, Tytania’s crest emblazoned upon the hull shone out with haughty splendour.

Forgetting for a moment the situation he found himself in, Hyulick found himself transfixed by the sight. Truly, one could say that the people of Tytania, from top to bottom, were a pretentious lot.

The special operation vessel, suspended in midair, extended gun barrels from the underside of its hull. It looked as though three slender needles had been thrust into the ground, yet it was a grim harbinger of death and destruction. A moment and a half later, a portion of Fan Hyulick’s field of vision glowed. Three streaks of fire shot up from the ground.

With a deafening roar, a column of sand rose high and thick into the air. Thousands of tonnes of sand were swept into the air, obscuring the sky and the earth; when it reached the limits of gravity, it fell as a dry rain upon the very place where they had been living just moments before. The ground was shrouded in a cloud of sand, blocking out even the light of the star as it prepared to set.

The restraint in their firepower was clearly intended as a warning. They had no intention of annihilating them. Had that been their intention, they would have opened all their gun ports and concentrated their fire.

The Tytania special-purpose vessel had made its intentions clear with a single volley. It was demanding submission from those who had witnessed this. Hovering above the subsiding sandstorm, the vessel seemed to be lying in wait for the defiant rebels to emerge from the surface and prostrate themselves. The doctor clicked his tongue.

“How grand, as befitting of Zarlisch Tytania. It seems they intend to turn this entire rocky desert into a barbecue grill.”

“Are they looking for me?”

Fan Hyulick uttered this daft remark, causing his companion to roll his eyes at him.

===II===
The hull of the Tytania special operation vessel, hovering in the air, opened, and five shuttles, gleaming with a dull greyish-white sheen, descended to the ground. It was a sight reminiscent of silver cocoons being laid by adult insects. Amidst the settling dust cloud, the landed cocoons split open, and human figures emerged.

Fully armed soldiers stepped onto the surface one after another. Even at a glance, it was clear that the force numbered at least two platoons. Although no tanks or heavily armoured vehicles were in sight, should reinforcements arrive, they might well encounter such machinery. For the time being, the mere fact that there were enough heat-ray rifles and laser guns to go round each soldier meant they constituted an overwhelming force. At the very least, it seemed unlikely that Hyulick’s benefactors—whose identities remained unknown—would be able to put up a proper fight against them.

“I heard that the ‘strategy of sheer numbers’ was Duke Zarlisch’s speciality. How shall we deal with this?”

At Hyulick’s question, the doctor groaned.

“But this is not a fief of Clan Tytania. It is a sovereign state in its own right. Tytania cannot simply exercise military force as it pleases.”

“There’s no point telling me that. Go and tell Duke Zarlisch. And do so with the utmost courtesy.”

The government of planet Bargash would undoubtedly lodge a strong protest with the court of Tytania’s Clanner. But by then, it would all be over. Only the fact that the Bargash government had protested would remain in the diplomatic records. Or perhaps Tytania would pay compensation or a settlement to Bargash, and neither side would hold a grudge. As for Fan Hyulick, by then, far from holding a grudge, not even a single bone of his would remain in this world.

It was the wake of an airship piercing the sky that tore apart that bleak vision of the future. As it rapidly approached the Tytania special operation vessel, it came to a halt in the air at a distance of approximately one-three-hundred-thousandth of a light-second, and transmitted a signal.

“This is the Armed Peace Army (APA<ref name="ftn11">“Armed Security Force” (武装保安隊) is abbreviated here as “APA”.</ref>) of the Bargash Government. Any person engaging in illegal or unlawful armed activities in this area will be dealt with in accordance with national law.”

The flashing signal lights were interpreted as such by Fan Hyulick’s eyes as well.

“Cease fire immediately and submit to an inspection by the authorities. I repeat, submit to an inspection immediately!”

The Tytania special operations vessel showed no reaction. It was clearly hovering in the air, displaying hesitation and indecision. It would be possible to “deal with” a mere Bargash light patrol vessel using less than half of its total destructive power, but that would constitute an act of outright hostile act towards the Bargash government. Even if Tytania were to plunge into all-out war with Bargash, it would certainly not be defeated; however, such a conflict would spell the collapse of Tytania’s foreign policy.

Tytania’s core diplomatic principle was to crush any enemy that arose without mercy, while avoiding the creation of new enemies wherever possible. This was well understood by the lower-ranking members as well. Hence, their hesitation; yet, they finally sent a signal in reply. It was a refusal.

“A Tytanian obeys only the orders of his Tytanian superiors. Your vessel should report this matter to the Government Headquarters and await further instructions. This vessel will comply solely with the orders of its superiors.”

In short, the Tytania special operations vessel feared the wrath of Duke Zarlisch more than any legal action by the Bargash Government Headquarters. And as if to shake off its own hesitation, it extended its gun barrels once more.

Adjusting the angle of the muzzles and reducing their firepower, it fired all three guns simultaneously. Thick, dark-orange streaks of fire sliced through the sky at a 20-degree depression angle, grazing the patrol vessel’s hull before exploding on the ground some five kilometres away. It was a blatantly overt act of intimidation.

“Cease fire!”

“Shut up, we won’t listen.”

Though it did not voice these words, the Tytania special operations vessel made its intentions clear through its actions. While maintaining a posture ready to continue firing warning shots at the patrol vessel, it sent orders to the infantry unit awaiting on the ground. Emerging from the cocoon that had birthed them, the infantry unit began to advance.

“They’re coming…!”

The hushed voice not only stated the fact but also conveyed the tension in his mind. They mounted their sole large-calibre machine gun on the giant dragon’s oesophagus. An old-style thermal rifle was also handed to Fan Hyulick. It was handed to him by a female soldier with short, sepia-coloured hair who was for some reason wearing a sun visor and clad in a camouflaged field uniform. She was a young woman, just over twenty, with rare gentian-blue<ref name="ftn12">“Gentian blue” (竜胆色) is pronounced “gentian blue”.</ref> eyes. She was beautiful, though not quite a stunner.

As a sniper, Fan Hyulick’s skills were neither particularly good nor bad. Whether in shooting practice or in actual combat, he was an unremarkable figure. Nevertheless, once the firefight began, he took careful aim and picked off the intruders.

He certainly hit one of them, but the wound did not appear to be fatal, as the enemy dropped his gun and retreated. Instead, a barrage of gunfire focused on Hyulick, and he hastily concealed his tall frame behind a rock. The enemy was using a scope, and despite being inside the cave, their shooting was extremely accurate.

Just as Hyulick was about to stand up, the sound of rapid fire rang out once more, and red and blue sparks scattered across the surface of the rock face. A ricochet grazed Fan Hyulick’s eyelashes. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken a ricochet just above the ear, and his personal history would have come to an end. But he narrowly escaped death when a woman’s voice shouted, “Watch out!” and his left wrist was grabbed and pulled away.

At that very moment, the cave was filled with a blinding, pure white light. Someone had detonated a flare. The panicked screams that followed were caused by the light destroying the amplifiers on their scopes. The Tytania infantry unit was left temporarily blinded.

In that split second, as they stood frozen in confusion, a barrage of fire from the anti-Tytania forces rained down upon them. Gunfire echoed all around, and few shots missed their mark. These were well-trained marksmen. Having suffered around ten casualties, the Tytania infantry unit was forced to retreat.

After catching his breath, Hyulick introduced himself and thanked the female soldier who had saved his life; she looked at him with interest.

“Fan Hyulick? You’re that man who’s said to be waging a war with Tytania all on his own?”

“I have no intention of waging a war. They’re setting the price on their own<ref name="ftn13">The play on words is completely lost in translation. In Japanese, “to sell” can also mean “to pick a fight”.</ref>.”

“Well then, make sure you sell yourself for as high a price as possible. Otherwise, it would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

The young woman laughed, and as she did, an expression of astonishing vitality lit up her face. Hyulick could surmise that her beauty stemmed less from her physical features than from the vibrations of her inner vitality.

In any case, he had managed to repel the Tytania infantry unit once. This was due to the advantage of the terrain and, more importantly, the enemy’s excessive caution. From the perspective of the Tytania infantry, however, despite having scopes, they were unfamiliar with the terrain inside the cave and had no idea of the enemy’s numbers or deployment. They could well imagine the wrath of Duke Zarlisch if they were to kill Fan Hyulick by using large-calibre firearms. They decided, therefore, to retreat for the time being and devise a plan for a renewed attack.

This was, one might say, a reasonable course of action, but an unexpected sight awaited them as they emerged from the cave onto the surface. The sky looked as though it had been smeared with human blood; apart from their own mother ship and the Bargash patrol vessel, there should have been no other ships floating there, yet now a single vessel was rapidly expanding its dark silhouette. Judging by its speed and direction, it was clear that it intended to engage the Tytania special operation vessel. It was the ''Honest Old Man''.

The ''Honest Old Man''’s armament was slightly inferior to that of a Tytania destroyer-class vessel, yet surpassed that of a special operation vessel. The true strength of such an arms-smuggling vessel lay in its speed and manoeuvrability, as well as the skill of its crew in handling their machinery as if it were their own steeds. It was through this that the crew of the ''Honest Old Man'' had succeeded in assassinating Count Arses Tytania. Although this encounter took place under the unusual conditions of the atmosphere, it was a one-on-one ship-to-ship duel, and the ''Honest Old Man'' held the upper hand in terms of firepower. Precisely for that reason, Captain Casimir was all the more cautious.

It brought to mind a duel between heavily armoured knights of the Middle Ages, not for its splendour, but quite the opposite. While they moved with complete freedom in the airless expanse of space, now, deep within the high-pressure depths of the ocean, their movements appeared almost sluggishly slow. Circling gently through the air in wide arcs, they bided their time, waiting for an opportunity to drive a spear of energy into their opponent’s vital points.

The valiant patrol vessel Bargash continued to send out frantic warning signals, but these were completely ignored by the two lawless combatants.

The first flash came from the Tytania special operation vessel. A glittering beam of energy lunged at ''Honest Old Man''. It missed. Or rather, the ''Honest Old Man'' had dodged it. This time, the ''Honest Old Man'' fired a beam of its own, striking the special-purpose vessel. A white plume of smoke rose amidst a flash of light, and the special-purpose vessel appeared to stagger slightly in the air.

At that moment, four new silhouettes of ships rushed into the airspace where the one-on-one duel was taking place.

===III===
These were four armed vessels under the command of Doctor Lee. Through skilful coordination, they sought to form a ring of encirclement on either side of the Tytania special operation vessel.

For the Tytania special operation vessel, there was no means of escape other than to climb. Whenever it showed signs of preparing to climb, the armed vessels, having detected its intended direction, moved to intercept it. The skirmish between the two sides appeared to last quite a long time, but in reality it probably lasted less than a minute.

Having lost its escape route, the Tytania special operations vessel attempted a forced breakthrough and charged forward horizontally. With all gun ports open, it ploughed straight through the sea of atmosphere, firing in every direction. The encircling forces returned fire fiercely while dodging the enemy’s barrage.

The streams of fire tore through the crimson canvas of the sky, shattering against the hulls of those that failed to evade and scattering a mist of iridescent light. Light and flame erupted from the hull of the ''Honest Old Man''. However, in the time it took to land a single hit, the Tytania special operations vessel had been struck by ten rounds. A chain of small fireballs encircled the special operations vessel like a band of jewels.

A garish flower of explosive light bloomed above the Tarhari Desert. It was as though the sun, having once sunk completely below the horizon, had shifted to the zenith. By the time the sound of the explosion rippled across the ground, the light had already dissipated, the resulting cloud of smoke had scattered, and the space where the special-purpose vessel had once stood had been reduced to nothing.

As fragments of the special-purpose vessel rained down like a feeble shower of metal, a new explosion occurred on the ground. Doctor Lee had fired upon and destroyed the shuttle on the surface.

The situation changed completely. Tytania’s infantry units were now exposed to a one-sided attack from the air. They lost their will to fight, abandoned their heavy weapons, and broke away from their organised chain of command. Acting as a group would only lead to their complete annihilation. Each soldier had no choice but to rely on their own wits and courage to escape the predicament. Doctor Lee did not pursue the infantrymen as they scattered in all directions.

Mr Fan Hyulick, the fugitive with the highest bounty in the universe, was finally reunited with his comrades aboard the ''Honest Old Man''. There was no time to linger and catch up at leisure; they had to set off in a hurry. The group that had been operating a small-scale anti-Tytania resistance from their hideout in the underground caverns also seemed to have gained a new sense of confidence after managing to join forces with a contingent of the Blaze Flag Army.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fan Hyulick watched as their leader, the doctor, and Doctor Lee were discussing something, and he offered a sheepish apology to Pagès and Walenkov.

“Well, sorry to have caused you worry. Mind you, being captured by Tytania three times is quite enough of a life experience for me.”

Fan Hyulick offered this piece of sour grapes, but it was the ''Honest Old Man'' that could not get away with such a remark. The Tytania special operations vessel fought exceptionally well, firing two shots at the enemy, both of which struck the ''Honest Old Man''.

Doctor Lee addressed Captain Casimir in a voice that could hardly be described as calm.

“I’m sorry to say this, but we’d better give up on the ''Honest Old Man''. We can carry out cosmetic repairs, but it won’t withstand interstellar flight.”

Captain Compton Casimir responded to that remark with silence. It was not merely that he had lost his vocal cords and could not speak; even if that had not been the case, it must surely have been a question to which he could not have replied immediately. The ''Honest Old Man'' was not merely an inanimate object in his possession; he was his favourite partner and the very embodiment of his life itself. This was not a unique case limited to Captain Casimir; such was the nature of seasoned independent merchants. For people like that, scrapping a ship was tantamount to drawing a curtain on one’s own life.

Miranda placed her fleshy palm on her husband’s shoulder.

“Darling, it’s about time we let the ''Honest Old Man'' have a rest. He’s worked hard enough for us. He’s reached the age where he ought to hand over the reins to his son or grandson and take a well-deserved rest.”

It was not a particularly rational argument, but Captain Casimir nodded slowly. This thoughtful middle-aged man understood that this was not a situation to be swayed by personal sentiment.

“How are we going to get a new ship? As with everything else in this heartless universe, without money, you can’t even breathe.”

Alan Mahdi, who prided himself on his financial acumen, let a prosaic question roll off his tongue laced with sarcasm.

“Isn’t it your job to figure that out? What’s happened to the ingenuity you displayed back when you were a lowly foot soldier on the Tytania? It’s a pitiful state of affairs that the moment you left the organisation, your ingenuity vanished, leaving you with nothing but grumbling and sarcasm.”

Just as Mahdi was about to launch a further counterattack against Miranda’s scathing retort, Fan Hyulick interjected:

“I’ll sort out the ship.”

It wasn’t as though he had a specific plan in mind. Captain Casimir had damaged his beloved vessel to save him, so Fan Hyulick felt he had to repay that kindness.

Perhaps sensing his feelings, Captain Casimir began to form a gentle smile, but his expression changed abruptly as he cast his gaze towards a corner of the darkening sky.

Black clouds seemed to be gathering on the horizon. Both reason and instinct recognised that this was the Tytania fleet, yet even so, those who witnessed it were left momentarily dazed.

The number of vessels must have exceeded one hundred. While this represented only a fraction of Tytania’s total military might, it was more than enough to wipe out the anti-Tytania faction gathered here. Even Doctor Lee could not help but speak in a voice on the verge of losing its composure.

“It seems Lord Zarlisch Tytania is finally making an appearance in person.”

“So, what are we going to do? Are we going to fight?” asked Pagès, though he was merely asking the question.

There was no way they could survive a battle; they had no choice but to abandon the ship and flee underground. A frantic retreat began, and the sound of footsteps echoed chaotically from the giant dragon’s mouth down into its oesophagus.

“What are you all so scared of? It’s a golden opportunity that Zarlisch has come out this far. If that massive body were holed up deep within Uraniborg, we wouldn’t stand a chance, but hasn’t she come within range of our bullets?”

The voice that echoed through the cave belonged to a woman wearing a visor; in the dim light, Fan Hyulick realised she was near him. At this point, the total number of anti-Tytanian rebels who had taken refuge in the cave was around three hundred, and they had to rely on the cave’s original inhabitants to guide them. As there weren’t enough scopes to go round, they had no choice but to rely on old-fashioned torches.

Perhaps because he was an optimist at heart, Hyulick was happier to have a young, pretty woman by his side than a scruffy bloke. Once he had settled down and set his weapons and ammunition down on the ground, he asked her:

“Are you here because you’re trying to avenge your parents’ deaths or something?”

“My parents? Well, it does have something to do with them, actually.”

Lowering her voice slightly, the young woman peered into Hyulick’s eyes.

“My father is Ajman Tytania, the current Landless Clanner. My mother was an unknown woman. Nothing more than a wildflower the Clanner plucked on a whim.”

The shock seeped silently into Hyulick’s mind. In his twenty-eight years, he’d often been at a loss as to how to react, but this was the first time he’d found himself in a position where he didn’t know how to respond to a woman’s background. Ultimately, however, in such situations, one could only apologise for prying too deeply into the other person’s affairs.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I’d be grateful if you could forgive me.”

As Fan Hyulick bowed his carrot-coloured head, the young woman gazed at the wandering hero with an expression of utter sincerity.

“Hmm, just as my grandmother said. Why are men so weak when it comes to illegitimate children? It’s because they all have a guilty conscience.”

“Eh? So…?”

“It’s nonsense. My father was a pianist in a no-name pub. It’s a common enough story, but his opportunities were snatched away by a rival backed by Tytania…”

The woman sighed, and her expression changed slightly.

“Are you disappointed that I’m not a wandering princess?”

“No, not at all.”

With a wry smile playing around his eyes and mouth, Fan Hyulick waved his hand dismissively.

“It made me realise just how shallow I was, but now that I’ve had a moment to think about it, I rather feel it’s a good thing you aren’t one of Tytania’s illegitimate children.”

The woman didn’t ask why he felt that way.

“I’m sorry for spouting such nonsense.”

“I don’t mind.”

After answering so clearly, Fan Hyulick searched somewhat awkwardly for a topic of conversation, but there was nothing around him that had any connection to romanticism.

“So, does everyone harbour hatred or resentment towards Tytania?”

“That’s right. Everyone harbours negative feelings towards Tytania. After all, someone who achieves power and success can’t possibly be loved by everyone of their time.”

“Does that also apply to your leader?”

“Yeah. He lost his wife, child and hospital all at once. It was an accident at a Tytania-affiliated chemical plant. Even though it was entirely a human error, those responsible were never punished.”

She told Hyulick that her leader’s name was Doctor Ibn Kasim.

“I don’t think Tytania is deliberately picking on the weak. When an elephant walks, ants get crushed. That’s all there is to it. But ants aren’t alive just to be crushed by elephants.”

That’s a good line, thought Fan Hyulick. He hadn’t been born to fight Tytania, but he had certainly been born to be chased by her and forced to flee. Since he had no choice but to be born an ant, and given his temperament and circumstances meant he could never become an elephant’s servant, he had no option but to refuse to be crushed and fight back. Fan Hyulick’s mind began to race.

As long as Zarlisch Tytania remained determined to capture him alive, there would be plenty of opportunities to strike back. The desire to capture him alive was their own convenience; there was absolutely no need for them to show any restraint. He had begun to seriously consider how to bring down the approaching giant elephant.

===IV===
“Damn thieving rats. I’ll chop their flesh to pieces and mix it into the desert sand.”

Zarlisch rose from his command seat. Although the ground was being enveloped by the twilight, the screen clearly displayed the grey-brown terrain.

“The new dish Your Grace has devised is sure to become a Bargash speciality,” said Lieutenant-Commander Kaits, one of his staff officers, in order to flatter him.

Zarlisch was fond of this sort of boisterous, or perhaps crude joke. He opened his mouth wide, framed by his thick beard, and roared with laughter. The staff officers around him laughed in response to their commander’s laughter, but the one man who did not join in was his ''aide-de-camp'', Commander Granite.

If there was anyone aboard Zarlisch’s flagship, the ''Typhoon'', who prioritised reason over emotion, it was surely this man, who had served as Zarlisch’s ''aide-de-camp'' for three years. Shaking his brown head streaked with a few grey strands, Granite dared to dampen his master’s enthusiasm.

“I say this precisely because Your Grave refers to them as thieving rats. Is it really necessary for Your Grace to take it upon yourself to subdue such scum? You are a pillar of Tytania; I implore you to exercise restraint.”

Although Zarlisch gave a perfunctory nod in response to Commander Granite’s advice, he had no intention of heeding it. A born warrior who never shied from a fight, he had, moreover, once had a prisoner snatched from his grasp. He could find no peace of mind until he had once again taken Fan Hyulick prisoner, this time until death, and wiped out the pesky vermin swarming around him.

He was by no means incompetent, but at this moment, at the very least, he cast aside any effort to control his emotions with reason and charged forward, driven solely by his instincts as a warrior. Had this been a battle against a vast enemy fleet in outer space, Zarlisch would undoubtedly have utilised his formidable strength to shatter the enemy forces and achieved a spectacular military feat. But now he was swinging a club intended to slay a giant elephant, attempting to exterminate a swarm of flitting mosquitoes.

Zarlisch was unaware that vast amounts of energy were spinning uselessly, their radiant heat turning into turbulence that was being reflected back at him, gradually evaporating his reason. His staff had already been infected by this frenzy, and one of them, staring intently at the screen, cried out in excitement. It was Lieutenant-Commander Kaits.

“Shall we deploy an ultra-low-frequency missile and bury them alive, Your Grace?”

“Don’t. It would prevent me from dragging that Fan Hyulick before my mother.”

With that single remark, he dismissed his staff’s proposal. The one who had offered this advice was his ''aide-de-camp'', Commander Granite.

“Your Grace, surely it would suffice to simply report to your mother that Hyulick has been killed. Would it not be best to proceed as proposed?”

“Granite, do not interject for no reason! I have already made my decision.”

“M-my apologies.”

The reason Granite withdrew without protest was that he was becoming increasingly aware of his own lack of passion for his duties as an ''aide-de-camp''. What he was engaged in was not an official military operation, nor even a private war waged by the Zarlisch family; it was nothing more than a cruel hunting game. Granite recognised this fact with bitterness.

He was a military specialist in his mid-thirties who had graduated from the Vardana Imperial Space Force Academy. After completing secondary school, he had joined the crew of a Tytanian carrack, where his valour in combat against space pirates had earned him the captain’s recognition; it was on the captain’s recommendation that he had secured a Tytanian scholarship and been admitted to the Academy. Although he was a loyal soldier who had served the Tytania clan for twenty years, he was no mindless organic robot. He could not bring himself to support Zarlisch’s actions, which appeared to reveal personal feelings and undermine the interests and honour of Tytania as a whole.

One thing led to another. This man would always prioritise emotion over reason. While that might be acceptable for an individual, it was fatal for the head of a vast organisation. Should this man become the Clanner, Tytania would be unable to avoid the peril of dancing on a pile of eggs. That was the conclusion Commander Granite was forced to reach in his heart. Even so, for the universe’s greatest ruthless general, whose name was adorned with countless military exploits, to become entangled in such a trivial matter and lay his weaknesses bare!

“Your Grace, that Bargash fly that has been hovering about for some time has begun to buzz again. What should we do?”

The communications officer’s report, as befitted a subordinate of Zarlisch, was brimming with contempt for a weak enemy. They were a group in grey military uniforms who worshipped the power of Tytania in its most physical form.

Zarlisch shook his fine beard with an exasperated expression and, without so much as a moment’s thought, issued a casual order.

“Attack it.”

“Yes, but it is an official vessel of the Bargash government; if we attack it, it will be a hostile action against them…”

“I told you to attack it. We’ll sort things out with the Bargash government in due course. Do those fools really have the guts to go head-to-head with Tytania?”

Commander Granite opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, so there was no one left to stop his master. They were, after all, the most belligerent group in Tytania. No one took offence at being ordered to attack.

Even so, they did, of course, refrain from hitting their target with the very first shot. As two energy beams burst from the gun barrels and pierced the air at close range, the patrol vessel reacted like a small animal terrified of a thunderclap, tracing a chaotic wake across the dark sky as it fled at top speed.

The Tytanian fleet watched it depart with renewed derision, then turned their guns towards the ground. A dilapidated vessel lay crumpled upon the dark Tarhari Desert. Soon, those inside the cave witnessed several streams of fire converging on a single point.

“The ''Honest Old Man''…” sighed Miranda, her ample bosom quivering.

The dilapidated vessel, abandoned on the ground, was being cremated, its yellow and orange flames illuminating a corner of the twilight. The wind carried the flickering of the flames and the sound of burning deep into the underground cavern. This was the funeral of the ''Honest Old Man''.

Miranda placed a comforting hand on Captain Casimir’s arm as he stood there in silence. Though not quite to the same extent as the couple, the anti-Tytania ruffians who had made the ''Honest Old Man'' their home for several months gazed at the reflection of the flames with an uncharacteristic solemnity. Some muttered that it was a shame to waste such a vessel, even if it was a ramshackle old ship. There was no need to name them.

“Night has fallen before we expected, but we ought to be seeing some movement by now.”

Shaking off the grains of sentimentality or whatever emotional state lay close to it, Doctor Lee voiced a practical concern: The man he was attempting to elevate as the leader of the anti-Tytania faction had been silent for some time, deep in thought.

“It is a sorry state of affairs for someone who’s supposed to be vying with Tytania for supremacy in space to find himself being chased through an underground passage on a remote planet like this.”

As Doctor Lee muttered this, Miranda exhaled a large amount of carbon dioxide from her lungs.

“If we were just being chased, it wouldn’t be that bad. I wouldn’t mind dying out in space, but I’ve no desire to die underground.”

For everyone except Fan Hyulick, their current situation was but a hair’s breadth from certain death. Tytania had not a single milligram of reason or necessity to keep them alive. Even if they were to surrender, the only possible outcome would be to be lined up before Hyulick and shot.

“I have an idea.”

With those words, Fan Hyulick spoke up, and the group fixed their gaze on him, listening intently to his proposal. The sole exception was the ninety-something-year-old chief steward of the ''Honest Old Man'', who, ignoring both the flames and the commotion, leaned against the rock face and continued his solo performance of snoring, rising and falling in pitch.

Duke Zarlisch’s intention to take Fan Hyulick prisoner and keep him alive was not born out of compassion. Nor was it out of any intention to subject him to a fair trial. Nor was it out of any magnanimity to win over and appoint such a valuable talent to his side. It was solely to have Fan Hyulick brutally murdered by his own mother’s hand.

Now that this was clear, Hyulick had absolutely no need to show any deference to his opponent. And, as if in response to his combative resolve, the situation on the ground and in the air was beginning to shift one more time that day.

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</noinclude>

Tytania:Volume 2 Chapter 6

2026-10-03T12:26:30Z

Bob Morane:

==Chapter 6 – A Stranger in the Desert==
===I===
Planet Bargash lay at the heart of the Frontier Sector. While this may not strictly be true from a physical geographical perspective, it was an entirely accurate assessment from a sociocultural standpoint; communications, passenger transport, the distribution of goods, finance, information, the training and employment of personnel—in short, the vast majority of socio-economic activities within the Frontier Sector were conducted with this planet as their hub.

Although the sophistication and elegance of the planet Ementhal were absent here, a wild vitality permeated the very fabric of the planet, right down to the molecular level. The diplomacy and strategic manoeuvres centred on this planet are also rather crude, the sort that the people of Ementhal derided as “a club in the right hand, a wad of banknotes in the left”. That said, whether it be diplomacy by intimidation or diplomacy through financial influence, a certain degree of formality and protocol was still required, and the sovereignty of planet Bargash had been respected by others. Duke Zarlisch Tytania’s approach to ignore this and run roughshod over the planet by force could hardly be commended.

“Bargash is not Duke Zarlisch Tytania’s fief. We must insist that at the very least he shows respect for the flag of Bargash.”

It was Donald Farah who received this request from the Bargash Government Office.

Donald Farah had long since resigned himself to the fact that the Tytania faction<ref name="ftn8">There’s probably a character missing here, since “anti-Tytania faction” makes a lot more sense “Tytania faction” in this sentence.</ref> would prevail in the Bargash delegate elections. Every political and social factor were pushing his efforts in an unfavourable direction.

Although the inhabitants of Bargash generally accepted Tytania’s rule, they did not revere her as an omnipotent deity; consequently, if she were to flaunt her power too openly, they would inevitably feel compelled to resist. Fully aware of this, Farah initially devised various strategies in an attempt to temper Zarlisch’s belligerent fervour, but he was forced to realise that it was an impossible task. With tears of regret, he abandoned his battlefield, drowned his sorrows in drink, and, after beating Zarlisch half to death in his imagination, left planet Bargash.

As for Zarlisch, he did not give a second thought to the troubles or resentment of someone as insignificant as Farah. His mind was occupied solely with saving face before Clanner Ajman and appeasing his mother’s fury. He was convinced that the wrath of a mere provincial planetary government could be quelled by Tytania’s authority and financial might.

He spurred his subordinates on to search for the fugitive, Fan Hyulick. And finally, they succeeded in locating him. It happened on the 7<sup>th</sup> of October.

“A special operations vessel in satellite orbit has taken some 400,000 photographs of the surface, and among them was this one.”

Glancing at the stereoscopic photograph presented by his ''aide-de-camp'', Commander Granite, Duke Zarlisch Tytania exhaled deeply. The surface of the planet Bargash could not be said to have been fully colonised; a barren expanse of 40 million square kilometres, comprising cold regions, arid lands and high-altitude zones, stretched out before him. As a result of photographing every 10-kilometre square and analysing the images by computer, signs of life had been detected in that region which was supposed to be uninhabited. This was said to be a corner of the desert called Tarhari, where small armed groups opposed to Tytania had been known to operate for some time.

“That special operations vessel is capable of operating within the atmosphere, right?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Then dispatch it to that location immediately. Track down and capture Fan Hyulick. Should it prove too much to handle, even by a thin hair, send reinforcements.”

Although he spoke in hypothetical terms, “even by a thin hair”, Zarlisch’s eyes had already become a smelting furnace of passion, revealing his intention to command the fleet himself. Commander Granite, while concerned that the Bargash government’s anger and resentment would intensify, had no choice but to prioritise the wishes of his lord, Zarlisch.

Immediately stepping in front of the videophone<ref name="ftn9">“TV telephone” (ＴＶ電話) is pronounced “vision”.</ref> and issuing orders to five or six locations, Duke Zarlisch gripped his grey military cap in his enormous palm and strode out of his room at the Hotel Alhambra with strides nearly twice as long as those of an ordinary man.

Doctor Lee had been in a foul mood for the past few days. Although he was no match for Duke Zarlisch Tytania, the plan to rescue Hyulick that he had painstakingly devised had evaporated at the very last moment because of a third party whose motives were unclear. Who on earth, and from where, had gone and spoilt Doctor Lee’s brilliant blueprint with such a crude stroke of the pen? It would be reasonable to assume it was a small independent faction opposed to Tytania, but it might be dangerous to jump to that conclusion.

In any case, Doctor Lee had no intention of leaving the identity of the individual or group that had outmanoeuvred him a mystery. Having finally heard from Pagès, who had returned, about the direction in which the person who had taken Fan Hyulick had fled, he was keeping a close watch on Tytania’s movements while conducting his own analysis. As long as he kept an eye on Tytania’s movements, Hyulick’s whereabouts should become clear. It was then, and this time for certain, that Doctor Lee intended to slip past Tytania’s ferocious snout and rescue Hyulick.

Mr Fan Hyulick, pursued by both friend and foe, was nowhere to be found on the surface of planet Bargash. The skies above Bargash were under almost complete air superiority by Zarlisch Tytania’s forces, and it was virtually impossible to escape this strict surveillance and encirclement. So where was he? He was, quite literally, in hiding, underground.

Beneath the Tarhari Desert lay a cavern formed by volcanic activity in the planet’s distant past. A million years ago, lava had flowed through the area, leaving behind a winding cavern that resembled the intestines of a giant dragon. It was into this cavern, near the surface, in the region corresponding to the giant dragon’s oesophagus, that Hyulick’s rescuers had carried him. The small group of about twenty men gave no particular introduction, and Hyulick, after offering a brief word of gratitude, found himself compelled to ask:

“I still haven’t heard the reason why you saved me.”

“It’s fine to ask, but why not try to work it out for yourself first?”

“Is there a reward for that?”

Having replied this, Fan Hyulick was seized by an ominous suspicion. Could it be that this man had rescued him merely to claim the bounty placed on his head? Yet, even if that were the case, he had risked his life and fate to carry out the mission; his resolve and ability to act were extraordinary. For the time being, Fan Hyulick put forward a highly probable explanation.

“Someone who bears a grudge against Tytania.”

That suggested answer was met with a mixture of wry smiles and derisive sniggers.

“It’s like striking the ground with a hammer. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“So, in other words, it’s the correct answer?”

“You can’t say that. It’s an insult to the very meaning of the expression ‘correct answer’.”

The doctor<ref name="ftn10">The word for “doctor” refers here specifically to a medical doctor, unlike Lee who is a “doctor” because he holds a PhD.</ref>, having removed his mask, appeared to be in his late thirties. He sported a black moustache beneath his nose, which resembled the bristles of a small brush. Hyulick still did not even know his benefactor’s name, and just as he was about to ask, hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance to the cavern, the area of molten lava forming the dragon’s front teeth. A man clutching an old-fashioned heat-ray rifle and clad in a nondescript field uniform burst in, his face etched with tension.

“It’s a Tytania special operation vessel!”

The doctor and Hyulick stepped out to the dragon’s front teeth and looked up at the sky. The setting sun bathed their view, transforming the sky into a vast crimson silk cloth. A black shadow, resembling a monstrous bird, descended while slicing through the waves of the fiery atmosphere with its bow.

Although special-purpose ships were neither enormous nor heavily armed, this one was nonetheless over one hundred metres in length and equipped with no fewer than twenty guns. In this place and at this moment, it was a symbol of military might without equal. Turbulence caused by frictional heat enveloped the ship in faint crimson ripples, but as these faded with deceleration, Tytania’s crest emblazoned upon the hull shone out with haughty splendour.

Forgetting for a moment the situation he found himself in, Hyulick found himself transfixed by the sight. Truly, one could say that the people of Tytania, from top to bottom, were a pretentious lot.

The special operation vessel, suspended in midair, extended gun barrels from the underside of its hull. It looked as though three slender needles had been thrust into the ground, yet it was a grim harbinger of death and destruction. A moment and a half later, a portion of Fan Hyulick’s field of vision glowed. Three streaks of fire shot up from the ground.

With a deafening roar, a column of sand rose high and thick into the air. Thousands of tonnes of sand were swept into the air, obscuring the sky and the earth; when it reached the limits of gravity, it fell as a dry rain upon the very place where they had been living just moments before. The ground was shrouded in a cloud of sand, blocking out even the light of the star as it prepared to set.

The restraint in their firepower was clearly intended as a warning. They had no intention of annihilating them. Had that been their intention, they would have opened all their gun ports and concentrated their fire.

The Tytania special-purpose vessel had made its intentions clear with a single volley. It was demanding submission from those who had witnessed this. Hovering above the subsiding sandstorm, the vessel seemed to be lying in wait for the defiant rebels to emerge from the surface and prostrate themselves. The doctor clicked his tongue.

“How grand, as befitting of Zarlisch Tytania. It seems they intend to turn this entire rocky desert into a barbecue grill.”

“Are they looking for me?”

Fan Hyulick uttered this daft remark, causing his companion to roll his eyes at him.

===II===
The hull of the Tytania special operation vessel, hovering in the air, opened, and five shuttles, gleaming with a dull greyish-white sheen, descended to the ground. It was a sight reminiscent of silver cocoons being laid by adult insects. Amidst the settling dust cloud, the landed cocoons split open, and human figures emerged.

Fully armed soldiers stepped onto the surface one after another. Even at a glance, it was clear that the force numbered at least two platoons. Although no tanks or heavily armoured vehicles were in sight, should reinforcements arrive, they might well encounter such machinery. For the time being, the mere fact that there were enough heat-ray rifles and laser guns to go round each soldier meant they constituted an overwhelming force. At the very least, it seemed unlikely that Hyulick’s benefactors—whose identities remained unknown—would be able to put up a proper fight against them.

“I heard that the ‘strategy of sheer numbers’ was Duke Zarlisch’s speciality. How shall we deal with this?”

At Hyulick’s question, the doctor groaned.

“But this is not a fief of Clan Tytania. It is a sovereign state in its own right. Tytania cannot simply exercise military force as it pleases.”

“There’s no point telling me that. Go and tell Duke Zarlisch. And do so with the utmost courtesy.”

The government of planet Bargash would undoubtedly lodge a strong protest with the court of Tytania’s Clanner. But by then, it would all be over. Only the fact that the Bargash government had protested would remain in the diplomatic records. Or perhaps Tytania would pay compensation or a settlement to Bargash, and neither side would hold a grudge. As for Fan Hyulick, by then, far from holding a grudge, not even a single bone of his would remain in this world.

It was the wake of an airship piercing the sky that tore apart that bleak vision of the future. As it rapidly approached the Tytania special operation vessel, it came to a halt in the air at a distance of approximately one-three-hundred-thousandth of a light-second, and transmitted a signal.

“This is the Armed Peace Army (APA<ref name="ftn11">“Armed Security Force” (武装保安隊) is abbreviated here as “APA”.</ref>) of the Bargash Government. Any person engaging in illegal or unlawful armed activities in this area will be dealt with in accordance with national law.”

The flashing signal lights were interpreted as such by Fan Hyulick’s eyes as well.

“Cease fire immediately and submit to an inspection by the authorities. I repeat, submit to an inspection immediately!”

The Tytania special operations vessel showed no reaction. It was clearly hovering in the air, displaying hesitation and indecision. It would be possible to “deal with” a mere Bargash light patrol vessel using less than half of its total destructive power, but that would constitute an act of outright hostile act towards the Bargash government. Even if Tytania were to plunge into all-out war with Bargash, it would certainly not be defeated; however, such a conflict would spell the collapse of Tytania’s foreign policy.

Tytania’s core diplomatic principle was to crush any enemy that arose without mercy, while avoiding the creation of new enemies wherever possible. This was well understood by the lower-ranking members as well. Hence, their hesitation; yet, they finally sent a signal in reply. It was a refusal.

“A Tytanian obeys only the orders of his Tytanian superiors. Your vessel should report this matter to the Government Headquarters and await further instructions. This vessel will comply solely with the orders of its superiors.”

In short, the Tytania special operations vessel feared the wrath of Duke Zarlisch more than any legal action by the Bargash Government Headquarters. And as if to shake off its own hesitation, it extended its gun barrels once more.

Adjusting the angle of the muzzles and reducing their firepower, it fired all three guns simultaneously. Thick, dark-orange streaks of fire sliced through the sky at a 20-degree depression angle, grazing the patrol vessel’s hull before exploding on the ground some five kilometres away. It was a blatantly overt act of intimidation.

“Cease fire!”

“Shut up, we won’t listen.”

Though it did not voice these words, the Tytania special operations vessel made its intentions clear through its actions. While maintaining a posture ready to continue firing warning shots at the patrol vessel, it sent orders to the infantry unit awaiting on the ground. Emerging from the cocoon that had birthed them, the infantry unit began to advance.

“They’re coming…!”

The hushed voice not only stated the fact but also conveyed the tension in his mind. They mounted their sole large-calibre machine gun on the giant dragon’s oesophagus. An old-style thermal rifle was also handed to Fan Hyulick. It was handed to him by a female soldier with short, sepia-coloured hair who was for some reason wearing a sun visor and clad in a camouflaged field uniform. She was a young woman, just over twenty, with rare gentian-blue<ref name="ftn12">“Gentian blue” (竜胆色) is pronounced “gentian blue”.</ref> eyes. She was beautiful, though not quite a stunner.

As a sniper, Fan Hyulick’s skills were neither particularly good nor bad. Whether in shooting practice or in actual combat, he was an unremarkable figure. Nevertheless, once the firefight began, he took careful aim and picked off the intruders.

He certainly hit one of them, but the wound did not appear to be fatal, as the enemy dropped his gun and retreated. Instead, a barrage of gunfire focused on Hyulick, and he hastily concealed his tall frame behind a rock. The enemy was using a scope, and despite being inside the cave, their shooting was extremely accurate.

Just as Hyulick was about to stand up, the sound of rapid fire rang out once more, and red and blue sparks scattered across the surface of the rock face. A ricochet grazed Fan Hyulick’s eyelashes. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken a ricochet just above the ear, and his personal history would have come to an end. But he narrowly escaped death when a woman’s voice shouted, “Watch out!” and his left wrist was grabbed and pulled away.

At that very moment, the cave was filled with a blinding, pure white light. Someone had detonated a flare. The panicked screams that followed were caused by the light destroying the amplifiers on their scopes. The Tytania infantry unit was left temporarily blinded.

In that split second, as they stood frozen in confusion, a barrage of fire from the anti-Tytania forces rained down upon them. Gunfire echoed all around, and few shots missed their mark. These were well-trained marksmen. Having suffered around ten casualties, the Tytania infantry unit was forced to retreat.

After catching his breath, Hyulick introduced himself and thanked the female soldier who had saved his life; she looked at him with interest.

“Fan Hyulick? You’re that man who’s said to be waging a war with Tytania all on his own?”

“I have no intention of waging a war. They’re setting the price on their own<ref name="ftn13">The play on words is completely lost in translation. In Japanese, “to sell” can also mean “to pick a fight”.</ref>.”

“Well then, make sure you sell yourself for as high a price as possible. Otherwise, it would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

The young woman laughed, and as she did, an expression of astonishing vitality lit up her face. Hyulick could surmise that her beauty stemmed less from her physical features than from the vibrations of her inner vitality.

In any case, he had managed to repel the Tytania infantry unit once. This was due to the advantage of the terrain and, more importantly, the enemy’s excessive caution. From the perspective of the Tytania infantry, however, despite having scopes, they were unfamiliar with the terrain inside the cave and had no idea of the enemy’s numbers or deployment. They could well imagine the wrath of Duke Zarlisch if they were to kill Fan Hyulick by using large-calibre firearms. They decided, therefore, to retreat for the time being and devise a plan for a renewed attack.

This was, one might say, a reasonable course of action, but an unexpected sight awaited them as they emerged from the cave onto the surface. The sky looked as though it had been smeared with human blood; apart from their own mother ship and the Bargash patrol vessel, there should have been no other ships floating there, yet now a single vessel was rapidly expanding its dark silhouette. Judging by its speed and direction, it was clear that it intended to engage the Tytania special operation vessel. It was the ''Honest Old Man''.

The ''Honest Old Man''’s armament was slightly inferior to that of a Tytania destroyer-class vessel, yet surpassed that of a special operation vessel. The true strength of such an arms-smuggling vessel lay in its speed and manoeuvrability, as well as the skill of its crew in handling their machinery as if it were their own steeds. It was through this that the crew of the ''Honest Old Man'' had succeeded in assassinating Count Arses Tytania. Although this encounter took place under the unusual conditions of the atmosphere, it was a one-on-one ship-to-ship duel, and the ''Honest Old Man'' held the upper hand in terms of firepower. Precisely for that reason, Captain Casimir was all the more cautious.

It brought to mind a duel between heavily armoured knights of the Middle Ages, not for its splendour, but quite the opposite. While they moved with complete freedom in the airless expanse of space, now, deep within the high-pressure depths of the ocean, their movements appeared almost sluggishly slow. Circling gently through the air in wide arcs, they bided their time, waiting for an opportunity to drive a spear of energy into their opponent’s vital points.

The valiant patrol vessel Bargash continued to send out frantic warning signals, but these were completely ignored by the two lawless combatants.

The first flash came from the Tytania special operation vessel. A glittering beam of energy lunged at ''Honest Old Man''. It missed. Or rather, the ''Honest Old Man'' had dodged it. This time, the ''Honest Old Man'' fired a beam of its own, striking the special-purpose vessel. A white plume of smoke rose amidst a flash of light, and the special-purpose vessel appeared to stagger slightly in the air.

At that moment, four new silhouettes of ships rushed into the airspace where the one-on-one duel was taking place.

===III===
These were four armed vessels under the command of Doctor Lee. Through skilful coordination, they sought to form a ring of encirclement on either side of the Tytania special operation vessel.

For the Tytania special operation vessel, there was no means of escape other than to climb. Whenever it showed signs of preparing to climb, the armed vessels, having detected its intended direction, moved to intercept it. The skirmish between the two sides appeared to last quite a long time, but in reality it probably lasted less than a minute.

Having lost its escape route, the Tytania special operations vessel attempted a forced breakthrough and charged forward horizontally. With all gun ports open, it ploughed straight through the sea of atmosphere, firing in every direction. The encircling forces returned fire fiercely while dodging the enemy’s barrage.

The streams of fire tore through the crimson canvas of the sky, shattering against the hulls of those that failed to evade and scattering a mist of iridescent light. Light and flame erupted from the hull of the ''Honest Old Man''. However, in the time it took to land a single hit, the Tytania special operations vessel had been struck by ten rounds. A chain of small fireballs encircled the special operations vessel like a band of jewels.

A garish flower of explosive light bloomed above the Tarhari Desert. It was as though the sun, having once sunk completely below the horizon, had shifted to the zenith. By the time the sound of the explosion rippled across the ground, the light had already dissipated, the resulting cloud of smoke had scattered, and the space where the special-purpose vessel had once stood had been reduced to nothing.

As fragments of the special-purpose vessel rained down like a feeble shower of metal, a new explosion occurred on the ground. Doctor Lee had fired upon and destroyed the shuttle on the surface.

The situation changed completely. Tytania’s infantry units were now exposed to a one-sided attack from the air. They lost their will to fight, abandoned their heavy weapons, and broke away from their organised chain of command. Acting as a group would only lead to their complete annihilation. Each soldier had no choice but to rely on their own wits and courage to escape the predicament. Doctor Lee did not pursue the infantrymen as they scattered in all directions.

Mr Fan Hyulick, the fugitive with the highest bounty in the universe, was finally reunited with his comrades aboard the ''Honest Old Man''. There was no time to linger and catch up at leisure; they had to set off in a hurry. The group that had been operating a small-scale anti-Tytania resistance from their hideout in the underground caverns also seemed to have gained a new sense of confidence after managing to join forces with a contingent of the Blaze Flag Army.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fan Hyulick watched as their leader, the doctor, and Doctor Lee were discussing something, and he offered a sheepish apology to Pagès and Walenkov.

“Well, sorry to have caused you worry. Mind you, being captured by Tytania three times is quite enough of a life experience for me.”

Fan Hyulick offered this piece of sour grapes, but it was the ''Honest Old Man'' that could not get away with such a remark. The Tytania special operations vessel fought exceptionally well, firing two shots at the enemy, both of which struck the ''Honest Old Man''.

Doctor Lee addressed Captain Casimir in a voice that could hardly be described as calm.

“I’m sorry to say this, but we’d better give up on the ''Honest Old Man''. We can carry out cosmetic repairs, but it won’t withstand interstellar flight.”

Captain Compton Casimir responded to that remark with silence. It was not merely that he had lost his vocal cords and could not speak; even if that had not been the case, it must surely have been a question to which he could not have replied immediately. The ''Honest Old Man'' was not merely an inanimate object in his possession; he was his favourite partner and the very embodiment of his life itself. This was not a unique case limited to Captain Casimir; such was the nature of seasoned independent merchants. For people like that, scrapping a ship was tantamount to drawing a curtain on one’s own life.

Miranda placed her fleshy palm on her husband’s shoulder.

“Darling, it’s about time we let the ''Honest Old Man'' have a rest. He’s worked hard enough for us. He’s reached the age where he ought to hand over the reins to his son or grandson and take a well-deserved rest.”

It was not a particularly rational argument, but Captain Casimir nodded slowly. This thoughtful middle-aged man understood that this was not a situation to be swayed by personal sentiment.

“How are we going to get a new ship? As with everything else in this heartless universe, without money, you can’t even breathe.”

Alan Mahdi, who prided himself on his financial acumen, let a prosaic question roll off his tongue laced with sarcasm.

“Isn’t it your job to figure that out? What’s happened to the ingenuity you displayed back when you were a lowly foot soldier on the Tytania? It’s a pitiful state of affairs that the moment you left the organisation, your ingenuity vanished, leaving you with nothing but grumbling and sarcasm.”

Just as Mahdi was about to launch a further counterattack against Miranda’s scathing retort, Fan Hyulick interjected:

“I’ll sort out the ship.”

It wasn’t as though he had a specific plan in mind. Captain Casimir had damaged his beloved vessel to save him, so Fan Hyulick felt he had to repay that kindness.

Perhaps sensing his feelings, Captain Casimir began to form a gentle smile, but his expression changed abruptly as he cast his gaze towards a corner of the darkening sky.

Black clouds seemed to be gathering on the horizon. Both reason and instinct recognised that this was the Tytania fleet, yet even so, those who witnessed it were left momentarily dazed.

The number of vessels must have exceeded one hundred. While this represented only a fraction of Tytania’s total military might, it was more than enough to wipe out the anti-Tytania faction gathered here. Even Doctor Lee could not help but speak in a voice on the verge of losing its composure.

“It seems Lord Zarlisch Tytania is finally making an appearance in person.”

“So, what are we going to do? Are we going to fight?” asked Pagès, though he was merely asking the question.

There was no way they could survive a battle; they had no choice but to abandon the ship and flee underground. A frantic retreat began, and the sound of footsteps echoed chaotically from the giant dragon’s mouth down into its oesophagus.

“What are you all so scared of? It’s a golden opportunity that Zarlisch has come out this far. If that massive body were holed up deep within Uraniborg, we wouldn’t stand a chance, but hasn’t she come within range of our bullets?”

The voice that echoed through the cave belonged to a woman wearing a visor; in the dim light, Fan Hyulick realised she was near him. At this point, the total number of anti-Tytanian rebels who had taken refuge in the cave was around three hundred, and they had to rely on the cave’s original inhabitants to guide them. As there weren’t enough scopes to go round, they had no choice but to rely on old-fashioned torches.

Perhaps because he was an optimist at heart, Hyulick was happier to have a young, pretty woman by his side than a scruffy bloke. Once he had settled down and set his weapons and ammunition down on the ground, he asked her:

“Are you here because you’re trying to avenge your parents’ deaths or something?”

“My parents? Well, it does have something to do with them, actually.”

Lowering her voice slightly, the young woman peered into Hyulick’s eyes.

“My father is Ajman Tytania, the current Landless Clanner. My mother was an unknown woman. Nothing more than a wildflower the Clanner plucked on a whim.”

The shock seeped silently into Hyulick’s mind. In his twenty-eight years, he’d often been at a loss as to how to react, but this was the first time he’d found himself in a position where he didn’t know how to respond to a woman’s background. Ultimately, however, in such situations, one could only apologise for prying too deeply into the other person’s affairs.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I’d be grateful if you could forgive me.”

As Fan Hyulick bowed his carrot-coloured head, the young woman gazed at the wandering hero with an expression of utter sincerity.

“Hmm, just as my grandmother said. Why are men so weak when it comes to illegitimate children? It’s because they all have a guilty conscience.”

“Eh? So…?”

“It’s nonsense. My father was a pianist in a no-name pub. It’s a common enough story, but his opportunities were snatched away by a rival backed by Tytania…”

The woman sighed, and her expression changed slightly.

“Are you disappointed that I’m not a wandering princess?”

“No, not at all.”

With a wry smile playing around his eyes and mouth, Fan Hyulick waved his hand dismissively.

“It made me realise just how shallow I was, but now that I’ve had a moment to think about it, I rather feel it’s a good thing you aren’t one of Tytania’s illegitimate children.”

The woman didn’t ask why he felt that way.

“I’m sorry for spouting such nonsense.”

“I don’t mind.”

After answering so clearly, Fan Hyulick searched somewhat awkwardly for a topic of conversation, but there was nothing around him that had any connection to romanticism.

“So, does everyone harbour hatred or resentment towards Tytania?”

“That’s right. Everyone harbours negative feelings towards Tytania. After all, someone who achieves power and success can’t possibly be loved by everyone of their time.”

“Does that also apply to your leader?”

“Yeah. He lost his wife, child and hospital all at once. It was an accident at a Tytania-affiliated chemical plant. Even though it was entirely a human error, those responsible were never punished.”

She told Hyulick that her leader’s name was Doctor Ibn Kasim.

“I don’t think Tytania is deliberately picking on the weak. When an elephant walks, ants get crushed. That’s all there is to it. But ants aren’t alive just to be crushed by elephants.”

That’s a good line, thought Fan Hyulick. He hadn’t been born to fight Tytania, but he had certainly been born to be chased by her and forced to flee. Since he had no choice but to be born an ant, and given his temperament and circumstances meant he could never become an elephant’s servant, he had no option but to refuse to be crushed and fight back. Fan Hyulick’s mind began to race.

As long as Zarlisch Tytania remained determined to capture him alive, there would be plenty of opportunities to strike back. The desire to capture him alive was their own convenience; there was absolutely no need for them to show any restraint. He had begun to seriously consider how to bring down the approaching giant elephant.

===IV===
“Damn thieving rats. I’ll chop their flesh to pieces and mix it into the desert sand.”

Zarlisch rose from his command seat. Although the ground was being enveloped by the twilight, the screen clearly displayed the grey-brown terrain.

“The new dish Your Grace has devised is sure to become a Bargash speciality,” said Lieutenant-Commander Kaits, one of his staff officers, in order to flatter him.

Zarlisch was fond of this sort of boisterous, or perhaps crude joke. He opened his mouth wide, framed by his thick beard, and roared with laughter. The staff officers around him laughed in response to their commander’s laughter, but the one man who did not join in was his ''aide-de-camp'', Commander Granite.

If there was anyone aboard Zarlisch’s flagship, the ''Typhoon'', who prioritised reason over emotion, it was surely this man, who had served as Zarlisch’s ''aide-de-camp'' for three years. Shaking his brown head streaked with a few grey strands, Granite dared to dampen his master’s enthusiasm.

“I say this precisely because Your Grave refers to them as thieving rats. Is it really necessary for Your Grace to take it upon yourself to subdue such scum? You are a pillar of Tytania; I implore you to exercise restraint.”

Although Zarlisch gave a perfunctory nod in response to Commander Granite’s advice, he had no intention of heeding it. A born warrior who never shied from a fight, he had, moreover, once had a prisoner snatched from his grasp. He could find no peace of mind until he had once again taken Fan Hyulick prisoner, this time until death, and wiped out the pesky vermin swarming around him.

He was by no means incompetent, but at this moment, at the very least, he cast aside any effort to control his emotions with reason and charged forward, driven solely by his instincts as a warrior. Had this been a battle against a vast enemy fleet in outer space, Zarlisch would undoubtedly have utilised his formidable strength to shatter the enemy forces and achieved a spectacular military feat. But now he was swinging a club intended to slay a giant elephant, attempting to exterminate a swarm of flitting mosquitoes.

Zarlisch was unaware that vast amounts of energy were spinning uselessly, their radiant heat turning into turbulence that was being reflected back at him, gradually evaporating his reason. His staff had already been infected by this frenzy, and one of them, staring intently at the screen, cried out in excitement. It was Lieutenant-Commander Kaits.

“Shall we deploy an ultra-low-frequency missile and bury them alive, Your Grace?”

“Don’t. It would prevent me from dragging that Fan Hyulick before my mother.”

With that single remark, he dismissed his staff’s proposal. The one who had offered this advice was his ''aide-de-camp'', Commander Granite.

“Your Grace, surely it would suffice to simply report to your mother that Hyulick has been killed. Would it not be best to proceed as proposed?”

“Granite, do not interject for no reason! I have already made my decision.”

“M-my apologies.”

The reason Granite withdrew without protest was that he was becoming increasingly aware of his own lack of passion for his duties as an ''aide-de-camp''. What he was engaged in was not an official military operation, nor even a private war waged by the Zarlisch family; it was nothing more than a cruel hunting game. Granite recognised this fact with bitterness.

He was a military specialist in his mid-thirties who had graduated from the Vardana Imperial Space Force Academy. After completing secondary school, he had joined the crew of a Tytanian carrack, where his valour in combat against space pirates had earned him the captain’s recognition; it was on the captain’s recommendation that he had secured a Tytanian scholarship and been admitted to the Academy. Although he was a loyal soldier who had served the Tytania clan for twenty years, he was no mindless organic robot. He could not bring himself to support Zarlisch’s actions, which appeared to reveal personal feelings and undermine the interests and honour of Tytania as a whole.

One thing led to another. This man would always prioritise emotion over reason. While that might be acceptable for an individual, it was fatal for the head of a vast organisation. Should this man become the Clanner, Tytania would be unable to avoid the peril of dancing on a pile of eggs. That was the conclusion Commander Granite was forced to reach in his heart. Even so, for the universe’s greatest ruthless general, whose name was adorned with countless military exploits, to become entangled in such a trivial matter and lay his weaknesses bare!

“Your Grace, that Bargash fly that has been hovering about for some time has begun to buzz again. What should we do?”

The communications officer’s report, as befitted a subordinate of Zarlisch, was brimming with contempt for a weak enemy. They were a group in grey military uniforms who worshipped the power of Tytania in its most physical form.

Zarlisch shook his fine beard with an exasperated expression and, without so much as a moment’s thought, issued a casual order.

“Attack it.”

“Yes, but it is an official vessel of the Bargash government; if we attack it, it will be a hostile action against them…”

“I told you to attack it. We’ll sort things out with the Bargash government in due course. Do those fools really have the guts to go head-to-head with Tytania?”

Commander Granite opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, so there was no one left to stop his master. They were, after all, the most belligerent group in Tytania. No one took offence at being ordered to attack.

Even so, they did, of course, refrain from hitting their target with the very first shot. As two energy beams burst from the gun barrels and pierced the air at close range, the patrol vessel reacted like a small animal terrified of a thunderclap, tracing a chaotic wake across the dark sky as it fled at top speed.

The Tytanian fleet watched it depart with renewed derision, then turned their guns towards the ground. A dilapidated vessel lay crumpled upon the dark Tarhari Desert. Soon, those inside the cave witnessed several streams of fire converging on a single point.

“The ''Honest Old Man''…” sighed Miranda, her ample bosom quivering.

The dilapidated vessel, abandoned on the ground, was being cremated, its yellow and orange flames illuminating a corner of the twilight. The wind carried the flickering of the flames and the sound of burning deep into the underground cavern. This was the funeral of the ''Honest Old Man''.

Miranda placed a comforting hand on Captain Casimir’s arm as he stood there in silence. Though not quite to the same extent as the couple, the anti-Tytania ruffians who had made the ''Honest Old Man'' their home for several months gazed at the reflection of the flames with an uncharacteristic solemnity. Some muttered that it was a shame to waste such a vessel, even if it was a ramshackle old ship. There was no need to name them.

“Night has fallen before we expected, but we ought to be seeing some movement by now.”

Shaking off the grains of sentimentality or whatever emotional state lay close to it, Doctor Lee voiced a practical concern: The man he was attempting to elevate as the leader of the anti-Tytania faction had been silent for some time, deep in thought.

“It is a sorry state of affairs for someone who’s supposed to be vying with Tytania for supremacy in space to find himself being chased through an underground passage on a remote planet like this.”

As Doctor Lee muttered this, Miranda exhaled a large amount of carbon dioxide from her lungs.

“If we were just being chased, it wouldn’t be that bad. I wouldn’t mind dying out in space, but I’ve no desire to die underground.”

For everyone except Fan Hyulick, their current situation was but a hair’s breadth from certain death. Tytania had not a single milligram of reason or necessity to keep them alive. Even if they were to surrender, the only possible outcome would be to be lined up before Hyulick and shot.

“I have an idea.”

With those words, Fan Hyulick spoke up, and the group fixed their gaze on him, listening intently to his proposal. The sole exception was the ninety-something-year-old chief steward of the ''Honest Old Man'', who, ignoring both the flames and the commotion, leaned against the rock face and continued his solo performance of snoring, rising and falling in pitch.

Duke Zarlisch’s intention to take Fan Hyulick prisoner and keep him alive was not born out of compassion. Nor was it out of any intention to subject him to a fair trial. Nor was it out of any magnanimity to win over and appoint such a valuable talent to his side. It was solely to have Fan Hyulick brutally murdered by his own mother’s hand.

Now that this was clear, Hyulick had absolutely no need to show any deference to his opponent. And, as if in response to his combative resolve, the situation on the ground and in the air was beginning to shift one more time that day.