Editing Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 6 (section)

== 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?

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