Editing Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1 (section)

=== 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.