Editing Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 2 (section)

=== 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engaged in a trivial quarrel with Viscount Balamy just last year, the military appointments Idris had decided upon were rescinded, the threads he had been weaving were severed, and, to top it all, his conflict with Jouslain had intensified.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.

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