Editing Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 4 (section)

=== 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.”