Editing Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 8 (section)

=== 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&nbsp;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&nbsp;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&nbsp;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.