Editing Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8 (section)

=== V ===
''“I had hoped you would not disappoint me, Lord Jouslain. I believed I had granted you something advantageous. I remained silent, thinking it would be unrefined to speak of it, but since you lack the insight to see it, then I have no choice. I shall simply give up on you.”''

“Advantageous…?”

''“Where is this child that you claim I have turned into a tool? You still have a hostage against Idris held in your custody, do you not?”''

Jouslain turned his gaze towards Zelpha, feeling as though he had been struck across the face; he could no longer remember how many times this had happened.

Pinned to the floor with a gun barrel pressed against him, Zelpha glared back at Jouslain. His entire body trembled finely, and his breathing was heavy. It was a display of bravado. Yet, this boy was maintaining that bravado at the cost of his entire life and honour. He did so while being halfway crushed by the harsh conditions demanded of a Tytania noble.

Wiping the expression from his face, Jouslain approached and ordered the soldiers to force Zelpha, who refused to stop struggling, to stand up.

“Did you hear that, Baronet? It appears that after you have fulfilled your duty as an assassin, you must also serve as a hostage.”

“I will never become a hostage! If it has to come to that, I’ll bite my tongue and die!”

The moment those words left his lips, Jouslain’s hands moved. He gripped Zelpha’s slender chin with his left hand. The fingers of his right hand thrust into the boy’s mouth, seizing his tongue. Zelpha choked, unable even to attempt a cough, as tears of pain and resentment flowed from both eyes.

“If you want to die by biting your tongue, then go ahead. I’ll even help you.”

“Ah… ah… cough…”

“What will it be? Will you die?”

At that moment, Jouslain looked like neither a young nobleman nor a gentleman. Amidst the staff officers who stood frozen, breathless and silenced, the avenger seemed to have surrendered himself entirely to his own ferocity; however, upon glancing at Francia, who remained clinging to his right arm, he suddenly released his grip and shoved Zelpha away.

“This child acts far more grown-up than he really is. Keep him under guard.”

The soldiers nodded gloomily while keeping Zelpha pinned down.

“Do not let him die, no matter what.”

Jouslain looked towards Ariabert. Captain Edna Fredericks remained on both knees upon the floor, her hands silently stroking Ariabert’s hair as his head rested upon them.

“If he dies now, he will pass away with the satisfaction of having slain an enemy general for his brother’s sake. I will not allow Ariabert’s foe to taste such happiness!”

Jouslain steadied his breathing once, then twice. He lightly tapped the back of Francia’s hand, which was resting on his arm, before speaking. To the woman Ariabert had likely spent his final night with.

“Captain Fredericks, I am sorry, but…”

“Yes.”

As Edna attempted to stand, lowering Ariabert’s head from her lap, Jouslain raised his hand to restrain her.

“Leave him as he is. I am sorry, but please assign two or three soldiers to confine this boy somewhere.”

“Understood… Sergeant!”

Just as Zelpha was about to be led away,

“Wait!”

Princess Lydia rushed forward. She bowed her head towards Ariabert, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands together in the ancient custom before turning back towards Zelpha.

“Lord Ariabert was a good man.”

“…”

“Did you never wish you could be an adult like him?”

“…”

“Did you truly allow him to die of your own will?”

Unable to endure Princess Lydia’s direct gaze, Zelpha averted his eyes. He had intended to respond with logic and reason, but the words that escaped his lips were far from it.

“Hmph, how could a child possibly understand?”

“I can understand.”

A strong, sharp voice made Zelpha flinch. The owner of that voice was a fellow clansman whom he had met many times at ceremonies and parties, Viscount Balamy Tytania.

Balamy realised it. He had respected Ariabert, at least as a commander. He had desired to become a commander who possessed both the skill in military deployment and the personal leadership that Ariabert held.

Balamy was nine years younger than Ariabert and Jouslain. While that age gap seemed large, from the perspective of the generational succession of the Clanner throne, it was actually far too small. If Ariabert or Jouslain had ascended to the Clanner throne, their era would have continued for twenty or thirty years, leaving no place for Balamy to emerge. However, Balamy could not bring himself to feel glad that this had not happened.

“With this, both the peace negotiations and the imperial decree have vanished, right?”

Balamy deliberately changed the subject.

“We still have nineteen thousand vessels remaining. The enemy likely possesses twenty-four or twenty-five thousand. Even if hostilities resume, there is no reason to fear.”

“If Ariabert were still here, that is.”

“… I…”

“The Clanner will announce Ariabert’s death. Once that happens, I wonder how many of those nineteen thousand will actually remain.”

Jouslain’s expression and tone were not so much sombre than somewhat resigned. It was the first time Balamy had ever seen Jouslain like this. Jouslain’s strategy, both political and military, had relied entirely upon the presence of Ariabert.

With Ariabert dead and Jouslain currently struggling to regain his composure, who was it that commanded the great army of nearly twenty thousand that had arrived at an expedition from Bargash? Was it not Balamy, the only one left holding a Tytania title? Realising this, Balamy was struck with horror.

“Lord Balamy, please escort Princess Lydia.”

“Yes.”

As Balamy departed with the Princess and the soldiers, Jouslain spoke to the lady-in-waiting who remained alone.

“Do not worry, Francia. I am not yet finished. It is simply that I have lost both my past and my future at once.”

“You must still have a future, Lord Jouslain.”

“I do not. There is no such thing.”

“Lord Jouslain, the future that was lost belongs to Tytania. It does not belong to you.”

Francia’s voice grew fervent. Jouslain merely responded with a feeble smile. It was the first time Francia had ever seen her master so utterly defeated and at a loss.

The sound of footsteps approached. When Francia looked up, she saw Captain Edna Fredericks, the commander of the battleship ''Austra'', which had become the site of this historic tragedy. There was a large, dark stain upon her uniform. Ariabert’s blood.

“Your Grace, should you have any instructions, I stand ready to receive them.”

“Prepare Ariabert’s funeral.”

“Yes.”

“Make it something worthy of him: simple, yet dignified and elegant.”

“As you wish.”

“Captain Fredericks, we shall speak again sometime… though not now, for either of us.”

Edna saluted in silence and departed. Francia tightened her grip on her arm.

“After the funeral, are you to fight Lord Idris again?”

“Idris?”

Jouslain gave a silent laugh.

“I am afraid he is of no consequence. The Clanner… Ajman, is telling le to try my hand at challenging him.”

Francia gasped, grasping Jouslain’s right hand with both of hers. A horrific terror, beyond anything she could have imagined, enveloped her entire being. To fight the Clanner! A living god to the Tytanians…

“I was naive. I was a fool. If only I had realised just one day sooner, I could have prevented Ariabert’s death… Ajman had been hiding himself in the darkness, pulling the strings of a puppet named Idris. If only I had been able to see through those puppet strings…”

“But, Lord Jouslain, why would the Clanner do such a thing?”

Before long, even Francia had forgotten to use the respectful title of “Highness”.

“I do not know… I do not know yet. I am no match for Ajman. I may never be… But I refuse to dance one-sidedly upon the palm of his hand.”

Jouslain looked at Francia. Although his passion had not yet subsided, his self-control and stability seemed to be returning. With a sense of relief, Francia voiced her own thought.

“Is it not because the Clanner is attempting to eliminate anyone in his way so that he may pass the throne to his own child?”

“For Theophilus? I believe he is seven years old.”

“Yes. It takes fifteen years to reach adulthood, a duration everyone finds acceptable.”

“Hum…”

Francia’s words were sensible and persuasive. It was true; history was full of countless examples of dictators massacring other clans in order to secure their own child as heir.

However, for some reason, Jouslain remained unconvinced. Was Ajman truly such a conventional man? Or rather, was he the kind of man who would orchestrate such a catastrophe for such a small, commonplace purpose?

Furthermore, there was Idris. He had been forced to fight Ariabert, only to be patronisingly rescued just as he was on the verge of defeat, and his devoted younger brother had been used as an assassin and was now amidst the enemy. Even so, would Idris remain a mere subordinate to Clanner Ajman?

Jouslain gripped Francia’s hand without even realising it. Francia squeezed back with all her strength.

Emptiness and rage took turns to seize Jouslain. Each time, the blood flowing through his veins froze cold, only to boil with heat once more. Having lost the other half of his soul, to whom he had entrusted the future of his clan, and tormented by an unfathomable sense of helplessness unlike any he had ever known, Duke Jouslain Tytania still had no choice but to press on along the path he had chosen himself.

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