Editing Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 8

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== Chapter 8 – That which was Last ==
=== I ===
The translucent wall continued to reflect the ongoing skirmish between the kin outside Uraniborg without ever tiring.

The dancing interplay of light and shadow was, in itself, a brawl of life and death, but the man, clad in a silk gown and reclined deep within his armchair, kept his eyes closed, appearing entirely unexcited. Eventually, as two points of light flickered above the dark shadows, a heavy yet inorganic voice drifted out.

“Idris is likely fighting with all his might, but there is little excitement in seeing things unfold exactly as we predicted.”

The figure reached out a hand lightly, picked up an antique bell-shaped bell from the side table, and rang it twice. After replacing the bell, he rose leisurely from his armchair and continued to watch the battle through the wall, resting both hands lightly behind his waist.

It did not take long. The lights in the grand room brightened by two levels, and the figure of the Tytania Clanner’s butler appeared.

The butler, Oblon, bowed reverently towards his master’s back. As if his lord had eyes on the back of his head.

“I await your commands, Your Clanner Highness.”

“Change my clothes.”

“As you wish.”

Oblon showed no sign of being startled, nor did he ask any unnecessary questions. He had served Ajman for a quarter of a century. He knew what he needed to know regarding the Clanner’s private life, and he knew how to distinguish it from what he had no need to know.

“Prepare my formal attire.”

“As you wish.”

For the first time, he asked a question:

“Which of your formal sets should I prepare?”

“Let us go with the second one.”

“Very well. I shall attend to it immediately.”

Oblon withdrew, observing perfect etiquette.

After finishing his change of clothes at the hands of the four ladies-in-waiting Oblon had summoned, Clanner Ajman left the room, appearing entirely unconcerned by the fact that a life-or-death struggle was unfolding in the vacuum outside. Count Elman, the political secretary, the chief aide-de-camp, the chief scribe, and other high-ranking officials waiting at the doorway all saluted him in unison.

Ajman gave a slight nod before announcing:

“The private feud between those greenhorns must be nearing its limit. I am going to my office.”

“As you wish.”

“Your Highness.”

A woman’s voice rang out. It was Countess Theodora.

“If I may be so bold, should there be anything I can assist with, I shall accompany you.”

The Clanner gave a short laugh.

“What a cunning woman. Do you intend to instigate something in my name to protect your own interests? Since you presume to meddle in affairs beyond your station, perhaps I should have someone like Ariabert or Jouslain execute you.”

Even Theodora appeared to have lost her composure. Ajman passed before her, standing there like a living statue, without so much as a single glance.

Theodora cast a gaze filled with both terror and hostility at his arrogant back, but it proved entirely futile, as if a steel armour deflected her fury. She leaned against the wall and struggled to steady her breathing, letting herself succumb to the sensation of beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead, which looked as though it had been sculpted from marble.



Idris tossed the empty energy drink bottle over his shoulder. One of the soldiers barely managed to catch it. A small bitterness stung Idris’ stomach as he thought that his manners were becoming increasingly coarse. His hair and clothing were not as immaculate as usual, which instead lent a certain ferocity to the young nobleman’s beauty.

“Your younger brother has returned!”

Even upon hearing this, Idris did not react immediately. After a short pause, he looked back at the messenger with suspicion.

“My brother? Was Zelpha away?”

“No, well, I am referring to His Lordship Baron Radmoth…”

“Radmoth?”

It was a reaction as if Idris had completely forgotten he even had a brother by that name. Though he frowned overtly, he nevertheless proceeded to enquire.

“Is he wounded?”

“I wouldn’t call it a wound… He is sleeping, but he is perfectly well.”

“Then it is fine. We shall deal at a later date with his crime of failing to suppress those pirates. Do not allow Radmoth into the combat command room. Let him sleep.”

“Administer an injection and do not wake him for two or three days,” commanded Idris. To be honest, he felt as though he wished the man would simply sleep for eternity. Then, another urgent, important report was brought to him in haste.

“What is it this time!?”

“His Clanner Highness requests your presence, Duke Idris.”

“Now?”

“Indeed, he does.”

“But I cannot leave the combat command centre at a time like this.”

“I must reiterate that His Clanner Highness requests you attend him as soon as possible.”

''“What nonsense is that at a time like this!”'' roared Idris—although only entirely within his own mind.

Was it not only a few days ago that the man had refused Idris’ request for an audience? Whether his mood had changed or his supposed illness had improved, he had chosen, of all times, to summon him in the midst of combat operations. Just how far did he intend to manipulate others at his whim?

Even so, Idris possessed no option to refuse.

“I may be facing judgement regarding that matter.”

Idris felt a dark shudder run through him, but he shuddered once and shook off the fear with a self-deprecating smirk. If it were to come to that, then so be it. What would happen to the battles with Ariabert and Jouslain after his death? Would the Clanner himself fight them, or… No, let it be what it will.

“Furthermore, there is an order that you must bring your younger brother.”

“My brother… Radmoth?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realised his nerves were beginning to fray. However, the messenger’s reply was unexpected.

“No, your youngest brother.”

“Zelpha?… Nevermind, I understand.”

Though he doubted the Clanner’s true intentions, he had no choice but to comply. Idris called out his youngest brother’s name and beckoned him.

“Zelpha, get yourself presentable. We are having an audience with His Clanner Highness. You are ordered that you accompany me.”

“With His Clanner Highness? Me?”

The boy seemed just as astonished.

“You have met him before, have you not?”

“A few years ago… when I was a child.”

Despite the situation, Idris gave a wry smile at Zelpha’s visibly nervous reply. It seemed the boy still believed himself to be a mere child.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Idris’ mind. It was entirely disconnected from the current situation and the events that had transpired thus far; it was a question so basic it was almost ridiculous.

He was on good terms with Zelpha. But what about Ariabert and Jouslain? Why were they killing one another? And why did the Clanner stand by and watch such carnage with such indifference?

The doubt quickly swelled into suspicion, battering at Idris’ heart from within. Being branded “incompetent” would have been far more bearable than this.

However, the voice of the Clanner, whom he was meeting for the first time in a long while, remained utterly calm.

“What is the progress of the battle?”

“Well…”

Suppressing the dark crimson flames that flared within his chest, Idris replied:

“It is truly a matter of great shame, but the situation is exactly as you behold. We have yet to succeed in annihilating the traitors…”

“It appears the battleship ''Golden Sheep'' remains intact.”

“I humbly believe that we have inflicted some degree of damage.”

Ajman curled one corner of his mouth slightly.

“If you begin to falsify your battle reports, you will only sink yourself into a mire of disgrace. I am fine with candid responses, Lord Idris.”

“You are too kind.”

Idris was certain he was being mocked, yet he replied with a steady tone. He resisted the impulse to laugh at his own endeavours.

Ajman’s gaze had already shifted to the side of Idris.

“Raise your head.”

In obedience to the command, Zelpha looked the Clanner directly in the eye.




=== II ===
“Are you Lord Idris’ youngest brother?”

“Y-yes.”

“No need to fear.”

“He is so overwhelmed by your presence that he can scarcely find my voice. As he is still but a child, I beg for your indulgence.”

The Clanner showed no interest in Idris’ words.

“And what did you say your name was?”

“Z-Zelpha.”

“Zelpha, is it? I have high hopes for you. One day, you shall become a fine right hand to Lord Idris.”

“That is my greatest wish, no, my greatest desire.”

Sincerity filled Zelpha’s voice.

“It seems you have a good brother, Lord Idris.”

“I am honoured by your words.”

Idris tasted the height of bitterness, thinking that this was a conversation he truly wished Radmoth could have heard. Even so, the Clanner’s true intentions in summoning Idris to this place remained as obscure as ever. From what he could see, although the Clanner appeared somewhat pale, his posture was not in the slightest disarray. Idris simply could not believe he was a man recovering from illness.

“What do you intend to do from here, Lord Idris?”

“I deserve ten thousand deaths for the sin of causing you distress. At present, while the progress of the battle has been sluggish, our army has not yet exerted its full strength. The annihilation of the rebel forces shall be achieved within a day or two.”

“Lord Idris, that is rather vague.”

“Yes, I am most sorry.”

“Was two-to-one too much to handle, after all?”

That murmur set Idris’ younger brother ablaze with shame.

“With all due respect, Your Clanner Highness…”

“Remain silent, Zelpha.”

“But, Brother…”

“Do not speak without His Highness’ permission! Have you forgotten the etiquette of Tytania nobility?”

At Idris’ reprimand, Zelpha fell silent.

“It is quite alright, Zelpha. If you have something to say, then speak.”

“Yes, with Your Highness’ permission, I shall speak. My brother possesses talents far superior to both Ariabert and Jouslain, and his loyalty to Your Highness is unparalleled. I humbly pray that you will continue to place your trust in him.”

It was an extraordinary thing for a boy of twelve or thirteen years to say. Ajman stared intently at Zelpha, taking a moment of silence before breaking it:

“In that case, Baronet Zelpha Tytania, for the sake of your beloved brother, why not attempt to fulfil a mission even if it means staking your life?”

At this sudden command, both elder and younger brother held their breaths, but the younger brother’s reaction speed surpassed that of his elder.

“I am deeply honoured. I await your command.”

“Words are easy enough to speak.”

“Your Highness, I beg you to believe me. For my brother’s sake and my own, I, Zelpha, wish to be of service to you.”

With flushed cheeks and a brilliance like falling stars in his eyes, Zelpha raised his voice fervently. It was an appearance sufficient to make one believe he was a man of great potential.

“Very well, then. I shall place my trust in you and bestow upon you a mission.”

“I… I am deeply grateful. Though I am still inexperienced, I shall never under any circumstances fail to meet your expectations, Your Highness.”

The Clanner and Idris gazed at the boy with their respective expressions. After a moment, Ajman nodded with a sense of satisfaction and resolve, his voice resonating with a heavy depth.

“I intend to meet with Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain.”

Idris felt as though his suspicions had, in fact, been confirmed.

“Do you intend to invite them to Uraniborg?”

“Do you truly think they would come here?”

The Clanner tilted his head slightly. To Idris, the gesture seemed somewhat affected.

“No…”

“I shall send an envoy to act on my behalf. There are matters that are difficult to discuss properly through a communication screen.”

“…”

“While it remains to be seen how they will react as a result, I have, for my part, been able to confirm something important this time.”

“And what might that be?”

“To be honest, I had my concerns regarding Lord Ariabert’s competence, but those have been dispelled. To face forty thousand ships with only twenty thousand and achieve this level of combat. To put it simply, Lord Ariabert’s prowess as a commander is equal to twenty thousand vessels on his own. There shall be no one left who can oppose him militarily.”

Only Zelpha stared directly at him, as if in protest of the Clanner’s words. Having been judged as lacking Ariabert’s strategic genius, Idris could not bring himself to raise his eyes.

Idris bowed his head deeply toward the retreating figure of Ajman as he turned on his heel. It was not out of awe, nor was it out of reverence. It was because if he were to raise his face and look directly, others would see his eyes, scorched with hatred.

By the time he finally raised his head, the Clanner, who had been holding Zelpha’s shoulder like a father, was just disappearing around the corner of the room.

Idris remained standing there, motionless. He had a vision and heard a voice in his head, as if the very throne of Clanner was receding from before him, echoing with the sound of derisive laughter.

Through the transparent walls, swirling eddies of light and shadow enveloped Idris. He appeared like a living corpse.

Was it over? Had it truly ended? Had the Clanner given up on Idris and decided to hand the future of Tytania over to Ariabert and Jouslain?

However, Idris was mistaken.



“Cease fire!”

An authoritative command surged through the communication networks of both armies.

“Cease fire immediately. This is the will of His Clanner Highness. Seal all weapons at once and stand down from combat status. Furthermore, both armies are to maintain a distance of fifty thousand kilometres and remain stationary. I repeat, this is the will of His Clanner Highness.”

Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged glances from their respective positions. When they turned their eyes back to the screens, the forces of “Uraniborg” were in a state of slight confusion, yet they were silencing their artillery and retreating, as if to demonstrate their loyalty and obedience to the Clanner.

As Ariabert and Jouslain followed suit, a mysterious sight appeared ahead of the media fleet.

“The clouds of light appear to be rapidly separating and converging. What could have happened? Military commentator Mr&nbsp;Peterhead, please give us your thoughts.”

“It appears to be a temporary ceasefire. Both sides have ceased their attacks simultaneously and are retreating to increase the distance between them.”

“This is sudden. And quite unexpected. What on earth happened, Mr&nbsp;Peterhead?”

“Something of extreme gravity must have occurred.”

“Something very significant, then.”

“We have no choice but to keep a close watch for a while.”

The conversation they exchanged was by no means meaningless. It served only to intensify the anxiety and suspicion shared by everyone. As for the media, they continued their observations relentlessly, while letting their imaginations run wild with the thought that ''“such a situation would be unthinkable without a direct order from the Clanner.”''

Aboard the battleship ''Austra'', Ariabert and Jouslain were away from the bridge. Tytania-style dreadnoughts always featured an “Audience Chamber”, prepared for instances when the Clanner himself might board. It was a room of approximately fifteen square metres, adorned with classical decorations, with one wall covered by a screen. Upon seeing Ajman dressed in ceremonial attire on the screen, the two dukes knelt.

''“I am glad to see you both are well. I would like to meet and speak with you; will you grant me this?”''

It was Jouslain’s turn to speak:

“Do you order that we both appear before you in person?”

''“That was indeed my intention.”''

“As we are but humble members of the Tytania Clan, suspending combat is one thing, but we cannot simply abandon our forces and move recklessly. We humbly request that you issue further instructions.”

''“I see. That is a valid point.”''

Ajman nodded magnanimously.

''“If you were to believe my words without question and rush in without caution, you would not be worthy of being entrusted with the future of Tytania. Moreover, the advantage lies with your side—overwhelmingly so.”''

Jouslain felt as though the waves of Idris’ fury were palpable. The combat, which had lasted half a day, had merely exhausted both armies, and Idris still held Uraniborg.

''“However, it would be unimaginative to allow us to descend into fratricide without even a final round of negotiations or debate. I shall dispatch an envoy to you. If it is at all possible, I wish to prevent this bloodshed.”''

“…”

''“It goes without saying that the reason you two raised your banners was due to the belief that Lord Idris had detained me. However, since I am standing here before you, it has become clear that this was a misunderstanding. Therefore, there should no longer be any reason to continue this conflict, is there?”''




=== III ===
The moment had finally arrived.

Everyone trembled with dread. The time had finally come for Clanner Ajman to appear before the public.

The media’s excitement reached a fever pitch all at once.

“Clanner Ajman is alive and well!”

“Fighting has ceased between the Uraniborg forces and the Ariabert-Jouslain allied forces!”

“A meeting regarding peace negotiations is set to take place at Uraniborg between the Clanner and the three dukes!”

“From this point on, an explanation regarding the terms of the peace will be provided by the Clanner himself…”

It was as if the interstellar communication circuit itself had descended into madness.

“My, it has certainly taken an unexpected turn, hasn’t it, military commentator Mr&nbsp;Peterhead?”

“Well, it is certainly within the realm of what can be expected,” replied the commentator, sounding exactly like a commentator.

“Clanner Ajman…”

Even Doctor Lee stared intently at the screen, muttering the words unconsciously. He even held back his blinks, as if not wanting to miss a single movement of the lips, a twitch of an eyebrow, or the angle of a gaze. Holding a bottle of dark beer in one hand, Fan Hyulick sat with his legs crossed in silence.

“Ah, damn it, if only I could interview him. My name would be etched in history!”

“There is no way you could interview him. Just standing before a Clanner would leave you drenched in cold sweat, unable to speak a word.”

Such a conversation was being exchanged in one corner of the media contingent, but the moment Clanner Ajman, who had appeared on the screen, opened his mouth, all conversation and monologue ceased instantly.

''“Of the tens of billions of all humankind, Ajman alone spoke”'' (K.&nbsp;K.&nbsp;Microft).

The contents of that speech would, in the days to follow, be replayed hundreds of millions of times.



Wounded, exhausted, and shrouded in the sense of defeat, the fleet returned to Uraniborg.

Forty thousand vessels had set out. Fewer than thirty thousand returned, of which eight thousand were heavily damaged and deemed unfit for redeployment within fifty days. Remarkably, ten thousand ships had returned almost entirely unscathed, yet this was not the result of heroic combat, but quite the opposite. They had become mere spectators, never engaging the enemy or even firing a single shot, left only to witness the disastrous defeat of their allies in stunned silence. Ariabert had perfectly neutralised the enemy’s numerical advantage.

The soldiers, disembarking from their ships, spoke to one another with hollow voices.

“Can you believe it? The enemy had twenty thousand; we had forty thousand. How on earth did we end up in such disgrace?”

“The thousand enemy ships weren’t even destroyed. I now certainly understand the meaning of the expression ‘one-sided’.”

“Where was Duke Idris, anyway? Where was our Commander-in-Chief?”

“At Uraniborg. They say he was holed up in the command centre the whole time.”

“He didn’t even deploy!? Then who was leading us on the front lines? It would have made more sense if His Clanner Highness was in the command centre, and Duke Idris was out there leading with the ''Black Prince''.”

“This was a case of letting a treasure waste<ref name="ftn45">“Leaving a treasure unpossessed” (宝の持ちぐされ) refers to possessing something extraordinarily valuable or an outstanding talent, and not use it and let it go to waste. Essentially, wasting a talent, keeping a possession unused, or “casting pearls before swine”.</ref>. We at the bottom can’t understand what the higher-ups are thinking.”

The gazes of the soldiers, some with arms in slings and others with bandages wrapped around their heads, were fixed upon a corner of the harbour. There, a pitch-black space battleship lay moored. Its form was grand and perfectly composed, its massive hull so immense it created the illusion of occupying half the harbour facilities, and its darkness seemed to swallow all colours. Yet, despite its overwhelming majesty, it never finally revealed its true splendour upon the battlefield.

It was only after the fighting had ended that the leaders of the enemies of Uraniborg felt the onset of exhaustion. Ariabert and Jouslain had sheathed the spears of victory, accepting the Clanner’s recommendation for a ceasefire.

This decision would lead a historian, a hundred years later, to remark:

''“Both Ariabert and Jouslain were capable and extraordinary, yet they did not measure up to Nuri.”'' (Lian Hoon Dao)

A single destroyer<ref name="ftn46">“Destroyer” (駆逐艦) is pronounced “destroyer”.</ref> set out from Uraniborg towards the battleship ''Austra''. The Clanner’s envoy was supposed to be aboard. Standing shoulder to shoulder as they watched the screen, Ariabert and Jouslain exchanged low whispers.

“His Clanner Highness did not mention the name of the envoy. Was that intentional?”

“It was intentional. He likely intends to take us by surprise in some way.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea who it might be. Perhaps Count Elman?”

“Something like that.”

They waited for a while, sipping on the tea Francia had brewed for them. Just as they were about to finish their cups, the communications officer contacted them, announcing the identity of the Clanner’s envoy.

“It is the younger brother of Duke Idris.”

“Radmoth!?”

Ariabert was stunned. He had not expected Idris himself to arrive, but he certainly had not expected that such a violent young man, a person entirely unacquainted with the concept of diplomacy, would be sent as an envoy. Did the Clanner truly intend to nullify the ceasefire?

“That is not the case.”

“Not the case? So, it is not Radmoth?”

“No.”

“Then who is it?”

When Jouslain questioned him sharply, the communications officer faltered, even though the matter was beyond his control.

“I… I was told it was Baronet Zelpha Tytania.”

“… Ah, indeed he is Idris’ youngest brother. But was he not only twelve or thirteen years old?”

“He will be arriving shortly.”

At that moment, Jouslain was seized by an ominous premonition. The thought even crossed his mind to refuse the special envoy entry to the ship and send him away. However, he could find no justification for such a blatant breach of protocol.

The two ships moored alongside one another, and the cylindrical passageways docked and opened. Zelpha stepped into the interior of the ''Austra''.

Zelpha came to a halt. Turning slowly to scan the crew, the young nobleman spoke with a dignified severity.

“Bear in mind that any discourteous behaviour towards His Clanner Highness’ envoy shall tarnish your master’s reputation in the eyes of the world. Do you understand?”

The crew, weapons at the ready, stood frozen in stunned silence.

“Escort me to Lord Ariabert and Lord Jouslain. Should there be any further insolence towards me, I shall deem it an act of disrespect toward His Clanner Highness himself!”

In a panic, the soldiers lowered their laser rifles and railguns. An officer stepped forward after an affected cough and addressed him with as much utmost reverence as he could muster.

“Your Lordship Baronet, we shall escort you, but we must insist on a physical inspection first.”

“A physical inspection? That is something a coward would demand.”

“You are free to refuse, but would that not mean failing in your great responsibility?”

“I understand. Very well, you have my permission. Proceed.”

Zelpha cast a contemptuous glance at the soldiers before straightening his spine once more and standing still.

“Pardon us.”

Overwhelmed by the young boy, the soldiers exchanged a few words amongst themselves, feeling a sense of irritation. A female soldier whispered, with the easy confidence of a victor:

“Ten years… no, I look forward to what he looks like in five years.”

Though he could not have possibly heard her, Zelpha cast a glance towards the female soldiers while undergoing the inspection, causing them to narrowly stifle their squeals. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of having survived a battle against twice their number. The inspection itself was conducted with great care, and it did not cause Zelpha any discomfort.

Before long, Zelpha proceeded alone into the depths of the corridor, leaving five or six attendants behind. Ariabert and Jouslain were waiting in the Audience Chamber.

“I am Baronet Zelpha Tytania, envoy sent by His Clanner Highness Ajman.”

Zelpha’s voice was still close to a boy soprano. The sight of a boy on the verge of voice breaking, desperately trying to maintain his dignity while looking up as if to glare at the two older men, invited a smile.

Zelpha raised his voice, as if refusing to be looked down upon.

“I have stated that I am His Clanner Highness’ envoy. Why, then, do you both not kneel in response?”

“Honoured Envoy, while you have a point, the two of us have already been stripped of our status as Tytanians,” replied calmly Ariabert.

A flush of crimson crept into Zelpha’s smooth cheeks.

“That point was explicitly stated in this imperial decree. If both Ariabert and Jouslain are upholding the etiquette expected of Tytanian nobility… then is it not only natural that an envoy acting as His Clanner Highness’ proxy should be afforded the same level of respect as His Clanner Highness himself until his mission is concluded? Am I wrong!?”

Ariabert and Jouslain acknowledged the logic. After exchanging glances, they dropped onto one knee in silence. Zelpha nodded, looking satisfied.

“You both may rise.”

With solemn expressions, the two young dukes stood up. Since it had come to this, there was no choice but to go along with the boy.

“I shall now deliver His Clanner Highness’ decree.” The boy read aloud, opening the archaic silk<ref name="ftn47">“Silk” (絹布) is pronounced “silk”.</ref> scroll he had brought with him. “All penalties<ref name="ftn48">“Punishment” (罰則) is pronounced “penalty”.</ref> imposed upon both Ariabert and Jouslain are hereby annulled. Both shall have their duchies restored and are permitted to rejoin the Clan Supreme Council… Henceforth, within the Tytania leadership, both Ariabert and Jouslain shall be delegated the authority of His Clanner Highness Ajman. That is to say, Ariabert shall be bestowed the title of Fleet Admiral of the Vardana Empire and shall assume command over both the Tytania forces and the Vardana Empire forces. Jouslain shall be granted the title of Prime Minister of the Vardana Empire, and shall hold full discretion over all domestic and foreign affairs, without requiring prior imperial permission. How do both of you respond?”

Ariabert and Jouslain suppressed their astonishment, attempting to mask their expressions as much as possible. After a short pause, Jouslain spoke:

“We are honoured by these words, but to speak frankly, this result far exceeds our expectations. It is difficult to believe that Duke Idris would accept such unilateral terms.”

“… As for Idris, I shall speak of him presently.”

Zelpha’s voice trembled, and a flame of anger ignited in both of his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he forgot his position as an envoy, and his resentment towards his brother became plain to see. However, Zelpha composed himself and resumed reading the imperial decree.

“Idris shall bear the primary responsibility for this recent civil war. His rank shall be demoted one grade to marquis, and he is ordered to an indefinite posting to the Tyron planetary mission.”




=== IV ===
Unconditional surrender. Those words surfaced in the hearts of Ariabert and Jouslain simultaneously. The eyes of the boy standing there, seemingly struggling to suppress his tremors, were brimming with tears, which involuntarily evoked a sense of sympathy.

“… Had it been the second-generation Clanner, Nuri, he would have shown no mercy. He would have demanded Idris’ execution. Still, for a Clanner, he has made quite a concession.”

Jouslain had no intention of following Nuri’s example. Idris would likely spend the rest of his life as a mere figurehead marquis within the Tyron estate. It was possible that Clanner Ajman was keeping Idris alive only to trip up Ariabert or Jouslain in the future.

But even so…

Just as Jouslain gazed into the depths of his own heart and nearly grasped the tail of something festering within the darkness, he heard Zelpha’s voice:

“Lord Ariabert, if you would be so kind, let us shake hands in reconciliation.”

“With pleasure.”

Ariabert was moved by the boy’s earnestness. Holding the imperial decree, which Zelpha had returned to its original form after reading, in his left hand, he extended his right.

The hands met in a handshake. At that moment, Zelpha, along with the scroll, collided with Ariabert’s tall frame.

When the heat ray pierced through Ariabert’s chest to his back, not a single drop of blood escaped. Because the temperature of the heat ray was so high, the wound was cauterised instantly, preventing any outward bleeding.

However, massive internal haemorrhaging occurred. Scorching blood overflowed from his injured organs and seared blood vessels, surging in search of an exit. A crimson torrent erupted from Ariabert’s shapely nose and mouth, searing the mucous membranes of his throat in the process.

Yet, his intense agony did not last long. Casting a gaze filled with the stillness of death upon the boy, Ariabert closed both eyes, dropped to both knees upon the floor, and slowly fell upon his side.

“Witness the end of the traitor Ariabert, who persisted in his defiance against His Clanner Highness!”

Zelpha’s cry reverberated through the room like an intense death knell. In an instant, everything froze, and in an instant, it thawed.

Jouslain reached out with tremendous force, grabbed Zelpha’s wrist, and twisted it without mercy or restraint. A scream of agony escaped Zelpha’s lips.

Jouslain then drove his knee into the back of Zelpha’s knee, forcing the latter to buckle. While nearly crushing Zelpha, Jouslain cried out:

“Ariabert…!”

The young nobleman, though called by name, attempted to struggle amidst the heavy bloodshed, but his strength had already been lost. Captain Edna Fredericks, heedless of the eyes of others, knelt upon the floor and cradled his head, her face deathly pale.

“… My brother<ref name="ftn49">“My brother” (わが兄弟) is pronounced “my brother”.</ref>.”

Ariabert, his vocal cords scorched by boiling blood, could not have possibly produced a sound. Even so, Jouslain distinctly heard his voice. Jouslain violently shoved the too-young assassin aside and approached Ariabert with unsteady steps.

“Don’t die, Ariabert… Brother…”

Jouslain’s voice trembled violently. The young nobleman, who had often been praised for a coolness and detached rationality unbefitting his age, knelt on both knees beside the man who was his comrade, his cousin, and his half-brother, attempting to lift his upper body with trembling hands. He felt no vital sign whatsoever.

Balamy had the soldiers pin Zelpha down and examined the imperial scroll. When Balamy announced that the shaft was a heatgun of a unique shape made of carbon fibre, Jouslain interrogated the assassin with a voice that sounded like the dead:

“I trust you are prepared to atone for your crimes?”

To no one’s ears did that sound like anything other than a death sentence. Held down by the soldiers, Zelpha gasped.

“I have committed no crime. I merely executed a traitor.”

“It seems Idris’ teachings have taken root well.”

Jouslain’s gaze was so piercing that even an adult would have struggled to meet it. It felt as though a torrent of hellfire were being spewed forth from the gates of the underworld.

“Lord Jouslain! He is but a child!”

Francia leaned against Jouslain’s right arm. Jouslain did not attempt to shake her off, but instead stood before Zelpha as if half-dragging her along. With a voice as fiery as his gaze, he interrogated him:

“Do you feel no regret?”

“Regret?”

Zelpha attempted to laugh with everything he had.

“Ah, I do regret one thing. I should have shot Jouslain<ref name="ftn50">Zelpha actually says “I should have shot that guy first”, but “that guy” has the reading “Jouslain”.</ref> first.”

Balamy was rendered speechless by such sheer audacity. He thought that this boy might even surpass Idris. Jouslain smiled too, but it was a smile the likes of which Francia had never seen before.

“You mustn’t, Lord Jouslain, you mustn’t!”

Francia clung to Jouslain’s right arm with all her strength. She did not want the master whom she so dearly loved to become a child killer.

“Long live Idris, the next Clanner of Tytania!” shouted Zelpha.

It was a cry of pride, yet one that simultaneously incited murderous intent. Though Zelpha had not consciously intended it, the cry was little more than a declaration of an execution sentence against Idris.

“Are you that proud of having killed someone? Cut it out!” rebuked Balamy, while bitterly recalling his own past self.

Zelpha threw a defiant glare back at Balamy.

“If one is not of Tytania, one is not a human!”

There was no saving him. As Balamy became certain of the boy’s death, Jouslain groaned:

“Baronet, your actions, whose idea were them? Was it Idris?”

“No.”

“Then was it the Clanner?”

“It was my own idea.”

Jouslain shook his head with a sneer.

“Lord Jouslain.”

“Francia, make no mistake. I am of Tytania. I am neither a good person nor an ally of justice.”

Jouslain’s eyes were bloodshot. His capillaries had burst from the sheer intensity of his passion. As her master almost abandoned reason and intellect, Francia placed her hands upon his arm and supported him with all her might.

A strange, misplaced joy stirred within Francia’s heart. She could not help but feel a sense of guilt in the face of Ariabert’s misfortune, but at that moment, she certainly felt a sense of responsibility to support Jouslain, and she found joy in that feeling.

“Lord Jouslain, the screen…”

At Francia’s whisper, Jouslain turned an unusual gaze toward the screen. Having begun to operate without any warning, the screen showed static for two or three seconds before revealing the figure of the person responsible for sending the assassin.

Ajman did not utter a single word regarding the gruesome scene that had surely been imprinted upon his eyes.

''“With this, things have become fair.”''

From the abyss of nothingness, a wind imbued with magical power blew directly toward Jouslain.

''“You shall compete one-on-one against Lord Idris for the position of Clanner. I shall find great pleasure in seeing which of you triumphs and how.”''

“Ariabert…”

''“Lord Ariabert’s existence was redundant. He held significant importance as Lord Zarlisch’s worthy rival. However, with the death of Lord Zarlisch, a purely military confrontation of equal standing can no longer be expected.”''

Jouslain took a step towards the screen.

“Ariabert was the one who should have been the next Clanner. Ariabert was…”

''“You may have a million words to mourn the loss of Lord Ariabert, but did you have even a single word for Lord Zarlisch? Even if your mothers were different, I suppose that is simply how brothers are.”''

“…”

''“However, in any case, there can only be one supreme seat. My plan was to force you and Ariabert to kill one another, but you should consider it my small act of mercy that I did not proceed with it. If your opponent is Idris, your heart won’t ache even if you kill him. The same would apply to Idris; indeed, he would likely scheme with great joy to see you slain.”''

Hearing his brother’s name spoken so coldly, Zelpha stared at the screen in a daze.

“Clanner!” cried out Jouslain.

An invisible clot of blood was spat from his throat along with his voice. He would no longer use the respectful title “Your Highness<ref name="ftn51">“Your Highness” (殿下) is pronounced “Your Highness”.</ref>”. The arrogant figure occupying the screen before his eyes was nothing more than a monster who had murdered his brother and preyed upon human life, both in body and soul.

“No matter how much you play with sophistry, you murdered Ariabert. You even used a child as a tool! Did you truly think I would submissively act according to your designs!?”




=== 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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