Editing Tytania:Volume 5 Chapter 1

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== Chapter 1 – Between Choice and Decision ==
=== I ===
Whether the funeral was truly fitting for the deceased was something Duke Jouslain Tytania could not be certain of. He had ordered the funeral for Duke Ariabert Tytania, who had been both his half-brother and his cousin, but left the specific arrangements to the deceased’s subordinates. He sat in silence before the capsule containing the body.

Jouslain had lost his composure. His only solace was the awareness of this fact, yet he was merely barely keeping his head above the surface of reason to draw breath and was unable to save anyone. The cause was clear and singular, yet there were countless reasons why that single cause was able to devastate him so completely.

If one were to use extreme phrasing, it could be said that Ariabert’s death shook the whole of human society. Not only those directly involved in the “Uraniborg Incident”, but also the people who had been excited by the possibility of witnessing a moment in history changing through the media, lost their voices in shock. While it was entirely predictable that a commander might die in battle amidst the flames of war, the fact that a side on the verge of victory was assassinated during a temporary ceasefire exceeded the imagination of the general public.

In the name of the Landless Clanner Ajman, Tytania officially announced Duke Ariabert Tytania’s “sudden death”. The cause of death was declared to be an “unofficial execution”, which was a just punishment for the “outrageous act” of launching a military attack against Tytania’s headquarters. All questions and doubts were coldly ignored.

The Tytania-affiliated media—in other words, the vast majority of the press—attempted to justify this proclamation and work towards calming the situation, but it was impossible for viewers and readers to accept what the journalists themselves could not reconcile. It was certain, however, that Uraniborg had undermined its own credibility.

Within the military forces under Ariabert’s command, resentment and indignation swirled, overriding all other emotions. This was only natural.

“Damn it, who are we even fighting for?” spat out aimlessly in the air a man who appeared to be an NCO. “We were so close to victory. Just on the verge of achieving the great feat of capturing Uraniborg… How can something like this happen?”

Then, another man, likely a fellow NCO, snapped back with an even more fierce tone of anger.

“We were supposed to win? Don’t talk such nonsense! We had already won! It was Uraniborg that resorted to a cowardly ambush!”

That was no exaggeration. The majority of those fighting believed in the unprecedented situation: the victory of Ariabert’s army and the fall of Uraniborg. It should have been merely a matter of time. Yet, everything had been overturned in a single instant.

“I have never heard of such a foul method. So this is how Uraniborg operates!”

Ariabert’s death dealt an unprecedented shock to the Tytania troops. Could a commander of such renown be allowed to fall not in battle, but to assassination? And by a young boy claiming to be a peace envoy, no less. It was the complete antithesis of the word “fairness”.

“Duke Ariabert fell victim to a despicable conspiracy.”

This was the view held by the majority of the soldiers, while others argued,

“We’re the ones at fault for our own carelessness.”

Such opinions were almost non-existent.

There are countless examples of assassination being employed as a means when there is no chance of victory in a fair fight. However, Tytania had always fought openly once hostilities had commenced. While they had occasionally used rather forced pretexts for war and had sometimes crushed enemies without mercy or refused offers of peace, they had, at the very least, never offered a peace treaty only to assassinate their opponent.

“Death in battle would have been one thing.”

“But assassination is far too despicable.”

“And to use children, no less…”

In the end, those three points served to set the will to fight against Uraniborg ablaze. The officers of the Ariabert fleet naturally gathered together, quickly reached a consensus, and descended upon Duke Jouslain to demand an audience.

“We have fought with our lives on the line under His Grace Ariabert.”

“Ariabert fleet’s military record has remained untarnished by even a single blemish.”

“We are not cowards who would retreat without even seeking vengeance after having our commander murdered.”

“Justice for His Grace Ariabert!”

With flushed faces and eyes gleaming, they pressed Jouslain, their fists clenched. Jouslain gazed at them with a somewhat vacant expression. He had imagined this might happen, yet he had been unable to resolve how he should deal with them.

These were proud, battle-hardened subordinates who had achieved great feats under Ariabert’s service. Had Ajman perhaps anticipated this reaction from them?

He likely had. No, perhaps he had gone beyond anticipation and even expected it. Jouslain felt as though he had been cast into the darkness of a bottomless cavern.

“Your Grace Jouslain, we implore you to take command over us.”

“We shall follow you.”

“Give us your orders, please!”

“Command us to launch a general assault on Uraniborg!”

From senior officers in their later years to lieutenants barely into adulthood, they seemed poised to surround Jouslain, their faces openly displaying fury, sorrow, and a thirst for vengeance.

“Calm yourselves, gentlemen. I understand your sentiments well. However, I ask you to reconsider. To persist in an attack on Uraniborg at this moment would mean opposing Clanner Ajman and would make us nothing less than a rebel army.”

In terms of battlefield command capability and the trust of the soldiers, Jouslain was nowhere near the level of Ariabert. That was an undeniable fact, and Ariabert’s subordinates would likely have to rely solely on their own experience and execution at the tactical level.

“Even so, do you gentlemen truly intend to fight the forces of Uraniborg?”

“Yes, we do, Your Grace.”

Jouslain looked around at the assembly and posed his question with an air of unshakeable composure.

“Do you believe I am worthy of being your commander?”

“Your Grace, you were a comrade of the late Duke Ariabert. We have no hesitation in looking to you as our commander.”

“The late Duke Ariabert always spoke highly of your talents, Your Grace. Just as we followed him, we shall follow you.”

“I am grateful for your words, but…”

Jouslain felt the expectations of Ariabert’s subordinates swell around him like a wave of pressure. It was a torrent of emotion, so great that he could do nothing more than maintain his posture and keep his expression unchanged. To be swallowed by this would be dangerous. If Clanner Ajman had foreseen this situation, then even more treacherous pitfalls might be lying in wait.

“Gentlemen, I have a proposal to make. I ask that you discuss it amongst yourselves.”

The officers looked at one another. Jouslain continued:

“Once you have reached a conclusion, I shall abide by it. I only ask that you listen with an open mind.”

A middle-aged man stepped forward before Jouslain. It was a face Jouslain recognised. He saluted, introducing himself as Rear-admiral Mittendorf.

“In all likelihood, we have already reached a conclusion, but if Your Grace Jouslain says so, then we would be honoured to present it.”

“Please, do proceed.”

In an instant, silence dominated the room. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed intently on Jouslain, waiting to hear what he was proposing.

“It is quite simple. Restrain me and use me as a hostage to offer your surrender to Uraniborg. Though I say restrain, there is no need to concern yourselves with whether I live or die. I shall use my own life to plead for your pardon. I shall ensure that no punishments are imposed and that your former positions are not forfeited.”

“Are you truly serious, Your Grace!?”

“Of course, I am serious. I do not care for jokes, and this is no joke.”

Rear-admiral Mittendorf looked at Jouslain, his confusion plain to see.

“You are suggesting that we surrender without further fighting…. If we do so, what then becomes of our honour, our cause?”

“The entire universe and all of humanity know how bravely you have fought and how brightly your names have shone. Who could possibly slander you for having surrendered? That is my proposal. What say you?”

“Whether others slander us or not is of no concern to me. However, what will become of the honour of the Ariabert Army? Our consciences will not permit us to surrender shamelessly, sacrificing Your Grace Jouslain, and act as though nothing had ever happened.”

“If you follow my proposal, only I will die. If we fight, tens of thousands more will fall. There is room for consideration.”

At that moment, Francia glanced at Jouslain’s profile. From the opposite side, Viscount Balamy Tytania stared at Jouslain as well. Jouslain remained facing forward, yet he felt their gazes piercing intensely into his left and right cheeks.

A single female officer stepped forward. She saluted while gazing intently at Jouslain, though prior to that, her eyes had been directed rather towards Francia. It was Captain Edna Fredericks.

“If I may be so bold as to offer my opinion, Your Ducal Grace Jouslain.”

“Nothing bold about it; let me hear you.”

“Then, if I may, Your Grace, we—no, I personally—desire to continue the battle against the forces of Uraniborg.”

Meeting Jouslain’s direct gaze head-on, Edna spoke with absolute clarity.

“To offer peace only to assassinate the opposing commander. We shall not bend our knees to an enemy that employs such despicable means. Please, allow us to deliver the righteous retribution these scoundrels deserve.”

A wave of whispers and glances erupted all at once. Like a breached levee, Jouslain was completely swallowed by the surging tide of combat spirit.

“I second Captain Fredericks!”

“I also agree. Fire upon Uraniborg!”

“Let justice be served to those villains!”




=== II ===
Jouslain had not realised that Captain Edna Fredericks possessed such eloquence. He leaned forward slightly, gazing at Edna.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Yes.”

“… Forgive my presumption in asking, but is your desire to seek vengeance for Ariabert?”

“I will not deny it.”

“And is that not a matter of personal grievance?”

“I shall not deny that either. However, it is a grievance we share. And I believe that Your Grace Jouslain will understand, or rather, will empathise with that sentiment.”

A smile played upon Jouslain’s lips. If there was such a thing as a smile that served only to stiffen one’s expression, it was precisely that.

“That, I cannot deny… After all, this is nothing more than a private conflict within the Tytania faction.”

Jouslain’s self-deprecation failed to resonate with Ariabert’s subordinates.

“Your Grace, please make a statement!”

As one officer cried out, dozens of voices rose in unison. Any further delay was now impossible.

“I have understood your will, gentlemen. There is no need to waste any more time. In my name, we shall proceed with the assault on Uraniborg.”

A roar of cheers erupted like a rising tide. Jouslain raised a hand to quell the few seconds of frenzy.

“There is but one thing I ask you to promise. It concerns Baronet Zelpha. While that boy was the one who physically carried out the conspiracy to assassinate Ariabert, he was merely a tool used by the true culprit. His detention is a given, but his ultimate fate must be left to a fair trial after the war. I will absolutely not tolerate any form of abuse or violence. Against the baseness of Uraniborg, we must achieve victory not only through military might but through fairness<ref name="ftn1">“Fairness” (道義性) is pronounced “fairness”.</ref> as well. Do not bring shame upon the name of Duke Ariabert.”

“As Your Grace commands!”

Along with numerous shouts, military berets were tossed into the air.

“Report the enemy’s movements. Are there any signs of an enemy ''sortie'' from Uraniborg?”

An officer pushed his way through his comrades to step forward, saluted, and introduced himself as Captain Ripple, the officer in charge of reconnaissance.

“I have a report. So far, the enemy has shown no signs of a ''sortie''. It appears they are preoccupied with repairing damaged facilities and vessels, as well as reorganising their combat groups.”

In his brisk manner and precise speech, one could sense the influence of the late Ariabert.

“Good work. Continue to maintain vigilance and ensure we are in a position to respond immediately to any enemy attack.”

“Understood!”

Internally, Jouslain felt a sense of relief. He had been contemplating the possibility that Uraniborg might take advantage of Ariabert’s death to launch an all-out offensive. If the enemy possessed a cold and ruthless strategist, they would not have missed such an opportunity. The fact that they had not done so meant…

“Is it the effect of holding Zelpha hostage?” he murmured to himself. “If that boy is indeed effective as a hostage… then can it be assumed that Idris is the one currently holding military authority at Uraniborg?”

Jouslain, who had nearly lost himself in thought, managed to redirect his attention to the people before him. Dealing with them was his immediate priority.

“Gentlemen, I shall say this once more: when it comes to the command of actual combat, I do not even come close to the late Lord Ariabert. Without the cooperation of gentlemen with both knowledge and experience, such as yourselves, there is no certain path to victory—not against Duke Idris, let alone the Clanner. I ask for your cooperation.”

“Hail Tytania!”

“Victory to Duke Jouslain!”

The generals responded with enthusiasm, thrusting their fists into the air.

For the time being, it seemed the collapse of the army had been averted. Jouslain ordered the assembly to disperse and remained standing in a salute, seeing them off until the very last person had departed.

With Ariabert’s death, Jouslain lost sight of “what Tytania ought to be in the future.” It happened with an intensity even he could not have imagined, striking Jouslain down and scattering all his designs.

Countless options remained. However, in the end, there was only one path to follow. Because he had once firmly chosen the course of “making Ariabert the Clanner and supporting him to gradually downsize Tytania itself,” the shock of having that path severed was fatal. Jouslain had reached the heights of fury towards Ajman, who had wiped Ariabert away without regard for reason, means, or public opinion, but now that fury was beginning to tilt towards terror and a sense of defeat.

After seeing the others away, Jouslain remained seated before the capsule containing Ariabert’s remains for a long time. The cooling gas used for preservation filled the capsule, coating its surface in frost.

Suddenly, a soft, youthful voice brushed against his ear.

“Please, take a moment to rest, Lord Jouslain.”

“Do not trouble yourself so, Francia. I shall rest soon enough… eternally.”

“That way of speaking is proof of how exhausted you are.”

Francia’s voice caused a flicker of surprise in Jouslain. Rather than the voice of a lover or a lady-in-waiting, it sounded to him like that of an elder sister. Since Jouslain had no biological sister, this was merely a thought born of his meagre imagination. In reality, given the true nature of the relationship between Jouslain and Francia, the proper response would have been a sharp ''“Don’t overstep your boundaries”''. However, Jouslain did not do so. He averted his gaze from Ariabert’s body, which was faintly visible through the frost, and looked upon Francia.

He had always intended to protect Francia, but he wondered if, in truth, it wasn’t he who had been relying on her. Confused by the thought, Jouslain responded in a weary voice:

“Very well, then. I shall rest for a while.”

“Yes. It would please me greatly if you would do so.”

There was a slight impulse in Francia’s voice. The fact that Francia would be pleased if Jouslain rested brought a strange sensation to him. It was not unpleasant, yet it carried a sense of bewilderment. He had believed himself to have cherished Francia, but he wondered if he had instead been accumulating layers of unconscious insensitivity and arrogance.

Once the blood and burn marks had been carefully tended to, Ariabert’s face at the moment of death had been peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. However, he would no longer converse or deliberate with Jouslain.

Jouslain summoned Viscount Balamy Tytania and informed him that he was entrusting him with full authority during his absence. Balamy’s eyes widened slightly, and an expression flickered across his face as if he were searching for Jouslain’s true intent, but he uttered no unnecessary words and responded with a salute.

“I shall humbly obey your orders.”

“I am counting on you.”

It had been an uninspired exchange, but once he had seen it through safely, Jouslain entered his private quarters, took a shower, swallowed some sleeping pills, and rolled into bed. The abyss of sleep pulled him under instantly, but it did not last long. Within two hours, the communications officer arrived with a report.

“There is a request for an emergency call from Duke Idris from Uraniborg. He wishes to speak with you directly, Duke Jouslain.”

It was not Jouslain who reacted immediately. Viscount Balamy, who had been temporarily entrusted with full authority, frowned in the command seat on the bridge of the battleship ''Austra''.

“A conversation!? Isn’t it too late for that?”

“With what face does he intend to speak to us?”

Voices of fury erupted all around, but Balamy, as expected, did not join in. Depending on how they responded, there was a possibility that Uraniborg might suddenly resume hostilities. Balamy was well aware that he still lacked the strength required to confront Idris. The reason he had taken so long to summon Jouslain was not only that he needed time to wake him and straighten his uniform but also to provoke Idris. He felt that such a small tactic was well worth the effort.

When Jouslain sat before the communication screen, Idris half-shouted without even a greeting:

''“State your conditions.”''

“Conditions?”

''“Don’t play dumb! I am telling you to state the conditions for returning my brother Zelpha!”''

Jouslain’s expression darkened. He organised his newly awakened thoughts and responded with deliberate slowness:

“I have no conditions.”

''“What?”''

“If I return him, I shall do so unconditionally.”

''“You expect me to believe such words?…”''

Jouslain interrupted Idris’ tirade with chilling composure.

“You needn’t believe me. Interpret my words however you see fit.”

''“No, wait… wait! You said, ‘If I return him’?”''

“I used the subjunctive mood. What of it?”

''“So you have no intention of returning him… none at all.”''

Idris jumped to the conclusion. It was a shortsighted and suspicious leap, yet it was understandable from his position. He had gone so far as to suppress his own pride and bow his head to save his beloved younger brother, yet Jouslain refused to face him directly.

“You certainly provided me with plenty of hints, Idris.”

''“You bastard…”''

“Do not worry. I won’t harm the child. However, it remains a fact that your brother is a murderer. He may be intoxicated by his own childish heroism, acting the part of an assassin, but it would be problematic if he did not at least reflect upon the fact that he took a life.”

Jouslain’s voice was encased in a shell of ice, yet a subtle crack had formed within that armour. That was because Idris’ hatred and resentment towards him felt entirely justified.

“Ah, I really am a hateful man.”

Jouslain mocked himself, but even that expression might have appeared to Idris as nothing more than unpardonable arrogance.




=== III ===
''“Return Zelpha. Without a scratch.”''

In Idris’ tone was laced with a venomous threat, and Jouslain sensed a shred of genuine feeling. His affection for his youngest brother did not seem to be a lie.

“Idris, I must ask you one thing…”

''“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me with such familiarity. What is it?”''

“Are you conducting this communication with the Clanner’s permission?”

Idris’ handsome lips pressed together, then opened again, releasing a voice on the verge of trembling:

''“None of your business.”''

“So, you do not have permission.”

''“Quiet! At this stage, is there any need to consider the Clanner’s intentions? You need only negotiate with me. If you aren’t afraid of the Clanner, that is.”''

After a brief pause, Idris glared at Jouslain once more, but Jouslain replied with composure:

“Indeed, there is no use worrying about the Clanner’s intentions at this point. Even if I were to surrender, there would be no forgiveness. I have already passed the point of no return<ref name="ftn2">“Point of no return” (帰還限界点) is pronounced “point of no return”.</ref>. If that is how you wish to proceed, then so be it.”

Idris spoke of nothing but the glory and authority of the Tytania. Jouslain found this tiresome. Yet, perhaps it was Jouslain who had been the one lacking in foresight.

That their very existence today was due to the power and wealth of the Tytania. Had they not been born and raised within the Tytania, they would have never been granted the opportunity to display such talent at such a young age. Was it not Idris, rather than Jouslain, who held these facts in such clear recognition? Perhaps it was precisely because he was aware of the terror of loss that he had clung so fervently to the name of the Tytania, brandishing it as a weapon.



… After severing the communication with Jouslain, Idris threw his legs out across the desk in the combat command room and interlaced his fingers over his tucked abdomen. He had wanted to see just how shaken Jouslain would be by Ariabert’s untimely death, but he was instead struck with horror upon learning that the captured assassin was Zelpha. Was it not Jouslain who truly held a trump card? In his state of agitation, Idris had failed to say even a tenth of what he truly wished to say to Jouslain.

“Your Grace, Baron Radmoth has returned.”

Upon receiving the report, Idris was reminded of something he had no desire to recall. Besides Zelpha, Idris had another brother. Quite naturally, a shadow of loathing and fury darkened his brow. During the ensuing seconds of silence, Idris barely managed to suppress a passion that bordered on murderous intent.

“Your Grace, how would you like to proceed?”

The attendant asked, appearing somewhat obtuse.

“Don’t say it.”

“… Pardon?”

“Don’t utter his name! It defiles my ears.”

“Y-Yes, sir…”

Though the attendant was terrified, he could not bring himself to flee the spot, remaining there as motionless as a poorly crafted statue.

As if in inverse proportion, Idris regained his composure. He had long understood that a ruler had to be, in a sense, an actor. It was simply that he often forgot. It was due to his youth and the intense stress he endured.

With an immense effort, he steadied his tone.

“Baron Radmoth Tytania failed to fulfil his assigned mission. It is a disgrace as one who bears the name Tytania and enjoys the privileges of the nobility. While the official penalty shall be determined in the presence of His Clanner Highness, I hereby order him to remain under house arrest for the time being. All outings and leisure activities are prohibited. Communicate this to the individual in question, and let the responsible officers carry out this order immediately.”

“Understood.”

Both the speaker and the recipient felt, for the moment, a sense of relief. Idris had managed to avoid losing his dignity, and his subordinate had obtained a justifiable reason for his actions. Radmoth’s resentment would likely be directed towards his elder brother.

Once the subordinate had departed, Idris lowered his legs, rested both elbows on the desk, interlaced his fingers, and pressed his forehead against them. While his young body did not yet require much rest, his overworked brain continued to crave glucose. Idris craved something sweet, much like a child. Changing his posture, he scanned his surroundings and summoned an NCO standing in a corner of the room, ordering him to bring some hot chocolate. As the officer hurried away after receiving the solemn command, Idris pressed his forehead against his hands once more and sank into deep thought.

Ariabert’s untimely death should have been a cause for joy for Idris. He had, for the time being, managed to postpone a one-sided defeat. However, his mood could, at best, be described as an “unexpected victory by default”, and he was in no way capable of feeling triumphant. He had never imagined that the Clanner would assassinate Ariabert, nor could he have ever conceived that his youngest brother, Zelpha, would be used as a mere tool for such an end. He would have sooner died than admit it but the sweat trickling down his cheeks was composed mostly of terror.

Around this time, on a local scale, the subordinate organisations of Tytania continued their daily activities without interruption. On Planet A, a water supply system for arid regions was under construction, and the export of wheat and milk had commenced from Planet B to Planet C. On Planet D, negotiations were ongoing to extend the instalment payments for a 10-billion dakar loan from Tytania from twenty-five to forty instalments. All of these were minor matters that did not require the sanction of Uraniborg.

The people within the lower structures of Tytania were shocked by the death of Duke Ariabert and mourned him. Had it been death in battle, it might have been one thing, but assassination! Though they did not speak of it carelessly, the scales of their favour were beginning to tilt away from Uraniborg. It was only human nature, after all, that if one must be ruled by Tytania, one would prefer to be ruled by someone more just.

Though they remained cautious, they shared sighs among trusted colleagues and family members. What, after all, would become of Tytania?

Mediating conflicts between small nations. Checking the pressure exerted by great powers upon the small. Protecting the interests of the small to build up debts and favours. The influence of Tytania was the vast accumulation of such deeds.

If Tytania were to collapse, the group of small nations would lose the party to whom they could appeal for help. The shield behind which they could hide would vanish. The very axis of order would disappear. It was an unknown terror.



For the members of the anti-Tytania faction, Ariabert’s untimely death was a profound shock.

“I wonder if things will become easier for us. Even so, I wonder who will be left in the end.”

Miranda cast her gaze towards Doctor Lee. The Doctor perfectly controlled his facial muscles, maintaining an expression that prevented anyone from reading his thoughts. They were actually aboard the interstellar transport vessel ''Honest Old Man Junior'', which was, in truth, a pirate business ship. For a brief period, due to the miscalculations, misunderstandings, and misjudgments of those involved, they had sought refuge at Uraniborg, but that arrangement had not lasted. It was a delicate matter which party bore more responsibility, but the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' had slipped from the grasp of Tytania and was racing through the cosmic labyrinth. Or rather, it was merely wandering.

“There are still hundreds of others who carry the Tytania name.”

“Are there no ambitious souls among them who plot to seize the main house?”

“I heard no mention of any outstanding individuals. After all, the Four Dukes only became heads of their houses because they were exceptional, did they not? If there had been anyone more capable, they would have become the duke instead.”

No one could dispute Miranda’s view. The scent of cheap coffee filled the small dining room. The Salbestan coffee served at Uraniborg was far too high-quality to suit the palates of pirates. The inexpensive variety from Bertine was more than sufficient. The impoverished, who lived in defiance of authority, firmly believed that coffee was something meant to be gulped down.

“I never imagined things would turn out like this.”

Miranda shook her head. She wondered how many dozens of times she had done exactly that.

The leadership of Tytania was young. Even Clanner Ajman was only forty-one, and the four dukes were all in their twenties. Most people believed that stability would continue, despite any minor turbulence, until a generational shift occurred.

''“The Universe exists along with Tytania.”''

Yet, in just a single year, such radical changes had taken place. Half of the Four Dukes, the highest-ranking officials, had joined the ranks of the dead, and Uraniborg, which could be called the capital of the entire universe, had come under military attack. Just before the moment it was on the verge of falling, a spectacle occurring once in two centuries—the people’s imagination was tested once again.

“How did things end up like this?”

“That much is obvious, Mahdi. It’s because Hyulick won the Battle of Cerberus.”

“Hey, wait a minute, this is my fault!?”

“Exactly as Miranda says,” stated Doctor Lee with a tone of voice that might have been described as incurable. “That battle, an unforeseen defeat for Tytania, awakened a sleeping monster.”

“A monster?”

“It’s a metaphor, Hyulick.”

“I can grasp that much. I won’t ask what kind of monster it is, since you clearly won’t tell me, but if that’s the case, then Duke Ariabert, who was defeated back then, must also bear some responsibility.”

As Hyulick glared around at his companions, they each nodded with their own distinct expressions.

“Duke Ariabert, eh? Even for Tytania, it was a loss of a truly great man.”

“Wait a minute, Miranda! What is the reason for that disparity in evaluation compared to me!?”

“In my opinion, the difference in virtue,” replied maliciously Mahdi on her behalf.




=== IV ===
The death of Ariabert, who possessed absolute military prestige and widespread trust, sent shockwaves through human society. At a time when the allied forces of Ariabert and Jouslain were closing in on Uraniborg with greater momentum than anyone had anticipated, leaving observers breathless with fears that it might fall within days, the protagonist had made a sudden exit.

Zelpha had become a killer at the age of thirteen. Until then, his name had not been known to many, but as he became counted among the most famous individuals in the universe almost overnight, the media scrambled to uncover the boy’s profile.

A historian would later recount:

''“If Duke Idris had been the second-generation Clanner, Nuri, he would have launched an immediate, all-out assault to annihilate the enemy, even if his beloved brother were held captive. He certainly would have made the decision that even if his brother died, it was an unavoidable sacrifice.”''

“However, Duke Idris was unable to do so, as his attention was diverted by his brother’s safety. In the first place, the act of assassinating an enemy supreme commander holds no military significance, unless it is accompanied by an all-out offensive designed to trigger the collapse of the enemy forces.”

As an outside observer might remark, had Idris immediately ordered a major offensive, would he truly have been able to annihilate the AJ Alliance forces?

It was a biting irony, but in the sense that they were shaken by Ariabert’s death, the soldiers of Uraniborg were no different from Ariabert’s own men. Furthermore, in direct opposition to how Ariabert’s subordinates had strengthened their fighting spirit and unity through rage and a thirst for vengeance, the troops of the Uraniborg army had seen their morale decline amidst growing confusion. Although they felt a sense of relief at having temporarily averted the death looming before them, especially since it had been achieved through the very stratagem of Clanner Ajman himself.

''“No matter how you look at it, that was a dirty way to do things.”''

At least, that was the inner voice that hesitated to speak aloud. For the soldiers and officers who had believed in the “Great and Invincible Tytania,” it felt as though their pride and honour had been dragged through the mud. Furthermore, that mud had been hurled at them from above and behind, and they could find no way to voice any protest against the person who had thrown it. Clanner Ajman was, to them, no different from a living god.

''“Humans are emotional creatures.”''

It was a maxim with over five thousand years of history, and certainly, the masses were moved by emotion. Ariabert’s untimely death was so senseless that, following the initial shock, it gave rise to a simple, gnawing doubt: ''“Surely, this cannot be right”''. The official announcement from Uraniborg failed to satisfy the people.

The common citizens grew wary of those associated with Tytania, but in truth, the agitation among the Tytanians themselves was even greater than that of the populace. No matter who held the reins of Tytanian hegemony, there should have been no direct impact on the low-ranking soldiers or shopkeepers, yet certain “rumours” circulated.

“I hate to say it, but can Duke Jouslain really conquer Uraniborg?”

“He isn’t a soldier, is he? Though it’s in politics and diplomacy that he is pretty remarkable.”

“Still, it’s not as if he is a complete amateur, is it? I don’t remember it clearly, but I’m sure he defeated someone somewhere.”

“But come on, surely he only won by overwhelming them with far greater numbers?”

“Well, of course. Why would anyone go out of their way to fight with fewer troops than the enemy?”

“No, that’s my point. It won’t be like that this time. You’re thick, aren’t you?”

“What was that, you smooth-talker?!”

An electronic newspaper belonging to the Tytania Clan reported the following:

''“Duke Ariabert Tytania meets an untimely death during ceasefire negotiations.”''

While it appeared to merely report the facts in a detached manner, the writer’s true sentiment was revealed in the phrasing “during ceasefire negotiations.”

Due to the remarkable tactical superiority of the AJ Alliance forces, the state of human society had fallen into chaos, but rather than settling the matter, Clanner Ajman seemed only to have deepened it. Within that murky situation, time itself drifted by in a heavy, sluggish haze. Inside Uraniborg, low-voiced conversations flickered whenever three or more soldiers gathered:

“I thought for sure we might scatter in flight after losing such a respected commander.”

“But we didn’t surrender, nor did we even retreat.”

“It looks like we actually grew more united.”

“When you think about it, Duke Jouslain is still standing strong, after all.”

“However, compared to Duke Ariabert, his standing as a soldier was likely inferior. He’s a politician, after all.”

“So, what happens in the end?”

“It will be what it will be.”

Just then, the heavy, deliberate footfalls of a superior echoed, and the soldiers hurriedly fell silent.

This was the state of affairs three hours after the death of Duke Ariabert Tytania had been made public. Both the attackers and the defenders waited with bloodshot eyes and bodies taut with tension. Though none knew truly what they were waiting for.

In such a situation, perhaps the most fortunate of them all was Zarlisch, who passed away without witnessing the day’s tragedies for Tytania.

Duke Jouslain Tytania thought in a manner characteristic of himself, and a bitter smile etched itself upon his lips.

He, too, had been waiting. Just like the masses and the soldiers, he had been waiting for something. For the most part, it was something for which the responsibility for the decision lay with Jouslain himself. He believed he had made his decision. He was prepared to fight Clanner Ajman at the risk of his life. That resolve was set. However, strange as it was, he could not form a concrete judgement as to what must be done first to achieve it. There were more than a dozen options available to him, but he could not predict his opponent’s reaction. He almost wished the enemy would strike first. Yet, there was a limit to how long he could wait.

The person who provided the saving move was the very individual who had directly created the current situation. Zelpha. Having been granted an audience with Jouslain, the boy spoke bluntly the moment they met.

“I am not afraid of death.”

Jouslain responded with silence to Zelpha’s lofty voice. Observing that expression, a shadow of fear silently spread its wings across the young assassin’s face. The thirteen-year-old boy had managed to hide his fear of death from his opponent. It was a remarkable feat, yet it was also his limit. Faced with Jouslain’s cold gaze and flanked by soldiers on either side, the boy raised his voice:

“I am not afraid of death! Do you hear me?”

“… I am listening.”

“Then say something!”

“From the very beginning, I had no intention of killing you.”

Jouslain’s voice was, so to speak, a frozen flame. A wave of shuddering dread surged through Zelpha’s entire body.

“… What do you intend to do?”

He used every ounce of his strength to suppress the trembling in his voice.

“To kill Idris.”

Zelpha’s vision went dark. The shock had caused his field of vision to narrow. He staggered before Jouslain, but he did not even have the luxury of feeling ashamed of such an unsightly display.

“Don’t lay a hand on my brother! If you’re going to kill someone, kill me. I am the one who killed Ariabert!”

“So?”

“Kill me!”

“I refuse.”

Jouslain’s voice sent a shiver through even Viscount Balamy Tytania, who stood by his side.

“I will not kill you. You are not worth killing. You shall atone for the crime you have committed through the death of your brother. Live as long as you can, and carry the weight of your crime upon your shoulders until the day you die.”

“If you kill my brother, I’ll kill you! I swear, I will kill you!”

Jouslain responded to Zelpha’s scream with nothing but cold derision:

“Ah, we are certainly engaged in sophisticated conversation. Truly, this is Tytania! Strip away the status and the honour, and there is nothing that distinguishes this from the chatter of common criminals. And yet, it feels as though we are presiding over a summit to decide the fate of all mankind. However, there is a vacancy in this meeting.”

“A vacancy? What seat are you referring to?” asked Zelpha, drawn in by the thought.

Jouslain replied, a single corner of his lip curling upward:

“Conscience and morality.”

Before Zelpha could even decide how to react, Jouslain commanded the soldiers:

“Take him away at once. I have no time for idle chatter with a useless captive.”

“Jouslain! I will kill you, I swear it! I will make you regret this…!”

As Zelpha was led away, halfway dragged along, Balamy shrugged his shoulders, and Francia gazed at her master with a look of concern. Jouslain suppressed a bitter sigh within his throat.

He felt that it would be better to show leniency here. Should he kill Zelpha, the public sentiment would shift. It would provide the masses with the very reason they needed to turn against him, painting Jouslain as a cold and heartless man who murdered a thirteen-year-old boy.

“This ruthlessness and calculation are the true nature of Tytania. What is there to be ashamed of now that an outsider has discovered it? No, we never had the right to be ashamed in the first place.”

Jouslain shifted his gaze.

“Francia.”

“Yes?”

“Zelpha shall remain in custody for the time being. I have no intention of subjecting him to abuse, but Francia, you are not to go near him.”

Francia widened her eyes slightly as she gazed at her master.

“That boy has currently lost his reason. If he thinks too hard, there is no telling what he might do. If he were to kill himself with something like a fork, it would be one thing, but if he were to take you hostage, I would… be troubled.”

Francia bowed her head to her master, infusing the gesture with as much compassion as she could muster.

“I am honoured by your concern.”

“No, it is not that I am particularly worried about you, as you are a reliable person, but when dealing with an opponent whose actions are unpredictable, well, how shall I put it—it is always best to be cautious.”

Revealing a commonness that sat poorly with his illustrious record, Jouslain shifted his gaze once more toward Balamy. Since Balamy had been struggling to choose an appropriate expression for some time, he had simply erased all emotion from his face as much as possible. Jouslain ordered him to summon three of Ariabert’s primary aides.




=== V ===
Within five minutes, the three aides arrived before Jouslain.

Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey were their names. Edna Fredericks was not among them.

While the ancestral lineages of the three officers were all different, the result of dozens of generations of interbreeding meant they shared a very pale wheatish skin tone. As for their hair, the elder Magnorton had a golden hue streaked with grey, while the two middle-aged men had black hair. In any case, they had not been chosen based on their appearance. It was said that Ariabert placed great trust in these three, as they were not flashy but steady and sound military strategists.

Jouslain walked towards the three saluting officers himself and shook hands with each one. A wave of emotion and excitement pulsed through Jouslain’s palms.

“As a tactician, I do not hold a candle to you. To fairly carry out Ariabert’s vengeance, your strength is indispensable. I want Rear-Admiral Mittendorf and the three of you to lead a meeting of experts and present me with combat plans as soon as possible. You may submit multiple alternatives.”

“Understood!”

“Duke Ariabert was a comrade-in-arms to both you and me. Let us each do our utmost to avenge that comrade. I am counting on you.”

As the three officers departed, their faces flushed with the vigour of youth after being somewhat pale until that moment, Jouslain fell into thought for several seconds.

“Lord Balamy.”

“Yes?”

“Would you be so kind as to escort Princess Lydia back to her homeland?”

Balamy was taken aback by the sudden change in subject, but he quickly understood. Upon reflection, although Princess Lydia was accompanying Jouslain due to circumstances, she was a princess of a nation that did not belong directly to Tytania; leaving a girl of barely ten years at the front lines of a war was dangerous and, quite frankly, pointless.

“Then, whom shall you appoint as her escort?”

Jouslain’s expression shifted with suspicion.

“What are you saying? Obviously you’re the one who shall escort the Princess.”

“Me?”

“Who else?”

“Do you intend to remove me from this battle!?”

Balamy raised his voice.

“I have only just been entrusted to act as commander the other day. Though unworthy, I was prepared to serve with all my heart, but you change your orders so soon<ref name="ftn3">Literally “an order in the morning modified at night” (朝令暮改), an expression referring to changing laws or order with no rhyme or reason.</ref>?”

What Balamy said was true. Jouslain had no room for argument. This proposal had been born from Jouslain’s simple desire to prevent Balamy from dying, but it could not be denied that there had been a certain lack of foresight on Jouslain’s part. He had, after all, tasked a young man who possessed more vigour and sharpness than his actual age suggested with the care of a child. It was a task far beneath his station.

“Lord Balamy, you’re the only one I can entrust with Princess Lydia. That is why I am asking this of you. If you are willing, you need only return here alone immediately after the Princess has been safely delivered.”

“And what will you do if the ship carrying Princess Lydia is attacked by the enemy?”

“… What?”

“There are many, both far and near, who would seek to kidnap Princess Lydia to prove their loyalty to Uraniborg.”

“That is precisely why I am providing an escort.”

“Will ten or twenty escort ships be sufficient?”

“I shall send more.”

“If you do that, our forces will be depleted. To disperse one’s strength is a tactician’s greatest taboo. What do you intend to achieve by merely pleasing the enemy?”

In the face of the momentous task of conquering Uraniborg, the fate of a princess from a weak, frontier nation was a mere trifle. At least, that was Tytania’s way of thinking.

It was the voice of a young woman that interrupted the strange dispute between the two men.

“Princess, please, wait!”

It was Francia’s voice. Even without looking, the situation was clear. Just as Jouslain and Balamy exchanged an involuntary and wry look, a small bird flew into the fray, pursued by the others.

“May I enter, Lord Jouslain? Ah, I expected to find Bal here as well. You were discussing something important, weren’t you? I am sorry, but I have something important to discuss with you as well.”

Francia, who had approached closely behind the Princess, bowed in silence, her white cheeks flushed with the colour of cherry blossoms. Jouslain felt as though a door to her heart had opened without a sound, allowing a warm breeze to drift in.

“Please, Princess. I shall have some pastries prepared for you immediately.”

“No, there is no need. This is a matter of great importance.”

Princess Lydia declined, sounding regretful yet firm.

“We are all going to Elbing.”

“Pardon?”

“Lord Jouslain, Bal, Francia—everyone shall go to Elbing together. As my guest, the old King will welcome you dearly. Though we are a poor nation…”

Jouslain found himself smiling naturally.

“Princess, your offer is most gracious, but I am afraid that cannot be done.”

“Why not?” asked Princess Lydia before providing her own answer. “Is poverty unpleasant after all? I suppose from your perspective, we are but a pitiful frontier nation. Just a moment ago, I was in shock when Lord Ariabert died. Lord Jouslain or Bal, I don’t want for either of you to die. That is why I thought it would be fine as long as we could live in peace, even on the frontier.”

Francia gently took the Princess’ hand from behind.

“That is not the issue, Princess. We cannot simply leave the soldiers who are fighting alongside us behind?”

Jouslain explained with more gravity than any of the many diplomatic negotiations he had ever experienced.

“If we were to take them with us, then your own country would suffer great hardship.”

“Hardship? Nonsense. We are all comrades, and if my country’s population were to grow…”

Jouslain slowly shook his head.

“If you bring hundreds of thousands of soldiers into your country, they will require just that much food and supplies. You will no longer have the luxury of exporting potatoes. Furthermore…”

Jouslain looked over at Balamy.

“Furthermore, if you accept to give us asylum, you will of course be viewed as a complete enemy by Uraniborg. A great army will be dispatched, your country will become a battlefield, and every potato field will be stained with blood.”

Balamy was on the verge of a derisive laugh, but he hurriedly tightened his expression. For a moment, he had almost forgotten the dire predicament in which they found themselves. The image of the potato fields stretching as far as the eye could see was so simple that it brought a strange sense of humour to everyone present.

To Princess Lydia, the potato fields were likely a symbol of peace and friendship. When hearing that they would be stained with blood, she gasped softly and slumped, unlike her usual energetic self. To exaggerate, one might have said it was the moment her ideals collided with the wall of reality and shattered. However, after a few seconds, Princess Lydia lifted her head and spoke with newfound vigour:

“In that case, we shall simply win this war, and after that, we can all go to Elbing together.”

“Princess.”

“This is a promise. Listen, the old King once said that if an adult breaks a promise to a child, they shall become a calamity for the next generation.”

It was at this moment that Balamy spoke for the first time:

“Do not worry, Princess. We shall certainly prevail. I shall show you victory.”

A light, almost too bright, returned to the Princess’ eyes.

“I have certainly received your promise, Bal. If you break it, I shall make you eat two dozen cream puffs.”

“… Yes.”

This time, Balamy lost his spirit. It turned out that he had a distaste for cream puffs.



In the end, what truly gave voice to the fears and confusion of the masses was likely the furious roar of Idris, brimming with indignation and hatred.

“It seems you have no intention of retreating. Do you truly believe you can take Uraniborg without Ariabert? The one who is out of his depth is you, Jouslain.”

Though the speaker was unaware of it, this remark served as a clear tribute to the deceased.

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