Tytania:Volume 5

Main Characters of the Windstorm Arc

☆ Tytania Faction

• Ajman Tytania (41 years old)… Eighth-generation head of the Tytania Clan. Holder of the title “Landless Clanner”.
• Ariabert Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
• Jouslain Tytania (28 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
• Zarlisch Tytania… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke. Deceased.
• Idris Tytania (25 years old)… Head of one of the “Tytania’s Five Families”. Duke.
• Theresa Tytania (51 years old)… Zarlisch’s mother. Duchess.
• Balamy Tytania (19 years old)… Jouslain’s senior aide-de-camp. Viscount.
• Theodora Tytania… Countess.
• Elman Tytania (43 years old)… Diplomat. Count.
• Radmoth Tytania (18 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baron.
• Zelpha Tytania (13 years old)… Idris’ younger brother. Baronet.
• Francia… Jouslain’s lady-in-waiting.
• Edna Fredericks… Captain of the Austra. Captain.
• Lydia (11 years old)… Princess of the Kingdom of Elbing. Jouslain’s ward.
• Harsha VI (36 years old)… Emperor of the Vardana Empire. Official ruler.
• Aisha (32 years old)… Empress of the Vardana Empire.

☆ Anti-Tytania Faction

• Fan Hyulick (29 years old)… Former commander of the Euria City Fleet. Tytania’s arch-enemy.
• Lee Shanchen (28 years old)… Commonly known as Doctor Lee. Mastermind of the anti-Tytania faction.
• Lira Florentz… A girl who helped Hyulick during his escape. Deceased.
• Mikhail Walenkov (28 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former aide-de-camp. Sub-Lieutenant.
• Louis Edmond Pagès (27 years old)… Fan Hyulick’s former subordinate. Former Intelligence Staff Officer. Sub-Lieutenant.
• Miranda (29 years old)… Former Princess of the Principality of Casabianca.
• Compton Casimir… Captain of the Honest Old Man Junior. Miranda’s husband.
• Alan Mahdi (23 years old)… Former lieutenant of the Vardana Imperial Army. Currently on the run.
• Seraphine Coopers… Female soldier of the anti-Tytania faction.

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 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. 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?”

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.

Chapter 2 – The Athletes of the Wandering Race

I

It was generally believed that the main appeal of a pirate’s feast, though somewhat vulgar, lay in it being cheerful and lively. However, once it strayed from that path, alcohol was consumed gloomily, and nothing followed but heavy, morose conversation.

“I never imagined Duke Ariabert would meet such an end.”

“It would have been one thing if he had died in battle.”

“But the possibility of assassination was even being considered.”

There was nothing to distinguish these conversations from those of ordinary law-abiding citizens. The dining room of the Honest Old Man Junior, the flagship of the Blaze Flag Army, felt half like a haunted mansion.

“Clanner Ajman is truly a terrifying man.”

“Terrifying? I don’t see it that way. What a petty bastard. When he saw there was no chance of winning in a fair fight, he resorted to the cheap tactic of assassination. And he even used a child to do it.”

“I agree with Hyulick. I thought he would be a more dignified ruler, but he’s unexpectedly small-minded.”

Doctor Lee shook his head.

“Miranda, that is exactly what makes the Clanner terrifying. To be seen as petty, despised, or hated—he doesn’t give any of that a second thought. He eliminated the strongest enemy commander with absolute ruthlessness and efficiency. There is no one more frightening than a person who possesses the power to achieve their goals without regard for their reputation or the means used.”

He placed his small mug of dark beer upon the table.

“Today, Duke Ariabert was murdered using such a method. Tomorrow, there is no way to predict who will be killed or how. Those associated with Tytania must feel as though they are constantly on edge.”

“In short, it is a reign of terror. If Duke Idris decides to strike first to prevent being struck himself, I shall find myself reconsidering my opinion of that arrogant nobleman.”

Doctor Lee gazed at the foam clinging to the rim of his mug.

“Do you know what the greatest happiness in life is? Ah, let me clarify, it is not being able to eat a superb omelette every day. That lacks too much universality.”

Having been outmanoeuvred, Hyulick exhaled a breath heavy with the scent of alcohol.

“I suppose ‘it depends on the person’ won’t suffice as an answer?”

“It is nothing short of a miracle that I have not given up on you. For almost all human beings, the greatest happiness is the ability to always make the best possible choice.”

Mahdi let out an eerie laugh.

“Isn’t that what they call a pipe dream? It is no easy task to choose the best bank based on interest rates and customer service.”

“I sympathise with you Mahdi, but in the end, you chose this path yourself.”

Miranda spoke with irony as she picked up the stack of papers resting on the table. It was the latest news output from the general-purpose computer.

“The Clanner has rescinded the decree, then.”

“… Anything goes, it seems. It will hold no weight, neither legally nor morally.”

“It holds weight precisely because it is Tytania.”

“… To dispatch an envoy and present such favourable terms, only to kill Duke Ariabert the very next moment…”

Fan Hyulick excelled above all others in unconventional tactics, yet his political views and ideologies were utterly mediocre—though he himself described them as “sound”. Consequently, regarding Clanner Ajman’s assassination of Ariabert, he felt nothing but pure loathing.

Doctor Lee flicked the side of his tankard with his fingertip.

“This is merely the alcohol speaking, so there is no need to take it seriously, but what do you think, Hyulick? If you find the Clanner distasteful, why not simply side with Duke Jouslain?”

To side with Duke Jouslain.

It had never even crossed his mind. Or perhaps, in the depths of his subconscious, such a thought had been writhing. To begin with, he had never harboured any ill will towards Jouslain Tytania personally. Well, the same went for the late Ariabert Tytania, but as someone being pursued by the Tytania as a whole, he was not in a position to give such matters serious thought. Had that moment finally arrived, then? Doctor Lee had said it was merely the alcohol talking, but…

“No, but wait a minute. Even if we were inclined to do so, would they even accept it? Even if we say we are siding with Duke Jouslain, the ones he is actually leading are Duke Ariabert’s men.”

“You did well noticing that.”

“Of course I noticed! I’ve fought him three times, after all.”

“You came out on top with two wins and one loss. That’s quite an achievement.”

“Hmph, it was more like a sneak attack.”

“No need to disparage yourself. Duke Ariabert accepted his defeats with grace, and it would actually be quite rude to him to belittle yourself. I doubt they hate the Clanner any less than they hate you.”

“If they had challenged him to a fair fight, it might have been one thing, but this was an assassination. And using a child to do it, no less. They must have thought that removing Duke Ariabert would sap their will to fight. But, unfortunately for them…”

“It was a textbook example of backfiring.”

“Honestly, out of every thousand, every ten thousand people, all would think the same. The Clanner truly did something stupid.”

“Was it stupid?”

“Should I use a more refined term like ‘foolish’, Doctor?”

“It is not a matter of phrasing. It is a matter of motive.”

“Motive…?”

“To go so far as to commit an act that everyone would deem foolish. It isn’t simply Duke Ariabert’s subordinates who must find it distasteful, but even Duke Idris himself.”

Doctor Lee took on a pensive expression.

“Sometimes, I find myself thinking this: the Clanner might be intentionally creating circumstances disadvantageous to Tytania.”

“No way.”

“When you look at it that way, many things start to make sense.”

“Do they? It might seem so if you only look at his outward actions, but what would his motives be? Why would the Sovereign of Tytania engage in deeds that undermine his own power?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Don’t get defensive. You’re the one who always insists that there can be no conclusion without evidence.”

When Hyulick provoked him, Doctor Lee responded with a laugh, though the gloominess had significantly diminished.

“It seems my beer has gone lukewarm. I haven’t even taken a sip yet. Would anyone like it? Now then, Hyulick, I haven’t reached a conclusion just yet. So, let me ask you this: if Duke Jouslain were to resort to the most extreme measures, to what extent do you think we would have a chance at victory?”

“Extreme measures?”

“A full-scale offensive with all available forces, an assault on Uraniborg.”

“An assault on Uraniborg? Like urban warfare!?”

A hint of a scream tinged Mahdi’s voice. Miranda chimed in as well:

“The number of civilian casualties would be enormous. No, even before that, I cannot imagine Duke Jouslain would even consider such a thing. It annoys me to say it, but he’s a man with common sense.”

“How many troops can Uraniborg’s side deploy for urban warfare?”

When Hyulick asked that question, Miranda pulled out a dedicated tablet.

“If we only count the mobile infantry specialised in ground combat, it would be around one hundred thousand. They likely never anticipated being invaded. If they mobilise the fleet’s crew, it might be ten times that amount.”

“And Jouslain’s side?”

“Well, their side is also at a maximum of one hundred thousand. I cannot quite gauge the extent of their amphibious assault capabilities.”

“If they were to settle this in outer space, strictly outside of Uraniborg…”

As Hyulick carefully chose his words while deep in thought, Mahdi interrupted him:

“From Duke Jouslain’s perspective, a withdrawal strategy might make sense.”

“Hmm, and what would he do after retreating?”

“He could establish a base in some suitable planetary nation, resupply his food and energy, refit the fleet, and start anew.”

“It remains to be seen which side time will favour. Besides, what would he do if the forces from Uraniborg pursued them during their retreat?”

“That is precisely the point.”

Mahdi casually pulled the tankard placed before Doctor Lee towards himself.

“So? Do you want to know?”

“I can tell that you are eager to speak.”

“Well, if you have an idea, I suppose I could listen.”

Mahdi did not seem to mind the passive atmosphere.

“In short, he can counterattack as they pursue. He can advance in an inverted V-formation, then, at the opportune moment, turn around all at once. And this time, encircle the forces of Uraniborg in a V-shape and annihilate them. What do you think?”

II

“I don’t think it’s a bad plan, but it is far too technical. If a single error is made, the formation would collapse during his turn. Duke Jouslain would be the one who would end up being annihilated.”

“Well, it’s an apple pie in the sky.”

Miranda agreed with Hyulick.

“If we could win every time just by moving according to the tactical computer’s calculations, human commanders would be unnecessary.”

“Exactly as Miranda says.”

Doctor Lee nodded. Computers could provide answers based on records and calculations. In other words, a tactic that ignores precedent is “unforeseen”, and therefore, a computer couldn’t respond to it.

“After all, we have a living specimen right here among us, do we not?”

The “specimen” ran his hands through his carrot-coloured hair and glared sullenly at the screen. Far beyond the five suns, a small cloud of light was swirling. It was the fleet of the AJ Alliance—now consisting of only J—encircling Uraniborg. How would he move if he were inside that cloud of light? Hyulick thought vaguely, his brain cells submerged in a pool of alcohol.

“In the end, Doctor, which side does a war of attrition actually disadvantage?”

“That is a good question, Miranda. What do you think yourself?”

“Honestly, you never give a straight answer. It is quite frustrating.”

“We have been acquainted for a long time. I want to hear your thoughts first.”

When Miranda looked towards her mute husband, Captain Casimir gave a laughing nod. Miranda shrugged and set her own mug down on the table with a thud.

“Men tend to flock together instantly, which makes them such a troublesome lot… But oh well. Right now, Uraniborg is besieged and isolated, but as long as the source of power and authority—that is, the Clanner—remains, they hold the advantage.”

Miranda turned her eyes towards the cloud of light as well.

“The method they used was utterly unfair, but regardless, Uraniborg managed to assassinate Duke Ariabert and eliminate their greatest threat, didn’t they? Even if Duke Jouslain opts for a war of attrition here, how will it appear to the eyes of others? It might only look like indecisiveness.”

The public and the media both craved a spectacular, decisive battle. At Miranda’s words, Doctor Lee nodded twice.

“Very well, Miranda. Then let us consider seriously. How to force a decisive battle?”

The interior of Uraniborg was thick with a sense of suffocation. Even more so than the civilians, the Tytania mobile infantry were preoccupied with rumours. It was hardly surprising, given that they were on a war footing yet had nothing to do for the time being.

“I want Tytania to survive,” a young voice whispered. “I mean, if Tytania disappears, where would we go? What would we even do?”

“There are plenty of places that need mercenaries.”

“If something were to happen to the upper management too…”

“We are already in the middle of it. What’s the point of using the subjunctive?”

“Don’t nitpick. Hmph, true, even in the midst of a crisis, the routine for the low-ranking grunts doesn’t change.”

The sounds of helmets and rifles clashing echoed. Silence would pass through only when a grim-faced NCO marched by, but it never lasted for more than a minute.

“Not all planets are self-sufficient. On my home world, all we can grow are sunflowers and cotton. With five hundred thousand people we’d all starve to death.”

“Why grow only sunflowers and cotton?”

“This is why dealing with the uneducated is such a nuisance. The soil in my home world is high in salt. Sunflowers and cotton are pretty good at absorbing salt, so they’re necessary for soil reclamation.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I’m just a city boy from Ementhal.”

Throughout the universe, conversations of all kinds, useful or useless, harmful or harmless, were being exchanged. The uncertainty of an invisible future made people loquacious.

“Pax Tytaniana” had brought peace and prosperity to all human society. It was a fact that, despite the boredom and the gap between the rich and the poor, peace and prosperity had continued in the aggregate for two centuries. Consequently, most people desired to maintain the status quo and feared change, but now that change appeared to be unavoidable, the prevailing sentiment was that they simply wished for the storm to pass quickly so that peace might be restored.

“You are handing Zelpha over!?” interrogated Balamy as if shouting.

Jouslain replied curtly:

“That is correct.”

“Unharmed?”

“Of course… it’s not as if I intended to hand him over with his ears or nose sliced off.”

Balamy let out a ragged breath.

“Stop making such terrible jokes.”

“Sorry.”

Balamy pursed his lips after receiving another brief answer, but to Francia, who stood beside him, it felt as though the sound of a click of his tongue had filled the room.

“In form, this would mean we are succumbing to Duke Idris’ intimidation.”

“Outward appearances matter not. I have absolutely no intention of making this matter public.”

Jouslain turned his entire body towards Balamy.

“The Clanner has forced us to handle not only the assassination of Ariabert but the disposal of the assassin as well. How we deal with Zelpha is our business.”

Jouslain tapped the armrest with his fingertips.

“That is why I shall hand that boy over to Idris. It is for both our sakes, rather than keeping him detained here.”

“But will Duke Ariabert’s men accept this? They are seething with hatred and a desire for vengeance.”

“They know who the true culprit is,” pointed out calmly Jouslain. “There is no point in punishing the tool rather than the true culprit. If we were to punish it, the only option would be an execution for murder. That would only serve to corner us. People will wonder if we are really going to execute a child.”

Francia placed her hand gently upon her master’s shoulder.

“If there is something you wish to say, then say it. It is not as if I believe my choice is the best one.”

Balamy steadied his breathing and his tone.

“Then, if I may, I was under the impression that you intended to use Zelpha’s life as a bargaining chip in your dealings with Duke Idris.”

“Naturally… that was my intention at first.”

“Then…”

“However, I was forced to abandon this idea. The ruler of Uraniborg is the Clanner, not Idris. The Clanner would never agree to such a deal. To the Clanner, Zelpha’s life is a trivial thing. You understand that, don’t you?”

Balamy understood. The very act of sending Zelpha into the jaws of death as an assassin spoke volumes of the Clanner’s cold, calculating will.

“I am sorry to have disappointed you, Lord Balamy, but at this moment, I have no means of shattering the Clanner’s icy resolve. Therefore, I intend to release the boy quickly. While I do not know the Clanner’s true intentions, for now, it will at least save me the trouble of looking after him.”

Balamy groaned.

“And what will become of Zelpha once he has returned safely?”

“Idris might hold an award ceremony or a party for him.”

Jouslain replied with a hint of boredom, and, almost unconsciously, placed his palm over Francia’s.

At present, he was nothing more than a mere cynic. A vital part of his very core had slipped out of place and wandered off. He had no right to be entrusted with tens or hundreds of thousands of lives. Though he had resolved to fight, if he were to fail, he would only lead Ariabert’s brave and elite soldiers to a hollow death. And if he were to win? While Ariabert was still alive, it had seemed as though there were more tasks to be accomplished after victory than there were stars in the sky, but now that his half-brother was gone, his ideas and visions had grown wings and flown away. “My plans have turned into pigeons”—it was quite laughable. He even went so far as to think that if he were to simply kneel before the Clanner, he might let him decide his fate for him.

In short, Jouslain had not yet recovered from Ariabert’s death. In a sense, it was only natural. Only six hours had passed since “that moment”. Nothing had been decided regarding Princess Lydia or Francia, either.

The tense voice of the communications officer pierced through Jouslain’s heart, which was on the verge of sinking into an infinite twilight.

“We have an incoming transmission from the Blaze Flag Army.”

Jouslain instinctively exchanged a glance with Balamy.

III

“The message says, ‘We wish to consult with His Ducal Grace Jouslain Tytania regarding a certain matter’.”

Jouslain raised a hand to silence Balamy just as he was about to speak.

“Regarding this ‘certain matter’, do they mention anything specific?”

“Y-yes.”

“Let me hear it.”

“… They say, ‘We wish to take Baronet Zelpha Tytania into our custody’.”

“What—!?”

It was Balamy who let out a cry of astonishment, while Jouslain remained silent, gazing at the communications officer’s face. The officer exaggerated his expression of bewilderment, searching the duke’s eyes for guidance.

“How shall I respond?”

“I will provide the reply. Activate the interception prevention system, then establish the video link.”

“Yes sir.”

“However, ensure that everyone’s face is pixelated except for mine.”

He did not want to reveal the presence of Francia and the others to an opponent who could be neither identified as friend nor foe. After a struggle between emotion and reason, Jouslain received the Blaze Flag Army’s transmission with an attitude that was, surprisingly, quite composed.

The feeling was mutual. This was because the opponent had also pixelated everyone in the frame except for a single person positioned directly in front of the screen. He was a young man of Jouslain’s generation, with black hair and an intelligent face. However, that intelligence did not appear to follow a straight path.

“I am profoundly honoured that you have granted me this audience. My name is Lee Shanchen. You must be His Ducal Grace Jouslain.”

“Correct. I have received an interesting proposal from you, but do you really intend to purchase Zelpha’s freedom with money?”

“If you were to gain material profit by handing over Baronet Zelpha, it would constitute human trafficking. Your honour would be tarnished. It is precisely because we ask for no compensation that the goodwill of both parties may prevail.”

Behind the mosaic, Balamy shifted, and Jouslain wore an expression that stopped just short of a wry smile.

“You seem to be a master of rhetoric.”

“You may clearly call it outright sophistry.”

“Had you belonged to Tytania, you would have surely flourished in the Department of Foreign Affairs… No, I suppose that the fact that I bring up Tytania at the drop of a hat shows my limits.”

A sharp intensity flashed through Jouslain’s eyes and voice.

“I shall ask you something quite unrefined, but what are you plotting?”

Doctor Lee replied with an air of utmost seriousness:

“To be honest, we too are conflicted about our course of action regarding this matter. We considered keeping our distance and remaining uninvolved, but given the circumstances thus far, we found that impossible. As we are of little consequence to begin with, we have decided to take a leap of faith and side with Your Grace.”

“To side with me? Those are sweet words.”

“Since the Blaze Flag Army has a rather strict aunty… I mean, older sister, I do not believe it is a suitable environment for a child’s upbringing. I implore you to place your trust in us and allow us to look after the Baronet.”

Something moved behind the mosaic of the screen. It was Miranda, waving her hands in a panic. Jouslain paid it no mind.

“A killer cannot return to being a child. Whether he is thirteen, ten, or younger, it matters not.”

“I believe your insight is correct, Your Grace, but…”

Doctor Lee’s gaze was that of a scholar observing a subject.

“Surely, you cannot bring yourself to execute a thirteen-year-old boy.”

“Why do you think so?”

“You must know why. If you were to do such a thing, Your Grace, you would descend to the same standards as your enemies. It would be contrary to your wishes.”

Jouslain gave a silent laugh. It was likely exactly what his opponent had expected, but he did not mind.

“Standards, eh? You’re being harshly sarcastic. I believe Tytania’s standard of morality is somewhat removed from that of the common people.”

“A slip of the tongue. Please pardon me.”

“I shan’t pardon you—that was no slip of the tongue. Even a fool like myself can see that you are a shrewd man.”

“Your Grace…”

“I am not merely being self-deprecating. It is a disgraceful display that I am unable to decide even how to deal with the life of a single child. If you have any other advice to offer, I shall listen.”

Doctor Lee cleared his throat.

“This matter must absolutely be kept secret. I believe that the location of Baronet Zelpha must never be known to the Uraniborg faction.”

“That is certainly true. It would become quite troublesome if it were discovered. However, and I hope this won’t offend you, I wish to hold something in return to guarantee Zelpha’s safety. I do not believe this is an unreasonable request, but what say you?”

A smile befitting Mephistopheles’ disciple appeared on Doctor Lee’s face.

“Regarding that point, I am prepared to entrust a certain individual to Your Grace in exchange for Baronet Zelpha.”

“What individual?”

“He is a man with low social skills who holds a childish love for omelettes, but he may still prove of some use to Your Grace Jouslain.”

“… Admiral Fan Hyulick?”

“You are most perceptive.”

Doctor Lee spoke without a hint of irony or mockery and offered a thoroughly serious bow.

Doctor Lee had demonstrated extraordinary processing power by concluding a “business deal” with Duke Jouslain Tytania that could only be described as absurd, but the person who had been used as bargaining material was far from appeased.

“Listen, Hyulick, Duke Jouslain’s unit was under the command of Duke Ariabert. You are lucky. Had they been former subordinates of Duke Zarlisch, you would have been turned into the filling for a giant omelette while still alive.”

“How exactly is that lucky? You used a person as a bargaining chip without permission. What would you have done if I’d been turned into a fried egg instead of an omelette? If you intend to toy with Duke Jouslain, that is one thing, but…”

“Hyulick, while I might be able to handle just you, turning Duke Jouslain into a plaything is more than I can manage. I expect you to assist Duke Jouslain with the utmost sincerity.”

“And will the other party even trust me?”

“That depends entirely on your character. For now, the negotiations are settled. Hallelujah!”

Uttering a celebratory phrase so ancient that its origins were unknown, Doctor Lee patted Hyulick on the shoulder. The young carrot-top brushed the hand away with an annoyed expression, then asked in a sulky tone:

“So, am I going alone?”

“You’re an adult, aren’t you?”

“That’s a completely different issue! Besides, what do you intend to do after taking custody of Baronet Zelpha? Are you planning to sell him off somewhere?”

“Human trafficking is not part of the Blaze Flag Army’s tradition.”

“It’s a matter of tradition?”

“Well, although we sided with Uraniborg recently and had everything ruined by young master Radmoth, this time, I shall have to consider how best to utilise young master Zelpha for Duke Jouslain’s sake.”

“Then, how will our position be described? Unscrupulous traitors?”

“No, no, there is no need to be so self-deprecating,” declared Doctor Lee solemnly. “We are the champions of justice who shall overthrow the tyrant Ajman.”

Hyulick fell silent. He was intensely furious with both Doctor Lee and Clanner Ajman, though the nature of his anger was not the same for each.

Towards Ajman, he felt a sense of loathing for his political methods and an indefinable, creeping eeriness. Towards Doctor Lee, though he found it strange himself, he felt an impulse that might be satisfied by a single well-placed slap. While he should have suffered more actual harm from Doctor Lee, it was unclear why, perhaps because he viewed Clanner Ajman as their shared, common enemy.

“Whatever happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In the end, despite his immense dissatisfaction, Hyulick accepted Doctor Lee’s “business proposal”.

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge of the battleship Austra, Baronet Zelpha Tytania was glaring at a remnant of his sworn enemy—

“Has my fate been decided?”

“I have decided.”

The perceptive boy noticed that Jouslain had not used the phrasing “it has been decided”. He tried his utmost to keep his expression unchanged, but he could not prevent his face from turning pale. There was no way he would be released unconditionally. He had been prepared for the death penalty, but to have it stated so explicitly, it was only natural that he felt terror.

“I am handing you over to the Blaze Flag Army. You know what the Blaze Flag Army is, don’t you? They are notorious space pirates who temporarily joined forces with your beloved brother.”

For a moment, Zelpha wore an expression of bewildered confusion, and despite himself, his gaze darted to the sides of Jouslain. He could read nothing from the faces of the poised Balamy and Francia.

“I am a Tytanian noble.”

“And?”

“I would rather die with my pride intact than be sold off to pirates. Kill me!”

Jouslain looked Zelpha straight in the eye. Zelpha was excessively sharp, intense, and heated. To put it coldly, there was no need to kill him. He would likely destroy himself before ever reaching adulthood.

“A fitting end for a murderer, wouldn’t you say? What have you done to an opponent who trusted you and showed you every courtesy? You may praise yourself all you like, but your methods were nothing short of cowardly.”

Sweat glistened on Zelpha’s brow.

Jouslain could not tell if the reason he was handing Zelpha over to the pirates was because he hated the boy so much or because he didn’t hate him but had a feeling that it was a “waste to kill him”. His hatred for Clanner Ajman remained frozen like a flame, refusing to lose its shape.

“Do you understand, you coward? During your stay with the pirates, try to become at least as human as they are.”

Zelpha glared at Jouslain without a sound. His gaze was like a volley of fierce arrows. This was exactly what Francia and Balamy had expected. However, something occurred that exceeded their expectations.

A liquid that was not sweat overflowed from both of Zelpha’s eyes, trickling down his cheeks and mingling with his perspiration. The single word “coward” had caused the ramparts of the boy’s heart to collapse.

IV

It was said that a “peaceful democracy” had never existed since ancient times. It was described as “a vibrant debate to put it charitably, the height of chaos to put it less favourably”, it sometimes even escalated into physical altercations, with eggs and shoes flying through the air. Nevertheless, because it was deemed preferable to “silent dictatorship” or “bloody tyranny,” hundreds of millions of organisations and groups from great and small nations to pirates all wore the formal necktie of democracy.

The Blaze Flag Army was no exception. Even among those who brazenly styled themselves as “Warriors of Freedom” or “Gentlemen of the Dark Nebula”, sparks of verbal conflict flew. The loudest voice, however, belonged to Mr Mahdi.

“What on earth are they thinking… We went to all the trouble of driving out young Radmoth to restore a modest peace, only to bring back a pampered Tytania scion once again.”

“He’s much cuter than Radmoth, isn’t he?”

“Hmph. That cute rich kid went and assassinated the greatest commander in the universe. There’s no telling what he might do on this ship either. What will we do if he harms someone?”

Doctor Lee nodded heavily.

“Indeed, that is a valid point.”

“Right? So…”

“That is why we shall assign him an attendant to look after him.”

“An attendant will only serve to pamper him!”

“Well, you could say that. As long as he is educated with proper discipline, it will be fine.”

“… Hey, wait a minute!”

“Therefore, I hereby appoint former Lieutenant Mahdi as the person in charge of Baronet Zelpha’s rehabilitation and education. Does anyone object?”

Mahdi leapt up, intending to roar in protest, but his angry shout was drowned out by an overwhelming wave of voices crying, “No objections!”

“My, democracy certainly is a wonderful thing.”

Doctor Lee wore a smile reminiscent of Mephistopheles, and with a devilish grin, even directed it towards Walenkov, who was considered relatively good-natured.

“I beg of you, Mr Mahdi, please teach the boy that earning money is a far more meaningful way to live than killing people.”

“And that this is for his own sake, as well as all mankind.”

Between the arguments and the verbal sparring, the Honest Old Man Junior approached the Jouslain fleet surrounding Uraniborg, as silently as a lion and as boldly as a hyena. The objective was to take custody of Zelpha Tytania. There was, however, another equally important purpose.

On the bridge of the Austra, Duke Jouslain Tytania gathered a small group of high-ranking officers, including Balamy, and made his announcement.

“Once Zelpha has been handed over, we shall resume combat. All ships, transition to semi-A-class battle formation immediately!”

Rear-admiral Mittendorf, Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey responded with tense salutes. The four of them had only just been struck with astonishment by the announcement that Zelpha would be handed over to the Blaze Flag Army.

“That bastard Jouslain, what is he thinking?” muttered Idris to himself, standing before the screen, bathed in the blue and white light of the stars.

It was pointless to try to calculate how many hours it had been since he last slept, so he did not bother. Though he was exhausted, his body was filled with a strange energy, and he had no intention of resting. He felt as though his body was brimming with an excess of heat, yet the cold air gathered around him like beads of frost, stimulating his senses. His eyes, which stared fixedly at the countless points of light, large and small, looked as though they were bloodshot.

“Zelpha is somewhere within that fleet… If only I could determine where…”

Idris bit the inside of his lower lip. As long as Zelpha remained in Jouslain’s grasp, it was impossible to launch an indiscriminate attack upon the enemy.

Although he had attempted to use words that bordered on threats against Jouslain, he knew they would have no effect. What Idris feared most, however, was that by taking Zelpha hostage, Jouslain would force him to accept a peace treaty. It was only natural; if Idris were Jouslain, he would do the same. He would impose terms of extreme severity. Yet, for Idris to accede to those negotiations in order to save Zelpha would mean removing himself from the Clanner’s seat forever.

In the first place, there was no way Clanner Ajman would approve of surrendering to the enemy without a fight. The sense of awe that loomed beyond his hatred had not vanished.

Clanner Ajman had retreated once more into his inviolable sanctuary, vanishing from sight. Before the closed doors, Idris could do nothing but stand frozen.

“I have dealt with Ariabert. Now, try to handle the rest on your own,” is likely what the Clanner would say.

Yet, in exchange for Ariabert’s life, his beloved younger brother, Zelpha, had fallen into the hands of the enemy. The life of Zelpha was clearly of no concern to the Clanner. To Idris, the uncertainty surrounding Zelpha’s safety felt like an especially piercing shard of ice.

At that moment, Idris’ inner universe was filled with a whirlwind of passion, and even he could not predict how it would run rampant once it focused upon a single direction.

“Regardless, we cannot afford to fall any further behind in battle.”

If even a single other part of Uraniborg were to sustain damage, ten million citizens would fall into a panic. Allocating troops to manage such an occurrence would leave the defences against the enemy even more depleted. He had to demonstrate a posture of primary engagement in a way that was visible to all.

Idris summoned the newly appointed interception commander, Vice-Admiral Ridenhour, and informed him of a certain matter that left him utterly astonished.

“Do you intend to board the Black Prince?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“With all due respect, if the Black Prince were to set out under the current circumstances, it would be met with concentrated fire the moment it cleared the harbour gates. I judge it to be far too dangerous.”

Idris stared intently at the Vice-Admiral.

“I appreciate the warning, but is it a vessel that would be destroyed by mere concentrated fire?”

“No, that is not quite… I mean…”

“I did not say I would board it immediately. I merely said to have it prepared so that I can board at any time. Is that understood?”

“As you wish…”

As Vice-Admiral Ridenhour departed with the composure befitting a high-ranking officer, another person appeared as if in his stead. It was the Countess Theodora Tytania.

“It seems the final battle is about to begin. What are our chances of victory?”

Idris gave a low laugh.

“If I gave you a blank canvas, Theodora, I suppose you would produce a decent enough painting. Unfortunately, however, the majority of the picture is already finished. All that you and I can do, at most, is adding a bit of colour.”

Theodora looked at Idris with surprise. In truth, she was indeed surprised.

“You speak with the flair of an artist.”

“Hmph. If I told you that I wanted to be a painter when I was a child, would you believe me?”

As Theodora remained silent, Idris continued, his words sounding like a monologue.

“Well, I do not care for your opinion, but there was something utterly inexplicable. When you mix all colours together, they become black. No matter how many times I tried, this is what happened. There was no other way to approach it. Therefore, the only option left was to absorb every colour and master the essence of black.”

“… Do you intend to depart in person? At last?”

“There is no point in keeping the Black Prince moored any longer. That ship is the very pinnacle of black.”

“One cannot blame the late Duke Zarlisch, then.”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

Theodora looked at Idris with a calculating smile.

“You used to mock Duke Zarlisch quite often. You said he was a slave to his hysterical mother, that he couldn’t distinguish between public and private affairs, that his cause was secondary to the greater good, and whether someone like him was truly fit to be the Clanner.”

“…”

“I wonder about that. For you, who aspire to be the next Clanner of Tytania, did you not hesitate to engage in the final battle because you were so concerned for your younger brother?”

“That is in the past. Enough. I did not summon you here, so leave at once and go splash some perfume on that invisible tail of yours.”

Every five or ten minutes, the tension among the soldiers continued to rise. In proportion to that, they repeated the same topics, attempting to soothe their own anxieties.

“I never imagined Duke Ariabert would die in such a manner.”

“I certainly didn’t.”

“That just wasn’t right. He was an enemy commander, true, but he was a fine man.”

“I served in his fleet for about two years once; he was a very pleasant person…”

“Hey, everyone, why so gloomy!?”

An unnaturally cheerful voice drifted through the gaps in their helmets.

“The greatest threat has been eliminated. Only Duke Jouslain remains, but there is no way he possesses the same tactical prowess as Duke Ariabert. We have won.”

“…”

“What’s wrong? Celebrate!”

A storm of rebuttals instantly swirled through the ranks.

“How can we celebrate, you reckless fool!?”

“It isn’t as if we fought with honour and took Duke Ariabert’s head ourselves.”

“What is there to be happy about, having our great achievement snatched away by a mere child of some twelve-thirteen years?”

The motorised infantry, who were being nudged from both sides and tapped on their helmets, raised their voices in discontent.

“Then, are you implying that we won through cowardly means?”

“Are you suggesting that what happened was a fair tactic?”

“Hmph. You might have a point. But if that’s the case, why don’t you go tell Duke Idris exactly that!?”

In an instant, a chill descended upon the scene. The soldiers exchanged glances, but no matter which face they looked upon, they could find no expression of hope. Their courage, their fighting spirit, their animosity, and even their pride had fallen into a state of suspended animation. To bolster their morale, they would have needed a grand, almost magical speech, or a tangible, decisive victory, or perhaps something even greater. However, none of those things seemed likely to arrive in the near future.

The soldiers of Uraniborg possessed an arrogance born of their immense pride in being members of the Tytania regime. That pride was lost because the very best part of Tytania had vanished with the untimely death of Ariabert. Those who anchored their self-esteem in external factors were prone to losing their identities easily through the collapse of an organisation or the death of a superior. Consequently, it stood to reason that the officers and men, who had derived their pride from being “under the command of Duke Ariabert,” would fall into despair and disband; yet, it was precisely because the opposite phenomenon occurred that the “Uraniborg Incident” was so peculiar.

In short, what the troops of the Uraniborg army required was a supreme commander possessing a charisma equal to that of the late Ariabert, but Idris had not yet proven himself to be such a man.

In a corner of the Clanner’s manor, where officers and officials were scurrying about in a state of commotion, a woman dressed in an out-of-place, pale lilac gown was stumbling along. She was the Duchess Theresa Tytania.

“Come to think of it, Zarlisch wasn’t such a bad boy… his only flaw was that his features were a bit rough-looking…”

The Duchess’ voice, which wavered in pitch, drifted through the room upon the heavy scent of rum.

A noblewoman permitted to bear the Tytania name ought to have been a symbol of nobility and grace, but that was already a lost cause. Had Zarlisch merely remained alive, she would surely have been accorded the respect due to his mother; yet now, Duchess Theresa Tytania was nothing more than a nuisance to the doctors and nurses, a subject of ridicule and pity for every Tytania-related person from the highest to the lowest rank.

The only things that indicated her former nobility were the pale lilac dress made of the finest Meishan silk and the jewels pressed into her thick neck and fingers; even her hair was no longer elegantly arranged. In her right hand, she clutched a bottle of rum.

As the lady stumbled along her path, a middle-aged man dressed in an expensive-looking suit appeared before her. It was Count Elman Tytania.

Count Elman attempted to turn on his heel swiftly. He had no intention of getting involved with Theresa. Even without this, he had already incurred Idris’ displeasure regarding the matter of the Blaze Flag Army. He had intended to establish himself as the person holding full authority in negotiations with the pirate factions, acting, so to speak, as a minister of foreign affairs during wartime. However, his worldly yet healthy ambition had been crushed by the combination of those unscrupulous pirates and the short-tempered duke.

Having suffered enough misfortune, Count Elman had no desire to experience any more. He tried to quickly round the corner of the corridor, leaving Theresa behind in her state of loneliness and delusion. Yet, misfortune was not yet ready to let go of the middle-aged nobleman.

“Oh, if it isn’t Count Elman. Now, I wonder if I should say it has been a long time since we last met.”

Count Elman cursed himself. In aristocratic society, one could not simply ignore a person of higher rank when they addressed you.

“It has indeed been a long time, Duchess.”

“Oh my, oh, my, I feel as though that was the first time someone has actually replied to me today… Or is it just my imagination?”

Suddenly, Count Elman was overcome by an unexpected emotion. It went by the name of “pity”.

Theresa’s husband was already dead, having left her with two sons. Her sons, namely Duke Zarlisch and Count Arses, had both predeceased their mother. They had been murdered by the same person. It was Count Elman who had brought the individual responsible for Theresa’s vengeance to Uraniborg. And the one who had hindered the avenging of her sons’ deaths was…

All at once, Count Elman bellowed.

“Guards! Nurses! Anyone! Is no one there!?”

The Duchess, whose body had become a compound of alcohol, resentment, and despair, slumped into Count Elman’s arms. Once again, a group of unfortunate guards came rushing over, numbering three or four.

“Your Lordship, for a civil official to be in such a place…”

“If you have time to talk, then take the Duchess to her infirmary! Hurry! What do you intend to do if the worst should happen!?”

The expression and furious shouts of Count Elman, who had long been regarded as a moderate gentleman, left the guards aghast. Two of the guards took turns with Count Elman, supporting the Duchess’ body with arms far more powerful than his own. A third man pulled out a mobile phone to call the medical office. While keeping his eyes on the Duchess, Count Elman pulled out a handkerchief.

“Why has it come to this? Why?…”

As Count Elman wiped the saliva from the lady’s suit,

“That is something I would like to know myself.”

A cold, dry voice spoke, halting the movement of Count Elman’s hand. Standing there, amidst the bewildered staff officers and guards, was a man.

“Duke Idris…”

“You have certainly shown great kindness. However, it must have been a nuisance.”

When Idris spoke, without even a hint of sympathy, a mass of alcohol-soaked flesh stirred and uttered a voice.

“Oh my, it isn’t Idris this time… No, you look just like him, but it’s not you, is it?”

“Are you calling me an impostor?”

Idris frowned and cast his gaze towards Count Elman. The Count shook his head in a panic. It was a silent dialogue. It conveyed the sentiment of “Has this woman finally lost her mind?” and “No, I do not know.”

Idris let out an affected sigh.

“Duchess Theresa, you never fail to catch me off guard. I am the true Idris. Forgive my bluntness, but it appears you are finally seeing hallucinations.”

“Oh dear, but that isn’t right. If you were the true Idris, you would be carrying the heads of Ariabert and Jouslain in both your hands.”

“……!”

“You were boasting so loudly, after all. I assumed you had already scattered the enemy and received words of praise from His Clanner Highness?”

“Duchess, Duke Ariabert is…”

Count Elman, who had been on the verge of revealing the truth because he could no longer bear it, felt his tongue freeze at the sound of that youthful voice, which was brimming with murderous intent.

“There is no need to say anything more, Count Elman.”

Idris walked forward slowly and came to a halt before Duchess Theresa. He frowned as the breath of alcohol hit him directly. It was at that very moment that an officer, receiving a call on his mobile phone, cried out almost in a shout.

“Duke Idris, I come to report!”

“What is it?”

“The enemy has resumed their attack!”

For a moment, Idris steadied his breathing; he started to walk but then stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at Count Elman.

“Count Elman, I leave the matter of Lady Theresa to you. It is a burden, but such is the way of things. You must accept it.”

As Idris walked away with brisk strides, Elman bowed to his retreating back with a heavy sigh. He had decided to “accept” it. The left side of his face shone pale. The enemy’s artillery fire was reflecting through the transparent wall.

“Do not falter! Hold your ground!” shouted Idris.

The screen before his eyes was turning into a storm of intersecting lines of fire, beams of light, and the glare of explosions.

Ariabert’s death would bring about a major turning point in the war. Idris told himself this with conviction. He strove to ensure it. After all, Ariabert’s legion, stripped of his leadership, would be nothing more than a pack of leaderless wolves. He anticipated that the various armies, currently observing the situation, would begin to move once they realised there was no hope of victory against Jouslain’s lone “Anti-Uraniborg” force. They would undoubtedly rush toward the rear of the “AJ Alliance without A,” seeking to gather even the smallest morsel of the fruits of victory. If that happened, they would pincer the hated Jouslain from both sides and annihilate him within a complete encirclement.

The movement of the various factions was much like discovering a glowing supernova in the midst of a dark nebula. At least, that was how Idris viewed it. After all, Clanner Ajman remained in power at Uraniborg, and it was the Clanner himself who had ordered Ariabert’s “execution”. As long as the Clanner represented authority and justice, it should have been only natural for the various factions to join forces at Uraniborg to crush the rebel Jouslain.

“Vice-Admiral Ridenhour!”

“Yes?”

“I am entrusting you with the command of the interception. I trust the Black Prince is ready for a sortie.”

“Yes sir. At a moment’s notice.”

“I shall board in fifteen minutes. Inform all crew members accordingly. Furthermore, open the first port gate in ten minutes.”

“Brother.”

At the sudden call, the elegant lines of Idris’ cheek stiffened. It was not Zelpha’s voice.

“You certainly have a lot of nerve, coming back here like this.”

Idris’ voice pierced Radmoth like a poisoned needle of hatred and contempt. At least, it was meant to, but his younger brother, who had returned safely, merely stood there staring at him with dull eyes.

Looking at Radmoth made Idris feel confused about whom he was actually supposed to view as an enemy. He shook his head and spat out words devoid of even a shred of affection.

“What business do you have, showing up here so boldly? I have no recollection of calling for you.”

The reply came immediately.

“Brother, I shall be the one to pilot the Black Prince.”

Chapter 3 – The Black Prince

I

The state of stunned disbelief lasted only a moment. Duke Idris Tytania took a breath before glaring at his brother, who was overflowing with an eerie confidence.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought you might say that.”

He appeared many times calmer than his elder brother. It was something Idris found difficult to believe.

“If you are sane, I shall have you detained for treason. Be prepared to face the death penalty.”

His brother ignored his words.

“It is a decree from the Clanner. Read it, and you’ll understand. It states that the command of the Black Prince and the accompanying fleet is entrusted to Baron Radmoth Tytania. That is what is written, is it not?”

The scroll containing the decree was tossed onto Idris’ lap.

“… Why…?”

Idris groaned, feeling as though he were falling into the depths of a dark well.

“Why, at the last minute, would you do something to obstruct my authority and responsibilities…? Radmoth, there is no way you could possibly command the Black Prince!”

His younger brother responded arrogantly:

“Brother, don’t you understand the Clanner’s heart?”

“And you claim that you do?”

Idris replied to the question with a question, glaring at his brother’s face, only to recognise an impossible expression there. It was pity. An expression of composure, backed by the pride of a victor. Having ensured his elder brother tasted more than enough humiliation, Radmoth declared:

“I do.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense!”

“Think whatever you like. I don’t have time, so I am leaving. You can stay in the command room and enjoy the view at your leisure, brother.”

The scroll containing the decree fell to the floor, but Idris did not notice, and Radmoth did not care. After taking two or three steps, the younger brother came to a halt.

“Oh, let me tell you one thing. The reason you cannot understand the Clanner’s heart is because you try to think your way through it. I suspect Jouslain is much the same.”

“Such pretentious nonsense… Then explain to me exactly what you think you know and why.”

“Simple. The Clanner and I are much the same kind of person. Of course, the Clanner is more intelligent and, how shall I put it, possesses a greater talent for acting… but, well, perhaps it is merely a matter of our age difference.”

Every single word lashed at Idris like a whip, sealing his ability to retort. Radmoth picked up the decree that had fallen to the floor and rolled it up roughly.

“In any case, there is no use thinking. One must feel. Yes, one must feel, or one shall never truly understand.”

Leaving behind words that sounded like they belonged to some ancient mystic from millennia past, Radmoth strode out of the room. He left behind Idris, who trembled with passion as his hands gripped the command table, and a group of staff officers wearing pale, hollow expressions.

Aboard the Austra, a truly bizarre ritual was about to unfold. Before long, the lawless brigands of the Blaze Flag Army were expected to board for negotiations. Prior to that, Jouslain spoke to his lady-in-waiting:

“Francia.”

“Yes?”

“Do not come to the bridge. Remain in the VIP lounge with Princess Lydia.”

“Ju…”

Francia started to speak but then bowed her head as if having changed her mind.

“Yes, I shall do exactly as you command.”

“Look after the Princess.”

“Yes, of course.”

This conversation stemmed from Jouslain’s inner conflict. It had been perfectly natural for Princess Lydia to accompany him aboard his flagship, the Austra, until now. During Ariabert’s lifetime, this had even been considered the safer option, but he wondered what the future held. Would it not be safer to simply leave her in the hands of the Blaze Flag Army, alongside Zelpha?

He had considered such an idea for a time, but there was no way Princess Lydia would accept being separated from Jouslain and his men, and if she were to go into hiding somewhere aboard the ship, it would lead to nothing but immense trouble. Unlike with Zelpha, Jouslain could not evade his responsibility regarding the safety and future of Princess Lydia.

Thus, an exchange of personnel was carried out between Jouslain’s fleet and the Blaze Flag Army. A bridge could not be established between the Austra and the Honest Old Man Junior. Their specifications differed too much. Consequently, four individuals, Doctor Lee, Fan Hyulick, Mahdi, and Walenkov, boarded the Austra via a shuttle. On the return journey, Zelpha took Hyulick’s place as the passenger on the shuttle.

The strange ceremony of exchange concluded without incident, leaving Zelpha unable to move within Walenkov’s massive grip. The strangeness of this exchange lay in the fact that, fundamentally, there had been no urgency, no political significance, and no necessity for Jouslain’s side to accept the opponent’s proposal. All of these factors would eventually lead to a change in the situation at a later date.

“That boy is steeped in Tytanian values from the tips of his hair to the ends of his toes.”

“It would appear so, Duke Jouslain.”

“Teach him that other values exist.”

“It is late for me to be saying this, but are you truly certain about this?”

Doctor Lee pressed for confirmation.

“To be honest, I lack confidence in my self-control regarding what I might do if that boy were within my reach. That said, I have no intention of sending him back to the Clanner for nothing. Let him train under you.”

“Understood.”

As Doctor Lee bowed, an out-of-place voice erupted from among his comrades.

“Damn it, give me back my savings! Unfreeze my account! Add interest, late fees, and compensation for emotional distress! I am absolutely furious!”

“And that one?”

“Ah, he’s a patient with a money-worshipping disease. He isn’t that violent, so do not worry.”

“As for causing any harm to Zelpha…”

“On that point, we shall take full responsibility.”

“Then I shall leave it to you.”

Jouslain and Doctor Lee found a shared sense of intense curiosity reflected in each other’s eyes.

“I would like to speak with you both further, but given the current circumstances…”

“As you wish. We shall take our leave now. Since there will surely be an opportunity to meet again, we shall look forward to it.”

“Quite so; we shall have to exchange guests between us, after all.”

“Guests? No, no, as long as that man is at least fed an omelette, I do not care how much you work him to the bone. Well then, farewell.”

The Blaze Flag Army departed, with one member different from those who had arrived. Left behind was a single man, burdened with both frustration and a sense of resignation. In terms of both age and build, he was not much different from Jouslain.

So, this man is Fan Hyulick?

Jouslain gazed at his opponent with utter composure. The mastermind behind the ingenious tactics that had defeated the late Ariabert on two occasions gave the impression of being nothing more than an ordinary commoner. One could easily imagine him swapped with a young man working a sausage stall on the streets of the Uraniborg residential district without any sense of incongruity. He was likely assessing Jouslain in his own mind as well.

“You are our guest. Please, make yourself at home.”

“I appreciate your hospitality.”

“Well, of course, this vessel is no cruise liner. There are certain limits to what you can do, but as long as you do not cause any disruption, you are free to do as you wish. Now then, shall I have you shown to your private quarters?”

“There is one thing I request, Duke Jouslain.”

Jouslain remained silent, waiting for Hyulick to continue.

“If it is at all possible, I would be honoured to pay my respects to the remains of Duke Ariabert. Would that be permissible?”

For the first time, Jouslain felt genuinely impressed by Fan Hyulick.

“Very well… Still, human relationships are strange things.”

After signalling for him to follow, Jouslain began to walk. He had expected that upon meeting Hyulick, a flood of things he wanted to know, to say, or to ask would overflow, and yet strangely, that did not happen.

Wherever they went, soldiers clad in Tytania military uniform saluted Jouslain with reverence while casting curious glances at Hyulick. Hyulick was grateful that he couldn’t notice any overt hostility or hatred. Conversely, it meant that people could kill one another even without such animosity.

Ariabert’s remains had been neatly prepared, looking “as if sleeping”, as the saying went. After Hyulick gazed upon his former enemy commander for a moment and offered a salute as respectful as possible, Jouslain bowed in tribute.

“I appreciate your courtesy.”

“… If I may be so bold, what of Duke Ariabert’s surviving family?”

There was a moment of silence.

“He has a brother.”

“I see. I have no right to say such a thing, but please convey my regards.”

“He will surely appreciate your courtesy as well. Now, shall we move on?”

The private room Hyulick was escorted to was intended for high-ranking officers. It felt almost presumptuous to compare it to his own quarters on the Honest Old Man Junior. Internally, Hyulick felt a pang of sympathy for young Zelpha, who will likely be forced to endure much worse living conditions.

II

Hyulick then proceeded to greet the occupant of the adjacent room. After they exchanged a Tytania-style salute and a salute in the manner of the Blaze Flag Army, his counterpart spoke up immediately.

“Are you Fan Hyulick?”

“I am, but…”

To Hyulick’s eyes, his counterpart was young enough to be called a boy, yet he wore an admiral’s uniform. He was undoubtedly a Tytanian noble. Hyulick decided it was best to remain polite.

“I am Viscount Balamy Tytania.”

“It is an honour to meet you.”

“You likely do not know me, but I have long wished to meet you. It may be presumptuous, but I held the military prowess of the late Duke Ariabert in high regard.”

It was the first time Balamy had ever used the word “regard” in relation to Ariabert. During the latter’s lifetime, he simply could not bring himself to use it.

Aboard the battleship Black Prince in Uraniborg, just before departure, the crew could not help but be in an uproar. The figure that had arrived at the harbour gate was not Idris’.

“B-Baron Radmoth, my Lord… what has happened to Duke Idris?”

“My brother is not coming. From this moment on, I shall command this ship.”

“I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“You are a tiresome fellow. Look at this.”

Radmoth threw the imperial decree he held at the captain. Though utterly astonished by such unbelievable insolence, Commodore Kendall caught it, read the contents, and saluted with a stiffened expression.

“I have indeed read it.”

“Now that you understand, escort me to my seat.”

Since the Black Prince had been constructed as the Tytanian fleet’s flagship, a seat for the commander-in-chief had been provided in addition to the captain’s seat. Radmoth, of course, settled his massive frame there without hesitation. While the seat was undoubtedly exceptionally comfortable, perhaps because Radmoth lacked the capacity for “sentiment”, he merely crossed his powerful knees with a look of boredom.

“We are setting out, Captain.”

Fifteen minutes later.

“A vessel is departing! It appears to be the Black Prince!”

Startled by the lookout’s strained voice, Jouslain peered at the combat screen. The first port gate of Uraniborg was being obstructed by some massive, dark object. The black mass advanced slowly, as if being birthed from the womb of Uraniborg itself.

“What is that… enormous thing…?”

“It looks to be nearly a kilometre in length.”

Its maximum width appeared to be around 150 metres. Compared to a standard battleship, it was three times larger in both length and width. Its mass seemed to be perhaps thirty times greater. Whether it was the strongest in history or not, it was certainly the largest, thought Jouslain sarcastically.

“How many escort vessels?”

“None. It is a solo sortie.”

“Hoh…”

That dinosaur surely needed no escort. The fleet already deployed was more than enough. Memories from nearly two years ago flooded back to Jouslain’s mind. When this black colossus had first been completed, the Tytania nobility had each visited to behold it. Gazing up at the massive frame of the Black Prince, Jouslain had been unable to suppress his sarcastic tone.

“And who exactly is meant to ride in this oversized coffin? Our Titan ancestors?”

“Y-Your Grace, this ship is intended to announce the military might of Tytania to the entire universe. I beg you to take that into consideration.”

“Yes, I am well aware. However, no matter how massive a ship it may be, a single vessel cannot manage tactical deployment. If we are spending that amount of money, it would be far better to construct thirty high-speed frigates.”

Jouslain had found himself unable to stop talking.

“Surely you don’t mean to send it out alone. There would be about ten escort ships regardless. To think the mightiest vessel in the universe requires an escort—what a contradiction.”

The officer offered no reply, but he seemed to feel something akin to creepiness rather than indignation towards Jouslain. Jouslain was not regarded as someone who tended to be overly verbose regarding military matters, and that was indeed the case.

Because Ariabert later expressed the same sentiment, the Black Prince arrived at the present day without much expectation, despite its massive size. In other words, while moored at Uraniborg, it had served as little more than a magnificent ornament, never having participated in actual combat. It was even used as an object of study for primary school field trips, as its outward appearance alone was deemed sufficient.

If the Black Prince possessed a will of its own, its days must have been filled with wounded pride. At long last, Radmoth was set to launch it into the vast cosmic ocean. Idris had, in effect, been robbed of making “history” by boarding the Black Prince as its first commander-in-chief, a distinction snatched away by his younger brother.

With true majesty, the Black Prince cut through the turbulent waves of a deep space that should not have existed, venturing out into the great sea of stars. Ahead, points of light flickered and flashed violently. An aerial battle was unfolding between the boarding craft.

“Hmph. A three-on-one formation, is it?”

“Your orders for an interception, my Lord?” asked the captain, Commodore Kendall, in a voice devoid of emotion.

“The secondary battery will suffice. Fire a single shot into the centre of the formation.”

An invisible wave of icy water was splashed across the bridge. Commodore Kendall groaned.

“M-My Lord, if we do that, we will be burying our own allies alongside the enemy.”

“It is because you speak with such half-measures that you keep getting defeated by the same tactics time and time again. Fire a single shot into the centre. By doing so, we lose only one craft, but the enemy loses three.”

“……!”

“It is primary school arithmetic. Do you not grasp our advantage? Our enemy is Jouslain. Once we blow his flagship apart, this battle is over.”

“…”

“Don’t you get it!? You could become the hero that suppressed the rebellion!”

Radmoth was a year younger than Balamy. Looking at his age alone, some might have used the term “boy” to describe him. However, the Tytanian troops, who had seen him as nothing more than the “unworthy younger brother weighing down Duke Idris”, envisioned a terrifying sight.

Radmoth’s face split from side to side, and as the fissures extended downwards, human skin burst apart, revealing an unidentified monster of dazzling, multicoloured brilliance. It was a type of unknown threat, distinct from the awe felt toward Clanner Ajman, possessing a power that uprooted the very resentment and will to resist from the soldiers.

“If you get it, then do it!”

No one resisted any longer. The artillerymen clung to their respective control consoles, their fingers moving mechanically. The artillery commander reported in a cracked voice.

“Firing preparations, complete.”

“Good, fire at once.”

In response to the casual command, the secondary batteries responded. Thirty-six secondary guns released an equal number of energy beams. An equal number of formations vanished almost simultaneously, turning into fireballs. In that single moment, one hundred and forty-four enemy and friendly craft were lost.

The search officer aboard the Austra gasped.

“What on earth are they doing… They’ve shot down their own allies along with us…!”

“Was it not friendly fire?”

“… Ah, again!”

Fireballs of all sizes bloomed everywhere, as death and destruction, clad in iridescent colours, danced hand in hand. Beside Jouslain, who stared fixedly at the screen, Balamy remained silent, while Hyulick, who had been permitted to remain on the bridge, let out a long sigh of relief.

Indeed, with this “tactic”, one could wipe out three times as many enemies as allies with every single strike. Even if the mathematics supported it, no one had ever utilised such a “tactic” before. Until now, that is. This was likely a mere demonstration to showcase the firepower of the Black Prince. With that thought, Jouslain issued the orders to continue with their previous manoeuvres.

“All ships, all docked craft, launch!”

“Repeating. All ships, all docked craft, launch!”

Small eggs of light were born across various parts of the screens, lining up in perfect, orderly rows. One could well imagine the skill of the pilots, seasoned by both training and combat.

“How does this look to you, Mr Hyulick?”

“I believe it is a sound tactic.”

Jouslain nodded, watching as the allied points of light surged towards the enemy in an orderly formation. Before there was even time to be astonished, the enemy lights were split apart and were instantly ensnared in a three-to-one formation that boasted an undefeated record.

In truth, as they were both part of the Tytania forces, there should have been no significant difference in the performance of their weaponry or the skill of their pilots. And yet, in a mere three minutes, the Uraniborg side had lost over two hundred units. During that same interval, upon the bridge of the Black Prince, Radmoth had been facing resistance from his own officers while ordering them to fire the main cannons.

“Why do you hesitate? Fire, damn you!”

Radmoth did not shout. Instead, his low voice, which resembled the rumble of distant thunder, sent a shiver through the officers. One of them mustered his courage:

“But at this distance, and in this state, if we fire the main cannons, we shall take many of our own with us.”

“That again?”

The Tytanian scion clicked his tongue loudly. He raised his right fist as if to strike, but he did not bring it down.

“Listen, I said I would annihilate the enemy, but I didn’t say we must slaughter every single one of them. Once we eliminate their leader, Jouslain, the rebels will collapse. Some of them might be your old acquaintances, but if we leave them be, they’ll surrender. For now, you just need to obey my orders.”

“…”

“I won’t say it a third time. Fire!”

“Main cannons, volley fire!” responded the master gunner, his voice sounding as if he were gasping for breath.

Next, or rather almost simultaneously, nine long beams of light tore through the eternal darkness like the pillars of an ancient temple. They pierced into the heart of the melee between friend and foe and exploded.

Though no sound should have been audible, everyone froze at the unprecedented blast. Clouds of light expanded and tore apart in every direction, changing colours with dizzying speed. Within each small fragment, lives numbering in the thousands were reduced—even down to the cellular level.

In a single stroke, one hundred vessels were turned into cosmic dust, and perhaps half of them had been allies and comrades. The master gunner covered his mouth, barely managing to suppress the contents surging up from his stomach.

Aboard the Austra, Hyulick let out a low groan.

“Space is truly a vast place. To think someone out there is even more reckless than me.”

“Was it intentional?”

Hyulick nodded firmly.

“That is correct, Duke Jouslain. They intend to sacrifice one thousand units of their own in order to devour our three thousand.”

Balamy cried out, his voice almost a shout:

“A tactic that kills their own allies…!”

“Would Idris… no.”

Would Idris truly do such a thing? To kill his own soldiers with his own hands, only to boast of a victory? Ariabert would certainly never do it. But Idris… would he commit such an atrocity and, in doing so, undermine his own prestige as the next Clanner? Idris was not so foolish.

“Who exactly is aboard that ship?”

For the first time, Jouslain felt a seed of doubt. It was late to realise this, but he had been under the firm impression that Idris was the one aboard. Consequently, when he witnessed that initial, reckless bombardment, he had dismissed it as mere posturing rather than a full-scale assault. But he had been wrong. Who was this enemy general, who cared nothing for sacrificing his own men as long as he secured victory?

Everyone watched as sophisticated and rational tactics were utterly shattered by sheer, indiscriminate violence.

“It is an unbelievable sight! And yet, we are witnessing it with our own eyes. Has the tide truly turned so completely that we are now hurtling straight towards the final stage!?”

Hundreds of mouths uttered the same lines, which then expanded a thousand, ten thousand times over, scattering to every corner of human society. The media amplified and magnified their own excitement as they broadcast it to the public. Information drifted far and wide, riding upon the waves of an explosive light.

III

Having fully demonstrated its deranged firepower, the Black Prince continued its arrogant advance. Inspired by its magnificent silhouette, the forces of Uraniborg began their charge, like rabid hounds following after their master.

Though the movements were quite chaotic, the momentum of the two armies was in the process of completely reversing. This reached its climax when the Black Prince suddenly surged forward at its maximum combat speed.

“It’s going to ram us… Aaaaargh!”

A scream flooded the hearing range of everyone present.

A first-class battleship had been rammed from behind by the Black Prince. It was a clearly intentional collision; the first-class battleship was crushed under a mass more than thirty times its own. Its image, spinning helplessly before shattering into a fireball that scattered in all directions, was captured on the screens of the Austra.

“He does not love ships. Neither his own nor his enemies’.”

Captain Edna Fredericks spoke with fierce resentment.

“Otherwise, he would never commit such an act, destroying both himself and his opponent with such a meaningless attack… Unforgivable.”

Before the eyes of the captain, who bit her lip, a second ship fell victim to the great beast. This time, it was a heavy cruiser. It was torn apart, exploding into a fireball. Fan Hyulick watched the tyranny of the black magical beast in stunned silence, until he was suddenly nudged at the shoulder. A soldier, wearing a helmet and clutching an electromagnetic rifle, looked at him intently and whispered.

“Hey, you. You’re Fan Hyulick, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then do something! Are you really just going to let us lose like this? Especially after you managed to beat Duke Ariabert.”

“Don’t make impossible demands.”

Hyulick sighed and ran his hand through his carrot-coloured hair.

“To be honest, I don’t even quite know why I’m even here right now.”

Because Doctor Lee presented the terms so naturally and brought the negotiations to a successful conclusion, the members of the Blaze Flag Army ended up agreeing to Hyulick being handed over to Duke Jouslain Tytania in exchange for Baronet Zelpha. Hyulick himself was now tilting his head in confusion, wondering, “Why me?” But from Doctor Lee’s perspective, he had secured safety by taking a Tytanian scion as a hostage while simultaneously being able to send Hyulick into the heart of Tytania to begin his operations. The negotiations had been so utterly nonsensical that no one realised that Doctor Lee was the only one who stood to gain.

“Don’t panic! Five o’clock! Full speed in reverse!”

Captain Fredericks’ voice rang out with heroic clarity. An electromagnetic missile had been pursuing them at high speed from the six o’clock position, leaving no time for a reversal manoeuvre. The captain’s piloting had proved successful. The missile passed diagonally just fifty metres ahead of the nose of Austra.

“We-we’re saved…” gasped someone.

Jouslain offered praise.

“Splendid work, Captain Fredericks.”

“You are too kind.”

Since Ariabert’s death, Captain Edna Fredericks’ expression had seemed as though it were turning towards that of the deceased, but for the first time, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, and a spark of fighting spirit flickered in her eyes.

“We are receiving a transmission from the enemy vessel.”

“Put it through.”

Jouslain commanded the communications officer, only to be struck with astonishment when the young, fierce face appeared on the communication screen.

“Radmoth!”

“Hey, Jouslain, you traitor. What’s the matter? You don’t look too well.”

“Why are you on the bridge of the Black Prince!?”

“Why? Are you an idiot? I’m here because I am the commander-in-chief. I’d love to hear what other reasons you think I might have.”

“What happened to Idris?”

A predatory laugh was the only response.

“That man who is unworthy of being my brother is likely cowering in some safe corner of Uraniborg. He’s probably shrinking back, terrified that his position will be usurped while he watches me obtain glorious feats of arms. Small-minded wretch! Being one of the Four Dukes is of no interest to me.”

So Idris had not been killed by Radmoth—at least, not yet. For some reason, Jouslain felt relieved. If his opponent was Idris, negotiation was still possible. It was a matter of comparison, though.

“Well? Have you small-minded traitors learnt your place yet?”

Radmoth let out a boisterous laugh. Beside Jouslain, Balamy leaned forward, glaring at the communication screen.

“You’re the one who will learn his lesson. Someone like you could never serve as commander-in-chief.”

“If you lot are truly human, you ought to know the meaning of ‘reflection’ and ‘regret’. Your crimes are heavy, but His Clanner Highness is as merciful as a god. If you repent and prostrate yourselves, I might even let you clean my latrines.”

“You lowlife!”

Hyulick, who had remained silent until then, suddenly whispered:

“Duke Jouslain.”

“What is it?”

“That spoilt brat’s attitude… he’s incredibly full of himself, isn’t he?”

“Indeed… It is almost as if he has been appointed the Clanner’s heir.”

“Eh!?”

“I’m merely speculating.”

It was merely an absurd, unfounded speculation. There was no way the Clanner would hold such a crude and tyrannical youth in high regard. No matter how hard he strove, he was meant to be nothing more than a crude imitation of Zarlisch.

“… But has the Clanner’s eye for talent changed so drastically? If that were the case, what would become of Idris? Would he be forced to serve his younger brother with a bowed head? No, though Clanner Ajman and Balamy’s father were brothers…”

Radmoth’s voice rang out through the communication screen:

“I know the meaning of pity. Therefore, I shall teach you all something useful. If you carry out what I instruct, all your crimes shall be pardoned, and furthermore, I shall ensure you receive immense rewards.”

Wearing the grin of a predator, Radmoth pressed thick fingers against his own throat and mimicked a violent slicing motion.

“Bring me the head of Jouslain, the leader of the rebels! Bring it before me. If you do, I shall not only grant you a full pardon, but I shall also promote you by two ranks and bestow upon you bounty, a medal, and special leave!”

Hyulick and Balamy both turned their gazes towards Jouslain from either side at once. What a devious scheme. Taking advantage of the favourable battle conditions, he was attempting to incite treason among the enemy troops. If it succeeded, of course, that would be fine. Even if it failed, it would not affect them in the slightest. Given everything that had transpired thus far, Balamy held his opponent, who was one year his junior, in extremely low regard. Therefore, he could only conclude that Radmoth must have been possessed by something.

“You have certainly become quite magnanimous, Radmoth.”

As Jouslain responded, one side of his form gleamed white. Once again, several of his allies had been destroyed in quick succession at close range.

IV

“You’re certainly putting in the work, laddy.”

Hyulick could not help but let out an exasperated voice.

Even though Ariabert was gone, the professional soldiers who had been trained by him in life were being forced into a desperate struggle against Radmoth’s unprincipled, violent warfare. Their courageous attacks could not pierce the high-output energy shutters or the thick armour, resulting in nothing more than a vain shower of sparks. Before the single magical beast, the corpses of the wolves continued to pile up in heaps.

An indescribable feeling swirled within Hyulick’s heart. What would the situation be like now if the Blaze Flag Army had not expelled Radmoth in that capsule? Was the current devastation, with the Black Prince rampaging and crushing Jouslain’s army, not the direct result of the Blaze Flag Army irresponsibly releasing a beast like Radmoth?

When he thought of it that way, even Hyulick’s carefree nature could not shield him from a sense of guilt.

Once again, an explosion of light illuminated the screen, sending clouds of iridescent dust dancing through the air.

Even so, had they truly been deceived? Was Radmoth such a master actor that he could evade Doctor Lee’s icy, penetrating gaze?

“If that is the case, he as much as a rogue as Clanner Ajman… there is definitely something going on behind the scenes.”

Hyulick was harshly criticised for his “lack of professional skills”, and that was a deduction one could easily make. However, now was not the time to be investigating what was “behind the scenes”.

If things went wrong, the AJ Alliance forces would be annihilated by a single vessel. Within the body of the young man, whom both he himself and others acknowledged to be a hopeless case, something resembling a fighting spirit began to well up.

Inside the Austra, the situation was a mere two and a half steps away from pure panic. Through the door, angry shouts and heavy footsteps raced past the VIP suite where Princess Lydia and Francia were secluded. Princess Lydia had been playing three-dimensional chess with commendable devotion, but she had suffered a series of losses due to her lack of concentration.

“Francia, what on earth is happening outside?”

“Please wait for a while, and trust in Lord Jouslain and Lord Balamy.”

“Of course I believe in them! That goes without saying,” cried out Princess Lydia.

The expression of genuine frustration on her face was not because she had lost consecutive games of chess.

“I am so sorry, Princess. If only I had been more observant, I might have been able to bring you some news…”

“There is no need for you to apologise, Francia. I am angry with myself. Why must I be such a child at a time as important as this?”

“It is not your responsibility, Princess. I am certain that a day will come when you shall protect Lord Jouslain and Lord Balamy.”

“I hope so… No, that is not right, Francia. If he needs my protection, then Lord Jouslain is surely doomed.”

The Princess pressed a button on the monitor. As she cycled through several channels, she spotted a man with carrot-coloured hair who looked rather restless.

“Could that be Fan Hyulick?”

“It is indeed, Princess.”

“Hmm. He doesn’t look particularly imposing.”

After critiquing him without hesitation, Princess Lydia looked towards Francia’s waist, as if she had only just noticed something.

“Francia, are you carrying a gun?”

“Yes, Princess, for I must protect you.”

“I’d like to try holding one myself.”

Francia felt conflicted, but she persuaded her skilfully.

“A ruler should never be seen carrying such a thing, Princess.”

“You were about to say it’s because I’m a child, weren’t you, Francia?”

“I would never suggest such a thing…”

“Well, no matter. Francia, I shall stay here and be a good girl, so go and peek at what is happening outside, and tell me later.”

The Princess’ tension seemed to have passed its saturation point, leaving her feeling sleepy. As the Princess sank deep into her armchair and closed her eyes, Francia covered the girl’s body with a blanket, offered a smile, and stood up. She quietly opened the door and peered out into the corridor.

Her soft expression sharpened, becoming as if possessed by another person. An unimaginable sight lay before her. Jouslain stood frozen. And behind him, the back of a soldier pressing a gun against him. An enemy soldier? No, it was not. Good heavens, wasn’t it a Tytanian soldier?

“D-Duke Jouslain.”

The soldier, sweating profusely, stammered out words that sounded like an excuse.

“If it were Duke Ariabert, I might be willing, but I owe you no debt that requires me to die for you. I am sorry, but I have no desire to die.”

He took a breath and then continued.

“I left my family behind at Uraniborg. You, however, have brought your beautiful mistress even to a place like this. Ah, humans are not equal, and the world is unjust. But surely, one should be given a chance to rectify it.”

Jouslain had come to check on Princess Lydia and Francia, but he found himself utterly helpless against this unforeseen catastrophe.

“It is a fitting end for someone as half-hearted as I. Very well, fire away.”

“No need to—”

The words “say it” were never spoken. The soldier, who had been aiming his heatgun, recoiled violently. After stumbling one or two steps like a drunkard, he collapsed to the floor. Standing behind the now-dead soldier was a beautiful young woman, clutching the ray gun with both hands, her face deathly pale.

“Francia! It was you…”

“Lord Jouslain, are you safe?…”

“You have saved my life.”

“I… I am so poor with guns, I could only aim for the centre of his back… I… I killed… a person…”

“Don’t say this, Francia. It was I who caused this soldier’s death.”

Jouslain embraced Francia’s shoulders as she stood there, clutching the gun in a daze.

Captain Edna Fredericks rushed to the scene, listened briefly to the situation, and bowed her head deeply, her face pale.

“I have no proper apology to offer. One of my own subordinates fell for the enemy’s sweet words and targeted Your Grace’s life. It was a shameful act, unworthy of a Tytania soldier. I shall accept whatever punishment you deem necessary.”

“No, Captain, it is not your responsibility.”

Jouslain waved his hand.

“This was brought about by my own inadequacy. No matter how massive the enemy vessel may be, I could not employ an effective tactic, nor could I even protect my own person. It is pathetic.”

“Your Grace, this is not a matter of tactics or anything of the sort. That was nothing short of an atrocity, and you must consider our response.”

“I understand, but regardless, Captain, you are not at fault. Do not punish yourself. Francia, you neither.”

Jouslain returned Francia to the VIP suite, where Princess Lydia lay sleeping. After ordering the other soldiers to clear away the dead and requesting a female medic for Francia, he hurried back to the bridge alongside Captain Fredericks.

“Wait! Advancing in tight formation is dangerous!”

Balamy was loudly rebuking the officers.

“If we maintain a half-hearted distance, our fire will fail to reach them, yet their bombardment will still hit us. We risk being slaughtered one-sidedly.”

The main guns of the Black Prince were a threat in their own right, both in their massive calibre and their immense range. If those main guns were to fire into a dense formation, the damage would be catastrophic. Furthermore, if the enemy commander had no regard for their own casualties, it would likely result in nothing less than unprecedented carnage.

“Mr Hyulick, could you let us hear your opinion?”

Upon hearing Jouslain’s words, Hyulick realised that he could no longer afford to be hesitant.

“In any case, the opponent is not a sensible foe. Even if we fight him head-on, our casualties will only increase. Let’s flee.”

“You mean, retreat?”

“I mean: we flee.”

“… I suppose that’s our only option?”

Jouslain glanced back at Balamy. Balamy was biting his lower lip. As a Tytanian noble, and given his personality, the very word “flee” was taboo. Hyulick, however, had no way of knowing such taboos.

“And what do you intend to do after we flee, Mr Hyulick?”

This time, Hyulick turned his gaze toward Jouslain.

“Please answer me, Mr Hyulick.”

“Well… we shall see how the enemy reacts. Whether he pursues us in earnest or feigns a pursuit only to switch to another tactic.”

“If it were you, would you not place an ambush in front of the fleeing enemy and strike them from both sides?”

Hyulick blinked at Balamy’s words.

“Indeed, if I had surplus troops, I would do just that. However, is Baron Radmoth the sort of man to resort to such underhanded tricks?”

Balamy shook his head immediately, and Jouslain muttered:

“Will the Black Prince continue the pursuit? Or will it remain near Uraniborg by itself?”

Radmoth’s actions were unpredictable. Jouslain and Hyulick both held their breath, waiting for the enemy’s reaction.

V

“The enemy forces are retreating.”

Upon receiving the report from the communications officer, Radmoth nodded. Watching this from beside him, Commodore Kendall, the ship’s captain, prepared himself for what felt less like an order from a young Tytania noble and more like a command for a manoeuvre. It was standard military doctrine to pursue a retreating enemy, destroy a greater number of vessels, and expand one’s achievements in battle. However, what emerged from Radmoth’s wide mouth was not an instruction to “charge with the entire fleet”, but rather a bored yawn.

“Alright, order all other vessels to pursue at full speed.”

“What?! Then, what of our ship?”

“Me? I’ve had enough. Let’s go home.”

Without so much as a glance at the speechless Commodore Kendall, Radmoth stretched his limbs out in the commander-in-chief’s seat.

Three minutes later, on the Austra, the reconnaissance officer delivered a bewildered report.

“The Black Prince is not moving at all.”

“What?”

“Only the other vessels are pursuing us. The Black Prince has… has begun preparing to turn back!”

Jouslain’s staff officers erupted into a commotion.

“What is Baron Radmoth up to?”

“That can wait until later!” shouted Hyulick, almost half-deliriously.

To his own dismay, he had completely immersed himself in the mindset of a staff officer of Jouslain’s army. Regardless, the immediate enemy was that unpleasant Radmoth. He would not let the man win.

“Without the Black Prince, we can employ a reverse encirclement tactic. Under the banner of Duke Ariabert, it should be possible. We shall retreat while sequentially forming an inverted V-shaped formation.”

Ariabert’s former subordinates exchanged glances. Fan Hyulick had always been their enemy, and they had been forced to taste defeat by him on two separate occasions. However, they could not bring themselves to believe he was attempting to deceive them now. Hyulick’s proposal was sound in terms of military logic, and his expression was one of pure earnestness.

“We shall adopt Mr Hyulick’s plan. We are all in the same boat, after all.”

With Jouslain’s words, the matter was decided.

An hour passed. Despite sustaining damage to the rear, Jouslain’s fleet succeeded in forming the inverted V-shaped formation as planned.

Meeting Jouslain’s gaze, Hyulick nodded with all his might.

“Now is the time.”

“All forces, turn about!”

Jouslain issued his command with sharp precision. It pleased him that there was no tremor in his voice. Indeed, he had the late Ariabert and the living Hyulick by his side. Jouslain was no mystic, yet he felt a primal certainty that his flanks were well protected.

As if commanded by the living Ariabert, Jouslain’s fleet turned with order and incredible speed, enveloping the forces of Uraniborg within the V-shaped formation in an instant.

“All ships, aim primary cannons individually. Triple volley!”

Thousands of energy beams wove a pattern of death through the darkness in hues of blue, white, and gold. Great and small fireballs lined up within the V-formation, scattering like the broken beads of a necklace. Deprived of the Black Prince, the forces of Uraniborg fell victim to perfectly conventional tactics and were annihilated in nearly thirty minutes.

Jouslain extended his right hand.

“My thanks to you, Mr Hyulick. I owe you my life.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I went too far. Please forgive my presumption.”

As he shook the offered hand, Hyulick ran his other hand through his hair.

Balamy posed a question.

“What do you intend to do now?”

“Well, I believe that we should require rest and regrouping, but…”

“No, we shall not.”

With a flush rising to his cheeks, Balamy raised his objection resolutely.

“If we require rest and regrouping, then so does the enemy. Our forces have defeated the majority of theirs, and the morale of our soldiers is high. Conversely, the shock inflicted upon the enemy was immense, and as for Radmoth’s leadership, it is hardly worthy of the name.”

“Are you suggesting we charge Uraniborg as we are?”

As Jouslain tilted his head in confusion, Balamy’s gaze drifted to the side.

“Admiral Hyulick, what are your thoughts?”

Hyulick hesitated for a brief moment, but then he answered:

“I agree with the Viscount.”

Jouslain looked at both of them in turn and nodded with conviction.

Idris remained silent, but deep within his heart, a ferocious dragon was raging, spewing flames and roars. His reason, his intellect, and his discernment were all being bitten, wounded, and bled by that dragon.

It should have been Idris who should have boarded the Black Prince, scattered the rebels, subdued them, and crushed them. It should have been Idris.

The military glory he deserved had been snatched away. A lava of hatred for Radmoth erupted from every part of Idris’ being, unseen by anyone.

Still, how had things ever come to this?

It was certainly true that he had underestimated Radmoth. However, he did not believe he had misjudged his very essence. He was a man who would not spare a single of his own allies if it meant striking the enemy. Should he ever ascend to the position of Clanner, he would undoubtedly become the worst tyrant in the history of Tytania.

From the perspective of Emperor Harsha VI of Vardana, Idris must surely be nothing more than a treasonous minister. Others, aside from Idris, might think it wouldn’t matter who became Clanner. Yet, that was only because they did not yet truly know the nature of Radmoth.

Ultimately, the use of tactics was intended to minimise the loss of one’s own troops on the battlefield. What Radmoth employed was not tactics. How could one call tactics “slaughtering friend and foe alike”?

Even so, it was a reality that Radmoth had surpassed Idris in the sole regard of “inflicting maximum damage upon the enemy”, and Idris’ displeasure went beyond expression. Had the ship Austra been among those enemy vessels caught in the blast, or had Jouslain met a sudden death, Idris would have been forced to question the very meaning of his own existence. Even so, one had to wonder how Radmoth had even conceived seizing the Black Prince with the Clanner’s decree.

Suddenly, Idris let out a groan that shimmered with a dark crimson hue.

“Theodora! That damn vixen… She whispered sweet, cunning words into Radmoth’s ear.”

The force with which he rose abruptly from his command seat caused the surrounding officers to instinctively recoil half a step. Idris, however, did not notice.

Once, Princess Lydia had witnessed Radmoth and Theodora in deep conversation. She had told Jouslain about it, but Idris, of course, had no way of knowing it.

Nevertheless, Idris connected the two images in his mind. Although the circumstances were entirely different from Jouslain’s, by blending various scenes and suspicions from his past with a primitive intuition, he had reached the very threshold of the truth.

“Is anyone there!?”

At Idris’ loud cry, about ten soldiers immediately gathered.

“Arrest and detain Countess Theodora at once, and bring her to me. Do it immediately. If she shows any sign of resistance or attempts to flee, you are authorised to shoot her dead.”

The soldiers gasped. A junior officer, clutching a photon rifle, hesitantly spoke up:

“W-with all due respect, are we truly permitted to shoot a noble bearing the Tytania surname without even a trial?”

“Don’t you dare spout such clever nonsense! Have you already forgotten the manner in which Duke Ariabert Tytania met his end just a moment ago? Now, get moving!”

The officer faltered, and after a perfunctory Tytania-style salute, he practically bolted away. The soldiers, weapons at the ready, followed suit.

Idris let out a breath and resettled himself in the command seat. Pressing his fingertips to his temple, he thought with as much speed as possible. If Theodora were brought in alive, he would ensure a thorough investigation. But what if she died? How would he justify that to the Clanner…?

“The Black Prince has returned to base!”

Startled by the communications officer’s voice, Idris looked up. For a mere moment, the screen appeared as nothing more than a curtain of darkness. This was because the massive silhouette of the Black Prince, having closed in on Uraniborg, was obscuring the clusters of stars and the points of light from other vessels scattered behind it.

“Returned to base? What is the battle status?”

As if punctuating the end of Idris’ sentence,

“To all stations on Uraniborg!”

There had been no need to shout, yet Radmoth’s voice shook every communication circuit with the roar of thunder.

“This is Baron Radmoth Tytania. I address everyone aboard Uraniborg. Surrender within the hour and transfer command to me. Otherwise, I shall bring the full broadside of the Black Prince to bear upon Uraniborg in a naval bombardment. Even if it means striking the civilian residential sectors. Do you get it? Do I need to repeat myself?”

Chapter 4 – Overture of the “Slaughter Opera”

I

Long ago, Nuri, the second-generation Tytania Landless Clanner, had looked upon the clan’s stronghold, Uraniborg, with cold disdain and called it:

“A mere bauble floating in space.”

About two hundred years had passed since then, and although the scale had diminished, both Dukes Ariabert Tytania and Jouslain Tytania would come to hold almost the same opinion regarding the super-dreadnought Black Prince.

“There is a limit to the usefulness of big guns. If the enemy escapes the range of the main battery, it is all for naught; and considering manoeuvrability, they act rather as a hindrance to tactical deployment.”

Ariabert had said as much, and Jouslain repeated his cynical theory.

“A wolf that has lost the thumb of its right paw would surely be beaten to death by fifty little lambs.”

They argued that if certain functions were disabled, the massive ship would become entirely useless.

In truth, they were not alone in this sentiment. Even Zarlisch, who had placed the highest value on overwhelming crushing power, had said as much.

“What matters is the crushing power of the fleet as a whole, not that of a single ship. What I need is my own courage and my own mastery of tactics.”

While not merely mimicking the elders, Idris also voiced his sarcasm.

“The crowds will surely rejoice during the victory parade. The larger the spectacle, the greater their joy.”

The reason Idris, who had spoken in such a manner, attempted to board the “Black Prince” during this “Uraniborg Incident” was that he had been tactically cornered and sought to find a way out through the sheer crushing power of a single vessel. In the midst of such chaotic, swirling combat, Idris honestly had no certainty as to how effective that crushing power could actually be. However, now that things had come to this, he felt it necessary to manifest his resolve and determination as supreme commander through a tangible action.

Yet, despite their individual differences, their thoughts converged upon a single point. That point was “military rationality”, the goal of “minimising friendly casualties and maximising enemy losses”, and the question of what benefits victory would bring to Tytania.

Radmoth, however, was different. He undoubtedly intended to win, but his disregard for how much damage his own allies might suffer, crushing both the wheat and the chaff, was neither strategy nor tactics.

Radmoth had departed on the Black Prince with the permission of Clanner Ajman. Why Ajman had issued the order to Radmoth instead of Idris was a mystery. Even someone else than Idris would have found it difficult to comprehend.

Thus, what was the state of affairs? The fleet that was meant to defend the exterior of Uraniborg had now been almost entirely annihilated. Since one-third of them had been destroyed by the Black Prince, the situation was nothing short of an absurdity.

“While we were away from Uraniborg fighting, that wretch Radmoth used the Black Prince to hold a sword to the very throat of Uraniborg. He set out as our ally, but he returned as our enemy!”

Balamy kicked the floor violently.

“I never imagined him to be so cunning! I was caught off guard.”

Jouslain crossed his arms lightly.

“Viscount Balamy, it was I who was careless. Not you. I, too, am far too naive. To think that a man of my standing could be toyed with by someone like Radmoth.”

Had Ariabert been alive, would things have turned out differently? No, since Ariabert was a true master of military strategy, he might have been just as caught off guard by Radmoth’s irrational behaviour as Jouslain was. However, in the battles to come against Radmoth, he would have surely made use of tactics that balanced both strength and flexibility.

Even so, one had to wonder if Radmoth truly understood the significance of his actions. Ironically, Jouslain and Idris were in complete agreement regarding their assessment of Radmoth. It was simply impossible for Radmoth to be involved in the selection of the next Clanner.

“Ariabert, Zarlisch, Idris, and I. Ultimately, all four of us were bound by the authority of the Clanner and the history of Tytania. We could not forget the weight of things such as honour and tradition. Radmoth, however, is different. He can trample over such things without a second thought.”

“… In other words, you are saying that Baron Radmoth is turning his sights against his own brother?”

There was yet another man here who held Radmoth in low regard. Though Fan Hyulick had been endeavouring to remain as quiet as possible, he had nevertheless found himself interjecting.

“This is not an outsiders’ business!”

It was Balamy who responded thus, but Jouslain continued, a bitter smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Correct. And quite possibly not the Clanner’s either.”

“Possibly?”

“I have no idea what is going on inside!”

Balamy spat the words out with irritation.

“Hmm, well, to tell you the truth, Duke Jouslain, I think it would be best if you were to become the next Clanner.”

Hyulick spoke even more unnecessarily.

“Duke Idris is not incompetent, but he is rather precarious. If you were to become the Clanner, the political situation would stabilise, and many people would support you… though I have no right to interfere in such matters.”

“I thought you might say that, but I have no intention of becoming the Clanner.”

“I expected as much, but if I may be so bold as to say, Duke Ariabert has already passed away.”

Balamy gasped and was about to say something, but upon seeing Jouslain’s face, he caught his breath once more. There was no sign of Jouslain reprimanding Hyulick’s unnecessary interjection, yet his expression was not one of composed dismissal either; he merely cast a shadowed glance their way.

“Idris is superior to me.”

“In what respect, may I ask? Would you care to tell me?”

“He loves Tytania.”

Jouslain turned his whole body around and directed a strange smile at Hyulick.

“Ever since I was a child, I felt a sense of displacement regarding the environment in which I was born and raised. Even after reaching adulthood, no matter how much I pondered why Tytania was so special or why others chose to follow my clan, I could never find a satisfactory answer. Gradually, I grew to loathe Tytania and found myself wanting to lead a life disconnected from it… No, that is not a tale worthy of your ears.”

Jouslain fell silent, and Hyulick offered only an ambiguous nod as he also fell quiet. However, Balamy, who loathed Radmoth thoroughly, not just from a strategic standpoint but also personally, would not remain silent:

“If the Clanner truly granted Radmoth command of the Black Prince, it would be like arming a carnivore dinosaur with the Blue Dragon Sword.”

“Do you believe the Clanner did such a thing?”

“Duke Idris held opposing feelings toward his two younger brothers. He doted upon Zelpha, but he loathed Radmoth from the bottom of his heart. I simply cannot believe that he would allow Radmoth to command the Black Prince.”

Jouslain gave a small shrug.

“A younger brother rebelling against a cold elder brother—even so, this is excessive. It is certain, though, that Idris was not the one who granted command of the Black Prince.”

As far as the screens could tell, the Black Prince appeared, ironically, to be defending Uraniborg from close range. In reality, however, it had placed Uraniborg entirely within its range, cutting off any possibility of long-distance reinforcement, and was effectively holding the entirety of Uraniborg hostage. Whether this would last for a long time remained to be seen, but at that moment, Radmoth was the one in control of space.

“The Black Prince is targeting Uraniborg right now. Even though the Clanner is stationed there.”

“Does he intend to blow the Clanner away along with it?”

“Returning kindness with cruelty. It is just like him.”

Balamy spat these words, sharing the same sentiment as Idris, with whom he shared a profound loathing for Radmoth.

About two light-seconds away, the Black Prince gazed down arrogantly from the heavens. Looking upon Uraniborg and the Vardana home planet situated below. It was a double act of rebellion, and had Emperor Harsha VI learned of the truth, he might have been driven to agony.

Seated in the commander-in-chief’s chair, Radmoth remained as motionless as a statue titled “Arrogance”, but he suddenly asked one of the officers for the time.

“Exactly thirty minutes have passed, sir.”

“Hmph. In that case, let us announce the hour with a small fanfare.”

Radmoth let a sinister smile creep across his face.

“Fire the secondary batteries at the canopy. Six guns, six rapid salvos.”

The officers froze.

“However, do not concentrate them on a single spot. Our objective is not to destroy the canopy. Instead, let us provide the commoners of Uraniborg with a magnificent firework display.”

“B-Baron, my Lord…”

“Don’t panic, you cowards. I told you it was a time signal. Keep the output to a minimum.”

A heavy, exhausted sigh rippled through the officers. It was unlikely that history would ever record a command centre so gloomy despite such advantageous circumstances.

“Six guns of the first secondary battery, aimed!”

“Fire!”

And so, the commoners of Uraniborg bore witness to a spectacle where six streaks of white light exploded overhead, sending fissures racing through three layers of the canopy.

II

“The residential districts have fallen into a state of panic!”

The harrowing report was brought to Idris. In the main command room, a crowd of pale faces moved about like ghosts.

“Vehicles are clogging the roads leading to the civilian harbour gates. Many are driving against the flow of traffic, and accidents are occurring everywhere…”

One of the monitors was occupied by a scene of a crowd pushing and screaming against one another. On the adjacent screen, a ground vehicle lay overturned on the road, spewing flames and white smoke, as a weeping woman carrying a small child ran past it.

“The emergency shelters are being swarmed by the crowd. The situation is already beyond our control.”

“If even Uraniborg is blown to pieces, there will be no point in fleeing to the shelters.”

Idris’ handsome mouth twisted into a grimace.

“I wonder if Theodora has sought refuge in one of those shelters herself.”

That scheming and cunning Countess Theodora Tytania, clutching a bag stuffed with jewels and cash to her chest, wandering aimlessly amidst a panicked crowd… When Idris imagined such a scene, he felt a slight sense of gratification. However, feeling that such a thought was somewhat petty, he shook his head and banished the image from his mind.

“Impose martial law upon the civilian residential districts. Appoint the Captain of the Military Police as the Martial Law Enforcer. I shall focus my efforts on the battle against the external enemy.”

External enemy? Was his brother the external enemy? Idris nearly burst into a derisive laugh but managed to restrain himself. In any case, the man had turned the cannons of the Black Prince towards Uraniborg.

The people in the general residential district scrambled about, searching for a glimmer of light at the bottom of a well forged from anxiety and terror. Jewellery shop showcases shattered with loud crashes, and the sound of warning shots fired by the military police echoed through the air. Even at this late stage, some people resorted to looting, though it was less a product of greed and more the result of a hysteria born of despair.

As they fled in confusion, the crowds exchanged words in hushed, frantic tones.

“Has the Uraniborg fleet been completely d-destroyed?”

“Surely not.”

“But they were just being picked off one after another!”

“And why on earth would the Black Prince attack Uraniborg?”

“Maybe the enemy took control of it.”

A military policeman shouted, brandishing his gun:

“Everyone, keep quiet! Anyone spreading rumours will be detained under the Public Order Act!”

Most situations would have been settled by that, but this particular situation was unprecedented.

“In that case, you lot need to pull yourselves together. You only get brave when your opponents aren’t carrying weapons.”

The voices of dissent arose, though they were admittedly low. As soon as the military policeman left the area, the chorus resumed almost instantly.

“If, and I mean strictly if, Duke Jouslain led his troops and stormed Uraniborg, what would you do?”

“There’s nothing I could do. I’d just stay hidden at home until things settled down.”

“I’d welcome it. Lord Jouslain is a decent man. Things might actually be better under him than they are now.”

“Don’t be so irresponsible. What would happen to Duke Idris?”

“Duke Idris is the irresponsible one here. What does he even intend to do from now on? He could at least put out a broadcast.”

The commoners enjoyed their freedom of speech, yet they still held themselves back at the very precipice. Even at this late stage, no voices of criticism were raised against Clanner Ajman. It was not that he was particularly well-loved, but the fact remained that he was an object of awe, and thus, tongues were naturally silenced.

Idris, however, was the unfortunate one. Having engaged in unnecessary conflict with Ariabert and Jouslain and having driven them to the frontiers only to face a counterattack that escalated into armed conflict, he was now placing the lives of ordinary citizens in mortal danger. On the surface, he was the Administrator of Uraniborg. He ought to be held accountable for his responsibilities.

For Idris, the impulse was to scream, “What did I do?” Of course, he could not deny that he bore half the responsibility for today’s situation. It was undeniable that he had been excessively aggressive towards the other three dukes, including the late Ariabert and Zarlisch, and had brought isolation upon himself. If it were said that he was the very height of a lack of virtue, he could not argue that it was not true.

There were many points regarding Clanner Ajman that Idris found difficult to understand, but what he could not help but feel was particular confusion and resentment was the fact that Radmoth had been ordered to command the Black Prince. After having inflicted immense damage upon his own allies, Radmoth was now pointing heavy artillery at Uraniborg, demanding its surrender. No matter how much one might defend the Clanner, when it came to the matter of appointing Radmoth, should the Clanner not be held responsible?

In the face of Radmoth’s astonishing rebellion, was the Clanner flustered by the sheer unexpectedness of it? Or perhaps…

Idris was struck with horror. Before the march had begun, didn’t Radmoth boast about something? “I understand the heart of the Clanner. You, brother, don’t”.

Idris had ignored such delusions, but when the current situation reached a stage that could only be described as the worst possible, Radmoth’s boast suddenly resurfaced in his mind. As he felt an inexplicable sense of dread towards his younger brother, the name of his true enemy rose to the surface in opposition.

“Jouslain is still better than Radmoth. At the very least, he possesses common sense and political judgement.”

Because Jouslain, who was only three years his senior, always seemed to be acting far more mature than he was, Idris had disliked him since they were children.

“I will not lose to someone like him.”

Even though he felt that way, Idris had never thought that Jouslain was inferior to Radmoth. He was not that biased. What truly weighed on his mind, however, was not Radmoth but his youngest brother.

“I wonder if Zelpha is safe.”

Zelpha was safe. The members of the Blaze Flag Army were outlaws, but impressively, they did not engage in any unnecessary lawlessness.

That being said, in practical terms, the members of the Blaze Flag Army found Zelpha quite difficult to handle. Having never dealt with a high-born young noble before, they were unsure of how they ought to treat him.

Mahdi, in particular, was strangely enthusiastic; he had scoured the warehouse for junk and tossed a collection of old-fashioned mops, brushes, buckets, and sponges in front of Zelpha.

“Here, these are the tools for cleaning the toilets. Use them to scrub everything until it shines.”

“Don’t mess with me, you scum of the sea! Why on earth should I have to perform such a lowly task as cleaning the toilets?”

“If you don’t want to, then don’t,” scolded Miranda. “In exchange, you won’t get any food. He who does not work shall not eat. It’s been the rule for thousands of years.”

“Now, now, Mahdi, do go easy on him. We may have many crimes to our name, but I won’t have any child abuse involved.”

She turned back towards Doctor Lee and voiced her complaint.

“And you’re just as bad, Doctor. Why on earth did you go out of your way to take in such a difficult child? He’s nothing but trouble.”

In a rare occurrence, Doctor Lee gave a wry smile.

“Now, now, there’s no need for you to get caught up in this, Miranda. Let them handle it themselves. Those two might even end up getting along quite well.”

“I see. If that is what you say, Doctor, then I’ll do so. But still, I wonder what will become of Uraniborg. Surely, it won’t be destroyed within the next couple of days…?”

“No one could have imagined that things would change so drastically.”

“Heh? Not even you, Doctor?”

When Miranda teased him lightly, Doctor Lee nodded heavily.

“I am only human, after all. It is the way of man to strive never to forget that. However, even if it is only in hindsight, I can accept that Radmoth was the factor behind this sudden shift. No one had been paying him any mind. In that time, a mere lizard became a dinosaur.”

Mahdi, who had been arguing childishly with Zelpha, glanced at Miranda and licked his lips as if he had realised something.

“Let me tell you one useful thing, rich kid. That scary lady standing by your side is actually a Princess of a certain principality.”

Zelpha’s expression and voice wavered.

“Y-you’re lying.”

“He’s not lying. I am indeed Her Highness the Princess of the Principality of Casabianca. Not that my physical makeup is any different from anyone else’s. And as you can see, my manners are quite poor.”

Zelpha swallowed hard, looking up and down at Miranda’s entire body as if trying to peer through her.

Suddenly, Zelpha dropped to one knee on the floor, pressed his right fist against his left chest, and bowed his head.

“I cannot claim to be aware of everything, but I would be most grateful if you could forgive the many discourtesies I have shown towards your Highness.”

The members of the Blaze Flag Army stared at Zelpha, utterly astonished, their faces reflecting their various personalities.

III

“That’s quite a surprise. It’s the first time in my life I have received such a formal greeting. Now, please stand up, Baron.”

“I am a Baronet.”

“Very well, Baronet. Now, please, stand. I have noted your proper deference.”

Even Miranda lost her composure somewhat, and her usual manner of speaking became mixed with the formal, courtly tone she rarely ever used. Mahdi whispered to the Doctor:

“Hey, is that brat really Radmoth’s brother? I can hardly believe it.”

“He is really his brother. There is no reason to doubt it.”

“Maybe they should have their DNA retested. If I were the father, I’d be suspecting my wife of having an affair.”

Mahdi’s joke was quite risqué, but whether by luck or misfortune, it did not reach Zelpha’s ears. Zelpha remained perfectly polite and bowed once more.

“With your permission, I shall stand.”

Rising with elegance, Zelpha cast a look of hostility towards those around him once more.

“Even so, please forgive my insolence, Your Highness, but why is someone of your high standing choosing to associate with such human scum?”

“Scum, he says,” remarked Pagès.

“Better than rubbish,” added Walenkov.

Miranda looked down at Zelpha’s serious face, her eyes clouded with a multitude of emotions and thoughts, but after letting out a small sigh, she pulled an S.F. from her inner pocket.

“Ah, darling, I’m sorry, but could you come down from the bridge for a moment? Yeah, I need you to meet with the Baronet.”

When Captain Casimir, who possessed the most virtuous appearance among the group, appeared still clad in his work suit, Zelpha stared at him with a bewildered gaze. As the Captain and Miranda exchanged an affectionate smile, Zelpha questioned them in a tone thick with suspicion.

“Who is this person?”

“He’s my husband.”

“Your husband… You mean, your esteemed spouse!?”

Zelpha’s eyes widened once again.

“Then, is he an Archduke or a Duke? I am…”

“No, he’s just a commoner. I’m sorry, but would you mind showing that photo to this boy?”

Miranda made the request with a hint of pain in her voice. Seeing his wife’s expression, Captain Casimir nodded as if in understanding, and then, towards the bewildered Zelpha who was watching them, he opened the S.F. screen. Zelpha was so stunned that he instinctively began to recoil half a step.

“What on earth has happened to him?”

“His vocal cords were destroyed.”

“…! Who could have done something so horrific!?”

“A Tytanian grunt.”

Zelpha’s expression stiffened. He shook his head in disbelief, his face sinking with a look of utter helplessness.

“I am sorry to have given you such a shock. But unfortunately, it is the truth. Well, I did ensure that person received his well-deserved punishment, though.”

“…”

“Listen, Baronet, Tytania possesses wealth and power so vast they are beyond description. Our enemies are those who are unable to wield that wealth and power correctly.”

Miranda leaned forward slightly to peer into Zelpha’s eyes.

“Everyone here is an outlaw, but tell me, what do you think of outlaws?”

“They are villains.”

“Why?”

“Because they break the law… Am I wrong?”

“You are not wrong. It is just that there are many kinds of villains.”

“Many kinds…?”

Zelpha was bewildered. Looking at him, it was difficult to believe that this boy was the perpetrator of the conspiracy to assassinate Ariabert.

“We break the law whenever we find it necessary. But, on the other hand, there are villains who actually create laws, and if you ask me, they are far more malicious.”

“For example… what kind of villains?”

“Well, for instance, they might create a law like this: ‘Anyone who criticises Tytania shall have their vocal cords destroyed. Those who carry out the punishment shall be rewarded.’”

“…”

“Or perhaps something like this: ‘From this day forward, Planet Caricar shall only trade with Tytania-affiliated companies. Should Caricar violate this law, Tytania shall launch a military attack. No responsibility shall be held, no matter how many people die’…”

Zelpha slumped his shoulders and looked down. It was as if several conflicting values were clashing within the boy’s body.

Nearly an hour later, Pagès returned from the restroom, looking strangely impressed.

“Who cleaned the toilets? When I went in, they were the cleanest they’ve ever been in the entire history of this ship!”

“It was His Lordship the Baronet.”

“Heh!? Now that is surprising. It seems even the nobility possesses unexpected talents.”

Miranda glanced back over her shoulder at Doctor Lee.

“It seems you have taken on quite an enormous responsibility. I wonder how one must handle that boy to achieve a good result.”

“It will allow me to write a book titled The Growth and Observational Records of a Certain Young Boy.”

“Now, just a moment, Doctor.”

“Ah, my apologies. In all seriousness, this concerns the very future of a human being… But, Miranda, even if you find yourself becoming emotionally attached, please do not forget one thing. That boy is a Tytanian. And Tytania’ greater cause is what compelled a thirteen-year-old child to commit murder.”

“I think I understand. Well, I don’t believe it’s his fault.”

Miranda hated the Tytania collective with all her heart, but she did not harbour the desire to kill every single person that comprised it. Her life, both in the past and in the future, was meant to be spent ensuring that Tytania continued to exist, only to move about and thwart its tyranny.

“So, do you have a concrete plan for what we shall do next, Doctor?”

“I have something, at any rate.”

Doctor Lee adopted a self-important air.

“We have sent Hyulick to Duke Jouslain. He will certainly take an interest in Hyulick. I have instructed Hyulick to behave as discreetly as possible, but if a great catastrophe were to loom due to Radmoth’s lack of common sense—or rather, his lack of any sense at all—he will be forced to employ unconventional tactics, whether he likes it or not. If Jouslain and Hyulick can form an alliance, I believe they might be able to stand against the Clanner.”

It was time to eat. Bread, a soup of cabbage and ham, and an omelette were placed before Zelpha, who sat at the table looking uncomfortable.

As Zelpha tentatively took a bite of the omelette, an expression of surprise crossed his face. It was a simple omelette, containing nothing but potato and onion.

“This is delicious. I have never had an omelette this tasty before.”

Seraphine Coopers puffed out her chest with pride.

“Really? I’m glad. I have certainly become skilled at making omelettes. It was a necessity for taming a hopeless man.”

“A hopeless man?”

Zelpha paused with his fork, looking suspicious. Miranda laughed heartily.

“Sera, you shouldn’t be so conceited. The secret ingredient this time is the exquisite seasoning of hunger brought on by hard labour.”

While Baronet Zelpha Tytania was eating the most meagre yet most delicious omelette of his life, his eldest brother was being caught in a pincer movement of rage and impatience in the command centre of Uraniborg.

“Countess Theodora is not in her quarters.”

“What?”

“It appears she sensed the danger of arrest and fled to the general residential area.”

“Do you think this will end with her escaping?!”

At Idris’ fierce reprimand, the officer stood pale and motionless.

“Trace her whereabouts immediately. Dispatch every soldier and police officer at your disposal to find that woman. No, wait, not soldiers. We are still in the middle of combat. Use only the police. Broadcast that woman’s face prominently on all public monitors!”

The officer saluted, then quickly turned on his heel and exited. With every step, the colour returned to his face, and he found himself unable to suppress his expression of fury. What on earth was Duke Idris thinking? With the massive cannons of the Black Prince trained upon Uraniborg, he shouldn’t even care about a single woman!

“What is Duke Idris thinking!?”

Even at this late stage, the officer found himself using honorifics toward one of the Four Dukes. He was Tytanian to his very marrow. Nevertheless, he had begun to vaguely realise that the ultimate responsibility for these events rested with Clanner Ajman.

“I no longer understand… I cannot tell friend from foe.”

The officer who muttered these words contacted the police in the civilian residential district, but the moment he finished, a heavy flood of cold sweat broke out across his face. It was because he had realised that even the slightest thought that the Clanner bore the ultimate responsibility would be considered an act of treason.

IV

Radmoth, the younger brother of Idris and older brother of Zelpha, looked down at his left wrist with deliberate movement. He addressed the officers, who were gathered like a swarm of ghosts.

“An hour has passed.”

“Y-yes.”

“Any word from Uraniborg?”

“N-none, sir.”

“Hmph.”

Radmoth gave a short, derisive snort and issued his command in a tone of absolute certainty.

“Prepare the three main cannons for simultaneous fire.”

“A-are we firing?”

“What else do you intend to do?”

“My family is down there…”

He couldn’t manage to finish his sentence. With a look of utter annoyance, Radmoth drew the flintlock pistol from his waist…

Thirty seconds after the gunshot echoed through the bridge of the Black Prince, the three main cannons aligned their muzzles with a corner of Uraniborg.

Idris, who had been staring intently at the screen, was momentarily blinded. The entire command centre turned into a monochrome, three-dimensional image.

“Damage report!”

He shouted this only after his vision had returned.

“Residential Sector 17 has been completely destroyed!”

The officer watching the monitor cried out in agony.

“Four hundred thousand citizens lived there, and it appears more than half died instantly from a single blow. People and vehicles are being sucked out into space in a swirling vortex!”

“Seal all passages to other sectors. We must not allow the damage to spread. Execute this immediately.”

Beads of cold sweat formed on Idris’ forehead. The seventeenth residential sector had been left to die.

Idris had long admired the idea of a cold, unscrupulous ruler. He worshipped the second Clanner, Nuri, and had himself carried out harsh purges against the subjects of the Vardana Empire. However, at least in Idris’ own mind, those actions were meaningful and necessary. He had no memory of him massacring large numbers of innocent civilians. Radmoth had trampled upon the noble cause of “Tytania” with muddy boots, delivering a calculated kick to Idris’ very conscience. Idris had been forced to exert every effort just to maintain his dignity as an elder brother.

“Well, brother, isn’t it quite a magnificent view? If you like, I could even show it to you two or three more times.”

“Radmoth, you bastard! After killing four hundred thousand civilians, do you feel no shame in your conscience?!”

“Well, well, look at this.”

Radmoth replied to his brother with a sneer. It was proof of his complete psychological superiority.

“Didn’t you pretend to be a cold and ruthless dictator, Brother? That you would kill Ariabert, kill Jouslain, and wouldn’t regret a million or two million soldiers if they became stardust in the universe? Surely you recall uttering such lines, don’t you?”

“I was talking about the enemy! The people you killed were our allies. Even worse, some were non-combatants!”

“Enemies and allies? And who exactly makes that distinction? You are merely drawing the line yourself, Brother. What is wrong with me doing the same?”

“…”

“If you truly wish to save the commoners, then you should simply open the gates of Uraniborg. Go on, do it.”

At that moment, a small but sharp epiphany flashed through Idris’ mind. He composed himself and pierced his triumphant younger brother with a gaze filled with extreme malice.

“Regrettably, I am merely an agent for His Clanner Highness. Furthermore, I have not been entrusted with full authority. I have been granted power only in regard to the subjugation of Jouslain and his men. If you wish to open the gates of Uraniborg, you shall have to negotiate with His Clanner Highness directly.”

Radmoth suppressed a laugh and pierced his brother in return with a spear of mockery.

“Hmm. So, you are admitting yourself to being someone’s dog, Brother?”

At almost the same time, aboard the battleship Austra, a drama that could, depending on how one looked at it, be described as unbefitting of a battlefield was unfolding.

Princess Lydia stood with her hands on her hips, glaring up at Jouslain.

“Duke Jouslain, you shouldn’t cause Francia such worry.”

“My apologies. Francia, I am sorry.”

“No, Lord Jouslain, please do not trouble yourself on my account.”

Princess Lydia, who had been observing the pair with equal attention, nodded to herself and then tugged on the sleeve of Balamy, who was standing nearby.

“Bal, let us go to the gunroom.”

“Yes?”

“In times like these, being a proper adult means allowing them to be alone.”

“… As you wish.”

As Balamy extended a hand, Princess Lydia gripped her knight’s hand with great vigour and, with her small frame, marched out of the private room with great dignity. Perhaps sensing the need to be discreet, the nurse had also disappeared, leaving Jouslain and Francia alone in the room.

“This was this hand that saved me, wasn’t it?”

He took her hand in his once more.

“These are hands meant to hold flowers. It was my mistake to let them hold a gun. Please, forgive me.”

Francia looked her master straight in the eye.

“Lord Jouslain, I do not wish to spend my life holding nothing but flowers. I wish to hold whatever is necessary, whenever it is needed. Whether it be a gun or a sword, if it is what you require, Lord Jouslain…”

Through their clasped hands, Jouslain and Francia shared the sensation of each other’s blood flowing into the other’s body. Jouslain imagined and came to understand that this pure-hearted girl, nine years his junior, had been watching over him like an elder sister. Jouslain was of the great and mighty main line of Tytania, while Francia was of such a distant branch that it was almost presumptuous for her to bear the Tytania name.

“Lord Jouslain…”

“Francia, please forgive me.”

Jouslain raised Francia’s hand and pressed his lips against the white, gentle back of it. He did so with a sense of both tenderness and solemnity.

“I was arrogant. I was observing and judging whether you were a woman worthy of me. But it was the opposite. It was I who should have been reflecting upon whether I was a man worthy of you.”

Jouslain had attained a level of prestige far beyond what was expected of a man of twenty-eight. He had achieved great success in many fields: politics, diplomacy, and strategic manoeuvring, demonstrating keen abilities and garnering numerous honours. While this was a product of his own talent, it was also the fruit of a privileged environment that allowed him to wield it.

When a bayonet was pointed at him by a deranged soldier, Jouslain had simply declared, “Very well, fire away.” He had not said it as a grandiose gesture. Even the images of Princess Lydia, Balamy, and Francia had vanished from his mind; he had simply accepted that his time to die had come.

He had even voiced the thought that he was “half-hearted”. It was because, deep within his unconscious, he had realised that he had no desire to become a Clanner, nor did he possess the ambition to destroy the Tytania with his own hands; he had lived only within the confines of the Tytania framework.

Suddenly, Francia’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Lord Jouslain, let us abandon this trivial war and go somewhere far away. We should simply let Uraniborg and the Black Prince continue their slaughter amongst themselves.”

Francia gazed at her master with suspicion, her lips remaining sealed. What he had heard as Francia’s voice was, in truth, his own overflowing innermost thoughts.

“And as for the future, I don’t know what to do,” muttered Jouslain, wondering what he would do if Ariabert were still alive.

Jouslain understood what Francia wanted to say. She was suggesting that Jouslain himself should become the Clanner. However, when Ajman had shattered his plan to install Ariabert as the Clanner and act as his supporter, Jouslain had been forced to face the reality that he possessed no other vision.

“Perhaps Princess Lydia’s opinion was the most correct, after all.”

They should have all departed for Elbing. That was what Princess Lydia had so fervently argued. Perhaps that would have been the better course. Yet, even if they had secured a moment of peace by leaving the vengeance for Ariabert undone and leaving the Clanner, Idris, and Radmoth as they were, those men would surely have pursued them. He would not have minded surrendering the privileges of the Tytania nobility, but he had felt compelled to settle the current situation with responsibility.

“Francia, please rest peacefully for now. For the only place I have to return to is by your side.”

With a somewhat clumsy touch, Jouslain stroked Francia’s forehead as gently as he possibly could. It was cold, seemingly devoid of any warmth. In response, she gave him a faint, soft smile.

When Jouslain called for a nurse, Princess Lydia, who had entered alongside him as a matter of course, rushed to Francia’s side, took her hand, and made her declaration.

“Duke Jouslain, let me take care of Francia.”

“I am humbled, Princess. In that case, I shall leave her in your hands.”

“You may leave it to me.”

After nodding, Princess Lydia commanded the young duke with a look of utmost gravity.

“You must fulfil your own duties properly. Otherwise, Francia shall abandon you.”

V

Jouslain rushed back to the bridge. With every step, he cast aside his misplaced romanticism and returned to the stage of slaughter and destruction. The moment he took his seat in the command chair, the search officer’s cry rang out.

“The Black Prince’s main guns are bearing towards us!”

“All ships, disperse!” commanded Jouslain instantly. “Do not look to others! Think only of your own survival!”

“Austra turning, departing Uraniborg at maximum combat speed!”

Captain Edna Fredericks’ voice was sharp and taut with tension.

There was perhaps a single moment to draw breath before a flash of light streaked towards the eight o’clock position from the Austra. Everything in sight turned monochrome as fireballs engulfed dozens of ships at once. The embrace of death and destruction was devoid of mercy or pity, swallowing countless fates.

“Communications lost with first-class battleship Montran!”

“Communications lost with heavy cruiser Agora!”

“Currently, approximately ninety ships are unaccounted for!”

Jouslain suppressed a sigh.

“Continue attempting to establish contact.”

On the screen viewed from the command seat, hundreds of millions of dust particles floated. They were the remains of living and non-living things, all having endured a merciless onslaught.

“It feels as though we have been mowed down.”

“We were swallowed whole in a single bite,” replied Balamy, his voice heavy with exhaustion and resentment.

Both Ariabert and Jouslain had thought that there was no tactical significance to launching a single ship, but as a mere display of violence below the level of tactics, it had been more than significant.

“Your Grace, if a second strike comes…”

Just as Commodore Yuan voiced his apprehension, another voice struck Jouslain’s ears.

“No, a second strike will not come.”

Hyulick stood where all eyes were focused. According to him, even that massive vessel did not possess infinite power. They would likely have reserved enough energy to destroy the entirety of Uraniborg.

“I have a small idea.”

“What is it?”

“A method to neutralise the Black Prince. It would be difficult to destroy that enormous dinosaur through firepower alone.”

“Are you perchance thinking of a ramming manoeuvre?”

“Duke Jouslain, as expected from you, your insight is impeccable. I am truly impressed.”

“I am honoured by your praise. However, would it not be futile to ram such a massive hull?”

“No, Duke Jouslain, I agree with Mr Hyulick.”

Balamy supported Hyulick with a rare fervour.

“We could direct about twenty ships at maximum speed towards a single point. Unmanned, of course. What would then happen if we pincer the Black Prince between itself and the outer hull of Uraniborg, rendering it unable to move?”

“We would then send in mobile infantry to capture Radmoth?”

“Yes, we shall detain him. Furthermore, I am in favour of Mr Hyulick’s plan.”

“Um, I… I mean, I also agree with Viscount Balamy. However, I have just one point of divergence.”

“And what is that?”

Hyulick chose his words with great care.

“Detaining Baron Radmoth would be futile and would only leave seeds of future resentment. If I may be so bold, I recommend his immediate elimination.”

“Very well.”

Jouslain nodded deeply.

“We shall decide on the matter of Radmoth after the operation has succeeded. If absolutely necessary, I authorise his execution. Naturally, I shall take full responsibility.”

“As you wish.”

“Then, shall we proceed with that?”

At that moment, all three of them were muttering the same words to themselves.

“I never imagined I would end up fighting side-by-side with these two.”

Over at Uraniborg, Idris was shouting in fury.

“For now, fire at the Black Prince! He’s a rebel who actually launched an attack on Uraniborg. Neutralise it first, and we shall deal with the rest later!”

“He”—his younger brother, Radmoth. Was he truly going to have to kill his own flesh and blood with his own hands? The mere thought was, as expected, horrific. However, having reached this point, if he did not kill him, he himself would be killed. Idris no longer doubted his brother’s intentions. Radmoth intended to wipe out both his elder brother and the Clanner together.

“The Clanner…”

Idris shuddered. Had the Clanner not granted Radmoth command of the Black Prince, this situation would never have come to pass. It was the Clanner’s responsibility that had brought the brothers to the point of killing one another. It was also the Clanner who had ordered Zelpha to act as the perpetrator in the assassination of Duke Ariabert. Ajman was apparently merely using them while only pretending to hold Idris’ brothers in high regard.

No. The Clanner was not merely pretending. Perhaps he had been blatantly using him from the very beginning, and Idris had simply deluded himself into believing he was held in high regard. Could it be that Idris had merely been toyed with, blinded by the Clanner’s prestige…?

“If push comes to shove, I shall use the Clanner as my shield.”

Idris had steeled himself with that much resolve and spirit. However, the uncertainty lay in how many of his subordinates would truly face death by his side. Even if they pointed their guns at the Clanner on Idris’ command, a single glance from Ajman might make their knees buckle, causing them to turn their barrels toward Idris instead. In terms of what people call charisma, Idris did not come close to the level of Ajman.

Idris thought of his own death. He did not believe he feared death itself, but he could not endure a dishonourable end. Furthermore, as long as he remained ignorant of Clanner Ajman’s true intentions, he could not find peace in dying. Should he happen to be killed by Radmoth, he would be left with nothing but to become a ghost. It was a state of mind far removed from true enlightenment.

“We are under engagement!”

The reconnaissance officer’s voice dragged Idris from the depths of his contemplation.

“What do you mean, ‘under engagement’?”

“The Black Prince is under attack!”

“Is it an ally!?”

“N-no, it’s… the enemy. Vessels from the AJ Alliance.”

Idris furrowed his brow and stared at the screen, somewhat dazed.

“The AJ Alliance is attacking the Black Prince! H-how are we to interpret this?”

Even anyone other than Idris would have been confused. He pressed a finger against the space between his eyebrows. He wondered whether it was simply a matter of rejoicing at the fact that “enemies” were engaging one another.

“Just who is an ally, and who is an enemy? Can I assume that the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

Because his opponent was Jouslain, he needed to discern his true intentions. It would have been most ideal if the man were to take Radmoth down with him, but he was not such a fool.

Before executing their ramming manoeuvre, Jouslain and his crew needed to deceive the enemy. They concentrated an absurdly massive amount of firepower onto a single point on the Black Prince’s main battery. As an incalculable amount of light and heat suddenly converged, one of the Black Prince’s forward main turrets transformed into a mass of light and energy before exploding into fragments. While dozens of serpents of light writhed in midair only to vanish one after another, the destroyed turret collapsed, flickering with blue and white light.

“We did it!”

Cheers and the sound of high-fives echoed across the bridge of the Austra.

“Serve you right! Did you learn your lesson yet?”

“They thought they were invincible… how arrogant.”

Hyulick was under a slight illusion. Even though they were within the Tytania camp, he felt as if he were in the very heart of the Blaze Flag Army. There was no difference in the hearts of the soldiers between Tytania and the anti-Tytania forces. The only difference lay in the intentions of the high command.

The communications officer spoke up. A message had arrived from Uraniborg. Had they come to say, “Thank you for your help”?

They had not.

Idris’ gaze sharply scanned every corner of the screen. He fixed his eyes on Jouslain, who was in the centre of the display, and interrogated him:

“Where is Zelpha?”

“I cannot say where he is, but I guarantee his safety.”

“Guarantee it?”

“Upon my honour as a Tytanian noble.”

For Idris, it was the most effective line possible. Idris opened his lips as if to say something, but in the end, he remained silent.

Jouslain pressed him:

“By the way, whatever happened to your other brother?”

“I do not consider that person to be my brother.”

“Such prejudice, though I suppose I understand.”

A voice, sounding somewhat out of place, drifted through the air, and Idris’ gaze snapped to fix upon a man who was not wearing a Tytania uniform.

“Fan Hyulick! You bastard, what kind of face do you dare bring here…”

“This face, right here. Well, we shall speak again in due course.”

At that moment, on the bridge of the Black Prince, a second officer shot by Radmoth lay sprawled on the floor.

“Fool. Did he truly think he would be forgiven if he laid down his arms only now?”

Radmoth let out a boisterous laugh. That officer had paid the price for attempting to persuade the Clanner to grant him clemency.

The Black Prince’s staff officers learned for the first time that a hollow laugh, even one filled with such force, could exist. They stood frozen, paralysed by despair and terror.

“I have two choices. Either I shall become the master of Uraniborg or die a traitor. There is no other path.”

If one were to listen to those words alone, it seemed as though Radmoth possessed the qualities of a ruthless tyrant far greater than those of Jouslain or Idris.

Chapter 5 – Group Portrait of Rebels

I

Tytania’s greatest battleship, the Black Prince, might have been more appropriately named the “Black Moby Dick” given its true nature. A demonic beast that had leapt into a sea of war where good and evil could not be defined, devouring all manner of animate and inanimate life, repelling every desperate attempt at resistance and continuing its slaughter and destruction at will. Acting entirely upon its own volition, it unleashed its main and secondary batteries to their full extent, burying both friend and foe within a tidal wave of energy.

The being inhabiting the brain of this magical beast was a youth who wasn’t even twenty years of age, yet he appeared less like a young nobleman of the Tytania Clan and more like the complete embodiment of human destructive impulses made flesh. Even from the perspective of his allies, this held true. No, in an absolute sense, he had no allies; they were only the “vassals” he forced into submission.

Conversely, what was the situation at Uraniborg?

Sweat trickled down Vice-Admiral Ridenhour’s forehead. His resilient mind and body, which had endured forty years of rigorous military service, were reaching their limit after only a single day of combat.

“Our forces still hold the advantage. Furthermore, Duke Ariabert is no longer present. If we can drag this into a war of attrition, we can hope for the situation to turn for the better.”

The name of Ariabert slipping from his lips was the seasoned officer’s small, desperate attempt to maintain his sanity. What was unfolding before his eyes was nothing so grand as a pitched battle. It was merely a slaughter, devoid of any tactical meaning or military doctrine.

The Black Prince, which ought to have been traversing the astral sea leading the Tytania grand fleet in all its majesty, had been transformed into a ferocious carnivorous dinosaur, devouring everything in its path. There was not a shred of dignity left in its form.

Even the onlookers and outlaws, who had been content to observe from their safe heights, were on the verge of falling into a bottomless pit of dread. The destroyer’s fangs might descend, ignoring all strategic significance or tactical necessity. Even so, the pirates aboard the Honest Old Man Junior remained insolent.

“The AJ Alliance forces are doing quite well for themselves even without the A.”

“Of course. Why do you think I sent H in?”

“If Duke Ariabert had been here, this battle might have been a little more sophisticated. As it is, it’s nothing more than a scrap between wildcats.”

Pagès spat these words out venomously.

“That was exactly what I thought would happen,” replied Doctor Lee, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Hyulick was a man who could not demonstrate his true worth unless driven into a corner. His formations, tactics, and chain of command were non-existent. It was only amidst melee, confusion, rampaging, and total chaos that Hyulick truly excelled. The Doctor’s intention had been to observe how the battle for Uraniborg would shift by deploying the Hyulick element onto the battlefield equipped with a tracking device. However, the universe was vast, and an even more irrational commander than Hyulick had appeared, furthermore an inhumane one who was currently in the process of destroying the stage itself.

“Enemy ship at ten o’clock, coming in for a breach!”

“Clean them up quickly; the secondary batteries will suffice.”

“Five o’clock, enemy approaching at maximum combat speed!”

“Clean them up.”

Radmoth’s orders were the very definition of brevity. Should he eventually achieve final victory, he might even inspire a proverb such as, ‘A hero does not concern himself with trivialities’. For now, however, they were merely crude and irresponsible.

A small but unmistakable vibration shook the bridge. One of the navigation officers cried out, his voice cracking.

“Damage to the port side! An enemy vessel has collided with us at maximum combat speed!”

“Collided?”

Radmoth glared at the sensor officer with eyes that belied his age. His overwhelming gaze sent a shiver through the officer.

At Uraniborg, Idris sat in the command centre, tapping his palm against the surface of the desk.

“This is laughable. Has Jouslain decided to switch careers to become a comedian? Does he truly believe he can crush the Black Prince with a ramming tactic? How amusing. By all means, give it a try.”

Idris burst into loud laughter, yet the eyes watching him seemed to hold an ominous undertone.

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Austra, Jouslain could not hide the look of anguish on his face.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Understood.”

“I feel terrible for you. To use a vessel as if it were nothing more than a mere bullet to hurl at the Black Prince…”

… was something Ariabert would never have done. Jouslain nearly swallowed these words as he thought them. Captain Edna Fredericks merely offered a silent bow in response.

All around Uraniborg, centred on the Black Prince, the fires of war expanded and order began to collapse. No one was able to envision what the world would look like a mere five minutes from then.

Idris laughed, his voice drier than a midsummer desert.

“It is unlikely that Jouslain will suddenly receive some divine revelation and transform into a military genius. If that were the case, the staff officers left behind by Ariabert would likely devise a conventional strategy. It might be quite entertaining to see whether common sense can triumph over the extraordinary.”

Regardless of whether Jouslain’s fleet or Radmoth’s Black Prince emerged victorious, both would ultimately remain Idris’ enemies. If the two sides fought to the death and destroyed one another, Idris would be able to reap the rewards of the struggle.

“If victory was always ensured by following a computer-generated plan, human commanders would be entirely unnecessary.”

Miranda was right. At any rate, compared to the forces of Uraniborg, who stood in shock at the reckless actions of their supposed ally, the Black Prince, Jouslain’s side, after adopting a ramming tactic, was still managing to maintain what could at least be called a battle.

“Suppression fire! Do not let the Black Prince fire its rear secondary batteries!”

Captain Fredericks’ voice was fierce.

“Concentrate fire! Concentrate! Concentrate!!”

The orders were thorough, even relentless.

The rear secondary battery of the Black Prince had its energy shutters breached and its armour torn asunder, until finally, a single gun exploded, scattering blue and white light. That became the first breach, and the radiance of destruction stretched outwards like a serpent to the left and right. New orbs of light were spawned, growing instantly to strip away the surrounding armour and sweep away the gun turrets.

Part of the light breached the interior of the ship and bonded with oxygen molecules, racing through the corridors as scorching gas. Amidst horrific screams, a scarlet haze filled the space.

The crew of the Black Prince should have been composed of elites, yet they were thrown into great disarray after Radmoth had ordered the cannons to be aimed at Uraniborg. As one soldier attempted to leap onto a docked fighter, another questioned him.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going!?”

“It’s none of your business where I go.”

“So, you intend to desert.”

“And what if I do?”

“And you call yourself a Tytanian soldier? Have some sense of shame!”

The soldier who was shouted at showed no sign of remorse.

“Hmph. The ones who should be ashamed are the high command.”

“What did you say!?”

“My younger brother was assigned to Duke Ariabert’s fleet. I don’t know if he is alive or dead. If I remain aboard the Black Prince, not only will my life or death become uncertain, but I’ll become a rebel that attacked Uraniborg under Baron Radmoth’s orders.”

The person he was talking to was left speechless. It was true that if they continued to blindly obey Radmoth, they risked attacking Uraniborg and suffering the disgrace of being branded as traitors.

Uraniborg was home to over ten million residents and, above all, the Clanner, who was sacred and inviolable to the people of Tytania. To attempt an attack on such a place…

With the military strength of the Black Prince, a temporary tactical victory might be possible. But if that happened, would Baron Radmoth become the new Clanner? That violent man, who lacked any popularity and was still merely a minor?

Tytania would be finished. It was far too foolish to be dragged into such a disaster.

In those three seconds, that was the conclusion he reached. He bellowed at the soldier who had begun to start the engine of the mounted craft.

“Fine, I’m coming with you!”

“Hurry up, we don’t have time to wait another five seconds!”

In that instant, a flash and a roar erupted, and both machine and human flesh vanished into flames. A charged particle cannon had been fired, treating the unauthorised departure as a desertion.

II

The fourth and fifth unmanned ships rammed into the Black Prince, erupting in a dizzying light of explosions. Doctor Lee, who had been staring intently at the screen, muttered.

“This is beyond absurd.”

“Eh? What is?”

“The Black Prince has been rendered immobile. The fleet of Uraniborg is almost entirely annihilated. Duke Ariabert has perished, and the AJ Alliance forces have lost a third of their strength.”

“That’s terrible.”

Miranda shook her head.

“Tytania fighting against itself… a truly disgraceful sight.”

“That is the reality, Miranda. The military might of Tytania, which was once greater than any other nation in the universe, is now as good as nonexistent.”

Doctor Lee placed a hand to his chin, his expression turning pensive.

“It is the greatest instance of cannibalism in history. If someone devised this whole situation single-handedly, it would be a terrifying mastermind.”

“Doctor Lee, are you talking about yourself?”

The Doctor responded with a dismissive smile.

“That is the greatest overestimation in history. Duke Ariabert was a top-tier commander of the highest order. Duke Zarlisch was an unparalleled ruthless general. Fan Hyulick was, if one were to be complimentary, a master of unpredictable stratagems—wait no, I shouldn’t use the past tense here. Anyway, each of these three had their own complicated history with one another, but not a single one of them could have inflicted this much damage and disgrace upon Tytania.”

The beams of light invading the ship from the screen created a contrast of light and shadow, much like ancient monochrome footage. While possibly thousands of lives were extinguished every time the shadows shifted, no pirate aboard felt inclined to voice such sentimental opinions at that time.

Thanks to Captain Casimir’s exquisite manoeuvring, the Honest Old Man Junior sailed through the fringes of the vast battlefield almost entirely unscathed. At the same time, the Black Prince’s utterly irrational ferocity in battle was throwing both armies into disarray. It was as if a pack of well-trained hounds were being tossed about by a single mad dog.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to fight someone like that.”

Miranda shrugged her shoulders, which were more robust than those of any ordinary man.

“I almost feel sorry for the Tytanians. If they were pirates, they’d just make a quick escape, but an army can’t do quite that easily.”

“The survivor pensions are going to be astronomical, aren’t they?”

After Mahdi made that remark so characteristic of himself, a question was directed back at him:

“Do you know what a snowman is, Mahdi?”

“Enough of that, Doctor. You’ve asked me that same question before.”

“Yes. So, how do you make one?”

“Well, first you make a small snowball, and then you roll it across the snow, and it keeps getting bigger and bigger. Eventually, you lose control of it, and it starts rolling off on its own in unexpected directions.”

The Doctor massaged his upper eyelid with his fingertip.

“The various incidents and chaos that have occurred in space over this past year were built up just like a snowman. Someone created a snowball filled with poison and malice, rolled it across the snow, and allowed it to grow rapidly.”

“That… surely you don’t mean Fan Hyulick, do you?”

“No, Seraphine. Whether by good fortune or bad, Hyulick was merely the catalyst. After that, he was simply caught up in it. He was merely used by someone’s hidden scheme.”

Perhaps to gather his thoughts, Doctor Lee fell silent, but he opened his mouth again shortly after.

“That individual was waiting patiently for the right moment to arrive. Consequently, he immediately used Hyulick to set his plan for the destruction of Tytania into motion.”

Everyone listened quietly to the Doctor’s “lecture”.

“After Duke Zarlisch died, the balance of power between the Four Dukes collapsed. I thought the remaining three dukes would enter a three-way struggle, but because two of them formed a strong alliance, it became a two-against-one situation. As the outcome of the conflict seemed poised to be decided early and threatened a soft landing, that individual schemed to have Duke Ariabert assassinated to restore the balance of conflict.”

The group listening to the lecture stared at Doctor Lee in collective shock. The image they had been vaguely imagining until then suddenly came into sharp focus.

“Anyway, I have finally identified the culprit. However, there is still something I cannot grasp regarding his motives… To reach a final conclusion, I must see it with my own eyes.”

Her voice raspy, Miranda asked:

“Doctor, you don’t mean…?”

He lowered the hand that had been rubbing his eyelids.

“Won’t you understand unless I explicitly say his name?”

As Doctor Lee looked around at his “students”, the one who was probably the most insensitive among them shouted.

“If you put it like that, of course we know! It’s the Clanner. Clanner Ajman himself is trying to destroy Tytania, though I don’t know why. Am I right, Doctor?”

“Yes, that is a passing grade, Mahdi.”

“If it is so, he shouldn’t have been the Clanner in the first place!”

“Are you saying he should have gently waited to let himself be purged?” asked Walenkov, as if seeking confirmation, while stroking his large head with his large palm. “In other words, you are saying the Clanner attempted to bring about the collapse of Tytania from the very top? The exact opposite of a normal coup?”

“Well, to simplify it, it sums up pretty simply the general scheme.”

“Quite a long process of simplification,” complained Pagès. “Besides, I find it difficult to accept your reasoning, Doctor. If someone goes to great lengths to wield the power and cunning in order to rise to the position of Clanner, it would be only natural to attempt to maintain it. Am I wrong?”

“Ultimately, I suppose I could say in plain terms that he simply found himself disappointed once he arrived at the top.”

“If that were the case, he could have just retired of his own accord,” said Seraphine, stating her opinion.

“Even if Ajman himself were to retire, Tytania would remain.”

“He could just leave it be, couldn’t he?”

“You don’t understand, Miranda.”

“Ah, yeah, I just don’t get it. I don’t understand the psychology of the Clanner, and I don’t quite follow your analysis, Doctor. Perhaps we’re all far more ordinary than we thought.”

Doctor Lee responded to Miranda’s words with a look of rare exhaustion.

“Maybe so. If I had to state it plainly, I believe that Ajman wanted to rule over the cosmos, not as the Clanner of Tytania, but in his own right. I surmise that this is his struggle, at least for the time being.”

It was Mahdi, rather than Miranda, who reacted first to the Doctor’s explanation. With impressive dexterity, he let out a simultaneous click of his nose and tongue.

“Does the distinction even matter? He could have simply sat upon his throne and lived out comfortably. To me, Ajman’s worries are nothing more than the self-consciousness of a spoilt young rich brat.”

“Is it truly that simple? Knowing the Clanner, I suspect there might be something much deeper to it.”

“No, Mahdi has a point. Ajman’s perception is profoundly distorted. It is just that Mahdi’s linguistic skill in expressing it lacks some refinement.”

“Are you complimenting me? You’re not, aren’t you?”

“I have merely provided an objective evaluation.”

Doctor Lee rose from his seat, a self-deprecating smile playing upon his lips.

“Well then, isn’t it about time we made our departure? It will be difficult to know whether we shall make it in time for the final scene.”

“All batteries of the fortress guns aboard the Black Prince are to commence bombardment. Immediately. Delay won’t be tolerated.”

Idris issued the order within the command centre of Uraniborg. A silent stir ran through the officers.

“Are you certain this is acceptable, even without an order from His Clanner Highness?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“D-Duke Idris…”

“Do it! I won’t repeat myself!”

There was a piercing intensity in Idris’ gaze, one that was difficult to meet directly.

“The hull has been breached…!”

Three minutes later, the reconnaissance officer of the Black Prince cried out. Had a direct hit from the fortress cannons of Uraniborg occurred, even the energy shutters and armour of the Black Prince would not have remained unscathed. A massive pillar of light had obliterated several allied ships of Uraniborg all at once and continued its trajectory to pierce straight into the hull of the Black Prince.

The hull of the Black Prince had already been wounded by the successive ramming attacks launched by Jouslain’s forces. Dragons of flame raced through the ship’s interior, a thick scarlet haze hung in the air, and charred corpses lay heaped upon one another.

Amidst the carnage, Radmoth realised that gun barrels were being pointed at him from every direction. About twenty officers and soldiers with stiff expressions surrounded him, radiating an aura of resolve and hostility.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“We can’t follow you any longer.”

“Bastards, don’t you realise who you are addressing?”

“I understand very well. Radmoth Tytania, you are now our prisoner. Drop your weapons.”

A sinister light flickered in Radmoth’s eyes as he scanned the rebels. The moment his hand reached for the holster at his waist, one of the NCOs, who had been watching him without a moment’s lapse in vigilance, fired silently.

III

A thin flash of light pierced through Radmoth’s right hand like a needle. It went from his palm to the back of his hand. A thin stream of blood spurted from both sides. Radmoth grimaced. Red droplets scattered across the command desk. Without letting out a scream, Radmoth kicked his chair back and stood up.

“Seize him!”

Simultaneously with the cry, three officers lunged at Radmoth from the front and rear. Radmoth let out a roar of pain and fury. He threw one aside with his left hand and kicked another with his right leg. However, his struggle ended there. The third officer slammed the butt of a heat rifle into the back of Radmoth’s head.

He barely held back doing so. Radmoth let out a groan of agony and dropped to one knee on the floor. He attempted to support his weight with his right hand, but another officer stomped down upon the wound on the back of it, putting his entire weight into the blow.

At that same moment, a tremor shook the bridge. Before a report could even be given, an officer shouted:

“Another ramming attempt!”

“Location?”

“Probably the same place.”

The officers and soldiers exchanged glances. The enemy’s intention was clear. No matter how thick the armour, if a sword were thrust into the same spot more than ten times, one could not remain unscathed.

“No matter how we look at it, we can’t hold much longer. The lower half of the hull is going to be blown away. The myth of the unsinkable battleship is over.”

The officers struggled to endure the weight of the encroaching sense of defeat.

“Place Baron Radmoth in handcuffs. Then, send the following emergency transmission to Duke Idris: ‘I surrender’. We shall explain the situation after that.”

“To Duke Idris? Not to His Clanner Highness?”

“Exactly.”

“But if you do that, there is no telling how His Clanner Highness might react.”

“Don’t be a fool and think for a minute. Baron Radmoth received a royal decree from his Your Clanner Highness, and yet he went so far as to threaten Uraniborg. It was nothing less than an act of treason. We must first inform Duke Idris that we are loyal subjects of Tytania and then have him mediate our surrender.”

One minute later, Idris received the report.

“Transmission from the Black Prince incoming! It’s an emergency message.”

Idris gazed at the Black Prince on the screen. It was barely maintaining its majesty, appearing on the verge of collapse.

“Has that wretch Radmoth finally come crawling to us with his complaints? Very well, put him through.”

Idris was not in a position of leisure himself. Though he had straightened his collar in preparation for a war of words, the person who appeared on the communication screen was not his brother.

“I have a matter I wish to report to His Ducal Grace Idris. I am Commander Corrientes.”

Suppressing his surprise, Idris composed himself into an air of haughty indifference.

“What has happened to Baron Radmoth?”

“We have taken him into custody.”

“Into custody?”

“While it may be disrespectful to Your Grace’s brother, we can no longer follow Baron Radmoth. With everyone’s consent, we have risen in revolt.”

Idris suppressed a laugh. He himself was not quite sure what kind of laugh it was.

“Good, you have done well.”

“Will you accept our surrender?”

“To whom are you surrendering?” he asked back with a composed, feigned composure.

“We are surrendering to Your Grace, Duke Idris.”

“Not to His Clanner Highness?”

“We pledge our loyalty to Your Grace, Duke Idris. We humbly pray that Your Grace will show us your mercy and accept our submission.”

Flashes of thought crossed Idris’ mind.

How should he answer? Yes or no?

If he answered yes, he would be criticised for acting “without the Clanner’s permission.” If he responded with no, he would invite their disappointment and could not rule out the possibility of turning the Black Prince against him once again.

His decision was made. He could no longer bear the struggle of trying to divine the Clanner’s intentions.

“Very well, I shall accept your loyalty.”

“We are deeply grateful. We shall depart for our return journey now, so please bear with us for a short while.”

A single decision, without a moment’s delay, demanded a new one. If the Clanner began to ponder whether to approve Idris’ treatment, there would be no end to it. He could simply dispose of Radmoth and then provide a post-facto report, pointing out that it was the Clanner himself who had entrusted the command of the Black Prince to Radmoth. After all, since Radmoth was the one who had ordered the shelling of Uraniborg, the responsibility for the appointment lay with the Clanner.

“I had thought he was utterly useless, but he might just serve as a trump card.”

However, caution was still necessary.

“So, Radmoth is alive. Put him on the screen.”

There was a fleeting thought that he might be covered in blood, but when Radmoth was brought before the communication screen, he was almost unscathed, save for electromagnetic handcuffs on both wrists and a bandage wrapped around his right hand. Surprisingly, it was Radmoth who spoke first.

“Idris, Brother, you haven’t once praised me since I was old enough to understand words.”

“What childish resentment is this? If you had done at least something worthy of praise, then it would have been a simple matter.”

“Hmph, as I thought, you still don’t understand. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

A small tremor of unease stirred within Idris’ chest.

“You have never praised me, Brother. But look at the current situation. Have you not been driven into a corner because of me?”

“C-can this even be called being driven into a corner?”

Idris coughed slightly, overcome by indignation.

“Brother, when it comes to making excuses, I’m not your match. I’ll admit that much. What I am trying to say is that if I were someone worthy of your praise, then it would have been me, not you, attending the Council of Five Families.”

“…”

When he understood the full weight of his brother’s outburst, Idris’ mind was momentarily shrouded in a thick, white fog. It was certainly as Radmoth had said. He had thought of him as nothing more than a coarse, reckless, and unworthy younger brother, but how had reality proven to be? He had suffered a complete defeat against Ariabert, had struggled against enemies who thrived in Ariabert’s absence, and had ultimately allowed the Black Prince to roam unchecked.

“It seems you finally understand, Brother.”

“… Bastard.”

That low groan was the greatest effort Idris could muster to maintain his dignity. Once he had steadied his breathing, he issued a series of rapid-fire commands.

“The Black Prince is to stand down from battle formation and return to base immediately. Baron Radmoth is to report to me at once. I guarantee immunity for everyone from the captain downwards, so all are to disembark and await orders. Let this be executed without delay!”

Decisions born of passion often lead to unexpected consequences. One such instance occurred through the screen, within Idris’ field of vision.

Even with his hands bound in irons, Radmoth’s arms swung like a whirlwind. The officer who had been pointing a gun at him was struck squarely in the face, recoiling without a sound. Blood from his nose and a broken front tooth sprayed into the air before falling to the floor. Even faster, a second officer was kicked in the abdomen and collapsed to the floor, spinning as he fell.

Yet, as his elder brother Idris had coldly observed, Radmoth had never been anything else than a pale imitation of the late Zarlisch. At least, when it came to hand-to-hand combat.

The moment he slammed both fists into the third soldier’s face and spun around, a gunshot rang out. Amidst the succession of overlapping shots, four titanium rounds struck Radmoth’s body. His left ear was blown away, and holes were punched just below his right collarbone, his left abdomen, and his left femoral artery.

Through the screen, Idris watched his unloved brother receive these fatal wounds. He did not move to stop it; he simply looked on with indifference.

A bloodstained, dark grin spread across Radmoth’s face. Slumped on the floor, wearing a macabre smile, Radmoth forced his lips to move one last time.

“… Just once, I wanted to see your crying face turn pale with grief as I overtook you… I was so close… Wasn’t I…?”

Radmoth slumped completely to the floor, sliding downwards. It was the final movement of his life.

The soldiers who had shot him averted their eyes in a daze.

“D-do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve murdered a Tytania noble!”

“What do I care? We’re going to die anyway. At this rate, we’ll be caught in a pincer between Uraniborg and Duke Jouslain’s fleet…”

“Shut up!”

The one who barked the command was Commander Corrientes. He directed a pleading look toward Idris, his face resembling that of a dead man.

“Regarding your younger brother, I beg for your forgiveness. There was no other way.”

Before Idris could even respond, an alarm began to blare throughout the hull of the Black Prince. Upon hearing it, Commander Corrientes’ complexion turned as deathly as the deceased.

The lithium-hydrogen reactor had begun to run out of control.

The system, designed to control the reactor through five redundant layers both manually and automatically, had lost all control, with no one left to halt or correct it. The reactor was situated in close proximity to the heavily damaged section of the massive ship.

Throughout human history, claims made by profit-seekers like “these reactors will never fail” or “that ship is one hundred per cent unsinkable” had all proven to be lies, and the Black Prince was no exception. Jouslain’s relentless, concentrated assault had inflicted cunning damage upon the belly of the supposedly unsinkable behemoth. Had it been a fleet of ordinary battleships, fifty of them would have been utterly destroyed. Instead, the immense energy had carved wounds deep within the bowels of the Black Prince, dealing a blow that remained invisible from the outside.

Before there was even time to issue orders to evacuate, in a moment of pure terror, the Black Prince exploded.

The massive mass transformed into a tornado of energy and billions of fragments, raining down upon the outer shell of Uraniborg, battering it and cracking it, triggering new, smaller explosions.

Every inhabitant of Uraniborg let out a scream in their hearts, and half of them acted upon it with their bodies. The outer shell of Uraniborg was subjected to vibrations that were also from within.

“This is the end!”

“Uraniborg is falling!”

“How can such a thing be allowed to happen?”

It should not have been a matter of good or evil, yet no one stopped to notice or to condemn. The crowd reached the height of panic; they paid no heed to tear gas or rubber bullets as they surged towards the security forces. Orders to use live ammunition were issued in some quarters, and the echoes of gunfire rang out. The shots were immediately swallowed by the crowd, and countless boots trampled over the fallen bodies.

IV

Idris stood before the screen, staring in a daze. The hysterical voices of the reports reached his ears.

“The Black Prince has exploded…!”

“You don’t need to tell me!”

What burnt into Idris’ retinas were not images but words. The word “destruction”. The two-hundred-year history of Tytania, which had dominated the universe and reigned over humanity, was coming to an end in the most violent and pathetic manner possible.

The immense military might of the Black Prince and the ensuing catastrophe had become things of the past. However, the chaos continued to expand and multiply. On the battlefield, both friend and foe were so struck by shock that they forgot the combat right before their eyes; there were even sectors where the gunfire had ceased altogether.

In the residential district of Uraniborg, terror and panic overflowed amidst a complete lack of understanding. People collided with one another and came to blows. The warning shots fired by the security forces had long since lost their effectiveness, and horizontal volleys of tear gas and rubber bullets had begun. Blood flowed across the polished streets, the elderly and infants collapsed, trampled by citizens who had become like frenzied herbivores, and a torrent of screams filled the air.

Idris was being forced to make several decisions simultaneously. When he turned towards the communications officer, intending first to deal with the tragedy in the residential district, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

The orange uniforms, somewhat excessive in their ornamentation with feathered military caps and gold braid, were those of the Clanner’s personal guard.

“Your Grace Idris, by order of His Clanner Highness, we must place you under arrest.”

“And the reason?”

“Treason against His Clanner Highness.”

“That is rather abstract.”

Facing the barrel of a gun, Idris was able to step back from a position that had nearly left him in a state of panic. Ironically, one could abandon both the battlefield and one’s home with equal ease.

“Is this about the Black Prince?”

“Your Grace granted permission for the rebels to surrender. They have defied Baron Radmoth, who was commanded by His Clanner Highness to take command of the Black Prince.”

A slight sneer curled Idris’ lips.

“And what did Radmoth then do? He trained the cannons on Uraniborg and threatened them to surrender. Is he not the true traitor? The crew members who detained him are loyal subjects. Far from being blamed, they deserve to be rewarded.”

“I have no desire to debate this further. Please, accompany us quietly.”

Idris rose from his command seat, calculating the number of gun barrels pointed at him. He remembered that Radmoth had been less than twenty years old and felt a flicker of something resembling pity stir in a corner of his heart. However, he had neither the will nor the time to dwell on it. His movements were swift.

“So, who is in command here now?”

A stiff response met his mocking question.

“That is for His Clanner Highness to decide.”

The officer who answered fell silent, the muzzle of a heatgun pressed against his throat. Idris held a gun in his left hand.

“Y-you cannot escape, Your Grace.”

“I thank you for the warning. Now, walk!”

Idris moved the muzzle to the captain’s left ear and stood behind him.

A violent passion raged within the young duke’s body, churning his organs and nerves as if even the position of his heart were shifting erratically. Nevertheless, Idris’ mind maintained an unnatural level of composure. Ignoring the standing soldiers with arrogance, he exited the command centre while keeping the muzzle pressed against the captain’s left ear. The moment the door closed behind him, Idris slammed the barrel of the heatgun against the back of the captain’s head.

Without sparing even a glance at the collapsing captain, he spun around and unleashed a thermal blast upon the door’s mechanism. The metal glowed red-hot and fused together, sealing the command centre. While far from a perfect seal, it should buy him some time.

Idris sprinted forward. The soldiers were struck with horror as they watched the young duke, whose hair was dishevelled and who ran without even a single attendant, his gun still gripped in his hand. They stood frozen under his ferocious gaze and scathing reprimand.

Radmoth is undoubtedly dead. If survived that, he’s a monster. Is Zelpha alright? I’ll definitely come to save you, please wait. However, before that could happen, Idris himself had to survive.

In any case, Idris was a solitary fugitive. Despair often flickered its red tongue, mocking his struggles, but each time, Idris repelled it with everything he had. He would become the final victor, no matter what. To achieve that, what was the one thing he absolutely had to do?

“I will kill the Clanner.”

That resolve had already become unshakeable.

“If I fail, it’s Jouslain who will do it. I won’t let him take the glory.”

Suddenly, Idris was seized by a dreadful thought. The distrust, bewilderment, suspicion, and frustration he had cultivated over the past year merged, rapidly taking shape.

“… Did the Clanner intend to kill all four of us from the very beginning?”

If he thought of it that way, most of the contradictions and mysteries seemed to dissolve.

“But, for what purpose?”

He could go no further with his thoughts. Idris continued to creep step by step towards the private chambers of the Clanner, Ajman, running where he had to run and hiding where he had to hide, disabling several soldiers and a few surveillance cameras along his path.

Of course, it was impossible to render every soldier and surveillance camera “inactive”. His figure was exposed to numerous gazes, and the number of those pursuing him continued to grow. However, no order to shoot had been issued, and Idris’ movements did not cease.

The explosion of the Black Prince, which had shaken even Uraniborg, had naturally not failed to engulf the Austra upon which Jouslain and his followers were travelling.

Jouslain stared at the main screen without a word. Both Fan Hyulick and Balamy staggered from the ship’s swaying, grasping at pillars and walls to barely avoid falling.

The massive battleship Black Prince had exploded in close proximity to Uraniborg. The distance to the outermost layer was perhaps one hundred metres at most. To the human eye, it looked as though they had collided.

An immense amount of light, heat, and shock energy battered Uraniborg like a storm. To the citizens, it was a hellish sight; sunlight was eclipsed by dark clouds, flashes of lightning streaked the sky, and fragments of meteors battered the firmament.

The Black Prince must have carried over ten thousand crew members. Had anyone managed to escape? Even if they had, it likely wouldn’t have been even one per cent. As Radmoth brought his own life to an end, he took ten thousand souls with him.

The fleets of both armies were shrouded in astonishment. For Jouslain’s side, it was the destruction of the enemy, but for the forces of Uraniborg, the situation was not so clear-cut. After all, the Black Prince had crushed allied ships as well, and, in its final moments, had turned its main guns toward Uraniborg.

One soldier slammed his helmet against the floor and screamed.

“Damn it, just tell us who is an ally and who is an enemy!”

It was the shared desire and the desperate prayer of all. The once clear, strong, and stable order of friend and foe, of harm and benefit, of good and evil, had collapsed, leaving them cast out into the void, drowning in anxiety and terror.

Even within the residential districts of Uraniborg, in those areas that remained relatively calm, an elderly woman hurried through the streets with a look of grim determination, her meagre assets stuffed into a bag and her precious granddaughter’s hand held tightly. At a nearby café terrace, an exhausted middle-aged man continued a solitary tarot reading, his expression shifting from despair to a sort of hollow enlightenment as he muttered to himself. Suddenly, an elderly man, pushed aside by the crowd, tumbled into him, overturning the table and sending the cards scattering across the ground.

On the bridge of the Austra, Duke Jouslain Tytania was desperately racking his brains, his entire body drenched in a cold sweat. The frenzy unfolding within Uraniborg was vividly projected in his mind.

“Is there any way we might infiltrate Uraniborg?”

Ten million citizens and one million Tytania personnel. All crowded inside a half-destroyed floating city being trampled by chaos and disorder. This indicated that Tytania’s ability to govern Uraniborg had significantly deteriorated. Perhaps, by taking advantage of this chaos and disorder, an infiltration of Uraniborg might now be possible.

With the ferocious threat of the Black Prince having passed, the allies held the advantage in space combat. Jouslain steeled his resolve.

V

Jouslain was the supreme commander of the rebel forces besieging Uraniborg. For him to personally infiltrate enemy territory, much like a member of an amphibious assault unit, was unorthodox both strategically and tactically. When Balamy, his expression shifting, demanded an explanation, Jouslain answered:

“I shall kill the Clanner with my own hands.”

Balamy was not convinced.

“And do you intend to become the next Clanner? Still, there should be no need for you to do the deed yourself.”

“No, the Clanner’s throne means nothing to me. I will avenge Ariabert. That’s all.”

“If you do that, Duke Idris will become the next Clanner. Are you truly prepared to accept that!?”

As Balamy’s voice rose unconsciously, Jouslain gazed at the youth, who was nine years his junior, with a strange look in his eyes.

“Why do you proceed as if it were already decided that Idris shall be the next Clanner?”

“How can I ask why? If you do not take the mantle, is Duke Idris not the only one left? Of the four Dukes of Tytania, Duke Ariabert and Duke Zarlisch have already passed away. If you say that you will not become Clanner, it is only natural that Duke Idris would seize the opportunity to reap the rewards.”

Jouslain wore a smile that could not quite be called a bitter one.

“The Council of Five Families is a terrifying system.”

The Five Families, which included that of the Clanner himself, monopolised the highest authority within Tytania. Unless one first became a member of these five families, it was impossible to ascend to the seat of Clanner.

“Besides, were you not attempting to dismantle the very structure of the Council of Five Families? No, sorry, I said too much. I will not become Clanner. That is all.”

Balamy’s expression hardened. Indeed, had he not harboured dissatisfaction with the way the Council of Five Families functioned and intended to push for the late Marquis Estrade Tytania to take the Clanner’s throne, with the aim of becoming Clanner himself after ten years?

Regardless. The current Balamy was entirely in his role as Jouslain’s aide-de-camp, serving as a guardian to a young girl of barely ten years, a princess of a small and weak nation. Where had that ambitious man, who had been young and filled with vigour and spirit, vanished to? In truth, should he not have welcomed a situation where Jouslain killed the Clanner and then met his own demise?

However, at some point, almost without his realising it, Balamy’s state of mind had changed. His desire for supremacy had receded, and the sensibilities and values he had once so deliberately disregarded had grown significantly in importance.

“Then, I shall accompany you as well,” offered Balamy with determination. “If I may be so bold, my marksmanship is somewhat superior to yours. I believe I can be of some use.”

“I cannot deny that…”

“Above all, if anything were to happen to you, Princess Lydia and Lady Francia would be devastated. Please, allow me to accompany you.”

“The same would apply to you. Besides, your duty is to protect Princess Lydia. As for Francia…”

As Jouslain faltered, Balamy pressed on:

“That is why I shall accompany you, Duke Jouslain, so that we may both return alive. You are welcome to laugh at me. This is my current ambition.”

“I cannot laugh… though I have certainly twisted the course of your life quite significantly.”

As Jouslain sighed, Balamy responded with a smile that was startlingly mature:

“My life is not so cheap that it can be twisted by the hands of others. I take pride in that. No, I have become able to take pride in it. Even if I do not have your permission, I shall accompany you.”

“Very well. I appreciate it. You shall come with us.”

“It is I who appreciates it.”

After bowing, Balamy moved his gaze. Princess Lydia was staring at her knight, with Francia holding both of her shoulders. Balamy made sure to offer the most dependable smile he could manage. As if to say, Please believe in me. Then, he turned his question to Jouslain.

“How do you intend to handle the command of the entire army?”

“I shall entrust it to four men: Rear-admiral Mittendorf, Rear-admiral Magnorton, Commodore Yuan, and Commodore Durey.”

It was not as if he intended to launch an offensive using any extraordinary stratagems. He only required them to maintain the siege lines around Uraniborg. Furthermore, this would not be a prolonged affair. Provided they were the four generals who had gained combat experience under Ariabert’s command and possessed steady abilities in command and troop management, they should have been able to fulfil their duties without failure.

He would not take much time. He would infiltrate Uraniborg and confront Clanner Ajman and Idris. He would kill Ajman. It was not merely about avenging Ariabert. As long as that man, who ruled Tytania and reigned over the universe, existed, he would continue to toy with the fates of others and manipulate their lives.

He had finally understood that. No, he had understood it all along but had simply turned a blind eye. Whether he was called an ambitious man or a rebel, the responsibility to strike down the Clanner had rested with Jouslain much sooner.

“Might I accompany you as well?”

Suddenly, a voice that seemed to blend a certain frivolity with audacity rang out, and a head of carrot-orange hair popped forward. Jouslain remained silent as he looked upon Fan Hyulick’s face, which showed absolutely no sign of tension, while the still half-baked pirate continued speaking.

“I actually hold an interstellar B-class pilot’s licence. I believe I could infiltrate Uraniborg more skilfully than the two of you. How about it?”

“That is unexpected.”

“Are you talking about my offer?”

“… Well, something like that.”

There were endless reasons he could list, from Hyulick’s character and his past history to the current situation. For some reason, Jouslain felt that Hyulick was someone he could trust. Even so, the gesture was somewhat presumptuous.

“Very well, then, I shall accept your offer.”

With those words, Jouslain accepted.

Hyulick was different from Princess Lydia or Francia. In all honesty, even if he ended up dragging him into this, his conscience would not suffer much. He might feel it was a pity, but nothing more than that. While aware of his own coldness, Jouslain’s decision to readily accept Hyulick’s offer was a characteristic Tytanian judgement. Jouslain himself was well aware of this fact.

“Prepare a shuttle immediately.”

At Jouslain’s command, one of the officers scrambled to the ship’s communication console. Balamy looked as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he merely shrugged his shoulders in silence and accepted the situation. It was a gesture that did not suit him particularly well.

Furthermore, Jouslain turned to the four generals—Mittendorf, Magnorton, Yuan, and Durey—and formally entrusted them with the command during his absence. The four seasoned generals accepted the order, understanding that their mission was not to launch a great offensive but rather to maintain the status quo.

“It may be late to say this, but this is nothing more than a family feud within a merchant house. It would be stranger if we involved the entire universe. Please allow us to settle this within the family.”

The matter might be settled by Jouslain himself being killed. In fact, that possibility seemed quite high.

“Captain Fredericks.”

“Understood.”

“I am sorry to have put you through so much hardship, but I entrust the safety of Princess Lydia and Francia to you.”

Jouslain deliberately avoided looking towards Francia. Captain Fredericks’ response was dignified.

“As you will.”

“Thank you. I am most grateful.”

Jouslain bowed deeply, looked around at those nearby, and offered a Tytania-style salute. He brought his right fist to his left shoulder. He had a feeling that this would be his final salute.

Upon receiving word that the shuttle was ready, Jouslain walked towards the boarding hatch. Balamy and Hyulick followed him. The bridge doors opened and closed without a sound, concealing the figures of the three men.

As Francia stood still, her hands clenched tightly, a hand was placed upon her left shoulder. When she turned around, what she saw was the face of Captain Edna Fredericks.

“Miss Francia.”

“…”

“You want to go, don’t you? Then go.”

Captain Fredericks’ words petrified Francia for a moment.

“Is it truly alright?”

“I have been entrusted with your safety by Duke Jouslain. Under that authority, I hereby permit you to depart this vessel and proceed to Uraniborg.”

Francia gasped and gripped Edna’s hands with all her strength.

“Oh, thank you, Captain Fredericks—no, please, let me call you Miss Edna. I shall take you up on your kind offer.”

“However, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Take this with you.”

Edna drew a charged particle gun from her holster and handed it to Francia.

“I shall have an autocapsule prepared for you immediately.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

“It is enough that I alone shall have something to regret.”

As Edna murmured those words impassively, Princess Lydia threw herself at her.

“I’m going with Francia too!”

“I am sorry, Your Highness, but you must remain here and look after the home front.”

“Why? If Francia may go, why am I forbidden from departing?”

“It is because you are still a child, Your Highness.”

“That is not my fault!”

Princess Lydia’s logical argument brought a smile to Captain Edna Fredericks’ face.

“Your Highness, there are certain things in this world that can only be accomplished by adults. That is precisely why adults exist. Furthermore, you are a person destined to one day become Queen. If you do not learn to listen closely to the opinions of others, you will never become a great monarch.”

Princess Lydia looked up at Edna’s tall stature, finding within those eyes the profound expression of a grown woman. The Princess nodded as if to persuade herself, then shouted toward the closed doors.

“Duke Jouslain, Bal, Francia! I shall wait here and be a good girl, so you must return to me safely!”

Chapter 6 – Man and Man and Woman and Woman

I

The voice was not loud. It lacked strength, carried no sense of authority, and was not beautiful. Nevertheless, Count Elman Tytania received the polite voice of the Duchess Theresa.

“Is someone there?”

The voice seemed to carry the scent of alcohol and gastric acid.

“Are you awake, Duchess?”

A man’s respectful voice drifted through the haze of consciousness and reached her ears. She could not recall whose voice it was, but she knew it held no hostility.

“I wonder what on earth has happened to me.”

“It appears that you had indulged a bit too much in drink.”

“… Was that so?”

Who was it? Who could it be? She could not remember.

“It seems there is some sort of commotion outside.”

The place where Duchess Theresa Tytania awoke was far removed from the area destroyed by the Black Prince, but because almost the entire residential district of Uraniborg was gripped by unprecedented panic, the distant commotion drifted all the way into the depths of the palace.

The unpleasant, unmusical din caused Lady Theresa to knit her brows. She could not comprehend why desperation had taken the place of melody.

“It seems Baron Radmoth has caused some sort of incident, and the citizens are in an uproar. Even with the windows closed, it is quite like this.”

“Radmoth… Radmoth? Err…”

“He is the younger brother of His Grace Duke Idris.”

“Ah, Idris’ brother.”

A murky light flickered in Lady Theresa’s drunken eyes. Yes, Radmoth was indeed Idris’ younger brother. And who, she wondered, was Idris himself? She attempted to ask, but finding it too much effort, Lady Theresa let out a small yawn and drifted back into a cloud of heavy slumber.

Count Elman had steeled himself. Or rather, he had realised that the situation was beyond his control and understood there was no room left to forge his own future. He had lost his very reason for clinging to life. Both Tytania and the space pirates had abandoned him. The will to defy fate had vanished, leaving him with nothing but the modest hope of meeting his end without too much ugliness.

A heavy sigh escaped him. What meaning had his life truly held? As a Tytanian of noble rank, he had lived a life of abundance, acquiring both education and social grace and earning the respect of others. There were surely plenty who would have envied him. Yet, he had been nothing more than an existence merely drifting into the present upon the currents of the past, only to continue drifting toward the future.

If he were foolish, he could perhaps find satisfaction in that and live out his days in peace and safety. At the same time, the education and social skills he had acquired would vanish, leaving nothing behind, and others of his kind would simply lead the same sort of life.

As Idris ran towards the Clanner’s private chambers, he encountered a single chamberlain. Clad in a black tailcoat, the man held a tray bearing a scroll with great reverence.

“What is that?”

“An imperial decree has descended from His Majesty Harsha VI, Emperor of Vardana.”

It seemed this chamberlain was unaware of the circumstances behind Idris racing through the corridor.

“What does it say?”

“May I proceed with the reading?”

“Just do it, quickly!”

The chamberlain cleared his throat.

“Then, let us see… ‘I, Harsha Vardana, eighteenth Emperor and Sovereign of the Great, Mighty, and Beautiful Vardana Empire, do hereby’…”

“You needn’t read all that!”

“As you will. Err, ‘I hereby strip the individual known as Idris Tytania of all imperial offices and titles, and declare him a public enemy of the Empire’…”

The moment the chamberlain ceased his reading in astonishment, Idris reached out and snatched the decree. His hand, trembling with passion, tore the document apart. He then brought his foot down hard upon the decree as it lay slammed against the floor.

The chamberlain, who had already been on the verge of collapsing, lost all strength to stand simply from looking directly into Idris’ bloodshot eyes. He slumped to the floor and pressed his hands together before his face, as if pleading for his life.

“If I survive, the first thing I shall do is depose that unprincipled ruler and bring an end to the history of the Vardana Empire. You had better be prepared.”

Idris exhaled a breath like flame.

“Transmit this to the Emperor! It is a matter of only two or three hours. For now, he may cling to his throne all he likes. That throne is worth ten thousand times his own life. After all, it is crafted from diamonds and platinum.”

A fresh surge of rage lent him a new burst of speed, and Idris began to run once more. The chamberlain was not even worth killing; he was merely a waste of time.

At this moment, it seemed that nothing remained to obstruct the actions of Duke Idris Tytania.

Jouslain Tytania trotted ahead, accompanied by Balamy and Hyulick.

“How ironic,” he couldn’t help but think.

The ten million men and women residing in Uraniborg aside from the Tytania family, were subject to rigorous screening, even if they were considered commoners or ordinary citizens. Whether it was the owner of a street-side crêpe stall, a bartender in training, or a C-class operator on a cleaning robot team, they all ought to have enjoyed highly satisfying lives, harbouring an innocent sense of privilege. After all, they were inhabitants that were on the “very lap of His Clanner Highness” and the “centre of the universe”.

And now, they were rampaging, having cast aside all etiquette, manners, and morals, leaving nothing but their raw, primitive survival instincts. Jouslain could not bring himself to blame them. Two hundred years of peace and prosperity had weakened the human capacity to control one’s instincts. It was only natural.

Rough voices and the heavy thud of footsteps approached, prompting Jouslain and the others to crouch behind the holly hedge. They were guards belonging directly to the Clanner. It soon became clear, however, that they were not pursuing Jouslain’s group.

“Has Duke Idris still not been found?”

“Not yet, regrettably.”

“Keep searching. If he somehow manages to escape from Uraniborg, they’ll cut off our heads.”

The voices and footsteps hurried away into the distance.

Balamy tilted his head slightly.

“Why is Duke Idris being pursued by the guards?”

“Oh my, have the guards revolted, or has an order been issued to detain Idris…?”

“Only the Clanner could issue such an order.”

Excitement tinged Balamy’s voice.

“Is it possible that the Clanner and Duke Idris have had a falling out? Perhaps Duke Idris attempted to imprison the Clanner and failed…”

“It is possible. However, let us not jump to conclusions. Lord Balamy, the truth is, I do not have a grasp on the overall situation.”

Jouslain spoke his true feelings. Through Princess Lydia, he held trust in Balamy. Yet, he still felt a subtle psychological distance towards a youth nine years his junior. Could Balamy truly serve as a replacement for Ariabert?

Meanwhile, Balamy could not hide his astonishment. Although it had become very slight, given the various circumstances and emotions leading up to this moment, it could not be said that his estrangement from Jouslain had completely vanished. The thought that a confrontation might ultimately be unavoidable remained constantly stuck in the back of his mind.

“I see.”

Responding with extreme brevity, Balamy pressed his lips firmly together.

There was no time for idle daydreams. Having laboured so hard to successfully infiltrate Uraniborg, there was nothing to do but act. The three of them walked through the absurdly vast gardens of the Clanner’s estate without hesitation. That said, Hyulick was merely following behind the other two. Near a pavilion surrounded by roses, they encountered about ten guards.

“Y-Your Grace, Duke Jouslain!”

The captain of the guard’s voice trembled heavily. He appeared utterly exhausted, as if he were barely managing to maintain his professional composure amidst the limits of his physical and mental fatigue.

“You are Captain Slatina, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

A Tytanian noble could not serve their position if they failed to at least remember the name of the Clanner’s captain of the guard. Balamy suddenly launched into an interrogation.

“Where is His Clanner Highness? I must have an audience with him. Tell me.”

“His Highness is at the Clanner’s Manor—”

The captain trailed off, falling into an aghast silence. It seemed he had suddenly remembered that Jouslain and Balamy could not possibly be at Uraniborg. Pretending not to notice his change in demeanour, Jouslain questioned him.

“It seems you are searching for Idris. What has he done?”

“That’s…”

The captain of the guard hesitated, his expression turning to stone.

“I cannot answer that. It is top secret.”

“In other words, he has done something to displease the Clanner.”

“…”

“No, come to think of it, I had no right to ask such a question. I was stripped of my own title long ago. Now then, if you will excuse me.”

Jouslain deliberately turned his back on the captain and began to walk away, and Balamy followed suit.

“P-please, wait.”

Only Jouslain looked back over his shoulder; Balamy ignored him coldly.

“Why are you both here? And what is it you intend to do? Please, let us know.”

Jouslain suppressed a wry smile. He could tell the captain was utterly bewildered. He decided not to reply that it was “top secret”.

“It is none of your concern. Do not trouble yourself with it.”

“I-I cannot do that.”

“Is that so? Should you not return to your original mission? Why not focus your search on Idris?”

The captain opened his mouth but closed it without uttering a word.

“If you do that, it would be a great help to us. Well, I suppose Idris is likely trying to do something similar to me, though…”

Jouslain did not speak the latter half of his thought aloud.

II

He had expected they might be shot on the spot or that the guards would be summoned. However, no matter how many steps they took, Jouslain and his companions were not obstructed. Perhaps the fact that they had walked rather than run had left Captain Slatina utterly perplexed.

In truth, Captain Slatina was also finding it difficult to distinguish friend from foe, much like the ordinary citizens and lower-ranking soldiers. Whose orders should he follow to fulfil his duty as a soldier? Who should he follow to ensure the safety of his own future and his family? Neither as a public figure nor as a private individual could he find the answer.

An excessively powerful organisation was collapsing within too short a period, and its flying shards were wounding people and forcing bloodshed. Such disorder and chaos were unprecedented in the history of Tytania, or perhaps even destined to be its last. During the Great Purge of the second Clanner, Nuri, much blood and many tears had been shed, but it had been carried out in an orderly fashion under Nuri’s cold calculation and ruthless judgement, and such chaos had not been brought about. Once Nuri declared the end of the purge, the daily lives of the citizens were swiftly restored.

Idris had idolised that Nuri, but the current situation was far from his ideal. The height of confusion and disorder was nothing short of hideous, and furthermore, the very heart of Tytania, which should have been in control, had become the greatest factor in the chaos due to the absence of a chain of command.

Yet, that very fact provided Idris with a way out. Had the functions of Tytania been operating normally, Idris would have been held in custody by the Clanners. As Zelpha had informed Ariabert and Jouslain, it might have resulted in something like a demotion or exile.

“Not a chance.”

Idris had abandoned any intention of relying on the authority of the Clanner. The Clanner had merely been exploiting Idris’ hostility towards Ariabert and Jouslain. For one who had stooped to becoming a mere lackey, the end was all too clear.

“I shall strike first, before I am erased.”

The fact that he had reached his decision with such surprising speed was likely because feelings of distrust and suspicion towards the Clanner had been accumulating within him unconsciously. Alternating between running and walking, he moved from the military district towards the residential area, approaching the Clanner’s manor with extreme efficiency. As he rounded a five-metre-high marble wall that boasted the grandeur of a bygone era, the two dukes found themselves face to face at point-blank range.

“Jouslain!”

“Idris!”

Both remained frozen for several seconds, their gazes clashing in shock. It was the third individual who first regained his composure. Balamy raised his charged particle gun, bracing it with his left hand, and took aim precisely at Idris. Noticing the movement, a sneer flashed across Idris’ face.

“Balamy, the little protégé, huh? Still clinging to Jouslain’s side, are you? My, my, and with a band of rogue pirates as well? What a ridiculous axis of power.”

“And I am in a position to shoot you.”

Idris raised an eyebrow at Balamy’s sharp retort, but he did not launch a counterattack. To him, his only true equal as an enemy was Jouslain.

“Even so, what an outrageous coincidence. To run into you in a place like this… it feels almost too convenient.”

“It is a coincidence, but it was not an impossibly low probability.”

Jouslain had also regained his composure, responding to Idris in a subdued voice.

“Hmph. And what makes you so certain?”

“Because our objectives are likely the same. It is only natural that we would meet at our destination.”

“Our objective?”

Idris narrowed his eyes affectedly. Even noticing this, Jouslain spoke plainly.

“To kill the Clanner.”

Idris laughed without making a sound.

“You have finally spoken your true feelings. It is nothing less than a declaration of rebellion. You cannot complain if I shoot you dead right here.”

“At that moment, you will die as well.”

Having been pointedly ignored, Balamy spoke with a surge of youthful bravado. Hyulick remained consistently silent.

“Shall we kill each other here, then?” questioned Jouslain, his voice growing more composed. “I am sure the Clanner would be delighted. Or perhaps he would be disappointed. After all, what he expects is for us to kill one another right before his very eyes.”

“He worries about the strangest things. But where is our obligation to indulge the Clanner’s bad taste? If I were to pull the trigger here…”

“I should remind you, it is three against one.”

Balamy warned once more. An invisible straight line connected the muzzle of the gun to the centre of Idris’ chest.

“Always the noisy brat, I see.”

“Lord Idris, he is a fully grown man. He has my full trust. Underestimating him simply because he is younger is an act that will only come back to haunt you.”

It was Zelpha, who was even younger than Balamy, who had brought Ariabert—a man of superior status in every respect—to his death. Idris acknowledged his disadvantage, but he managed to suppress any sign of it in his expression or demeanour.

“I see. At this distance, it would be impossible to miss, even if he tried. In that case, I have a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

“How about we do this,” Idris moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “The one who kills Ajman shall become the next Clanner. Until then, we shall act together and eliminate anyone who attempts to interfere. I believe it is a fair contract. What say you?”

“Even at this stage, you are still obsessed with the position of Clanner?”

“What is so bad about that?”

“I have no intention of judging the good or the bad about it.”

It was near one of the half-dozen service gates within the inner courtyard of the Clanner’s estate. Across the road, low-rise buildings housing the peripheral agencies of the government stood in a row, but the staff had long since fled, leaving no one to witness the strange confrontation unfolding in the street. On the road itself, several ground vehicles lay overturned and engulfed in flames. Light and shadow cascaded alternately from the canopy, creating an ethereal, surreal scene.

“Then let me ask you this: what have you been living for until now!?” bellowed Idris at last, his false armour scattered in invisible fragments as his passion and fury were laid bare. “You don’t want to do this, you don’t want to do that. Are you a child in his rebellious phase? What have you been living for all this time? What do you intend to live for from here on? Answer me!”

To his horror, Jouslain could not help but feel that Idris’ interrogation hit the mark. It was true; what had he actually wanted to achieve by living this far? He had performed his duties and responsibilities as a Tytania noble almost perfectly. He had never committed a failure worthy of reproach, and by his mid-twenties, he had secured the title of duke. He had done what needed to be done and achieved what required achievement. Yet, it had all been a matter of what “must be”.

“I do not believe I will survive this. I do not believe I can remain unharmed after killing the Clanner.”

“Ah, I see. You’ve got quite the resolve.”

“Therefore, Lord Idris, you may do as you please.”

“A defeat without a fight, then?”

“I suppose that is how it shall be.”

“I would like to say that is fine, but unfortunately, I cannot. I will not be satisfied until I have beaten you into the ground.”

“Before Ajman?”

“It is that very way of taking of yours that I abhor!”

Having only just turned twenty-five, Idris shouted, ignoring Balamy, who was even younger than him.

“Just because you were born two or three years earlier than me, who do you think you are! Mark my words: if we kill the Clanner, we will settle this once and for all.”

“Very well. Now, let us enter the Clanner’s manor quickly. It will be all over if we are seen by others.”

Two of the three held card keys capable of opening and closing all the gates of the Clanner’s manor. It was a privilege of being a duke. However, Jouslain’s key had already been deactivated. As Idris opened the gate, he silently let the other three pass through.

Moving further into a corner of the palace, they walked down a rarely used corridor, and upon turning a corner, they encountered a figure leaning weakly against the wall. Both parties were startled, but they quickly recognised one another.

“If it isn’t Count Elman.”

“Lord Jouslain… Thank goodness, I have finally encountered a sane human being. I was terrified that I might lose my mind. The attendants have all fled…”

Jouslain looked at Count Elman with a calm expression. Much like Captain Slatina, everyone was utterly exhausted.

“It might be best not to be too relieved, Count. It is strange of me to diagnose myself, but I certainly cannot say that I am sane.”

“Lo… Lord Jouslain,” gasped Count Elman. “I beg of you. Please, do something. You are the only one who can bring an end to this chaos.”

III

As Count Elman gripped his sleeve, Jouslain perhaps should have offered at least some token of comfort to the middle-aged noble. However, he simply could not bring himself to do so.

“Count Elman, if you will excuse me, I have no business with you.”

“Out of our way!”

Idris barked with arrogant bluntness. Count Elman stared back at Idris, his expression wiped clean, then looked at Jouslain once more before bowing his head.

“I shall do that. I apologise for disturbing you.”

“Wait a moment.”

It was not Count Elman’s behaviour that caused Jouslain to speak up instinctively. Rather, it was a foul odour seeping through the half-open door that had piqued Jouslain’s suspicion.

Idris noticed it too. Keeping his muzzle trained on Count Elman, he demanded:

“What is that smell? Who else is in that room?”

“That’s…”

Balamy spoke up, as if he had realised something.

“Surely, the Clanner isn’t in that room?”

Count Elman’s complexion changed because he had been taken aback by Balamy’s misunderstanding, but that only served to further mislead Idris. A fierce light ignited in both of his eyes.

“I see. So he was skulking around in a place like this? Hmph. How far the Clanner has fallen.”

“That is not it, Duke Idris. The one who is there is…”

“You’re in my way. Move!”

Idris grabbed Count Elman by the collar and shoved him away violently. Staggering back, Elman’s spine hit the wall, and he looked toward Jouslain and Balamy as if pleading for help, but at that moment, neither of them had any intention of adhering to etiquette or decency.

First, Idris stepped into the dark room with heavy strides, wielding a drawn charged-particle gun. Jouslain and Balamy followed him. Hyulick followed as well. In a panic, Count Elman followed them too.

“Has someone arrived…?”

A woman’s voice, quite unexpected, brought Idris to a halt. Jouslain raised a hand, and the lights automatically brightened, illuminating the room with the clarity of daytime. The furnishings were elegant and antique. Someone lay reclined upon a magnificent canopy bed.

“Duchess Theresa…?”

The three of them spoke aloud, while the fourth swallowed the words he was about to utter and instinctively took a step back. There was a good reason for that. For Fan Hyulick, who had murdered both of Lady Theresa’s sons, reuniting with the mother of Zarlisch and Arses was something he wished to avoid as much as possible.

Whether it was Jouslain or Idris, once they realised the Clanner was not in the room, they should have made a swift exit. Beyond having no business with Count Elman, they had no business with Lady Theresa either. Along with Balamy, all three of them disliked Lady Theresa, and they could not have cared less what happened to her. Nevertheless, as if drawn to the scent of death and decay, all three of them had gathered by the lady’s bedside.

“Why must there be such a fuss?” muttered Lady Theresa. “… Tytania is Tytania. Nothing has changed.”

Jouslain looked back at Count Elman.

“What is Lady Theresa’s condition?”

“You can see it for yourself. The toxins from the alcohol have spread to every organ in her body. It is only a matter of time before her heart stops due to severe alcoholism.”

“Come to think of it, she was a pitiable woman.”

“There is no use in dwelling on the past now. Or shall I avenge her sons here and now?”

Idris replied with cold indifference. Balamy remained silent, but he was sweating from the sheer horror of the moment, truly experiencing what one might call a “hair-raising” sensation. Was Theresa’s figure the wretched end of the “noble blood of Tytania” that had once been so full of glory and power?

Jouslain spoke once more:

“Count Elman.”

“Y-yes.”

“Please keep yourself hidden in a safe place. Before long, the time will come when your existence will matter.”

Count Elman struggled to grasp the meaning of the latter half of the sentence, but he decided to follow the advice in the first half without question. He did not want to die. He was not capable of combat. To reconcile these two propositions, there was no choice but to follow Jouslain’s suggestion. The only issue was the possibility that Uraniborg itself might vanish, regardless of where Count Elman chose to hide.

“How kind of you.”

Idris gave a thin smile. He had found an outlet for the negative emotions he had been brooding over in solitude. Because this was so evident, Jouslain did not take offence.

“We are all from the same Tytania Clan. It is better if he survives.”

“Is that all? You make it sound as if you are promising Count Elman a high position.”

“If you do not wish to see Count Elman placed in a position far beyond his station, then you must ensure your own survival.”

“It is a foregone conclusion that I shall survive,” spat out Idris, his voice more pointed than sharp.

Count Elman was no heavyweight. Certainly not when compared to the previous Clanners, nor to the members of the Council of Five Families held a year ago. But what was the problem with that? If the scale of Tytania shrank to a size that could be governed by Elman’s talent and capacity, and if it became stable, then that should be enough, shouldn’t it?

These were Jouslain’s thoughts on the matter. Balamy, who was far too young, looked at Jouslain with a bewildered expression, but Idris keenly perceived Jouslain’s mindset and let out a low, mocking laugh.

“So now that Ariabert is gone, it’s Count Elman’s turn?”

“…”

“He is a suspicious fellow. Why is it that your name or mine didn’t come up?”

“…”

“It would be far more natural that way. The position following Clanner is Duke, and even among those, you and I are the heads of the Five Families.”

“You may not know it, but I have neither the intention nor the right to become Clanner.”

Murderous intent infused Idris’ voice.

“Do you have no ambition? Or is it simply that you do not wish to bear the burden of responsibility and mission?”

“Interpret it however you wish.”

Without answering the question, Idris suddenly pressed the muzzle of his gun against Lady Theresa’s left temple and pulled the trigger. There was no time to intervene. Lady Theresa did not even suffer a final convulsion.

“What have you done, Idris!?”

“Tytanian nobles may be destined to die, but they are not permitted to rot while still living. Call me a murderer if you must.”

Silence was the only reply. Leaving Count Elman behind in a state of vacant shock, the four of them exited the room and its stench. Of the four, three offered a bow to the deceased at the doorway.

Before long, they emerged before the stairs leading to the upper floor. Six guards, their faces contorted with tension, levelled their guns at them.

“I cannot allow either of Your Graces to proceed any further.”

“By whose command?” questioned Idris with affectation, all while idly fiddling with his charged-particle gun.

“By the command of His Clanner Highness himself.”

“There was no need to ask.”

As Jouslain spoke, Idris glared at his opponent with white eyes, but he offered no verbal reply, merely ascending the first step with heavy, rhythmic footsteps. Remaining silent, Jouslain ascended the step as well. One more step.

While keeping their guns levelled at them, the soldiers appeared overwhelmed, casting pleading glances toward their superior officer.

“Both of you, stop right there!” shouted the officer, his voice drenched in cold sweat. “Otherwise, if I may be so bold, we shall be forced to restrain you by force!”

“Try it,” declared Idris with sheer bravado, and a bead of genuine sweat rolled down the officer’s forehead to his cheek.

“I—I am warning you. I have been granted permission to shoot. Please, value your lives!”

“A warning full of nothing but polite language lacks any real impact,” muttered Fan Hyulick.

He was positioned behind the two dukes, though not because he intended to use them as shields, but simply because of the width of the staircase that had placed him there.

“There is no way he will shoot,” declared Jouslain, though his tone was strange, possessing both a certain gloom and a striking clarity. “If the Clanner were to let him shoot us, it would be right before his very eyes. He would likely want to witness our deaths firsthand.”

“You are quite right. Guards, there is no need to follow the Clanner’s orders at this late stage. Do you not realise that almost everyone else in this palace has already fled?”

The guards were visibly shaken.

Countless contradictions and paradoxes had dulled Jouslain’s judgement. Yet, once they were resolved, the mist would clear, and a fragment of the truth would reveal itself. Once he reached the top of these stairs, Clanner Ajman would be waiting. Jouslain was certain of this. It was useless to ponder there what he could do or what Idris might do. He simply had to press on and ascend the stairs.

“Move aside. I must see His Clanner Highness.”

It was Jouslain who spoke, though Idris was the one who began walking first. Overwhelmed, the guards parted to the left and right without a word, allowing them to pass. Balamy followed and ascended as well, yet the guards remained unmoved. However, when Hyulick attempted to follow, a beam of light burst into rainbow colours at his feet.

Clinging to the staircase handrail, Hyulick narrowly avoided a fall.

“Why did you only shoot at me!?”

“I was obviously going to shoot at you. You aren’t a Tytanian noble, are you?”

“So you think it’s alright to shoot ordinary citizens, you bigot!”

“Ordinary citizens? I am appalled by what I hear. You’re a vermin who dared to oppose Tytania, and I shall dispose of you right here.”

As Hyulick attempted to retort further, it was not words that rained down upon him, but titanium bullets, accompanied by flashes of light and the roar of gunfire.

IV

The moment a single bullet blew back a lock of carrot-coloured hair, a chain reaction of fresh gunshots erupted. Screams and sprays of blood struck the floor as guards were thrown back and tumbled over. Several sets of footsteps rushed towards him, and a powerful hand gripped Hyulick’s wrist, pulling him to his feet.

“Are you alright, Hyulick?” asked the coolest and most detached voice in the universe.

Hyulick let out a heavy breath and shouted at the members of the Blaze Flag Army.

“You’re late! I almost died! What was even the point of that tracking device?”

“I had hoped you might perform a great feat that would defy my expectations. However, it seems that one cannot pour two litres of wine into a one-litre vessel, after all.”

“Fine, then. From now on, just call me ‘the one-litre man’.”

“Despite what he says, the Doctor was worried about your safety. That’s why, from the moment you all set off, he was figuring out a way to infiltrate Uraniborg.”

Miranda explained with a smile.

The more the situation descended into chaos, and the more disorder expanded, the more advantage the Blaze Flag Army would gain.

Amidst a swirling vortex of death and destruction, the Honest Old Man Junior approached Uraniborg, dodging cannon fire by veering left and right. When a flash of light surged from Uraniborg’s identification system, everyone thought it was the end, but the ship’s small size proved fortunate. In place of the Honest Old Man Junior, a heavy cruiser that was already half-destroyed and attempting to return to Uraniborg took the brunt of the energy barrages. Because it had been lurking in the shadows, the Blaze Flag Army was saved, though it remained unclear whether the ship that had served as their shield was a friend or a foe. Along with several other vessels, they surged into the harbour gate and made their insolent landing.

“The interior of this impregnable fortress is a palace of exquisite splendour. The security is surprisingly light. Such is the nature of the strongholds of the powerful since ancient times. You’ve heard of the term ‘Efang Palace’, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, just shut it, I get it.”

It was Walenkov who responded to Hyulick.

“Once we’ve slipped inside, we can move at our own pace. After all, we’ve been Duke Idris’ guests once. I managed to observe the city quite thoroughly during that time.”

Pagès added to that remark:

“We’ve taken down the computer system used for controlling the city’s functions. Now, Uraniborg is no different from Babylon or Ur, or whatever old cities of mankind were named.”

“You certainly know some rare names.”

“What? I’m just repeating what I heard from the Doctor.”

Alternating between conversation and sprinting, pushing through crowds and winding through deserted back alleys, the group of pirates successfully infiltrated the Clanner’s manor.

“What happened to that boy, Zelpha?”

“My husband is with him, so there’s nothing to worry about. Out of all of us, my husband is the most sensible one.”

“The moment he married Miranda, he ceased to be a sensible man.”

“Did you say something, Mahdi!?”

As Mahdi pressed his hand to his mouth, Jouslain and Balamy appeared on the floor above. They seemed to have noticed the commotion downstairs. Idris was nowhere to be seen. He likely had no concern for Hyulick’s affairs.

What strange fellows, thought Jouslain. When it was just the two of them with Balamy, the atmosphere had been so thick with tension and resolve that it was almost suffocating, and yet, the moment members of the Blaze Flag Army joined them, an almost irreverently cheerful energy enveloped their surroundings. They were surely not immortal themselves, and yet, Jouslain wondered if they would meet their deaths with that same cheer. He felt an emotion akin to envy.

Balamy, on the other hand, held neither affection nor trust for the Blaze Flag Army.

“Do not follow us. Do whatever you like, whether it be looting or otherwise. Just do not get in our way.”

“We have no intention of getting in your way, Milord Viscount. We are merely here to support Hyulick. We are technically allies, after all.”

As Miranda responded, she hoisted a large hand cannon onto her shoulder, looking remarkably dependable. Balamy stared at her with a mixture of exasperation and admiration, but he soon averted his eyes.

“In that case, fine.”

It seemed he had been somewhat overwhelmed by the female pirate and was annoyed at his own reaction.

“Let us move on, Duke Jouslain.”

Balamy turned on his heel and began to walk away. This time, Jouslain found himself following the younger man. Mahdi clicked his tongue.

“Honestly, why must we risk our lives for the sake of these dukes?” replied Miranda with a wicked grin. “Just think about your bankbook, Mahdi. Every time the number of zeros increases, your happiness index goes up with it.”

“What does that have to do with our current situation?”

“What I mean is, once the new Clanner takes office, he’ll likely offer you a massive reward.”

“Hmph, and why should I believe that?”

“Then why did you come along? You could have easily stayed behind on the Honest Old Man Junior.”

Before Mahdi could respond, a volley of gunshots rang out, and bullets splintered against the marble floor. Quickly identifying the direction of the fire, Miranda ducked behind a statue and pulled the trigger of her hand cannon.

In truth, what Mahdi was planning was to plunder valuables from the Clanner’s manor. Between the gemstones, precious metals, and small works of art, the Clanner’s manor was meant to be the “greatest treasure trove of thieves in the universe”. Since he wasn’t stealing from the poor, Mahdi felt no pang of conscience.

“If the bathroom taps are made of gold, I’ll rip them right off and take them with me.”

That was precisely why Mahdi had arrived with a large rucksack on his back. It was light now because it was empty, but by the time he returned alive, it would likely weigh as much as a small child.

The blast of the hand cannon struck the surrounding air with a violent thud, and a thick streak of fire raced forward, blowing away a corner of the palace. Spirals of orange and grey erupted into the air. About ten newly arrived guards were hurled against the walls, their hands still clutching their weapons as they were sent flying.

“I was ordered by Duke Idris to set out from Uraniborg, and now I am pursuing that very same Duke. It’s an interesting life, isn’t it, Hyulick?”

“Thanks for the summary, Miranda.”

“It’s the life of a traitor, really.”

“Could you at least try to be less blunt about it?” grumbled Hyulick, averting his eyes from the human blood that had sprayed as far as the ceiling. “Doctor, say something.”

“Winner becomes king.”

“What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“It is perhaps the greatest truth of life. Between the young nobles who went up to the upper floors and the Clanner likely waiting for them, which side will prevail, and which one will survive? This is the decisive moment for my thesis.”

As Hyulick genuinely wondered if Duchess Theresa might have been more sane than this man, the sound of gunfire rang out once again. The roar of the hand cannon had summoned more than thirty guards.

“Even so, why on earth do they not use an automated security system?”

“The mark of the upper class is to go out of one’s way to use humans for tasks that the poor would simply let machines handle. If her circumstances were different, Miranda too would likely be surrounded by thirty or fifty ladies-in-waiting.”

“It’s just not my style. I prefer to do what I can do for myself.”

“It is not just that. In practical terms, it creates employment. There is class discrimination, certainly, but that is a different matter altogether from slavery.”

Within the magnificent palace, the audacious group of space pirate terrorists known as the Blaze Flag Army continued their bloody rampage. Bullets and beams showered the area from all directions, but the counterattacks were so fierce that the dreamlike palace was transformed into a nightmarish skirmish. Overly ornate military uniforms lay scattered everywhere, serving as shrouds for the dead.

Finally, casualties began to fall among their own. Walenkov, who had been firing away with autorifles in both hands, suddenly tumbled as he attempted to dash from the hall towards the shelter of the stairs.

“Walenkov! Hey, what’s wrong!?”

“Ah, Pagès, having such a big body, it’s quite a disadvantage.”

Three holes had been pierced through Walenkov’s massive frame, and the flow of blood grew heavier with every passing second.

“Hold on, I’m going to get a doctor.”

“It’s no use. There’s no saving me.”

“Don’t go spouting lines like you’re some famous physician. Dying in a scene like this is for minor characters. It’s a cheap drama cliché.”

“The drama will carry on, so I’ll leave the rest to you… It’s fine. I never thought I’d die in such a magnificent… palace.”

His voice faltered, the bubbles of blood burst, and Walenkov ceased to move. The pirates surrounding him, having witnessed the boundary between life and death, paid their respects to the deceased in their own ways. Miranda closed his eyelids, and Doctor Lee placed the man’s favourite handgun upon his broad chest.

“We have to move. This place is far too exposed. If we are surrounded, we will all end up following Walenkov.”

Suppressing their sentimentality, the pirates resumed their frantic sprint. Bullets splintered against the marble floor, flashes of light scattered, and gunshots rang out in rapid succession. Led by Doctor Lee, the pirates scrambled into the cover of a building and some hedges. They were fortunate not to have suffered a second casualty.

“This is a story that no one has ever confirmed, but…” Doctor Lee looked around at the group. “There is an urban legend—or rather a space legend—that an ultimate weapon is passed down through the successive Clanners. We can’t laugh this off.”

“An ultimate weapon, eh?”

Miranda gave a sardonic laugh.

“Is it a massive bomb capable of blowing up a star? Sounds like something straight out of a children’s anime.”

“No, it is a small black box, about the size of one’s palm. And it has a red button on it.”

“And what happens when you press the button?”

There was a tone in Mahdi’s voice that seemed to be weighing the monetary value of this so-called “ultimate weapon”.

“Uraniborg will fall to the surface of the planet Vardana,” replied the Doctor with a quietness that felt entirely out of place. “The attitude control system of Uraniborg will be rendered useless.”

V

There was one individual who had managed to infiltrate Uraniborg far more stealthily than the boisterous members of the Blaze Flag Army. It was not a pirate or a veteran soldier, but a young woman.

Nineteen-year-old Francia Tytania, dressed in a form-fitting pair of overalls, leapt from the autocapsule and disappeared into the chaos of the crowd.

Even with the Tytania surname, she was neither a noble nor a public figure. There was no one there who could observe her beauty with any sense of composure. As the majority of the crowd surged towards the spaceport, Francia, running in the opposite direction, was frequently shoved, knocked aside, and showered with angry shouts. Although she was healthy, she was not particularly robust, and she had to pause many times to catch her breath and rest her feet, yet she never ceased her forward progress towards her destination.

“Lord Jouslain!”

Francia had wanted to cry out with enough force to empty her lungs, but she restrained herself. Even amidst such chaos, calling Jouslain’s name would undoubtedly draw the attention and suspicion of the crowd. In a state of such excitement and fear, she could not allow a vent for that energy to arise that might bring harm to Jouslain.

Francia steadied her breathing once more and ran with as much speed as possible, weaving through the crowd with fluid movements. Jouslain had infiltrated Uraniborg to confront Clanner Ajman. Naturally, he would be heading for the Clanner’s manor. Consequently, Francia set her destination for the Clanner’s manor as well. If this simple, straightforward principle of action proved to be incorrect, nothing but despair would remain for her.

With a modest privilege—a card permitted only to those bearing the Tytania surname—she managed to gain entry to the Clanner’s manor. In a wide corridor beneath a skylight, she encountered an obstruction. It was a noblewoman.

“Your face looks familiar.”

Countess Theodora’s gaze felt as though it were planting invisible needles into every part of Francia’s body. By this stage, Theodora was clad in a lavender dress that could only be described as extravagant.

“I remember now. You are Duke Jouslain’s mistress.”

“I’m his lady-in-waiting.”

“What is the use of dressing up your words at this late stage? What a foolish girl. In such an unseemly state, I don’t even need to ask what you’ve come here for…”

Since she had been told there was no need to ask, there was no need to answer. Prepared to fire her weapon should it become necessary, Francia stared back at Theodora. The Countess looked up towards the skylight.

“Don’t you ever wish to make those clusters of light that fill the universe your own?”

“I do not. They are of no use to me.”

“So, you are saying that all you require is the favour of Duke Jouslain?”

When Francia replied with silence, Theodora thrust the needles of her gaze and voice into her opponent.

“You have no right to claim the glorious name of Tytania. Even if one is a mere fringe member of the clan, even if one is born a woman, one must crave the greatest power, the highest status, and the greatest wealth. To seek the shortest path and devise the best strategy for that purpose is the divine destiny of a Tytanian. To be devoid of ambition is simply unacceptable.”

Theodora’s fierce tone disturbed her own breathing. In that brief moment, Francia retorted.

“And yet, you shall meet the worst possible consequences, Countess.”

Theodora’s sneer vanished, and as the hem of her dress rippled, she closed the distance towards Francia.

“Stop chirping such clever little remarks, girl. I cannot abide a woman of my own kind. If you had truly intended to do so, you had countless opportunities to manipulate Duke Jouslain from behind the scenes and seize actual power, yet you let them all pass you by.”

Any weaker woman would have cowered under her intensity. Francia, however, did not flinch.

“I do not intend to criticise your values, Countess. I am well aware that I cannot match your brilliance or strategy. Therefore, I ask that you grant me leniency for this small degree of independent action.”

A sneer once again graced Theodora’s lips.

“Always a retort. I wonder if this is Duke Jouslain’s influence. Unfortunately, I cannot grant such leniency. Should your meddling have even one in a million chance of making Duke Jouslain survive, it would be most unpleasant for me.”

“I know this is the height of rudeness, but I have no more time to continue this conversation. Please excuse me.”

As Francia bowed and prepared to walk away with haste, Theodora thrust her right hand into the waist of her dress. What she withdrew was a pistol with a black sheen. Reflexively, Francia pointed her charged particle gun at her. Neither of them fired.

The reason Theodora had hesitated was because the pistol in her hand was a model that fired gunpowder-based bullets. Naturally, such a weapon would produce a gunshot. The purpose of a gunshot is to alert others to danger and call for help. However, Theodora did not want anyone else to know she was confronting Francia. If others were to rush to the scene, they would, of course, find it suspicious that she was involved in such an encounter and wonder why she was holding a pistol.

Francia had surmised Theodora’s psychological state in an instant. Therefore, she acted without hesitation. She simply took off at full speed. Slighting past Theodora’s side, she moved away like a youthful doe.

“Wait!”

Theodora let out a furious cry. A mere girl, younger than herself and a mere-to-be relative with no title whatsoever, had disobeyed a command from a Countess of the highest order. It was a sin worthy of ten thousand deaths.

At that moment, Theodora had clearly lost her composure. It mattered not if the gunshot rang out and the guards came rushing to the scene. She could simply explain that she had retaliated because Francia had shot at her. Since the guards were also lacking in calm amidst the bewilderment and confusion, they should have had no leisure to doubt Theodora’s excuses.

Letting Francia escape right before her eyes, Theodora clicked her tongue at her own carelessness and drew a heat gun from the left side of her dress. Had she presented it first, she could have incinerated the brat to a rare or even a medium grade, but because she was right-handed, she had missed her chance.

Theodora had been taught, and had firmly believed, that fencing and marksmanship were as essential to a Tytania lady’s refinement as dancing, piano, or horse riding. Her exceptional nature lay in the fact that she never neglected such training. Had it come to a direct shootout, Theodora might have been able to bring not only Francia but even Jouslain and Fan Hyulick to their knees.

At that moment, a shift occurred in Theodora’s psyche. The sharp edge of the fury that had been directed at her suddenly veered away.

Duke Jouslain Tytania.

That insolent little girl had wandered into the Clanner estate seeking her master. In other words, Duke Jouslain was somewhere within this dinosaur-like massive palace. Once she had rushed to his side, she would burn them both to death together.

At the same time? No, the correct order would be to make Duke Jouslain prey to the intense heat before her very eyes and then proceed with the girl. It was the mercy of a noble to grant her a few seconds of overwhelming shock and sorrow.

For Theodora, who aimed to become the first female Clanner in Tytania’s history, Jouslain was an entity that had to be absolutely eliminated. She had no intention of dirtying her own hands to remove him. However, the situation had changed. She needed to deal with it flexibly and achieve results swiftly.

With a freezing smile upon her face, the Countess began to walk.

Chapter 7 – Philosophical Confrontation

I

A band of rogue pirates known as the Blaze Flag Army had originally stayed at Uraniborg after receiving an invitation from Tytania. However, after being forced to depart for an attack on the Kingdom of Elbing, they did not return home upon their failure. Instead, they had secretly infiltrated the Clanner residence as uninvited guests.

“To put it kindly, it was an ungrateful act. To put it bluntly, it was a shameless one.”

“No matter how you look at it, that’s not a kind way to put it, Doctor. Besides, why did we even come trotting along in the first place after being summoned by Tytania?”

“Because, Miranda, we needed to scout the enemy’s base of operations for this very moment. We also had to uphold the honour of Count Elman.”

“Aren’t we currently trampling all over Count Elman’s honour?”

“Fate is a heartless thing.”

Pagès clicked his tongue.

“Damn it, there are guards everywhere we go.”

“Of course there are. This is the enemy’s headquarters.”

Mahdi braced himself and fired his auto-ray rifle indiscriminately.

Pagès was the most bellicose of them all. Undoubtedly, Walenkov’s death had had a profound effect on him. Every time an enemy figure entered his field of vision, flashes of blue and white erupted from his left and right hands, eliciting screams.

“Don’t shoot those who are fleeing, Pagès.”

Even Fan Hyulick could occasionally make a sensible remark. Doctor Lee also admonished him:

“You’ll run out of energy. Keep it in moderation.”

“I’ve got plenty of spares!”

Pagès reached into a pocket of his combat suit and pulled out a handful of energy capsules to show them. Doctor Lee shook his head, Miranda let out a sigh, and Hyulick merely shrugged his shoulders.

It was a time when those ungrateful and shameless pirates were displaying their true villainy, roaming even within the inviolable reaches of the Tytania Clanner Estate.

Two young men, who ought to have been noble beings of the heavens, proceeded deeper and deeper into the palace, each harbouring flames of a different colour within their hearts. Duke Idris Tytania held a crimson flame within, while Duke Jouslain Tytania radiated a blue one. Ambition and vengeance. Though the colours of their flames differed, their ultimate goal remained the same. End the life of Ajman Tytania, the eighth Landless Clanner. Unless that life was taken, Idris would face downfall, and Jouslain would fail to avenge his half-brother.

Accompanying Jouslain, Balamy alternated between running and walking, guarding Jouslain’s flanks and rear while keeping his eyes fixed on nothing else. Although only two or three days had passed since Ariabert’s death, Jouslain’s reason seemed to have been entirely overthrown by emotion, to a degree that even made Balamy feel concerned. Though, upon realising he was worrying, Balamy felt a sudden urge to click his tongue.

After a brief but intense firefight with a group of guards who had yet to abandon their loyalty to the Clanner, the two dukes called out to one another.

“Jouslain!”

“Idris…”

“Hmph. Calling out to each other like this, we almost sound like we’re friends.”

“There is no harm in being friends.”

“Don’t talk such nonsense before your death,” spat out Idris, and after confirming Balamy’s presence, he wore an even more displeased expression. “I wish you would say something a bit more clever. Especially if it were to be the final words of Duke Jouslain Tytania. They would, after all, be recorded in the biography of the next Clanner, Idris Tytania.”

Jouslain stared at Idris, unable to tell whether he was being serious or merely joking.

“Idris, surely you aren’t still seeking abdication from the Clanner?”

“More nonsense, then? Now that I know he’s such a madman, there is no way I would submit to him. However…”

Idris curled one corner of his lip.

“However, if he is intent on it, there would be no harm in playing along with him. He has used me quite extensively, after all. This time, it is my turn to use him. If a performance is required, then I shall provide one.”

“Are you saying you will inherit the Clanner—Ajman’s madness?”

“You truly have a poor grasp of vocabulary, Lord Jouslain. At the very least, I should hope you would call it “ambition”.”

Jouslain let out a sigh.

“Idris, it is your freedom to pursue the path of the hegemon. I shall tread a different path from yours. I have no intention of hindering you. It is as simple as us parting ways here.”

Idris curled the corner of his lip, on the opposite side to the one before.

“Regrettably, it is not that simple. Your very presence is an unbearable nuisance.”

“As I told you, I have no intention of hindering you.”

“Your intentions are irrelevant!”

Idris raised his voice, glaring at Jouslain and his companions on either side.

“As long as you draw breath, you will be an obstacle to me. For some reason—Ah, a reason I do not even care to know—people gravitate toward you. Not even counting that whelp Balamy’s, even the petty thieves who betrayed me and fled have gathered around you.”

The expression “petty thieves” wounded the pirates’ pride, but no one protested. They felt somewhat awkward about the use of the word “betrayal”. It was true that their actions could hardly be described as being purely loyal to Idris, and they were, in fact, somewhat impressed by Idris’ attitude—showing no sign of flinching even when faced alone against Jouslain and his eight companions.

“Shall we save that discussion for later, Idris?” suggested Jouslain quietly. “First, we must strike down the Clanner. That is our highest priority. There would be no joy for that man if we were to perish together.”

“Very well,” agreed Idris curtly.

Perhaps he remembered their true objective as they continued to speak.

The three nobles and six pirates, who had become true allies of convenience, arrived at the Clanner’s private study exactly two minutes later. For some reason, not a single guard was in sight.

The group made their way towards Ajman and finally reached their destination. It would have been strange for them to be shocked upon facing Ajman himself. However, none could suppress their sense of dread and tension, though in varying degrees.

Ajman welcomed the group from behind a desk larger than an ordinary bed. It was an antique piece, crafted from a pure black wood native to the tropics and intricately adorned with carvings of mythical flora and fauna. The Clanner calmly surveyed the nine intruders.

“To think you would arrive before me in such a manner.”

The Clanner’s voice was difficult to describe. It sounded like a computer programme, designed to emit a tone filled with both contempt and superiority. A youthful voice responded, sharp as a needle:

“We are profoundly humbled that we failed to arrive before your presence as corpses.”

“Do you intend to be sarcastic, Lord Idris? I do not possess the art of conversing with the dead. While I do not seek such dialogue by choice, this is a rare opportunity. It might be a pleasant diversion to have a heart-to-heart talk.”

“…”

“Even so, you have brought quite a peculiar group with you. Had it been the late Duke Ariabert, he would have appeared having brought the Tytania elites under orderly command.”

Before Jouslain could say anything, Doctor Lee suddenly began a “lecture”.

“Your Clanner Highness, you wanted to be a hero.”

The scalpel of Doctor Lee’s words began to coldly dissect the Clanner Highness.

“However, to be passed down through the ages as a demigod-like hero, one must rise from nothing and defeat enemies stronger than oneself. Yet, you have become the head of Tytania by mere chance. The leader of the most powerful organisation in the universe. At this rate, no matter how many victories you achieve, they will only be recorded as victories for Tytania.”

The Clanner remained silent but then directed his gaze toward Jouslain. As to ask, “Who’s that weirdo?”

“Do not trouble yourself. I am merely a philosopher, known as Lee Shanchen.”

Following that unconventional introduction, the “lecture” resumed.

“That was when Fan Hyulick appeared. It was the emergence of a source of light just when all hope seemed lost. Duke Ariabert’s single careless defeat was utterly insignificant. It was then that you had an idea. One condition for becoming an ideal hero is to cultivate strong enemies. And the other condition is to weaken one’s own allies.”

As Doctor Lee gazed at the Clanner, Ajman gave a small, silent nod. It was an expression of utter arrogance, as if to say, “I am listening,” but such an attitude suited him perfectly. To Hyulick, who was observing them, it appeared that even Doctor Lee was pushing his mind and body to their absolute limits just to stand his ground against the Clanner. It was already a known fact that Ajman was no mere villain, but even as a villain, he was on an entirely different level from anyone else.

“It is fundamentally impossible for a leader of an organisation to deliberately weaken it. Furthermore, there is no possible reason to do such a thing. And yet, you were different from that.”

Doctor Lee steadied his breathing and continued.

II

“You might have had the thought that if Fan Hyulick joined the four dukes, they could somehow oppose you alone. That’s why your attitude towards Hyulick was extremely lenient. He was a genius in tactics, but without an army to command, he was nothing more than a helpless civilian. If you had ordered all of Tytania to kill him, he would have been resting in a coffin long ago.”

The Clanner watched Doctor Lee, remaining perfectly still.

“Frankly, everything was filled with contradictions. Everyone struggled to discern the Clanner’s true intentions. That was the result of two hundred years of brainwashing.”

Doctor Lee wiped the sweat from his brow with his fingertips.

“We believed that one who holds the title of Clanner governs with the desire for the survival and further expansion of Tytania, regardless of the methods employed. Indeed, whether it was the Council of the Five Families, internal purges, or the expulsion of the incompetent, every system was designed to be constructed towards a single, certain direction.”

Within Tytania’s Clanner Estate, he was presenting the results of his research directly to the Clanner in person. For Doctor Lee, this might have been the realisation of a dream.

“However, you have walked that path in reverse. Yes, if one chooses the opposite of the necessary option with every timing and accident, one moves steadily towards a negative outcome. And now, you have almost reached your goal.”

Doctor Lee took a deep breath and fell silent. He looked like a student waiting for a supervisor’s grade after finishing an oral examination.

Clanner Ajman responded with an air of boredom.

“Clever opinions, when one listens to them, can serve as a decent way to pass the time. Very well, I shall concede one thing. This past year has been quite enjoyable. More so than the ten years preceding it. Now, Duke Jouslain, what is it you desire that has brought you all this way to see me?”

“I have but one wish.”

“Speak it.”

“To avenge Ariabert.”

Jouslain declared his intent, drawing a deliberate sigh from the Clanner’s lips.

“Such predictable answers produce nothing new. However… Ah, Duke Jouslain, you never cease to disappoint me. To be so obsessed with personal vengeance, what a small-minded person you are. If I grant you another twenty years, may I hope to see you mature even while still in the prime of your life?”

“Do not expect the latter, Clanner. I mean Ajman. I am well aware of my own limitations. The reason I have succeeded in politics and diplomacy until now is because the immense power of Tytania stood behind me.”

“What a cheap display of humility.”

“It is not humility. Had I been a commoner, I would likely be performing some mediocre job suited to my age at some corporation or public institution.”

“And you claim this happened simply because you were born in Tytania? That it is all due to the corrupt blood of Tytania? If so, then you are nothing more than a mere derivative of myself.”

“Who do you think you bastard are!?”

In his fury, Idris lost all sense of propriety. He realised it immediately, yet he felt neither the need nor the obligation to correct himself. As if half-shoving Jouslain aside, he stepped directly in front of the Clanner and rested his hands upon the edge of the desk.

“If you truly hated Tytania that much, you should never have set your sights on the position of Clanner from the very beginning. No—it is not too late yet. Abdicate this very instant. If you wish to live, that is.”

“Stop it, Idris,” reprimanded Jouslain, his voice heavy with fatigue and helplessness.

It was a strange thing, but as far as his memories went, it was the first time Jouslain had felt a sense of empathy and something akin to friendship towards Idris. In the end, it was likely Idris who had felt the greatest affection for Tytania. Had Jouslain known that, there would have been no need for him to oppose Idris.

Idris harboured hostility towards Jouslain because he viewed him as a rival and an obstacle. Had Jouslain taken a step or two back and accepted Idris’ superiority, Idris would have given Jouslain no second thought and would have instead charged straight towards the Clanner’s seat. There might have been no need for them to compete, and they could have coexisted.

“No, probably not.”

While it might have been possible if it were only Jouslain and Idris, had Ariabert and Zarlisch remained active, Idris would have ended up contending with them as well. Zarlisch, in particular, would never have yielded to Idris.

No matter the circumstances, thought Jouslain. With Ariabert gone and Zarlisch deceased, Jouslain was the only remaining obstacle for Idris. Even if Jouslain were to step down of his own accord, Idris would not be satisfied. Idris would find no meaning in being yielded that kind of victory. Both Ariabert and Zarlisch had vanished by hands other than his own. Unless he personally defeated the last of the Four Dukes, Idris would forever carry an emptiness within his heart.

“If you loathe the power of Tytania that much, why not try to dispose of us using your own strength alone?”

As Idris spoke those words and exhaled, Jouslain resumed the interrupted conversation.

“You merely sit in the safest place in the universe, pretending to suffer. You issue orders without dirtying your own hands, have reports brought to you, and incite competition between us. And then, you murmur that it is all so hollow, while in truth, you are mocking it all. To you, the Four Dukes were nothing more than toys to stave off your ennui.”

Ajman directed an unfathomable gaze toward Jouslain.

“A childish provocation. Furthermore, you have misperceived the facts. Look beyond the canopy. Look within. Can you truly say this is the safest place in the universe?”

“Do not attempt to divert the conversation. This is your own doing, a consequence of your excessive games.”

Light and shadow swayed greatly outside the window, casting dark stripes across the faces of those present. For a moment, the shadow caused Idris’ eyes to glint like those of a nocturnal beast.

“I see.”

The Clanner placed a hand against his strong jaw.

“In that case, let me make a proposal. Duke Jouslain, Duke Idris, why not indulge in a traditional duel before me? Naturally, the victor shall be granted the right to challenge me.”

Jouslain and Idris exchanged glances without thinking.

“It is not such an extravagant suggestion. There is always a semi-final before a final, after all. Or perhaps you lack the confidence to defeat your opponent?”

“That’s just a cheap provocation.”

“Do you think we would take such a bait?”

Jouslain and Idris both simultaneously rejected the Clanner’s proposal. That’s a passing grade, thought Doctor Lee to himself.

“Haven’t you become the Clanner and have, for all intents and purposes, come to rule the universe? What are you even dissatisfied with?”

“It’s insignificant,” dismissed Ajman coldly. “I merely inherit what others have ruled over and passed on. There is nothing creative about it. My emptiness is no pretence.”

Doctor Lee spoke, as if it had been a long time since they had last conversed.

“It appears that Your Clanner Highness dislikes relay races. However, if the intermediate runner drops the baton, the race itself cannot proceed. Well, I too believe there is no act more foolish than inheriting power through lineage, but that is merely the thought of a mere pirate. It would be unnatural for someone in your position to think so.”

“No, it is not entirely unnatural.”

Because it was Jouslain, rather than Clanner Ajman, who voiced his disagreement with Doctor Lee, the pirates turned their eyes toward him as if looking at a strange beast.

“I can understand the feeling of being dissatisfied with a life that consists of nothing more than passing on what was handed to you to the next generation.”

Idris yelled:

“Are you going to believe what that bastard says, Jouslain?”

No one noticed immediately, but Idris had referred to the Clanner as “that bastard”.

“That bastard is nothing more than a pervert who enjoys throwing the world into chaos and watching blood spill. Wasn’t that exactly why he killed Ariabert? If he had let Ariabert live, he could have been able to step down from that unwanted position before long. He is actually reluctant to let go of his position as Clanner. Even you should be able to understand that much, right!?”

“I understand. But there is a grain of truth in what he says. Setting aside good and evil, I too had grown weary of my lineage and status. Because I lacked the capacity to be a Clanner, I felt I had had enough the moment I became a Duke. That said, because I felt the responsibility of being a Tytanian noble, I tried to thrust that burden onto Ariabert… My methods and ultimate goal may differ from the Clanner’s, but I am certainly a coward.”

“Both of you, stop fooling around!”

Once again, a roar of anger exploded. Clad in an aura of fury, Idris slammed his hand against the desk. His eyes were blazing. He pointed his sharp fingers alternately at the Clanner and at Jouslain.

“You say your means and ultimate goals are different? They are the same. Both of you are seeking the destruction of Tytania. No matter what logic you spin, the result is the same!”

At that moment, it seemed as though the Clanner, Jouslain, and even the pirates were all overwhelmed by Idris alone.

“I am different. I will make Tytania stronger. I will make it wealthier and more prosperous. So that not a single person will dare to rebel… I am the only one who truly loves Tytania.”

Idris’ voice rang out with great clarity, drowning out the noise from outside the window.

III

Theodora glared in every direction with an expression resembling that of a witch. She had lost sight of Francia. While Theodora also possessed a well-toned physique and youthful stamina, Francia was even younger, her movements more supple, and to Theodora’s eyes, she resembled a cunning little animal.

Where was she hiding?

Francia felt as though she were being pursued by a wild beast, yet her anger outweighed her fear.

What she feared was losing Jouslain. There was nothing else she truly dreaded. Was there no chance to strike back?

“Come out, little girl!” screamed Theodora. “You are a disgrace to Tytania. You think it doesn’t matter what happens to Tytania, so long as your own petty desires are met. You might believe yourself to be pure, intoxicated by your own delusions, but you are nothing more than a selfish person who thinks you can do anything as long as you use affection as an excuse.”

That might be true, thought Francia. Now that it was pointed out, she did indeed feel that she didn’t care what happened to Tytania. However, that was no reason to be subject to a moral lecture, especially from Theodora.

Francia slowly raised the vase she held in her hands. It was said to have been crafted one hundred and fifty years ago in a famous pottery workshop on the planet Baftegam. It pained Francia’s heart to destroy such a masterpiece, the fruit of an expert’s painstaking labour, but she felt there was no other way.

“Forgive me.”

After offering an apology to the vase, Francia threw it with a supple motion towards the back of Countess Theodora’s head. At the same time, she gripped the charged particle gun tightly in her right hand.

She had intended to take Theodora down in two stages. However, the Countess’ movements caught Francia completely off guard. In a single fluid motion, she used the gunpowder pistol in her right hand to shatter the vase mid-air, and without a moment’s delay, she fired the heat ray gun in her left hand directly at Francia, who had leapt from her hiding place. Francia narrowly avoided the lethal ultra-high temperature, but in doing so, she left her entire body exposed to Theodora.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, little girl.”

It was extremely useful advice, though whether Francia would be able to make use of it in the future remained to be seen.

“Why are you pursuing me so relentlessly?”

“I actually began to feel pity for you. That is why I thought I would tell you.”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“… Duke Jouslain is dead,” announced Theodora with solemnity.

“That is a lie,” declared Francia without a hint of agitation, causing Lady Theodora’s expression to darken.

“To call me a liar after I went through the trouble of telling you. You seem strangely confident, but do you have any proof he isn’t? Do not think that an insult to a countess can be forgiven, especially coming from a mere lady-in-waiting.”

“I can tell just by looking at your face. You have the face of a liar.”

Theodora flew into a rage, but after taking a deep breath, she readjusted the aim of her heat gun back at Francia.

“So it was a lie after all. Your actions just now have confirmed it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Lord Jouslain is alive. The reason you seek to kill me is because you do not want me to meet with him. If Lord Jouslain had truly passed away, you would have simply laughed and left me be.”

Theodora realised that she had been seen through by a young girl. She bared her white teeth, but to gnash them rather than smile.

“At first, I had no intention of killing you. I only intended to laugh while watching you mourn. But I have changed my mind. For the sake of the honour of the Tytania nobility, I will kill you.”

Everyone is a patient, a victim of the infectious disease known as Tytania, thought Francia. How many things would one have to lose simply because they had taken the Tytania surname?

“I have no intention of being killed for the sake of your honour.”

“Your will is irrelevant!”

Unintentionally, Theodora’s reaction towards Francia bore a striking resemblance to Idris’ reaction towards Jouslain. While such a fact was of no concern to Francia herself, her feelings were swelling with a sense of panic that transcended mere anger. How much time had she wasted simply because she had been trusted by such a formidable noblewoman? What if something were to happen to Jouslain while she stood here in this futile confrontation with Theodora? As the thought crossed her mind, an expression resembling pure dread surfaced on Francia’s face.

“There is no need to be so frightened.”

Theodora’s smile served only to make her beauty appear hideous.

“Your beloved Duke Jouslain will be dead by the end of the day regardless. If you are lucky, perhaps you shall meet him again in some parallel world.”

“I take it you have no one you wish to meet again.”

“Silence, you insolent brat! How dare a mere little girl…”

Theodora was incensed. She had fallen into a vicious cycle. In her attempts to psychologically corner Francia, she would provoke her spitefully, only to face unexpected counterattacks that left her losing her own composure.

Originally, Theodora’s true objective had lain elsewhere, but before she knew it, she had become obsessed with utterly defeating this “glib-tongued brat”. For Francia, it was an immense nuisance. She was risking her life solely to meet Jouslain, yet now she found herself being hunted by a frenzied Theodora, on the very brink of being killed.

She could not afford to lose to such an absurdity.

Francia devised a plan. Though it was a plan that bordered on a gamble. She held a charged particle gun in her right hand, but her arm remained hanging at her side. Keeping her arm down, she moved only her wrist and fired.

The lethal charged particle passed vainly through the space just one metre beside Theodora.

“Did you really think you’d hit me with a posture like that!?”

Mocking her, Theodora attempted to thrust her muzzle towards Francia, who had her back turned. However, only three steps into her run, Theodora tripped as the hem of her dress flared up. Fragments of a shattered vase, flowers, and water had caused her feet to slip.

Clanner Ajman waited for Idris’ passion to subside, then rested both elbows on the desk and spoke with composure.

“By the way, surely you don’t believe you managed to make it this far through your own strength alone.”

“I do,” declared Miranda, slowly readjusting the hand cannon resting on her shoulder. “You want to say that you deliberately let us get this far, don’t you? Even a low-born pirate like me can see right through that. You have guards lurking somewhere nearby, don’t you?”

“Ho. You are a clever woman, despite your appearance.”

With an air of supreme arrogance, Clanner Ajman removed his elbows from the desk.

That was the signal. Armed figures burst through the study doors. In an instant, Jouslain and the others found their retreat severed. There were eight guards with automatic charged-particle rifles levelled to the left and eight to the right. In the centre stood an officer, medals pinned to his chest.

What a pointless life.

Jouslain gave a gloomy laugh. Self-loathing and self-pity held hands, performing a dance of mockery. The one playing the flute was the demon Ajman. Tytania, holy Tytania. Tytania, cursed Tytania. A wretched clan that had accumulated sins, possessed by the fever of cosmic dominion.

He should have shot the Clanner dead the moment their eyes met. His failure lay in allowing himself to be distracted by debate. Yet, he had been unable to resist the temptation to learn the Clanner’s true intentions.

“I, Vice-admiral Jalandal, have arrived. Your Highness, how are we to deal with these insolent intruders?”

Unexpectedly, it was Idris who responded in a sardonic voice:

“What a small number of men for a force led by a vice-admiral. If you bastards believe you have the advantage, you are sorely mistaken.”

IV

Vice-admiral Jalandal faltered. If it had been merely pirates, it might have been one thing, but those standing at the forefront of the muzzles were Duke Jouslain, Duke Idris, and Viscount Balamy.

“Go ahead, shoot. We shall shoot in return.”

“B-but you are outnumbered, Duke Idris!”

“There is no need to worry about such trivialities. The first to die shall be the Clanner and his retinue.”

To be fair, Vice-admiral Jalandal was by no means a coward, but he recoiled when he looked directly into Idris’ bloodthirsty grin. Should a lethal beam or a bullet strike Clanner Ajman amidst the ensuing melee, all would be lost, regardless of what might happen to the three young nobles.

The flaws of a management style built solely on following orders were laid bare, leaving Vice-admiral Jalandal with no way out. He was supposed to have been in a position of absolute superiority. If only His Clanner Highness would issue an order… He had only hesitated for two or three seconds, but in those moments, he failed to notice the villains approaching silently from behind.

“Don’t move!”

Both of Vice-admiral Jalandal’s ears were occupied. His left ear was pressed against the muzzle of Fan Hyulick’s protruding ray gun, and his right ear against the muzzle of the percussion pistol Seraphine Coopers. Jouslain had not even noticed when they had slipped behind the guards.

“Y-you bitches…”

Ignoring the vice-admiral’s wheezing, Hyulick glanced at his rank insignia.

“Soldiers, drop your guns. Otherwise… well, His Excellency the vice-admiral might just get a two-rank promotion to become a high-admiral. The pension for his bereaved family might even increase.”

“You’re finally starting to act like a pirate, Fan.”

“I’ve always wanted to try something like this.”

While the conversation sounded rather irreverent, the vice-admiral’s subordinate soldiers remained frozen, unable to move. Observing this, Doctor Lee spoke up:

“It is an unnecessary detail, Hyulick, but there is no high-admiral rank in the Vardana Empire’s military. Between vice-admiral and fleet admiral, there is a rank known as full admiral.”

“So, he shall become a full admiral, then. Well, no doubt, that’s a promotion.”

“I, too, shall teach you one more unnecessary detail,” declared a stern voice. “As long as Tytania holds dominion over the Vardana Empire’s military, a commander who met their death due to their own blunder shall not be eligible for a two-rank promotion.”

The Clanner looked across at everyone.

“This is ridiculous. Have you gone through the trouble of coming all this way just to speak of such things?”

“You aren’t dead as long as we keep talking.”

When Idris responded with a sneer, the floor shuddered. The crystal glass of the windows vibrated, and the chandelier on the ceiling performed a clumsy dance. From beyond the windows, the dull thud of an explosion and the shrill scream of sirens reached them faintly. Grey shadows flickered past the glass.

“Another district has collapsed, it appears,” muttered Doctor Lee, addressed the hesitating guards with a brand of coldness that differed from that of the Clanner. “Loyal soldiers of Tytania, despite all our tradition and authority, Uraniborg is quite literally falling apart. Surely you have families. Perhaps lovers. Do you not feel the need to go and ensure they are safe?”

A ripple of agitation stirred among the guards. However, it was not the guards who responded aloud.

“Do not concern yourself with me. Lend not any ear to the sophistry of bandits. Act like a soldier of Tytania should, and follow your sacred duty. Fire! Fire!”

Vice-admiral Jalandal’s voice was steeped in tragedy, and Doctor Lee appeared impressed, lightly rubbing the tip of his nose.

“It is a most admirable loyalty. However, it is also a futile virtue. Consider this: when either Duke Idris or Duke Jouslain, who stand before you, will ascend as the new Clanner, how will your words and actions be judged?”

Idris barked an order, perhaps because his name had been mentioned before Jouslain’s.

“Jalandal, take the guards and get out of here at once. This is a matter between the supreme leadership of Tytania, the Five Families. It is not for someone of your station to concern himself with. Begone!”

The Vice-admiral snapped to attention. In the words of Doctor Lee, it was the result of “two hundred years of brainwashing”.

“If, by chance, a peaceful resolution can be achieved, it is not the duty of a subject to obstruct it.”

Stuttering out that meagre excuse, the vice-admiral moved his hands with great caution and ordered his subordinates to withdraw. The guards had no choice but to obey their superior’s command and fled out of the study. Finally, Jalandal, the vice-admiral, left the room, his expression still stiff, having only just regained the safety of his ears and his mind. He must have been deeply anxious about how he would be treated from that moment forward.

Once again, Clanner Ajman was alone.

“Useless lot.”

He muttered the words without much apparent disappointment, then rose from his chair with an air of composure. Everyone’s gaze converged upon the Clanner’s right hand. In his right hand, he held a thick-handled black whip, its rich lustre and suppleness were reminiscent of a snake that had only just shed its skin.

In such a situation, it was Mahdi who spoke the obvious:

“My, is that what you use with your concubines in bed, your Clanner Highness?”

The remark was so utterly vulgar that, rather than becoming angry, the Clanner merely gave the whip a light flick to test its feel, without even sparing the speaker a glance.

Had someone suddenly opened fire at that moment, the situation would have changed drastically, but that was not what happened. Jouslain and Idris each had dozens of questions they wished to press upon the Clanner. Hyulick believed that Jouslain and the others were the ones qualified to kill the Clanner, and Doctor Lee was thinking, “Observe before shooting”.

“Do you truly believe that the two of you, working together, could strike me down?”

The Clanner’s sneer cut heavily and coldly into the very hearts of the young dukes.

“Had the Four Dukes come at me together from the very beginning, at least the terms of our engagement would have been settled. To fight amongst yourselves, to splinter and weaken your own strength was a foolish way to behave.”

“Wasn’t it you who orchestrated it?” retorted Jouslain, pouring all his strength into his words. “Furthermore, you were clearly afraid of Ariabert. That is exactly why you used such despicable means to dispose of him. Had Ariabert remained, we could have brought down Uraniborg without having to fear anyone pointing a finger at us in condemnation!”

“Now, I wonder about that.”

The front of the Clanner’s desk split apart without a sound. It happened as if lift doors were opening, but much faster. What emerged was a number of large-bore muzzles, far too many to count in a single instant.

“Scatter!”

Simultaneously with someone’s shout, lines of fire and flashes of light flooded the area in front of the desk. Both the nobles and the pirates scrambled away, escaping the swarm of lethal, flickering strikes.

“You spoke with such arrogance, and yet you resort to a sneak attack. Truly, how cowardly of you.”

Miranda’s voice overlapped with Hyulick’s.

“Don’t act so high and mighty when you’re the one who’s afraid to die!”

The hand cannon perched upon her shoulder let out a ferocious roar. The shell struck the Clanner’s desk from a rightward angle, erupting in a burst of fire, smoke, and thunder.

Amidst the swirling smoke and debris, everyone watched. The wall behind the desk split further left and right, and the Clanner, his cloak billowing, attempted to vanish through a secret door.

The fissure began to close slowly. Just as Idris, letting out a furious shout, tried to leap into the gap to pursue the Clanner—

Idris’ right arm, still clutching his heat raygun, was caught within the thickening door.

“……!?”

“The speed at which the door opens or closes depends entirely upon my will.”

Through a narrow gap, Ajman’s face became visible. It was a face like a steel statue, towering over the ice plains of a freezing planet.

“You coward!”

Idris struggled to pull his trapped arm free. It was a futile effort. The door began to squeeze his arm with intense pressure.

“Idris!”

Jouslain rushed over and grabbed Idris’ right arm, attempting to pull it out.

“Mind your own business!”

Even then, Idris tried to reject the assistance of his sworn enemy.

“Oh ho, so the two Dukes are working together now. I suppose I failed to program respect for nobility into that door. I shall have it updated at a later date. However, for today, you should simply accept the loss of that right arm.”

The Clanner’s derisive laughter drifted through the gap in the secret door.

“Lord Idris, both my right hand and my gun are thrust towards you. Why not try shooting me? If Heaven’s will is with you, you might just hit your mark.”

V

Idris pressed the firing button in rapid succession. On the other side of the secret door, the heat rays flew wildly and vainly.

During that futile burst of fire, the merciless door was slowly compressing Idris’ right arm from both sides. Cold sweat welled from Idris’ forehead, trickling down his cheek, past his well-formed jaw, and down towards his throat. With every passing moment, pain gripped him. An eerie sound announced that his right arm was being crushed.

“Stop it, Ajman!” shouted Jouslain, unable to bear it any longer. “Killing Idris may be the work of a hegemon, but causing him such agony is the deed of a mere torturer!”

“You maintain such righteousness even at this stage, Duke Jouslain? I had held you in higher regard than others, but perhaps it was that self-satisfied look of yours that I truly despised.”

The gap in the door had narrowed to a mere three centimetres.

“You needn’t worry about Duke Idris. I have prepared something else entirely for you. This is my private domain. Therefore, the punishment of intruders shall be carried out according to my own whims.”

Idris let out a scream. The pride that had allowed him to endure the agony had finally reached its limit. His right arm’s skin was torn, the muscles crushed, and the nerves severed, until, at last, the bone shattered. A fire of agony scorched Idris’ entire body, and he writhed unconsciously.

His right arm was torn away.

Idris’ body writhed from the recoil, blood and bodily fluids spraying from the wound where his arm had been torn away. He was slammed against the floor. The torn skin swayed like tattered rags, revealing white bone and bundles of nerves.

With a pale face, Idris attempted to pull himself up. He clawed at the closed door with his left hand, attempting to plant his knee while letting out groans of pain and curses.

“Stop, Idris, don’t push yourself.”

Jouslain grabbed Idris’ left shoulder from behind and pulled him away from the door.

“Someone, call a doctor. Or rather, is there anyone here with medical knowledge?”

Miranda replied:

“I don’t have much expertise, but I can manage at least some first aid.”

“Then I am counting on you. Please, tend to him.”

Doctor Lee spoke:

“Just to be clear, Lord Idris is a man who was attempting to kill you. Even so, are you still telling us to treat him, Lord Jouslain?”

“I, too, was seeking to overthrow Idris. However, I never imagined it would be in such a manner. This is far too cruel. For now, I simply wish to save his life.”

“I see. It certainly appears that you are not suited to become the supreme commander of Tytania,” nodded Doctor Lee as if convinced. “But your objective is definitely to kill the Clanner. You should prioritise chasing after him. Leave this to us and be on your way.”

Jouslain hesitated, but the younger Balamy persuaded him:

“We cannot allow the Clanner to escape. Leave this to them, and let’s go after the Clanner ourselves.”

Jouslain nodded, gave a light bow to the pirates, and then galloped away alongside Balamy.

“Now then, although I am called ‘Doctor’, I am a philosopher and not a physician, but I shall do all that is within my power. Give me a hand.”

“You are unexpectedly soft-hearted for a ‘Doctor’. This noble lord intends to kill us next, right after the Clanner.”

“No time for sarcasm, Mahdi. Are you content to simply stay here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Lord Jouslain has gone to pursue his objective. The person who could obstruct us is no longer here. So you, in your turn, should be pursuing your own objectives.”

Mahdi’s face lit up. He remembered his original purpose. To plunder the vast treasures held within this magnificent palace.

“Right, I’m off.”

“Avoid artworks. They are bulky, and the more expensive they are, the harder it is to get rid of them.”

“I know that very well. I’ll only take cash and jewels. Just wait for me, my darling treasures.”

Mahdi ran off with an admirable lightness of step, intent on filling his empty sack to the brim.

“Good grief, we’ve wasted so much time. How is Duke Idris faring, Miranda?”

“He hasn’t fully regained consciousness yet. It’s quite dreadful… even for me, and I’ve seen plenty of casualties.”

Crushed and torn wounds generally looked far more gruesome than clean amputations. Idris was no exception. The cross-sections of his injuries lacked any semblance of order; bone and nerve were entwined with muscle, and blood continued to spurt from ruptured vessels, staining the pirates’ clothes.

Idris, lying on the floor, trembled violently, his unharmed left arm and both legs convulsing. His closed eyelids drifted slightly open, and his mouth parted just enough to force out the voice of the dying youth.

“Do not touch me so familiarly, you pirates…”

The vibration in the air left the impression of a voice that barely remained within the audible range. Nevertheless, it carried no sense of weakness. He attempted to prop himself up with his right hand, but his facial muscles stiffened when he realised his right arm was gone.

“Stay still. We are trying to treat you.”

“Are you bastards even capable of treating me?”

“First, we must disinfect the wound, and then…”

“Useless!”

Idris’ voice possessed a strange strength despite its low volume, and a light flickered in both his eyes. Moving his eyes from side to side, Idris questioned them.

“Where is Jouslain?”

“He went after the Clanner.”

“Is Balamy with him?”

Doctor Lee responded with a nod rather than words, prompting a groan from Idris. It was a sound that Miranda would later describe as “like a person cast into hell, clawing their way up a cliff leading to purgatory.”

“I will be the one to kill Ajman. Do you think I would yield just because I lost an arm?”

“I don’t. You are, after all, the renowned Duke Idris.”

While Hyulick’s voice held sincerity, it lacked the strength to restrain Idris’ passion.

“Stay still! You’re going to die from blood loss and shock. Miranda!”

Doctor Lee’s voice was sharp, more of a command than a mere reprimand.

Miranda, who valued practicality in all things, pulled a small spray canister from one of the many pockets of her field uniform. She sprayed a fine, freezing mist minus thirty degrees Celsius onto Idris’ bleeding wound.

The effect appeared in short order, freezing both the blood and the wound. It was a horrifying sight. The lower half of Idris’ arm looked as though several icicles of crimson, frozen blood were growing from it. In contrast to the fact that Idris was a handsome young man, the sight was nothing short of gruesome.

“I have stopped the bleeding for now, at least…”

“Sorry for being a burden.”

The first words of gratitude escaped from Idris’ earth-coloured lips. At the same time, he stood up, though he staggered. He had managed to stand on his own strength despite having likely lost nearly twenty per cent of his total blood volume. The second pistol gripped in his left hand was aimed at the pirates, who were both his sworn enemies and his saviours.

“But if you try to restrain me any further, I will kill you.”

“… Understood. Go.”

Thinking about it, it was an impolite way to speak, but Idris made no reprimand. Without even a reply, he began to walk, his steps unsteady. His heart and lungs must have been under considerable strain. He moved forward with the sluggish pace of a drunkard, letting out agonised wheezes.

“Where is he going?”

“He likely knows another passage. He probably went to follow Duke Jouslain.”

“What about us?”

Doctor Lee responded to Hyulick’s utterly bewildered voice with a wry smile:

“We have interfered in other people’s family affairs quite enough already. Shall we follow Mahdi’s lead and return to our own business?”

Idris continued to walk. Or rather, he was swimming through the air. He knew the depths of the palace as well as Jouslain did. Jouslain, chase down that demon Ajman. I am the one who will kill him. And then, shall we have one final duel between the two of us?…

Having suddenly lost his right arm, Idris lost his balance many times, crashing into walls and nearly toppling over. His vision grew blurred from the blood loss and intense pain. As he tried to shake his head to clear the haze before his eyes, a figure appeared before him.

“Is that you, Jouslain? Where is Ajman?”

“I am here.”

An emotionless voice struck Idris from the front.

Idris instinctively raised his left arm, but he had almost no vitality left to carry out his thoughts. His upper body swayed, and the gun gripped in his unfamiliar left hand trembled violently, defying his will. Even so, Idris’ sheer tenacity would not let him remain silent.

“Die, Ajman!”

The gunshot rang out.

Idris’ second gun was a ray gun, so it was incapable of making a gunshot. In the centre of Idris’ already bloodstained chest, a new blossom of blood bloomed. Clanner Ajman gripped a gunpowder-based pistol in his right hand, the scent of death wafting from its muzzle.

Even so, Idris did not fall immediately, merely lowering his left hand. However, when Ajman silently and expressionlessly fired a second shot into his left knee, he finally collapsed. He fell into a pool of his own blood.

“All talk, aren’t you?”

Muttering this coldly, Ajman turned on his heel. As he strode into the next room,

“Clanner…!”

Jouslain’s voice was trembling with passion. He and Balamy had been beset by minor misfortunes, causing their arrival to be delayed. They had encountered groups of guards twice and had been forced to evade them.

“At last, you’ve arrived. Since you were late, it’s a one-on-one again. Childish games like duelling are not to my liking, though.”

“I have had quite enough of catering to your whims. Prepare yourself to pay for what you did to Ariabert.”

Ajman let the corners of his mouth curl upward slightly.

“What an unexpected touch of humour. Do you truly believe you can defeat me, Your Ducal Grace?”

“You homicidal maniac. How many masks have you worn to survive this long?”

“Masks, you say? How immature of you. Everything I have told you thus far has been the truth. Today is merely the day one of those truths revealed itself. It is impossible for me to be slain by a human inferior to myself.”

“Nothing is impossible!”

Jouslain levelled the heat ray gun with both hands, preparing to press the firing button. This was, of course, exactly what Ajman had anticipated. A black serpent streaked through the air, followed by the sound of a heavy impact, and Jouslain recoiled.

A lash of the electromagnetic whip had struck Jouslain square in the face with brutal force.

A searing sensation swept across the upper half of Jouslain’s face, from left to right. Along with an intense, excruciating pain, his vision vanished. He could no longer see the blood spraying through the air, falling to the floor like scattered rubies. For Jouslain, the entire universe had been plunged into darkness.

Chapter 8 – Towards Zamana Masafent

I

Balamy could not believe what he had done. His finger had pressed the trigger of the charged particle gun, firing directly at Ajman, the Clanner, a living Celestial being.

The flash of light that erupted did not strike Ajman’s body, but it struck the epaulette on the right shoulder of his cloak and sent it flying, causing the Clanner to twitch an eyebrow.

“Hoh, the son of my late brother?”

The Clanner shifted his gaze, still clutching his electromagnetic whip.

“You missed. Such things happen when one acts on impulse, driven by cheap emotions. Come to think of it, your father was much the same.”

“… What is that supposed to mean?”

“That is precisely why, despite him being the elder brother, he ended up submitting to me, the younger brother. And in the end, he met such a disgraceful death.”

Balamy’s entire being burnt with heat. His late father, Marquis Estrade, had met an accidental death on the stairs of their home, and much of the blame for that lay with Balamy. Though it felt like a distant, distant past, not even a year had passed. As acid was poured onto his wound, Balamy readjusted his grip on his gun.

“Stop, Balamy.”

The voice, thick with pain, came from Jouslain. Having lost his sight and with his face and throat stained crimson by blood, he had just managed to rise, grasping at the air with his left hand. He cautiously straightened his bent knees and stood with his feet slightly apart, straightening his spine. In his blindness, he finally managed to steady his posture.

“Duke Jouslain, are you unharmed!?”

Balamy’s voice trembled. As long as Clanner Ajman stood before him with a mask-like smirk, holding an electromagnetic whip, Balamy could not bring himself to look directly at Jouslain, who should have been at his side, nor could he run to support him.

Jouslain did not answer Balamy’s question. Instead, he spoke.

“Do not fall for his schemes. This man is a master at wounding his opponent’s heart. If you lose your composure, you will be playing right into his hands.”

“Oh, it seems that since losing your sight, you have grown a little more thoughtful, Duke Jouslain. Regrettably, you are talking in the wrong direction.”

Ignoring the Clanner’s provocation, Jouslain spoke to the younger young nobleman while enduring the intense pain in both his eyes.

“Balamy, you must leave this place.”

“Why!?” cried out Balamy once more who couldn’t help but scream. “Are you telling me that even at this late stage, you do not need my help? Am I really that unreliable!?”

“I need you to protect Princess Lydia.”

“…”

“There is no one else I can entrust this to. Can I not beg that much of you?”

“But your eyes can no longer see! If I am not by your side, how do you intend to defeat the Clanner!?”

Jouslain forced a smile.

“Do not worry. The Clanner will grant me my chance. If only to mock me and to deliver the finishing blow. That is the sort of man he is. A man not even worthy of either loyalty or rebellion.”

The laughter died away.

“Now, go! Return to the Austra at once.”

“I refuse,” is what Balamy could have replied. There was no necessary reason for him to depart, leaving Jouslain behind alone. He could have simply remained aboard the Austra with Princess Lydia from the very beginning. However, Jouslain’s reprimand, which transcended mere logic, had strangely overwhelmed Balamy.

“Please, stay safe.”

Leaving behind words he could never have imagined uttering a year ago, Balamy rushed away. Ajman showed no interest in him at all, staring only at Jouslain. Jouslain felt with his entire being that he was standing upon the final stage.

“I thought you were a cruel man—until just a moment ago.”

“Do you have reason to revise your opinion?”

“I have finally understood. I truly loathe my own foolishness.”

“I have no intention of disputing your self-assessment.”

Without responding to the taunt, Jouslain continued:

“You are not even a cruel man. You were merely acting the part of one, using Ariabert, Zarlisch, and Idris.”

Even if the Clanner’s brow had twitched, it would likely not have been by even half a millimetre. Regardless, Jouslain could not have seen it.

“First, you continued to play the role of a profound and steadfast ruler. Once you grew tired of that, you began to act as a reformer seeking to bring change to the universe by rebelling against the history of Tytania. That acceleration went further than expected, and as a crisis loomed over Uraniborg, you killed Ariabert…”

For a brief moment, a piercing sense of regret infused Jouslain’s voice.

“You tore Idris’ arm from its socket, revealing a side of yourself as a cruel tyrant. But even that was an act.”

“Hmm, an intriguing opinion. However, if that is the case, I would very much like you to tell me. What, then, is the true identity of one who has played so many roles?”

“You have no true identity.”

It was an immediate answer, and an assertion.

“You are empty. Your intellect is brilliant, and your appearance is magnificent, but there is nothing inside. You have merely swapped masks and costumes to suit the situation.”

Ajman’s expression did not change. He was well aware that even if he did, Jouslain would not see it.

“You knew that you were nobody, that your interior was hollow. Neither Ariabert’s nobility, nor Zarlisch’s audacity, nor Idris’ ambition were within you.”

Ajman spoke in a sardonic voice.

“Did you exclude yourself?”

“I… I am much the same as you, so I simply chose not to say it aloud. I have merely behaved as though I were a high noble of Tytania, without ever being even aware of that fact.”

The Clanner tucked his whip under his arm and clapped his hands together five times, loudly.

“If you took sufficient time and organised the physical evidence, you might perhaps manage to write a paper worthy of passing. However, the question is whether you have that time. What do you intend to do from here?”

“Kill you.”

Ajman laughed aloud. It was a hollow mockery, as if to provide proof for Jouslain’s hypothesis.

“In your blinded state? A bold resolution, yet it would be shameful if it ended as nothing more than empty boasting.”

“You have become quite loquacious, Ajman. In this single day, I feel as though I have heard a year’s worth of your voice.”

“Hmm.”

“And every time you speak, it nauseates me.”

Ajman abruptly ceased the dialogue.

“Shall we bring this to an end now?”

He readjusted his grip on the whip in his right hand.

“Go ahead and shoot first, Duke Jouslain. If you hit, it shall be a cause for great celebration. If you miss, I shall grant you one final mercy. A death as painless as possible.”

Jouslain swallowed hard. Whether Ajman was a monster with many faces, a cruel murderer, or a despicable fraud, there was no doubt that he was a different breed of warrior than the late Zarlisch or Ariabert. In other words, he could defeat Jouslain in a fair fight. Jouslain had made his remark with that very fact in mind.

In Jouslain’s vision, which had been plunged into darkness, the angel of death had already begun its dance. Even if he tried to flee, there was no escape. If death was unavoidable, he would at least ensure he was not branded a coward.

Jouslain aimed his muzzle towards what he presumed to be the front.

“Ariabert, Zarlisch, we shall meet again. Francia, please forgive me.”

Five seconds later, a mocking voice echoed against the high ceiling.

“You missed, Duke Jouslain!”

In terms of sheer splendour, the palace of the Tytania Clanner estate could not rival the Imperial Palace of Vardana. Formally and superficially speaking. The residence of a subject could never surpass that of the sovereign.

Rather, it was said that the Clanners of Tytania had used the Vardana Imperial Palace as a cautionary tale, given that its immense scale and opulence had nearly brought the nation’s finances to the brink of ruin. Although the reasons were somewhat vague, there had never been an instance of a Clanner delighting in personal extravagance, so the policy had faced no heavy criticism.

Even so, to any ordinary person, the estate was undoubtedly a vast labyrinth. Francia found herself having to stop repeatedly to check her bearings.

“Lord Jouslain! Lord Jouslain!”

After calling out twice, Francia fell silent. The fact that Jouslain was deep within the Clanner estate must not be known by many.

Of course, Francia was unaware that Jouslain had lost his sight. Without her making a sound, he would have had no way of knowing she was approaching, even if he were in the very next room. It was a bitterly sharp irony.

Suddenly, Francia leapt aside. Dust motes danced wildly upon the floor where she had stood only a second before, and a circular area with a one-metre radius had changed colour.

“What a quick little brat.”

If voices could kill, the deadly venom contained within Theodora’s words would surely have struck Francia dead in a single blow.

Though Francia was nearly overwhelmed by Theodora’s manic obsession, she steeled her heart and began to run once more.

II

What Francia feared was not being killed by Theodora. It was the prospect of never seeing Jouslain again. To avoid that, she had no choice but to keep running, regardless of whatever insults Theodora hurled at her. There was nothing more foolish than to fight back and risk a mutual death.

As previously mentioned, the inner palace of the Clanner’s estate had not been constructed as a labyrinth. However, given its immense scale, the vast number of rooms, the winding corridors, and the doors that connected rooms directly to one another, it naturally took on the appearance of a maze. While running through it, she occasionally stumbled into rooms she had never even imagined existed.

That was exactly what happened to Francia.

“Francia! You little brat! This is no place for someone like you. To presume to enter the presence of His Highness!”

It was the voice of Countess Theodora.

In that brief, tense moment, several small coincidences had aligned to form a situation that could only be called “fate”.

Just as Theodora had said, the place Francia had burst into was the private chambers of Clanner Ajman. Upon realising this, Francia stood frozen, letting out a silent scream at the sight before her eyes. Jouslain, his face covered in blood, was facing off against the Clanner, who held a whip in his hand.

Ultimately, it was likely Ajman’s own arrogance that had brought about this final outcome.

Suddenly, Jouslain threw himself onto the floor in front of him. As the blows struck his chest and abdomen, his breath caught for a moment. Undeterred, Jouslain gripped the heat gun with both hands, pressed the button, and fired upwards. At the same time, he swept the muzzle from left to right, using the heat beam like a blade to slash sideways.

At a distance, the ultra-high-temperature blade soared over the heads of Francia and Theodora, slashing horizontally across the high wall near the ceiling for seven or eight metres; at close range, it passed from left to right just above the shoulders of Clanner Ajman.

Ajman’s severed head stared down at the body that remained standing, still clutching the whip; after appearing to hover in the air for a moment, it fell behind his back and rolled across the floor.

As Ajman’s head rolled along the ground, his face was contorted with an expression of pure shock and dismay. It was only upon losing his life that the eighth-generation Clanner of Tytania seemed to have regained a human-like expression.

Jouslain, who had instantaneously calculated the angle of fire to ensure Francia remained unharmed, scrambled to his feet by touch alone. Francia ran towards him in a frenzy.

A terrifying scream rang out. It erupted from the mouth of Countess Theodora. Without even looking back, Francia threw herself at the staggering Jouslain, supporting his weight.

“Lord Jouslain, it is I, Francia.”

“Why are you in a place like this!?”

“I am prepared for your reprimand.”

“You fool! You absolute fool!”

Though Lady Theodora condemned him relentlessly, Jouslain only wanted to know what he couldn’t see.

“Francia, what of Ajman?”

“He is dead.”

Jouslain let out a heavy breath.

“I see. So, he has died.”

“You fool! Did you not know? Did you not know!? Without even knowing what His Clanner Highness was doing…”

“What is happening?”

Sensing something profoundly strange in Lady Theodora’s words and actions, Jouslain turned his sightless eyes towards her.

“If His Clanner Highness’ heart stops, this palace will explode! That’s what’s going on. Even in his own death, His Clanner Highness will not allow a hateful culprit to escape. None of you will survive either.”

Jouslain did not know that. The fact that he did not know surely meant that neither Ariabert, Idris, nor Zarlisch knew. How, then, had Theodora managed to learn such an important secret?

A bitter sensation filled his mouth, tasting like blood.

She was likely told about this in Ajman’s bed. Only a woman could achieve something like that. It was exactly as Idris stated. Ajman was obsessed with the Clanner throne.

Jouslain questioned Theodora aloud.

“Well then, Countess, what do you intend to do?”

Though Jouslain could not see it, upon seeing Lady Theodora move her gun, Francia also swiftly raised her weapon.

“Go ahead and shoot if you wish for us to perish together.”

“I have no intention of dying with you. I will live. I will survive, and I will surely become the ruler of Tytania!”

Theodora began to run back in the direction from which she had come. She did not cast even a single glance at the remains of Ajman, whose head and torso had been eternally severed. Since the dead man held no further utility for her, she clearly had no concept of showing them respect. It was a display of magnificent selfishness and sheer tenacity.

“Francia, you must flee quickly as well.”

“Yes. Come, Lord Jouslain, please join me.”

“Don’t bother with me. The only reason Theodora was able to flee was because there was time to escape. Go, follow after that woman now.”

“Lord Jouslain.”

Francia’s smooth palm stroked her master’s bloodstained eyelid.

“Lord Jouslain, will you not consider living on with me?”

“…”

Francia’s white fingers continued to wipe away Jouslain’s blood, becoming the same crimson as her master. Jouslain, however, could not see the sight.

“If you say that you will not flee from here, Lord Jouslain, then I shall do the same.”

“Francia, I have neither the reason nor the right to live anymore.”

“If you will not consent to my plea, Lord Jouslain, then I, too, shall not consent to what you say. I believe that is what it means to be equals.”

Through what was called the eye of the heart, Jouslain perceived the resolute expression on Francia’s face.

“I understand, Francia. Let us flee. Will you take my hand?”

“Yes!”

Francia gripped the offered hand firmly. More than when Jouslain had felt it just a moment before, she felt their respective life forces and wills flowing into one another, merging as one.

They would run towards life.

Francia was fast enough to infuriate Lady Theodora, but as she was leading the sightless Jouslain by the hand, she could not exert her abilities to their full extent. Even so, she ran while desperately trying to recall the route out of the monster’s den.

Even if he had been able to see, Jouslain would not have wanted to behold the corpse of Clanner Ajman. Since Francia had informed him that he “had died”, his death was certain; and since Jouslain had planned, predicted, and fired the shot, he could already surmise the state of the body.

“Ariabert, I avenged you,” he muttered that cliché line to himself.

At that moment, he felt no such thing as the emptiness of revenge. Since he had missed the first shot, Jouslain was the one who truly deserved to have been killed. The Clanner had spoken of “granting a merciful death”, but of course, Jouslain had not believed him.

In truth, he had not accepted Francia’s words about “living together” either. They would, in all likelihood, die together. As long as Francia’s resolve remained unshakeable, he would let her have her way. That was what he thought as he endured the searing pain in both his eyes.

III

“This was the end of a man who desired to become a hero in an age where no hero was needed.”

Kneeling on one knee upon the floor, Doctor Lee closed the eyelids of the deceased with awkward movements. He closed the eyelids of Duke Idris Tytania.

“What will you tell his younger brother, who idolised his elder brother? He might descend into madness.”

“As long as he does not ask, there is no need for us to tell him.”

As Miranda and Doctor Lee were exchanging those words, shadows burst into the room. There were two of them. Everyone reflexively aimed their weapons, only to lower them immediately. Because one of them was Duke Jouslain. They didn’t know who the young, beautiful woman supporting him was. Francia was not a public figure and had never appeared before others.

“Duke Jouslain, what happened to your face?”

“Doctor, is that you? The Clanner got me good.”

“I see. I shall hear the details later, but what became of the Clanner?”

“I killed him. With my own hands.”

Doctor Lee let out a whistle. It was the sort of whistle that made one wonder which was the most clumsy between him and Hyulick.

“So you’ve done it, then. Well, let us tend to your wounds.”

“No, there is no time for that. This palace is about to explode. If we do not leave immediately, we shall end up dying alongside Ajman.”

“I see, so that was the origin of that space urban legend. Understood. Hey, everyone, withdraw immediately!”

Doctor Lee shouted towards the back, urging Jouslain and the others.

“Go on ahead. We will follow shortly. There are still some who have not returned.”

After watching the two depart, Doctor Lee turned his gaze elsewhere.

“Hey, Mahdi, be satisfied with whatever treasure you managed to cram into your rucksack. Give up on that sack you’re dragging across the floor.”

“What!? There are at least fifty platinum ingots in this bag. Tsk, if only Walenkov was still alive…”

“Then you would be dying alongside the platinum.”

As Miranda responded coldly, two more figures came running in. It was Hyulick and Seraphine.

“Did you two manage to make a profit as well?”

“Well, something like that.”

“Then let us leave this place at once. Hurry.”

And so, Hyulick and the others ended up passing by Jouslain and his group.

Jouslain continued to run, unable to see.

“What happened, Francia?”

Francia’s grip tightened.

“In the room just now, Duke Idris was collapsed on the floor. His right arm had been torn off… he was dead.”

“I see… So Ajman killed him.”

Jouslain turned his head, but it was of course impossible for him to see Idris in his current state. Idris likely would not have wanted Jouslain to behold the sight of his own death. It must be divine dispensation, thought Jouslain.

“Idris… Perhaps you were the one who truly loved Tytania the most, exactly the way she was.”

Jouslain did not know if those were his true feelings, mere sentiment, or a hypocrisy used to deceive his own conscience.

It did not matter if he did not know.

“Let us go, Francia.”

“Yes.”

Jouslain and Francia set off running, arms entwined. Even so, it was at most a brisk pace, yet someone watched their forms with glittering eyes.

It was Countess Theodora.

She stood upon the gallery overlooking the great hall, her left hand resting on the handrail and her right gripping a percussion cap pistol. She should have fled immediately, but she could not bear to let Jouslain and Francia escape her sight, so she aimed the muzzle at them in silence. She intended for them to die without ever understanding what had happened.

With a thunderous roar, the pistol discharged. Her target was Jouslain’s head. She had, of course, taken careful aim, but the distance was too great. While Theodora was a marksman approaching the level of an expert, she had not yet reached the realm of the divine. It appeared as though a lock of Jouslain’s hair had flown away, but in truth, it was nothing more than a hole that had been punched into the wall.

Francia spun around and fired her heat gun without a moment’s hesitation. It missed once again, yet Theodora was forced to duck low to avoid the blast.

Suddenly, the world turned monochrome, and a thunderous roar battered her eardrums. The bomb, planted by the late Clanner, had detonated in the ceiling.

The chandelier, now a mass of crimson flames, fell from above with the howling sound of rushing wind.

That was the final sight Countess Theodora beheld in this dimension. She never lived to see the scene beneath the falling debris, which descended like a torrential rain, as Jouslain shielded Francia beneath his body.

“Good grief, it seems everyone has well and truly exhausted their good luck.”

Miranda gave a wry smile, her forehead and hands bleeding and several places in her field uniform torn. Aside from Walenkov, every one of the pirates who had infiltrated the Tytania Clanner Palace had managed to survive.

Amidst the chaos of flames, smoke, and alarms, with the living and the dead intermingled, they had actually made use of the panic to successfully escape the palace. Had they remained fixated on the platinum ingots, Mahdi alone might have been left behind.

Upon breaking into a deserted, ransacked restaurant, they searched for safe food and drink, eventually discovering light beer, sports drinks, ham, cheese, and biscuits. Whilst offering thanks to the patron saint of pirates, they hydrated their throats and filled their stomachs in silence for a while. Once they had caught their breath, a Tytania patrol car passed by on the street outside the shop. It was moving away while asserting safety and order to the citizens.

“I wonder who is issuing these orders?”

“Perhaps Count Elman. He probably wouldn’t handle command in a war, but he would manage the routine work without much issue.”

Seraphine turned on the television in the shop. An emergency special programme had just begun. A middle-aged female presenter appeared, seated alongside an elderly gentleman with a bright, intelligent look in his eyes.

“… Well, what will become of space and human society moving forward? I would like to ask political commentator Mr J. Caposhbar.”

“Please, call me a general social scientist. And I do hold a PhD.”

“I apologise. Then, Dr Caposhbar, what will become of space, and what should we do?”

“Since the single greatest superpower has vanished, it is only natural that anxiety and confusion should arise. However, this situation will not last forever.”

“It would be a problem if this continued for long. I cannot even begin to imagine the extent of the impact it will have.”

“As citizens, we have no choice but to remain calm, not panic, and carry on with our daily lives. We hope that Tytania will appoint a successor as soon as possible and work to resolve this confusion.”

“It appears that several directives have been issued in the name of Count Elman, but are these merely provisional?”

“That is likely the case, but there is still very little information available. I cannot say anything for certain.”

IV

Amidst the immense chaos both inside and outside Uraniborg, Viscount Balamy Tytania piloted a single-seat reconnaissance plane back to the space battleship Austra. On the way, he had faced death no fewer than half a dozen times. Once he was finally brought into the battleship’s hangar, he made his way towards the bridge.

“Bal, Bal, are you alright!?”

Voices of joy made the very air dance, and a small figure leapt towards Balamy like a bullet. Balamy smiled as he caught Princess Lydia in his arms.

“I am deeply sorry for causing you such worry. I have managed to somehow return.”

“Bal, what about Duke Jouslain and Francia?”

It was a question he had braced himself for, one he had resigned himself to. Even so, he could not dispel the dark clouds swirling within his heart.

“I am so sorry. I cannot confirm whether they are alive or dead. I have returned alone, in complete shame. I am prepared for your reprimand.”

Princess Lydia pulled herself away from Balamy just enough to look up at her knight. Her clear eyes held no trace of reproach.

“I was wondering what I would do if none of the three of you came back. It is not your fault at all, Bal. You did well to return. I am glad.”

Though she said she was happy, her small eyes overflowed with tears.

“You needn’t worry about Duke Jouslain or Francia. There is no way those two could die.”

“Princess…”

“Because, it’s true, isn’t it? Those two are much more reliable than you, Bal.”

Princess Lydia attempted to smile but failed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“When I am much older, before I become Queen, I will go and search for them. If they are alive, I will surely find them. The universe is such a small place, after all.”

The coexistence of her childish tears and such grand words was entirely characteristic of the Princess. Balamy was struck by a sincerity so pure it astonished even him, and he offered his handkerchief to the Princess’ small hand.

“What about you, Bal?”

“I cannot leave the fleet in its current state. I shall contact Uraniborg, organise the assessment of our losses, and once everything is settled, I will disband them. After that, I shall leave matters in the hands of Count Elman and the other surviving nobles.”

“I see. But what do you intend to do after that?”

“Naturally, I shall escort you back to your motherland, Princess. After that, most wretchedly, I shall have no place to return to. Would you grant me permission to remain in Elbing for a while?”

“Very well, I permit it.”

The Princess wiped away her tears, blew her nose vigorously, and then folded the handkerchief with an embarrassed air.

“When the time comes, I wish to accompany you on your journey to search for Duke Jouslain and Lady Francia. Would that be acceptable?”

“I permit that too!”

Princess Lydia’s voice, so full of vitality, brightened Balamy’s heart. He felt as though he might be able to walk the long, dark path ahead of him with his head held high.

As if suddenly remembering something, Princess Lydia asked a question.

“By the way, what became of the Clanner and Duke Idris?”

“Both are dead.”

In truth, he had not actually witnessed their deaths. However, just before leaving Uraniborg, he had heard rumours flying faster than light. There was no doubt that the Clanner’s death was by Jouslain’s hand, and Balamy felt a sense of congratulation that he had finally avenged Ariabert. He had achieved something remarkable considering that he had lost his sight.

As for Idris’ death, there was nothing to do but let his imagination run wild, but he had no choice but to assume it was at the hands of the Clanner. Depending on how the situation had shifted, it might even have been Balamy himself who ended up killing Idris. He felt a complex mix of emotions, but when he recalled the gruesome sight of Idris with his arm torn away, sympathy ultimately emerged as the final victor.

Captain Edna Fredericks appeared before the Princess and Balamy to celebrate their safety. Balamy provided a brief explanation of the situation.

“So, Captain, what will you do now?”

“Unlike Her Highness and Your Lordship Grace Balamy, I have no one left to search for. I possess no skills beyond those of a soldier, so even if Tytania’s fleet is downsized, I intend to remain.”

“Before that, could you escort the Princess and me to the Kingdom of Elbing?”

“Of course.”

Princess Lydia spoke up unexpectedly:

“Captain Fredericks!”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything.”

As Princess Lydia gave a small bow, Balamy followed suit with a Tytania-style salute.

“You are too kind.”

For the first time, tears welled in Captain Edna Fredericks’ eyes.

Just before the space battleship Austra departed for the Kingdom of Elbing, a notification was broadcast from Uraniborg to the entire fleet.

“His Clanner Highness Ajman has passed away. Fighting in the name of the Clanner no longer holds meaning. Both forces are to cease hostilities immediately and remain on standby until further orders. I repeat, His Clanner Highness Ajman has…”

Both friend and foe were left in a state of stunned disbelief, powerless to react, yet one after another, they ceased fire in accordance with the announcement. Thus, the “Uraniborg Incident” was formally brought to a close.

On planet Ementhal, Kafir, Tyron, and Bargash, as well as on distant frontier planets and interstellar liners, this transmission sent shockwaves through the populace, striking tens of billions of voices and the many billions of ears that followed.

“Did they say the Clanner has died?”

“That’s what they said, indeed.”

“How can this be! Then what will become of the future of Tytania?”

“Someone else will become the next Clanner. It is not as if the choice lies with you or me, so there is no use worrying about it.”

“I suppose so… At any rate, the fighting seems to be over, and it looks as though we survived.”

“Let’s go home. We shall eat and sleep, and when we wake tomorrow morning, our usual lives will have returned. Can you stand?”

“If you will lead the way.”

While such gentle and sweet conversation was being exchanged, there also existed, naturally, arguments so unpleasant that even a malicious cat and a brutish dog would turn their faces away.

“Don’t be ridiculous! There is still a whole week left until the payment deadline. Re-read the contract. Or are you unable to read?”

“I shall return your words to you. Isn’t it written that in the event of an unavoidable emergency, the deadline may be moved forward by mutual agreement? We are currently in such a situation.”

“As if anyone would agree to that! If you want your money, come and see me in court!”

Vulgar disputes were breaking out everywhere, but among the crew of the second-hand spacecraft Honest Old Man Junior, the only sounds were cries of sorrow.

“Oh, my beloved platinum ingots… please forgive me for leaving you behind.”

“I’ll tell you now, Mahdi, no matter how much you love those ingots, you have no legal right to possess them anywhere in human society. Just make do with your rucksack’s share. Now that I look at you, isn’t a wad of cash practically spilling out of your pocket?”

Alan Mahdi was perhaps the only person in the universe who had gained direct financial profit from the Clanner’s death. However, he could not simply rejoice in his one-in-tens-of-billions stroke of luck. He was suffering the pangs of a conscience that had left behind platinum ingots that seemed to scream, “Take us with you!”

While he allowed himself to lament to his heart’s content, the others remained gathered around the coffee table.

“What became of Ajman’s wife and children?”

“Their fates are unknown.”

“In that case, if his son survives and comes of age, he might seek to avenge his father.”

“It won’t stop there. He might aim to restore the Tytania and re-establish dominion over the universe as the legitimate Clanner heir.”

Hyulick grimaced at the utter wretchedness of the decaffeinated coffee.

“Now, hold on. Isn’t that exactly what Ajman himself wanted to do?”

“It is the height of irony. Yes, that was exactly what Ajman craved. A young man lost amongst the common folk, who is suddenly told one day, ‘You are the child of a king,’ and sets out to reclaim a kingdom.”

“What, so it’s a classic tale of a displaced prince? You mean to say Ajman simply wanted to be the hero of a fairy tale?”

As Miranda spoke in exasperation, Doctor Lee placed his coffee cup back on the table.

“Simply put, that’s exactly it. He had everything. Everything, except for what he actually needed.”

Behind that presence, that dignity, and that imposing physique, behind those heavy and arrogant words and deeds, what had been nurtured in silence, unknown to anyone, was nothing more than a mental degeneration born of resentment and self-righteousness.

“Perhaps Ajman pushed himself past his limits, continuing to play the part of the perfect Clanner. The oppression turned inwards and crushed him. Perhaps it is healthier to be like Mahdi, someone whose true intentions are obvious just by looking at them.”

“Why do you have to use me as an example?”

“Because you’re easy to understand.”

They were waiting for departure clearance at the civilian spaceport of Uraniborg. When legal permission was not forthcoming, they intended to resort to their usual tricks, but they could not force the issue while the spaceport was overflowing with people and supplies.

“So, how has His Imperial Majesty of Vardana taken the news of Clanner Ajman’s death? Having been bullied so relentlessly until now, he must be overjoyed.”

“They say he has lost all sense of restraint.”

“It seems he has been greatly liberated from his mental burdens. Even though it doesn’t concern us personally, it is worth celebrating.”

Because they were in a crowded rest area, they were making an effort not to raise their voices.

“But I wonder if the Vardana Empire can survive without Tytania.”

“That’s none of our concern. Or would you like to get involved with it, Miranda?”

“I’ll pass,” replied instantly the Princess. “One should not attempt things that are beyond their station. One year of experience was more than enough.”

“A wise decision.”

“I shall simply think of it as having had an interesting, long dream and return to my former life. Though, perhaps this current state is actually the dream itself.”

“So, in the end, what Tytania brought was an era of two hundred years of thoughtlessness?”

“Future generations might say it was a surprisingly happy era.”

“That depends entirely on how one defines happiness.”

The name of their ship was announced. Departure had been authorised. A group of men and women, wearing expressions of weary anticipation, began to leave the rest area.

“I wonder what future generations will call this coming era, Doctor?”

“I wonder.”

Doctor Lee pinched his chin with his fingertips.

“Perhaps it will be called ‘Zamana Masafent’.”

This implied that an era that was not a ‘vacancy’ would one day arrive. Despite having said it himself, Doctor Lee felt a sense of doubt. Tytania had been too vast. So vast that she was beyond human control. So vast that, unless one were a madman, she could not be ruled alone.

A universe without Tytania. A world of chaos without order.

Unless there were long-lived beings exceeding two hundred years of age, all of humanity, possessing the capacity for thought, would be cast into an unknown dimension. The era in which one could find peace of mind by shifting responsibility onto others would vanish in a startlingly short period of time.

Just what, in the end, had Tytania been?

How should one live from this moment forward?

“And ultimately, everyone will arrive at a similar conclusion. That humanity must continue to live even without the existence of Tytania, and that, in fact, we are capable of doing so.”

“Is that your conclusion, Doctor?”

“It’s not a conclusion. It’s a prediction.”

After a group of men and women departed, another group occupied the vacated table. They looked exhausted from the very start as they ordered their drinks.

V

Enduring the absurdity of paying for coffee that tasted even worse than what she could have brewed herself, Seraphine Coopers asked:

“So, what are we going to do about Zelpha?”

“Ah, if it turns out he has nowhere else to go, I was thinking we might just adopt him ourselves.”

Miranda spoke lightly, and Mahdi’s laughter rang out, breaking a momentary silence, only to instantly turn into a shriek.

“Ow, stop it!”

“Even so, I am Her Highness the Princess of Casabianca. Have you forgotten? Or are you just pretending to have forgotten?”

“I remember, I remember! That’s why I’m telling you to stop pulling my ear. It’s going to tear off!”

When Miranda released her grip, Mahdi exaggeratedly rubbed his ear.

“Ooh, that hurt. But, tell me, you don’t intend to raise him as a young lord, do you? How exactly do you plan to raise him?”

“I shall raise him to be a splendid captain… though before that, he might try to kill us or run away and vanish.”

“Hey now, are you sure about that?”

“Suppose Seraphine decides to cook fried eggs for Hyulick every once in a while?”

“That was a remarkably sudden change of subject.”

Mahdi flicked the edge of his coffee cup with his fingertip, and Seraphine herself blinked, staring at Miranda.

“So, the egg is poured into the frying pan. The yolk maintains its shape, but the white changes form, spreading and flowing, until it gradually solidifies. It’s about what shape it ultimately takes when it hardens.”

“A fine metaphor,” remarked Doctor Lee.

“Is that so? I suppose it’ll be interesting waiting to see what kind of fried egg we get. I just hope it doesn’t become an addiction.”

Before he could even finish, Mahdi leaned his upper body away to avoid an attack on his ear. Glancing at that purely defensive manoeuvre, Hyulick turned to ask Doctor Lee.

“What about the name of the Blaze Flag Army from now on?”

“There is no copyright on it, so if anyone wants to use it, they are free to do so.”

“Is that really alright?”

“Fine by me. If those using it turn out to be a bunch of scoundrels, I’ll just accuse them of unauthorised use and fleece them for damages.”

“As expected of you.”

“If you pay a usage fee, I might even let you make it your own personal brand.”

“… No, I’ll pass.”

Fan Hyulick was struck by a physiological necessity, so he made his way to the appropriate place. Once he had finished, he stood in the bustling corridor, glancing aimlessly around his surroundings.

He doubted he would ever return to this place again. As he felt a sudden, uncharacteristic wave of sentimentality, a woman passed in front of Hyulick. His mouth parted slightly as he was captivated by her.

She was a beautiful woman. Was she around the age of twenty? Her attire was modest and elegant, without being ostentatious. Her features, while not quite peerless, were lovely enough to draw the eye and possessed a certain dignified grace.

Where could a beauty like that be going on a solo journey? No, she must have someone with her. Perhaps someone was waiting for her somewhere. Whoever they were, they were incredibly lucky. Just as that thought crossed his mind, the voice of Seraphine Coopers reached him.

“Fan, what are you doing!? Our ship’s name has finally been announced. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be left behind!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!”

Perhaps he, too, was quite fortunate. With that thought, the young man who had once caused a great upheaval throughout the entire universe ruffled his carrot-coloured hair and walked towards his companions with a brisk pace.

The beautiful woman did not even glance at Hyulick, but her approach to the service counter could only be described as cautious. She carefully compared the electronic timetable positioned above the counter with the small tablet in her hands.

“I’d like the earliest possible departure for Ementhal, please. For two people.”

“If it’s Ementhal, I can get you two seats. Although it doesn’t look like any other flights will be able to depart for the time being. Who even knows if the flight to Ementhal might be cancelled? However, you’re in luck, miss. A cancellation has just come through. But do you have cash on you?”

“Is a card not acceptable?”

“Well, miss, it would have been until now. But as you know, the Tytania payment system has crashed, and until it is restored, we have no choice but to settle payments in cash. Don’t worry, everything will be resolved within two days.”

“Very well. I can’t wait two days, so I will pay in cash.”

The clerk nodded, though a somewhat complicated emotion flickered across his face. He was a middle-aged man and, naturally, felt a fondness for the young, beautiful woman. He hoped to leave a good impression on her.

“Are you sure? Actually, the cheaper cabins are being filled up first, so it will be a bit more expensive…”

“That’s fine. How much will it be?”

As the clerk announced the price, the young beauty smiled and nodded, then opened her bag and produced the cash. How could someone so young afford such an amount? He accepted the payment while wondering about that. Ordinarily, he would have pressed the button under the counter to call for Tytania guards just to be safe, but times had changed.

“Depending on the circumstances, I could offer a discounted rate.”

“Actually, my companion is in a wheelchair.”

“Goodness, you should have said so sooner. If you are travelling with a disabled person, you are entitled to priority boarding, and the price will be discounted by five per cent.”

“My, how kind of you. Thank you very much.”

“No, no, it is simply part of the service…”

On that day, the attendant carried out his work in high spirits, and several other passengers were fortunate enough to benefit from it.

The beautiful woman left the counter and moved behind a large rectangular pillar.

“Lord Jouslain.”

The man she addressed was seated in a wheelchair. He had bandages wrapped from his head across the upper half of his face, he wore dark sunglasses for the visually impaired, and his left arm hung in a sling from his shoulder. Though his condition was wretched, the suit he wore was brand new and looked expensive, despite looking plain. A thin blanket was draped over his knees.

This was the current state of Duke Jouslain Tytania.

“Ah, thank you… I truly am useless. If you weren’t here, Francia, I wouldn’t even be able to survive. I am a man of no value.”

“Speaking such self-deprecating things is not like you, Lord Jouslain.”

“Very well, I shall stop. Did you happen to run into anyone we know in the lobby?”

“No, fortunately, I didn’t run into anyone.”

In the end, Hyulick and Francia’s encounter concluded without them ever learning each other’s true identities.

Clanner Ajman was dead. Duke Ariabert was dead. Duke Zarlisch was dead. Duke Idris was dead. Only Duke Jouslain remained alive. If that fact became known, everyone would accept Jouslain as the next Clanner. Even having lost his sight and being paralysed from the waist down, his achievements and his balanced political leadership and mediation skills would be supported as being capable of maintaining the “Pax Tytaniana” for decades to come.

And after that?

New ambitious figures would emerge to vie for the next throne, new rivals would appear, and human society would watch the progress and the outcome with bated breath.

As he had stated, Jouslain desired to escape from Tytania and leave Uraniborg far behind. Francia shared this wish. For the time being, they would head to Ementhal. Since it was a major transport hub, it would allow them to travel even further into the frontier.

Jouslain recalled his visit to the doctor yesterday, under a pseudonym.

“Traumatic amaurosis. I am sorry, but no recovery can be expected.”

Francia’s hand tightened as she gripped Jouslain’s. Jouslain remained calm as he squeezed her hand back.

“A diagnosis fitting for me. Even with my eyes open, I can see nothing.”

The doctor added, in an attempt to prevent him from becoming too pessimistic:

“With cybernetic prosthetic eyes, you will be able to see again. However, insurance won’t cover it, so it would likely be quite expensive.”

“We shall discuss insurance later. How about his legs?”

Suppressing her irritation deep within, Francia fixed her eyes on the doctor with a look of trust, prompting him to blink as if squinting against a bright light.

“The bones from his right knee downwards have suffered complete committed fractures. I am terribly sorry to say this, but amputation will be necessary. As for the compound fracture in his left leg, it should recover in about three months.”

He went on to discuss surgery for the left shoulder, the cybernetic prosthetic leg, and how the fractures to the ribs and left shoulder would likely heal fully within about a month. The doctor tilted his head several times while speaking, likely because Jouslain’s face looked somewhat familiar. Francia had felt a moment of trepidation, but in the end, the doctor was so preoccupied with the impression Francia made that he failed to recognise Jouslain…

Francia spoke:

“The interstellar liner bound for Ementhal will depart in an hour. Let us go, Lord Jouslain.”

Francia turned Jouslain’s wheelchair around and began to move forward, pushing him from behind. Jouslain spoke to her over his shoulder:

“You could have opted for an electric model…”

“I want to push you myself. Please, let me do this my way.”

“I am sorry.”

“One day, you will be taking about how harsh I am. I intend to be quite strict when assisting you with your rehabilitation.”

After a brief silence, Jouslain spoke with deep sincerity:

“I shall rely on you, then.”

“Yes, yes, please do rely on me.”

Her voice sounded as though it were laced with tears. Upon the black canvas of his unseeing eyes, Jouslain tried to trace the fleeting images of Ariabert, Idris, and Zarlisch.

He decided that he would live on.

In later years, July SY 447 was marked as the beginning of the Great Interregnum “Zamana Masafent”. The year of Duke Jouslain Tytania’s death is unknown.

Translator's Notes and References

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