Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – The Horde of Enemies Inside

I

The high officials of Tytania were far busier than the courtiers of the Vardana Empire. With status and power came responsibilities and duties. Those who failed to fulfil their duties were deemed unworthy of bearing the name Tytania.

Duke Zarlisch Tytania was standing on the bridge of his flagship, the Typhoon, clad in his grey and gold military uniform. Had he worn mediaeval armour, his imposing presence would have been even more striking. It was said that his appearance and commanding presence evoked memories of the early days of Neville Tytania, the First Landless Clanner. For Zarlisch, this was the highest praise he could hope to receive and the very proof that his worth was acknowledged.

Zarlisch’s tactics were characterised by their rigour and sheer strength. He was the one who employed Tytania’s strategy of overwhelming force to the greatest extent. He would charge his enemies head-on, crushing them, sweeping them away, and overrunning them. Or he would completely encircle them to shatter them with concentrated fire. His military tactics were worthy of the title of “ruthless general”, he had accumulated many military victories, and it was said that whenever his figure could be seen at the head of the ranks, the morale of Tytanians would double, officers and rank and file alike.

Zarlisch was also a master of close combat and martial arts who could manoeuvre his rock-like colossal frame with ease and could take on ten battle-hardened armoured men at once. The other Dukes, Ariabert, Jouslain, and Idris, had also learnt close combat as a pastime befitting the Tytanian nobility and were, respectively, skilled, but none could match Zarlisch.

He was currently heading for the Blaze System while keeping contact with Jouslain, who was following behind. A coalition of space pirates of 5000 vessels called the “Blaze Flag” fleet had been attacking and plundering Tytania’s supply centres in that star system.

“These annoying rat-thieves are trying to step on Tytania’s tail without knowing their place. Even buffoons would understand that they risk their lives doing it.”

After briefly smiling, his expression turned bitter and stern. His interstellar communication channel switched, and the face of a young Tytanian scion appeared on the screen. He wasn’t wearing the grey military uniform but an overly ornate silk robe.

With an expression that was half fearful, half sulky, Count Arses informed his elder brother of Fan Hyulick’s escape.

“You’re damn worthless. Can’t you even manage to arrest a single unemployed person? And in spite of that, you won’t even abandon your title of count? That’s some serious nerve you have.”

Faced with this blunt rebuke, Arses Tytania, some twenty light-years away, paled and could only manage a forced smile.

“I’m apparently not cut out for work involving chasing criminals.”

“Hmm, well then, how about commanding a great fleet to battle the enemy then? If you so wish, we could exchange our places. After all, I’d rather spend my time lounging in the depths of my mansion, indulging in women and wine.”

This wasn’t necessarily his real sentiment. As one of Tytania’s Four Dukes, Zarlisch was someone who valued fortitude over weakness and preferred the bridge of a spaceship to a luxurious mansion. He believed that Tytania’s worth lay in its military might rather than its wealth or influence.

Though his values were somewhat simplistic, he was no fool. He had a grasp of its vast organisation and could manoeuvre it as an extension of his own body. He could discern the skills and abilities of numerous officers and place the right people in the right positions. He was fair to his subordinates, and his judgements were swift and accurate. He was the young man who embodied the expression “strong and fierce Tytania” the most.

Once the unpleasant exchange with his brother had concluded without any tangible outcome, Zarlisch shouted out to his aide-de-camp, Commander Granite:

“How vexing! The very thought that the same blood flows in my veins makes me want to exsanguinate every drop of it and replace it with a transfusion.”

The aide-de-camp Granite pointed out calmly:

“Still, he is Your Grace’s younger brother.”

“That’s precisely why he was granted a pension and allowed to live on a fine planet like Ementhal. If it were up to me, I would have sent him to struggle on the border regions around Bargash, but Mother…”

The strapping young noble looked disgruntled. Zarlisch and Arses’s mother was Theresa, a woman who was now 50 years old. Her former beauty had been buried beneath layers of fat due to her lack of restraint in eating and her love for fine foods, and yet, her favouritism towards her second son in contrast to her eldest was extreme. Since the eldest was robust and dependable, she doted excessively on her frail second son. It appeared that whether one was from Tytania or a commoner, there was no difference in such proclivities.

Though Zarlisch, even as an adult, was somewhat reserved towards his mother; as the head of a duchy, he couldn’t treat her with contempt. For her sake, he couldn’t banish Arses completely, and it was precisely the reason why his anger towards him grew.

As the month of July started, Zarlisch commenced his entry into his destination star system. Upon receiving the news that Tytania was approaching, the enemy commanders literally jumped out of their seats.

“The fleet is led by Duke Zarlisch Tytania in person…!”

The fact that they were thrown in such a panic even though the situation was entirely plausible was quite telling of the “Blaze Flag” fleet’s poor judgement. A member of the senior officers’ council, a man by the name of Lee Shanchen, advised an early withdrawal, but his proposal was outright rejected. As he witnessed his comrades frantically dividing their looted goods and fighting among themselves, Lee Shanchen lost any faith in them. Unless he remained in the Blaze Sector and participated in the distribution meeting until the very end, he would not receive a share of the spoils. Lee Shanchen renounced his claim to the loot and led his own fleet away from his comrades’. His subordinates complained, but he managed to secure their departure by promising them a share of his own personal wealth, and once he reached the Turkaia System, he picked up a communication signal from the Tytanian fleet.

The Tytanian fleet was 12,000 vessels strong, while Lee’s convoy was only a mere 13 ships, a figure so pitiful it was almost laughable. And yet, it was this meagre fleet that ultimately saved Lee and his men. As they attempted to escape by hiding themselves in the asteroid belt, they were spotted by the Tytanians. However, Zarlisch had prioritised the launch of a surprise attack against the enemy’s main force. If he attempted to pursue Lee, the “Blaze Flag” fleet might have been aware of Tytania’s presence. As a military strategist, this was a perfectly correct judgement, although if there had been an omniscient prophet who could see the future, he would have likely advised Zarlisch to instead annihilate this insignificant force.

Thus, Zarlisch Tytania ignored Lee Shanchen’s fleet and launched a surprise attack on the enemy’s main force and, in a two-hour one-sided battle, annihilated 94% of them.

“Too easy,” muttered Zarlisch, sounding more like he was disappointed rather than sneering.

As a brave warrior, he had the psychological quirk of craving formidable enemies.

The few survivors of the “Blaze Flag” fleet issued a surrender. Zarlisch accepted their terms but only spared the rank-and-file and executed the 830 officers by a firing squad. While this fell well within his authority, he could have also chosen to spare them. What made Zarlisch carry out this seemingly merciless action was his anger at such a feeble enemy.

As a privilege reserved only for those bearing the name Tytania, Zarlisch had brought his mistresses along with the expedition. Compared to his younger brother, who would prattle about aestheticism, Zarlisch’s sexual preferences were far more conventional, although as a man of great vigour, he couldn’t be satisfied with just one woman.

For the expedition, he had assembled two women for each of the four hair colours: black, chestnut, red, and brown. These women were only there to serve Zarlisch by their beauty and sexual favours, and a total of thirty female soldiers attended to their every need, such as clothing, food, and the rest. The person in charge was a 38-year-old lieutenant who had been Zarlisch’s first lover some ten years ago and now managed and coordinated his relationships with women.

As he saw Zarlisch’s sturdy figure retreat into his private quarters, a member of his staff let out a sigh of envy.

“To lead a vast fleet, roam the universe, defeat the enemy, and embrace women after victory? This is what anyone born as a man aspires to.”

“If one is not of Tytania, one is not a human, huh?”

On Earth, in the 2nd century BC, a man named Liu Bang of the Chinese Empire had boasted about his clan’s prosperity and rise by declaring: “If one is not of the Liu clan, one is not a human.” Some 1400 years later, a powerful figure from a neighbouring nation was said to have emulated that statement. And then, Neville, the first ruler of Tytania, had then boasted with unbridled ambition at the height of his power:

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

Eight generations later, Zarlisch now secluded himself in the luxurious private quarters of his flagship with a similar aura about him. But his officers weren’t criticising him for it; if anything, they admired him.

In some sense, Zarlisch only treated women as objects of indulgence, and yet, most men, in the most primal and savage recesses of their minds, couldn’t help but envy him. Naturally, had Zarlisch been a mere lecherous and incompetent commander, his subordinates would likely not have been in such a forgiving mood.

Fourteen hours after the battle had ended, Zarlisch emerged from his private quarters, adjusting his uniform. He opened a communication channel with Lord Jouslain, who was in his rear, to report his victory and cracked a joke as he did so:

“Well now, Lord Jouslain, if you feel your bed is a little dull, should I send you a flower or two?”

“No thank you, but I appreciate the kindness.”

Jouslain gave a faint and wry smile. Unlike Zarlisch, he was no womaniser and didn’t have dozens of concubines to serve him in his bedchamber. The reason he kept Francia by his side on his flagship was mainly so she could attend to him, and not necessarily so he could have a woman to embrace every night.

Should Francia grow accustomed to his favour and become presumptuous, he intended to remove her at once from his service, but she behaved modestly and seemed content to simply be in Jouslain’s company, maybe because she had few worldly desires by nature or perhaps because she was wise enough to know her place. Jouslain found this adorable, but at the same time, a part of him yearned for a woman of fiery temperament. That was largely an abstract notion, and he had no specific object of passion in his mind.

“It only means that no such woman has appeared before me so far. No need to rush or grow impatient.”

Jouslain was still only 27 years old. As the head of a ducal household, he was bound to eventually marry, but he believed that taking a wife once at the age of 40 should suffice. Not that he attached any particular meaning to the number 40, but it just happens to be the current age of Ajman, the current Landless Clanner.

As he set out from “Uraniborg”, Jouslain had been entrusted with a mission of great secrecy by Clanner Ajman himself. He had learnt that Ajman’s half-brother, Marquis Estrade Tytania, who served as Minister of Military Affairs of the Vardana Empire, was conspiring with a group of Vardanan noble courtiers to depose Ajman from his position as Clanner.

Jouslain was stunned to learn this and yet was unable to dismiss the notion outright, so he sought clarification from the Clanner.

“Is it possible that it is a rumour that aims at sowing discord in the clan?”

“That is, of course, a possibility.”

Frankly acknowledged Ajman as he answered Jouslain’s question.

“But we cannot ignore this information. Lord Idris was quite certain about it.”

“Lord Idris?…”

That young man has a knack for stirring up trouble on the plains, thought Jouslain, without being able to say it out loud.

The clan’s leader let out a low and short chuckle as he glanced at the Tytanian youth’s face. He had read Jouslain’s mind. His following words proved it:

“Lord Idris wouldn’t claim that something exists when it does not. As for me, I believe that clouds gather before a rainfall. If these complacent Vardanan courtiers wanted to sow internal division within Tytania, they would definitely incite my half-brother.”

Feeling the full weight of the Clanner’s authority in multiple manners, Jouslain weighed his thoughts carefully, taking care not to step out of bounds while he offered his personal opinion:

“But if you suddenly ordered the execution of the Minister of Military Affairs, would that not delight the noble courtiers of Vardana? Wouldn’t they dance in joy, claiming that Tytania had torn off its important wing?”

“I suppose we can let them rejoice for a while.”

Declared the Clanner in a naturally low voice.

That remark sent shivers down his spine. Should Marquis Estrade be executed by the Clanner, the court nobles of Vardana would indeed applaud. But Ajman’s retaliatory strike would then send all the nobles’ heads flying one after the other. In the end, the number of Ajman’s enemies would have dwindled, regardless of the colour of their robes.

“However, Lord Jouslain, you are certainly right. There is no need to take immediate action against the Minister of Military Affairs. For now, let us just apply a light dressing to ensure the wound doesn’t reopen.”

With this preamble, Ajman gave his orders. Viscount Balamy, the son of the Minister of Military Affairs, was to accompany Jouslain on the battlefield as his senior aide-de-camp. I see… so he is holding the son hostage to put pressure on the father? Jouslain immediately grasped the main implications, while the Clanner’s eyes glinted as they appeared as deep as an abyss.

“Even the most toxic poison cannot emit fumes without a catalyst. It is just a temporary measure, but hardly a bad one.”

“Very well. I shall appoint Viscount Balamy as my senior aide-de-camp.”

Jouslain bowed. He had grown suddenly weary of engaging in this political charade with the Landless Clanner, a man of unfathomable and inscrutable scheming. Thus, as part of a highly strategic move, Commodore Balamy Tytania became Vice-Admiral Jouslain Tytania’s senior aide-de-camp.

II

With innumerable venomous stingers in his gaze, Balamy was looking at Jouslain. Jouslain was his cousin. To be more accurate, they were tied through a far more complicated family bond, but within the Tytania clan, those of the same generation were referred to as cousins. The Four Dukes were a good example of this.

“Should I address you as Your Grace the Duke or as Lord Vice-Admiral?”

“What about you, Milord Viscount? Or if you prefer, Sir Commodore?”

“Could you please refrain from addressing me in that manner?”

“Well then, simply address me as Lord Jouslain. Let us cease using formal titles to address each other. Aren’t we after all descendants of the same founder?”

Jouslain smiled, and as he bowed, Balamy inwardly clicked his tongue in annoyance. He found that this “cousin” of his, who was nine years his elder, was oddly difficult to deal with. His father had warned him in advance, although there was no need for it, for Balamy was already quite wary of Jouslain. Rather, for Balamy, the only member of the Tytania clan that he felt he should be wary of besides Clanner Ajman was Duke Jouslain.

The rest of the Four Dukes, namely Ariabert, Zarlisch, and Idris, weren’t even on his radar. He might be overestimating himself, but he had the brightly shining ambition of an eighteen-year-old.

“Zarlisch is strong. He might as well be called Tytania’s guardian deity. It would be no exaggeration to say he is the reincarnation of our founder, His Highness Neville.”

“But Lord Zarlisch always wages war and causes destruction. From what I understand, Lord Jouslain, you are the one responsible for properly handling the aftermath. In some sense, isn’t Lord Zarlisch but a curtain-raiser act for you?”

“Being praised is nice, but it ultimately comes down to personal preference.”

Jouslain subtly dampened Balamy’s incitement. Balami was left speechless, and right as he was about to get angry at himself for being speechless, Jouslain casually asked another question:

“By the way, Lord Balamy, which one would you prefer to be?”

“Err, which one?”

“If you had to choose between being a ruthless general like Zarlisch or someone like me who handles the aftermath, which one would you prefer?”

This time, Jouslain was being mischievous. To him, asking this question to Balamy was mere child’s play, a way of mocking Balamy’s humility.

But Balamy didn’t seem to think of it as a game. Suspecting some political meaning behind the question, he tried to divert any suspicion by keeping a straight face and took a fraction of a second to decide what to answer while gauging the other side’s intentions, only to answer something like “Either is fine”. He was really annoyed at the fact that he found himself at a loss as to what to respond.

After dismissing Balamy, Jouslain shrugged and called for his lady-in-waiting:

“Francia.”

“Yes, Lord Jouslain.”

“It appears that many overestimate me. Enemies and allies alike.”

Francia couldn’t understand the meaning behind Jouslain’s wry smile. But she liked it whenever Jouslain made that kind of expression where light and shadow subtly wavered. Feeling a faint sense of happiness, Francia made preparations to brew coffee for the man.

The military standard of Tytania featured a golden border, the right half red, the left half black, with the Cosmic Tree radiating in the centre. It also happened to be the family crest of the Tytania clan. The clan that ruled the universe. It was a testament in the human realm to the haughty presence of the clan that was both the most revered and respected, as well as feared and hated.

Before this military standard displayed on the wall, Viscount Balamy Tytania was standing, his arms folded. In that corner of the flagship, military personnel came and went behind him. Both officers and soldiers were casting curious glances at Balamy, but none dared to talk to him. Balamy had no acquaintances on board, but it was common knowledge that he was a high-ranking Tytanian noble, and the sharp features of the handsome youth made people hesitant to approach him.

Balamy didn’t view the conspiracy as an end in itself. It was but a simple means to an end, namely, to seize the highest authority in Tytania.

That being said, it would be impossible to reach that objective without resorting to intrigue. Only once Clanner Ajman is killed and the Four Dukes, Jouslain included, are vanquished, will it be time for Balamy’s father, Marquis Estrade, to make his move. If the process up to that point were accompanied by destruction and bloodshed, it would weaken Tytania as a whole and cause much mirth among their external enemies.

Moreover, Balamy wasn’t so conceited as to believe that he could easily secure victory in a decisive battle when facing enemies such as the brave Ariabert or the ruthless Zarlisch. Not only were their tactical abilities formidable, but their military strength was immense, so it was unlikely that they could be trivially defeated.

“But wait, not even Ariabert Tytania is unbeatable. Was there not someone who defeated him at the Battle of Cerberus? What was that person’s name?…”

Reaching into his memories with an imaginary hand, Balamy finally pulled out the name Fan Hyulick. What kind of man was he? Remaining as immobile as a statue, Balamy kept his gaze fixed upon the proud military standard while his mind was looking far beyond the boundaries of space and time.

Could Balamy use Fan Hyulick as a pawn in his schemes?

In reality, Balamy had not yet even secured hegemony within Tytania. So his generosity could only remain abstract. But if he could win over a man like Fan Hyulick and use him for his military expertise, he would not stop at any expense of riches or honours. Let’s offer him a position of commandment over the entire Tytanian fleet. Would he then gladly join Balamy’s service?

As he was thinking this over, Balamy suddenly cast a scornful smile at himself. He wasn’t in any position to mock the foolish Vardanan courtiers. Seeking to seize all of Tytania by relying on other people’s talents and abilities – was that not the height of dependency? It was only with his own intelligence and talent that he, Balamy Tytania, could achieve his ambition of supremacy. How could he rely on some drifter like Fan Hyulick?

Lifting proudly his head, Balamy turned his back on Tytania’s banner. Jouslain watched that scene as it unfolded on his monitor screen.

More than the court nobles of Vardana, maybe the most dangerous instigator of Marquis Estrade Tytania was his sharp-witted son. Thought Jouslain. Was his thirst for domination over the cosmos fuelled by the scent of Tytania’s blood? Jouslain silently watched the figure of this new ambitious man stepping on the scene.

III

On the 10th of July, Duke Jouslain Tytania led his fleet to planet Kafir.

It wasn’t military occupation but a port call that had been agreed upon by both sides. Tytania would pay the fees, send their sick and wounded to the hospitals, replenish their food and energy supplies, and carry out ship maintenance and repairs. The crews were granted 48 hours of free time distributed in shifts. The ladies of the night applied their make-up with care as they waited for soldiers to pour into the streets.

As the commander, Jouslain himself didn’t have much time to rest. Hundreds of people sought an audience with him as a head figure of the Tytania clan. While he politely turned away businessmen with purely commercial motives, he couldn’t avoid meeting with the Prime Minister of the Republic of Kafir, the President of the Assembly, and the Chief of Police. As haughty as Tytania was, they understood that such formalities were sometimes important.

And then, there was the leader of the Interstellar City League’s kontor. The Interstellar City League was, of course, an enemy of Tytania, both open and covert. Two centuries of the history of space travel was the history of Tytania and its conflict with the Interstellar City League.

Should Tytania be destroyed, the executives of the Interstellar City League would be moved to tears and raise a toast to celebrate the occasion. Should the Interstellar City League meet its downfall, the Tytanian leaders would have their orchestras play funeral dirges with exaggerated solemnity. There was no pretence in the hatred either side felt for the other.

But it was precisely because they were enemies that they couldn’t afford to miss an opportunity at diplomacy. On that aspect, both Tytania and the Interstellar City League had mature political sensibilities, and neither had been foolish enough to narrow their scope of intelligence gathering and strategic planning by espousing dogmatic principles. Jouslain Tytania in particular was regarded as mild-mannered and discerning, and even the anti-Tytania factions saw him with some degree of goodwill.

“I am once again being overestimated,” is surely what Jouslain would have said with a wry smile had Francia been here.

Jouslain wasn’t always moderate, and at times he could take decisions so draconian that they would shock even Zarlisch and Idris. If one were to put it bluntly, the reason he was regarded as mild-mannered was simply because he conducted himself properly during ceremonies and would greet others with gentle manners.

The fact that Balamy remained constantly by Jouslain’s side during this expedition was a given considering his position as senior aide-de-camp, but the psychological relationship between them was by no means straightforward.

During the welcome party hosted by the Prime Minister, Balamy stood by Jouslain’s left rear, and yet the gazes of the ladies attending the event tended to drift more towards the senior aide-de-camp rather than the Tytanian leader. The proud Tytanian youth ignored the women’s glances and remained still with a cold expression. Jouslain cast a glance in his direction with his eyes resembling a wry smile.

The part that was lacking in Balamy’s intellect compared to Jouslain was clear. It was his sense of history and perspective on the position of Tytania’s existence within historical currents from past to future. For Balamy, Tytania was everything. Everything in time, everything in space, everything in the world of thought. That was the origin of Balamy’s desire to control Tytania using his father as a proxy. It was quite literally about having the entire cosmos in his hands.

As for Jouslain, he had the qualities of a teacher. He had a keen eye for Balamy’s strengths and weaknesses and felt an odd passion in him as he sought to nurture these talents. That was something he had never felt for Idris. Maybe their difference in age, Idris being 24 and Balamy 18, played a role in it. Furthermore, his awareness of Balamy being in a weaker position than Idris may have been a factor.

“Isn’t Tytania a small thing?” is what Jouslain felt like saying to his cousin, who looked strikingly young. “What is even Tytania!” would exclaim the opposing faction. Whether they themselves were large or not, Tytania itself was certainly small. It wielded power, basked in glory, roamed in the vast expanse of the stars and planets, fought, conquered, and ruled. The successive Clanners had dominated the politics of entire nations, patronised the culture and the arts, furthered the colonisation of the outer worlds, and held in the palm of their hand every part of space inhabited by mankind.

Jouslain didn’t believe that their journey and achievements were meaningless. But he didn’t believe, either, that Tytania’s power was so vast compared to those below it that it could afford to be arrogant. Nothing in the human world lasts forever. The day of destruction would surely come. Would Tytania turn to ashes carried away by the winds? Would it shatter to pieces in a roar and a flash of light?

While it was unbecoming of a Tytanian leading figure, Jouslain felt a nightmarish craving to witness such events. That desire was quite different from the qualities of a Clanner described by Ajman the Landless Clanner. But running in parallel, his reason and sense of responsibility were exceptionally lucid and profound, and the coexistence of these two qualities and his awareness of them gave to Duke Jouslain Tytania a depth and complexity that could not be found in the rest of the clan.

At the party of the Prime Minister of Kafir, after conversing with a few VIPs, Jouslain was greeted by a certain lady. After paying her respects to Duke Jouslain, she turned her attention to Balamy, but the youngster’s attitude remained cold.

“Would you happen to be Lord Jouslain’s subordinate?”

“I am his senior aide-de-camp.”

“What does this occupation involve? What kind of things do you do?”

“In civilian terms, I guess you could call it being a secretary, but going into detail would breach military secrecy, so I cannot say more.”

Holding a glass of whisky in his hand, Jouslain almost chuckled.

“It might be so. But unless you reveal specific details about your duties, it shouldn’t be an issue. Tytania is small. No need to put on such a bold front.”

Jouslain smiled again, and upon seeing it, Balamy suddenly blushed. Compared to his cousin’s magnanimity, he felt truly like an insignificant creature.

As the lady walked away looking somewhat disappointed, Balamy stepped out on the balcony to breathe the night air after obtaining Jouslain’s permission.

“Tytania is small, huh?…” muttered Balamy as he bathed in a shower of blue starlight, suddenly bearing a bitter expression. “No, she isn’t small. She is too big. Far too big for my hands to handle…”

IV

Once the extravagant party ended at dawn, Duke Jouslain Tytania set about his various duties. They included launching an investigation into the activities of the “Blaze Flag” fleet.

The space pirate band known as the “Blaze Flag” fleet was not a permanent presence. It first appeared in 360 SY, motivated by resentment towards Tytanian control over interstellar shipping routes.

They included small and medium ship owners put under pressure by Tytania. Local lords who were forced to purchase supplies from Tytanian merchant ships at exorbitant prices. Mine owners whose promising mines were bought out by Tytania at low prices when still under development. The families of officials murdered for prosecuting Tytanian crimes. And even the families of soldiers who died fighting against Tytania’s fleet. And the families of those who were purged by Tytania. Their only commonality was their “anti-Tytania resentment” that gave to that group an impression of being a “list of Tytania’s criminal records”. Tytania wasn’t a criminal syndicate, but it never hesitated to commit political and legal crimes to protect its interests.

Thus, the “Blaze Flag” became a symbol of the anti-Tytanian. Gathered under that flag, they were connected by emotions rather than as a cohesive organisation, and their influence greatly depended on the capabilities of their leaders. Their authority wasn’t clearly defined, and disputes and conflicts over leading rights and obedience duties were constant. They didn’t have a permanent pool of funds, and, of course, no established command structure.

To put it bluntly, their struggle was merely acts of individual defiance against Tytania, such as raids, plunder, and vandalism. Ironically, that’s what made them virtually impossible to eradicate.

The reason Zarlisch Tytania was able to achieve such a resounding victory this time was because the “Blaze Flag” fleet had grouped and launched a large-scale attack for the first time in a long while. While in small groups the “Blaze Flag” fleet excelled in rapid guerrilla warfare, they were poor when it came to unified action as part of a large force and therefore didn’t stand a chance against Zarlisch’s prowess.

When facing unfavourable odds, the “Blaze Flag” fleet tended to disperse due to individual skill and judgement instead of offering a futile resistance, which resulted in low casualties despite crushing defeats. But this time the outcome was different. Zarlisch had ordered his main force to attack the centre of the “Blaze Flag” fleet while simultaneously cutting off their retreat with a separate detachment to outflank them, launching a fierce assault both from the front and the rear that annihilated them.

This victory satisfied Zarlisch in various ways. First, because victory was always a joyous thing. Second, because while Ariabert had gained notoriety by triumphing after a defeat, Zarlisch had achieved a military feat that equalled or even surpassed this, which satiated his competitive spirit.

Tytania was the largest and most powerful military force in the universe. According to the Vardana Empire laws, it was merely the private army of the Tytania clan, and yet, no national army could match its strength and achievements. This had been the case ever since the founder, Neville Tytania, steadfastly upheld his stance: “Who cares about nations? Who cares about national sovereignty? Only Tytania may govern Tytania.” For those who held nations as holding supreme authority, it was a bout of unforgivable arrogance, but when they were told, “If you don’t like it, come at us with true strength,” they could do nothing but grit their teeth and back down.

Furthermore, small and remote nations were not even capable of waging interstellar warfare or even decent civilian interstellar travel, and it wasn’t rare that their very survival depended on trade with Tytanian merchant ships. Such nations feared to displease Tytania and diligently bestowed medals and ranks upon Tytanian leaders. It cost them virtually nothing to do so. It was the painful wisdom of poor countries.

Jouslain himself, besides his rank as vice-admiral of the Vardana Empire, held numerous other ranks from various countries, such as fleet admiral, admiral, and vice-chancellor, “as many as there were on the legs of a centipede”. He felt somewhat pressured but accepted them silently as a token of friendly relations. Of course, it went against the order of nations for a courtier of one country to accept an official rank in another country, but in the case of Tytania, no one dared to openly criticise them for it.

“Does having power mean that it is fine to violate national laws?”

The response to that argument was:

“National laws and such are but a means to oppress the weak. If you believe that national laws represent ultimate justice, then why don’t you go ahead and show us that you can uphold that justice?”

It is said that a Tytanian declared these words. Who exactly is unknown. Since it sounds like something a Tytanian would have said at any point in history, it might be an apocryphal quote.

Once settled in one of the finest hotels in Kafir, Jouslain was immediately surrounded by petitions of people who wished for an audience with him, and among them, a card that read “Special Envoy of the Kingdom of Elbing” caught his attention.

Jouslain tilted his head as he looked through his memories the way Balamy did a few days earlier in front of the military standard of Tytania. He nodded as he recalled the small kingdom that has bestowed the three titles of vice-chancellor, duke, and full admiral upon him.

Last year, in that small country, a dispute over the royal succession had been resolved through Jouslain’s mediation and intimidation. The envoy had come here travelling on a foreign official ship to offer his gratitude. Jouslain dismissed his staff’s opinion that there was no need to see him.

“No, he took the trouble to come visit me. I shall at least meet with him and accept his greetings; it shouldn’t take long.”

Hearing that the envoy had to hitchhike all the way here by travelling on another country’s official ship, he couldn’t help but feel amused and sympathetic. Perhaps as some gesture of defiance, Jouslain decided to prioritise the envoy of that poor and small country over the delegations of wealthy merchants and envoys from larger nations who were waiting in the hotel’s VIP suite.

That being said, he didn’t go as far as to personally greet him at the entrance. Having various documents to approve, Jouslain remained seated at his desk in the study room, signing and making corrections, when the silence was shattered by the voice of a child:

“How disrespectful can one be in front of royalty! Stand up and bow!”

The Tytanian looked up in surprise and saw a child of about 10 years old glaring at him behind his desk. Though small in stature, it seemed unyielding in spirit. Its chestnut hair was short, but its clothing was that of a girl.

Jouslain let down his pen and exchanged glances with Balamy, who was standing before him as part of his senior aide-de-camp duties. When he asked for the child’s name, he received an indignant reply:

“I am Lydia, second princess of the kingdom of Elbing. Is this the kind of courtesy that Tytania shows to an international envoy? I am most disappointed.”

“… I apologise. Please have a seat, Your Highness.”

Jouslain stood up and offered the chair himself. Balamy seemed to mutter something to himself as a way to express that there was no need for that. The princess sat down, but only her eyes were visible above the desk. And yet her demeanour was truly dignified.

“I have always wanted to meet with Duke Jouslain Tytania. I have heard that he is the most reasonable person in the Tytania clan.”

“I am gratified, Your Highness.”

“But contrary to my expectations, you are quite inconsiderate. One should at least offer tea when a guest visits. As small and remote my country is, we understand even that level of courtesy.”

“I apologise. Adjutant, bring tea to Her Highness at once.”

Balamy suppressed an expression of displeasure, bowed, and began to walk away. Suddenly realising he was forgetting something, Jouslain called him back and, with a suppressed smile, asked the princess:

“Your Highness, what kind of pastries would suit your palate? If there is anything you desire, I can have it prepared.”

“A royal must not express likes and dislikes when they are offered food.”

“Most splendid. However, since we haven’t prepared anything yet, feel free to order whatever you wish.”

“I see, in that case a cream puff and an orange bavarois would be fine.”

“Very well. Adjutant, Her Highness made her order; bring it here as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, at once.”

With what sounded like a grunt, Vardana Balamy Tytania, commodore of the Vardana Empire, left the room. Dangling her legs energetically in the air, the princess realised it was impolite, quickly stopped, and asked the following:

“Is that person also a member of the Tytania clan?”

“Indeed he is, Your Highness. He is a cousin of mine, and I have great hopes for his future.”

“He’s a handsome man.”

“He would have been most pleased to hear this.”

“However, his expression lacks composure. His manner of speaking is stiff and lacks ease. He won’t be popular with women like that. A man’s worth goes beyond his looks.”

In spite of his efforts to maintain composure, Jouslain’s lips involuntarily curved into a smile.

“Well then, Princess, may I ask what business made you take the trouble to come all the way here in person?”

“Oh, that’s right.”

Taking her mind temporarily away from the handsome man and the pastries, the princess sat up straight in her chair.

To sum it up, the state-owned vanadium mine, which was the country’s only source of revenue, had depleted, and they had suffered from three years of poor wheat and crop harvests, so they had accumulated a huge debt towards Tytania. The resolution of their succession dispute last year had yet increased that debt. They now had no other choice but to have their entire country placed under Tytanian administration, but how could they secure Tytania’s trust?

“Thus, it was decided that I would become a hostage and be sent to Uraniborg. I came here with my lady-in-waiting and don’t have enough money for the trip back, so I can’t leave. Sending me back is useless!”

Far from being remorseful, she was boasting.

“Very well. Then I, Jouslain, shall take responsibility for Your Highness’ care. Do not worry,” replied Jouslain as Francia’s face came to his mind.

Even if Francia were to become jealous of such a young girl, she would never be cruel to her. It would be even better if they could become good friends. Jouslain’s personal wealth could well cover the debts of one small country. He didn’t want to dampen the spirits of this lively little princess.

At that moment, the door opened, and a young man who was far too handsome and refined to be a waiter brought a tray in. He had brought a cup of honeyed tea and some snacks for their little guest.

“Your eyes are scary. It’s a shame to ruin such good looks like that.”

There was probably no one in the universe who would dare speak to a Tytanian in this manner. But even Balamy could only respond, “Thanks”, with a wry smile.

“It’s the kind of eyes that are plotting treason. Even though his features were completely different from yours, my uncle, who coveted my father’s throne, had eyes just like these.”

The princess took a spoonful of whipped cream. She was unaware that she had left the two Tytanians speechless.